Hey folks, Grubkiller here.
Here's part 2 of this story. Hope you enjoy.
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UNSC Orbital Defense Platform, Cairo, in orbit above Earth, 10/20/2552 (Military Calendar).
Master Gunnery Sergeant David Cross walked into the armory, pushing a cart of fried, obsolete equipment. All of it was for a very specific piece of equipment. He rubbed his blurry eyes, realizing that he hadn't had an honest night's sleep in Christ know's when. He was tasked with outfitting UNSC personnel with everything they needed aboard Cairo station.
But right now, he was just concerned with outfitting one man.
A Spartan.
But not just any spartan, but maybe the best, and among the last honest-to-God spartans.
Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan John-117.
The shipboard scuttlebutt said that the rest of them had bought the farm at Reach. Like his fellow Marines, Cross had heard of the program, though he'd never seen an actual Spartan in person. In order to deal with increasing civil turmoil the Colonial Military Administration had secretly launched Project ORION back in 2491. The purpose of the program was to develop supersoldiers, codenamed "Spartans," who would receive special training and physical augmentation. The initial effort was successful, and in 2517 a new group of Spartans, the II-series, had been selected as the next generation of supersoldier.
The project had been intended to remain secret, but the Covenant War had changed all that.
It was no secret that the human race was on the verge of defeat. The Covenant's ships and space technology were just too advanced. While human forces could hold their own in a ground engagement, the Covenant would simply fall back into space and glass the planet from orbit. As the situation grew increasingly grim, the Admiralty was faced with the ugly prospect of fighting a two-front war—one against the Covenant in space, and another against the collapsing human society on the ground. The general public and the rank-and-file in the military needed a morale boost, so the existence of the SPARTAN-II project was revealed. There were now successful heroes to rally behind, men and women who had taken the fight to the enemy and won several decisive battles. Even the Covenant seemed to fear the Spartans.
Except they were gone now, all but a small handful, sacrificed to protect the human race from the Covenant and the very real possibility of extinction.
Most would have gazed at the soldier suiting up in his experimental armor in front of him with something akin to awe.
But MGySgt Cross was more concerned with the state of the equipment from the last set of armor. Expensive, state-of-the-art equipment that took years in not decades to develop and perfect.
"The plating was about to fail, there's viscosity throughout the gel layer..." Cross said as he started picking up pieces of equipment and tossing them on the metal table, where they landed with a metallic thud. "Optics - totally fried. And let's not even talk about the power supply." He shook his head as he looked at the power pack that went on the Spartan's back. "You know how expensive this gear is, son?" He said, pointing the equipment at Chief from across the table.
His hair was worn short, not as short as Master Gunns', but short. He had serious blue eyes, a firm mouth, and a strong jaw. His skin hadn't been exposed to the sun for a long time and it was white, very white. From what he had heard he had been a professional soldier since the age of six, which meant he was an expert at controlling what showed on his face. Nothing overt, just a slight narrowing of the eyes, and a tightness around his mouth.
The Master Chief picked up his helmet from the table and put it on, causing hiss of air as the helmet sealed over her head with the rest of his new armor.
The Spartan was huge, easily seven feet tall. Encased in pearlescent green battle armor, the man looked like a figure from mythology—otherworldly and terrifying. Master Chief SPARTAN-117 surveyed the room, testing the suit's flexibility. The mirrored visor on his helmet made him all the more fearsome, a faceless, impassive soldier built for destruction and death.
"Tell that to the Covenant." The Chief replied simply.
The Master Gunns cracked a small smirk and shook his head. "Well, I guess it was all obsolete, anyway. Your new suit's a Mark VI, just came up from Seongnam this morning. Try and take it easy till you get used to the upgrades."
Cross began running a diagnostic on the Spartan's armor.
The Master Gunns led the Spartan to the various test stations in the armory, pitching in where he was required. In short order, the soldier's gear had been brought on-line—recharging shield system, real-time health monitors, targeting and optical systems all read in the green. The suit—code-named MJOLNIR armor—was a marvel of engineering, Sam had to admit. According to the specs he'd received, the suit's shell consisted of a multilayered alloy of remarkable strength, a refractive coating that could disperse a fair amount of directed energy, a crystalline storage matrix that could support the same level of artificial intelligence usually reserved for a starship, and a layer of gel which conformed to the wearer's skin and functioned to regulate temperature. Additional memory packets and signal conduits had been implanted into the Spartan's body, and two externally accessible input slots had been installed near the base of his skull. Taken together, the combined systems served to double his strength, enhance his already lightning-fast reflexes, and make it possible for him to navigate through the intricacies of any high-tech battlefield.
"Your new armor's shields are extremely resilient, very efficient. They'll recharge a lot faster. Much better than the Covenant tech we used for the Mark V. If your shields go down, find some cover, and wait for the meter to read fully charged."
"That, or he can hide behind me." Said a new voice.
Chief looked over Master Gunns' shoulder... and head... to see a black man wearing a full Marine Dress Uniform, with a midnight blue jacket and red trim that dated all the way back to the United States Marine Corps of the 19th century.
It was Sergeant Major Avery Junior Johnson, a veteran with decades of military service under his belt, and a survivor of many deadly battles against the Covenant, and a survivor of the flight from Reach, and the discovery of Halo.
And the Flood.
The Chief fought down his revulsion at the memory of the Flood outbreak in order to give the recently promoted Johnson with a curious nod, which he returned.
"You done with my boy here, Master Gunns? I don't see any training wheels."
The Armorer shook his head. "His armor's working fine, Johnson, so shut your chili-hole." He then turned to the Master Chief. "You're free to go, son, just remember, take things slow."
"Don't worry, I'll hold his hand." Johnson said. "C'mon, Chief. They're waiting for us on the bridge. Better not keep the brass waiting."
The Chief walked stepped into the same elevator that Johnson had just arrived on.
"So, Johnson, when you gonna tell me how you made it back home in one piece?" The Master Gunns asked.
Johnson shook his head. "Sorry, Gunns. It's classified." And he pressed the button.
"Huh! My ass!" Master gunns said as the elevator door began to shut and begin its ascent. But that wasn't going to stop him from welling at Johnson. "Well, you can forget about those adjustments to your A2 scope, and you're sure as hell not..." The shut door muffled the Armorer's rant and eventually cut it off."
"Well, he's in a particularly fine mood." Johnson said sarcastically "Maybe Lord Hood didn't give him an invitation."
Eventually, the elevator came to a halt, and the two men began to walk onto a tram that was situated over one of the station's large rectangular commons rooms. Johnson pushed a button on the tram, then he looked up and paused, as he looked out one of the large viewports that gave them a perfect view of the planet below.
Earth. The birth place of all human beings, and the thing that they were all fighting to protect.
Chief had never been there himself, but he knew that it had a special place in the hearts of all who fought for her. Even Johnson, he noticed.
He sighed. "Haven't seen her in years." The tram shuddered and they started moving.
After a few seconds of silence, Johnson started speaking again. "When I shipped out for basic, the orbital defense grid was all theory and... politics," he said with a hint of disgust at that last word. Then he turned around to an opposite viewport. "Now look. The Cairo is just one of 300 geo-sync platforms. That MAC gun can out a round clean through a covenant capital ship."
The Chief looked up. He had seen platforms just like this over Reach, but had never been aboard one. Twenty of these were used back then, and they were so effective that the Covenant fleet suffered heavy losses trying to take reach. Now there were 300, spread out in groups of three all around Earth's orbit.
Johnson pointed behind to the other two stations in the Cairo's battle cluster.
"With coordinated fire from the Athens and the Malta, nothing's getting past this battle cluster in one piece."
The other stations, like this one, were named the way they were because they were in perfect orbit over whatever location they were anchored to. Cairo, Athens, and Malta. They had a perfect view over the Mediterranean sea, Southern Europe, North Africa, the Middle East, the Caucasians.
The heart of Human civilization. What they were fighting to defend.
Slipspace ruptures opened up nearby, and several UNSC warships entered realms-ace to join the rest of the fleet in Earth's orbit, or patrolling the rest of the Sol system.
"Ships have been arriving all morning." Johnson said. "Nobody's saying much, but I think something big's about to happen."
That was the understatement of the century. The two of them, and the other survivors from the Halo and Reach had tracked down a Covenant fleet ready to attack Earth, and they were able to destroy it and their staging area. They were then able to return to Earth with the news that Earth's secrecy was compromised. Now the UNSC was pulling out all the stops. They were pulling every available ship and ground unit back from every last existing deployment across what was left of UNSC space. Factories were operating around the clock at full capacity. All UNSC personnel were on triple shifts, and every nation on Earth was mobilizing for the final battle for Humanity's very existence.
"Then we'll be ready for it," Chief said.
Johnson smiled.
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Probe Relay Station Io, near Jupiter, Sol System. 1248 hours, 10/20/2552 (Military Calendar).
The Chief Petty Officer entered the command center of Io station.
His officers stood and saluted. He wordlessly returned their salutes.
The wall-sized monitors displayed the contents of the last Slipstream probes: multidimensional charts, a rainbow of false color enhancements, and a catalog of objects adrift in the alternate space. Some of the new officers thought the representations looked "pretty."
To the Chief Petty Officer, however, each pixel on the screens represented danger. So many things could hide in multidimensional space: pirates, black marketers, asteroids . . . the Covenant.
He inspected their duty stations. He double-checked that all programs and hardware were running within UNSC specifications. He ran his hand along the monitors and keypads looking for dust. Their stations were in tip-top shape. Considering what they were guarding, Earth, anything less than perfection was unacceptable. He made certain his crew knew it, too.
"Carry on," the CPO said.
Since the battle of Sigma Octanus, and even more so since the Fall of Reach, FLEETCOM had reassigned top people to its Remote Sensing Stations. Some men had been pulled from the Inner Colonies. The CPO had spent the last three months helping his crew brush up on their abstract and complex algebras to interpret the probe data.
"Ready to send out the next set of probes, sir," one officer said. "Linear accelerator and Slipspace generators online and charged."
"Set for thirty-second return cycle and launch," The CPO ordered.
"Aye, sir. Probes away, sir. Accelerated and entering the Slipstream."
FLEETCOM was expecting an attack on Earth anyway now. It wasn't going to be caught with its pants down like at Reach. Earth was the cradle of human civilization, there mostly heavily populated and fortified (and one of its last) possession. And a closely guarded secret . . . until now anyway.
If anything did attack it, the UNSC Navy was going to be ready for it. There were three hundred Super MAC guns in orbit. They could accelerate a three-thousand-ton projectile to point four-tenths the speed of light—and place that projectile with pinpoint accuracy. If that wasn't enough to stop a Covenant fleet, there were hundreds of warships in the system at any given time.
The CPO knew, though, there had been another military base that was once thought too strong to attack—and the military had paid the price for their lack of vigilance. Reach had been the UNSC's equivalent of Pearl Harbor.
He wasn't about to let Mankind's cradle suffer the same fate. Not on his watch.
"Probes returning, sir," Lieutenant Brightling announced. "Alpha reentering normal space in three . . . two . . . one. Scanning sectors. Signal acquired at extraction point minus forty five thousand kilometers."
"Process the signals and send out the recovery drone, Lieutenant."
"Aye, sir. Getting signal lock on—" The Lieutenant squinted at his monitor. "Sir, would you take a look at this?"
"On the board, Lieutenant."
Radar and neutron imager silhouettes appeared on-screen—and filled the display. Chief McRobb had never seen anything like it in Slipstream space. "Confirm that the data stream is not corrupted," the Chief ordered.
"I'm estimating that object is three kilometers in diameter."
"Affirmative . . . three kilometer diameter confirmed, sir. Signal integrity is green. We'll have a trajectory for the object as soon as Beta probe returns."
It was rare for any natural object this large to be in Slipstream space. An occasional comet or asteroid had been logged—UNSC astrophysicists still weren't sure how the things got into the alternate dimension. But there had never been anything like this. At least, not since—
"Oh my God," the Chief whispered. "We're not waiting for Beta probe," he barked. "We are initiating the Cole Protocol. Purge the navigational database, and I mean right now. And remove the safety interlocks on the station's reactor."
His junior officers hesitated for a moment—then they understood the gravity of their situation. They moved quickly.
"Initiating viral data scavengers," One officer called out. "Dumping main and cache memory." He turned in his seat, his face white. "Sir, the science library is offline for repairs. It has every UNSC astrophysics journal in it."
"With navigation data on every star within a hundred light-years," the Chief whispered. "Including the remaining colonies. Lieutenant, you get someone down there and destroy that data. I don't care if they have to hit it with a goddamn sledgehammer—make sure that data is wiped."
"Yes, sir." He sat back down. "Aye, sir, moving the array."
"Telescope array now on target, sir. On the main view screen." Pinpoints of green light appeared at the edge of the solar system. They collected and swarmed as if they were caught in a boiling liquid. Space stretched, smeared, and distorted. Half the stars in that region were blotted out.
"Radar contact," one officer said. "Contact with . . . more than a dozen large objects." His hands started to shake. "Sir, silhouettes match known Covenant profiles. They're accelerating." He whispered. "On an intercept course for Earth."
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Cairo Station command deck.
Tthe tram came to a complete stop, and the doors opened up to a crowd of Marines, who were all clapping and cheering at the arrival of these two heroes. Media drones hovered around, flashing images and recording videos of the mythical figure in green armor.
"You told me there wouldn't be any cameras." Chief remarked.
"And you told me you were gonna wear something nice!" Johnson shot back. "Folks need heroes, Chief. To give 'em hope." He said, as he raised his cap, ran a hand through his hair, and put it back on. "So smile, would ya? While we still got something to smile about!"
Johnson and the Master Chief walk to the end of the hall. The two naval personnel that stood on either side of the door saluted as the bridge's blast doors open up.
Aboard the bridge, at every station, and covering the deck, dozens of naval personnel, officers and ensigns alike, stood up from their stations and saluted the two men and cheered loudly.
But one of them wasn't. Lord Terrance Hood. Admiral of the Fleet, head of the UNSC navy, and for all intents and purposes was the most powerful man in human space, due to the emergency military government put in place. He was a member of English nobility and was the head of the Home Fleet. In addition to his bright white naval uniform with golden emblems embroidered on the sleeves, shoulders and cap, he wore a midnight blue cape that hung from his shoulders and went down to the back of his knees.
His age and the medals he wore reflected a lengthy service career that rivaled that of everyone in the room combined, besides the Master Chief.
Master Chief and Sergeant Johnson walked up to him and snapped to attention with a crisp salute, which Lord Hood returned.
"Gentlemen, we're lucky to have you back." He said.
At that moment, an officer whispered something in Lord Hood's ear. The Admiral
"Go ahead, Cortana."
A foot-high hologram faded into view above a small holo-tank near the Admiral's station. It was Cortana, a powerful artificial intelligence, who had served with the Chief for weeks now. Equations again scrolled across the AI's semitransparent body as she continued to evaluate the incoming data.
"Another whisper, sir, near Io. We have probes en route."
Lord Hood looked back at the Chief and Johnson with a neutral, if solemn, look. "I apologize, but we're going to have to make this quick." He said before he turned away to an officer who was carrying a polished black case with red velvet inside. Resting on the velvet were medals.
Three medals, Chief noted, when there was just he and Johnson, unless one of them was receiving an extra medal.
Cortana took a moment to look at the Master Chief, and she smiled when she got a better look at his new armor.
"You look nice."
Chief and Johnson answered her simultaneously.
"Thanks."
"Thank you."
Then the two men looked at each other. But before either could say or do anything else, Lord Hood had already walked back holding a medal. A Colonial Cross, which was a golden cross that was attached to a blue red and gold ribbon.
"Sergeant Major, The Colonial Cross is awarded for acts of singular daring and devotion, for a soldier of the United Nations Marine Corps there can be no greater honor." Lord Hood said as he pinned the medal to Johnson's uniform.
There was a chorus of clapping that followed.
At that moment, a young slender woman without black, shoulder-length hair wearing a white naval uniform and with a peaked cap joined the Chief and Johnson. They both looked at her. Her name tag said Keyes.
The Chief now realized why there were three medals. Because the third one was for someone who should have been standing with them at that moment.
"Commander Miranda Keyes. Your father's actions were in keeping with the highest traditions of military service. His bravery in the face of impossible odds reflects great credit, upon himself, and the UNSC. The Navy has lost one of its best."
Lord Hood hands her the Colonial Cross medal, which was in its own small velvet case with glass cover. Miranda sniffled, holding back tears as she accepted the medal.
The ceremony was still ongoing, and one more medal needed to be rewarded. But before Hood could turn to the Master Chief, alarms started blaring, and a red warning light started flashing.
It was the general alarm.
Cortana spoke up.
"Admiral. Slip-space ruptures directly off our battle cluster."
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Solemn Penance, Flagship of the Fleet of Sacred Consecration.
Unlike vessels designed by humans—in which the command area was almost always located toward the ship's bow—Covenant ships were constructed in a more logical fashion, which meant that their control rooms were buried deep within heavily armored hulls, making them impervious to anything less than a mortal blow.
The differences did not end there. Rather than surround themselves with all manner of control interfaces, plus the lesser beings required to staff them, the Elites preferred to command from the center of an ascetically barren platform held in place by a latticework of opposing gravity beams.
However, none of these things were at the forefront of Ship Master Rhul 'Salmutee's mind as he stood at the center of his Assault Carrier's control room and stared at the data projections which appeared to float in front of him. One showed the world they had come to investigate, Erde-Tyrene. It was a beautiful blue orb, with several continents that covered its surface, which according to the displays in front of him, consisted of diverse biomes, including tundras, forests, and deserts.
All around it though, according to another display, was an armada of human warships of all types and their devastating orbital cannons.
Another display scrolled a constant flow of targeting data and sensor readouts. He fought a moment of revulsion. That these filthy primates somehow merited an actual name—let alone names for their inferior constructs—galled him to his core.
It was perverse. Names implied legitimacy, and the vermin deserved only extermination. The humans had "names" for his own kind—"Elites"—as well as the lesser races of the Covenant: "Jackals," "Grunts," "Hunters", "Drones", "Brutes." The appalling temerity of the filthy creatures, that they would darename his people with their harsh, barbaric tongue, was beyond the pale.
The fact that these parasites had to infect yet another world filled with holy relics galled him even more. This simple hunt for artifacts had led him to a world with an even greater human presence than any other world thus far.
He paused, and regained his composure. 'Salmutee clicked his lower mandibles—the equivalent of a shrug—and mentally recited one of the True Sayings.
Like all of his kind, the Covenant officer appeared to be larger than he actually was, due to the armor that he wore. It gave him an angular, somewhat hunched appearance which, when combined with a heavy, pugnacious jaw, caused him to look like what he was: a very dangerous warrior. His voice was calm and well modulated as he assessed the situation.
"This must be the world that has been foretold to be the home of the human filth."
The being who floated next to 'Salmutee bobbed slightly as a gust of air nudged his heavily swathed body. He wore a tall, ornate headpiece made of metal and set with amber panels. The Prophet had a serpentine neck, a triangular skull, and two bright green eyes which glittered with malevolent intelligence. He wore a red overrobe, a gold underrobe, and somewhere, hidden beneath all the fabric, an antigrav belt which served to keep his body suspended one full unit off the deck.
The Prophet of Regret. One of the noble hierarchs that led the Covenant on their Great Journey to ascend to paradise.
So he greatly outranked 'Salmutee, as his bearing made clear.
True sayings aside, the Ship Master couldn't help but be reminded of the tiny, squealing rodents he had hunted in his childhood. He immediately banished the memory of blood on his claws and returned his attention to the Prophet.
"It matters not. It is just one more hurdle to the Great Journey the gods have placed before us to test our strength and conviction."
One of Regret's scribes, another San'Syhumm, but one that stood. "It is curious. Though primitive by our standards, the creatures are sentient, and like all sentient beings, they are unconsciously drawn to the glory of the ancients' truth and knowledge."
Like all the members of his caste, 'Salmutee knew that the Prophets had evolved on a planet which the mysterious truth-givers had previously inhabited, and then, for reasons known only to the ancients themselves, subsequently abandoned.
But the Humans... they evolved on worlds that had forerunner artifacts. But they destroyed every artifact they found. Insulting the gods. The recent events at the first sacred ring was proof of this.
That ring world was an excellent example of the ancients' power . . . and inscrutability. And the humans destroyed it. They must be punished. But for now, they needed to take a more tactful approach.
'Salmutee touched the light panel in front of him. A symbol glowed red. "Prepare to re-enter slip-space on my command."
The Prophet of Regret slammed his fist on the arm of his throne. "No! Belay that order. The humans cannot be allowed to desecrate this holy site. We must expunge them and secure the artifact, and begin the Great Journey."
"But, Hierarch. Surely you are not suggesting we run the gauntlet of the human defenses? Those platforms in our path will destroy our meager force."
"Then destroy those platforms, and allow the humans to drown us in their own blood as they always do. We will secure the holy relic. Swarm the platforms in our direct path, board them, and seize control, and the human fleet will be parted by our superior strength like rocks to a river."
Taken aback 'Salmutee tried to find the words. "The course of action that the holy one recommends is likely to result in a high number of casualties. Is this acceptable?"
"The opportunity to transcend the physical is a gift to be sought after," Regret responded. "The humans are willing to spend their lives—can we do less?"
'No', 'Salmutee thought, 'but we should aspire to more.'
He again clicked his lower mandibles, and touched the light panel. "Cancel the previous order. Load all boarding craft with troops, and launch all fighters. We will neutralize the humans' orbital weaponry before we make our approach to the surface."
A hundred units aft, sealed within the Carrier's fire control center, a half-commander acknowledged the order and issued instructions of his own.
Lights began to strobe, the decks transmitted a low frequency vibration, and more than three hundred boarding pods were loaded with battle-ready Covenant warriors—a mix of what the humans called Elites, Jackals, and Grunts.
There were humans to kill. None of them wanted to miss the fun
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Cairo Station command deck. 1412 hours.
The Alarms continued to blare, and UNSC personnel began rushing to their stations.
"Show me what we've got, Cortana." Lord Hood said.
On one of the the main view-screens, Covenant warships were placed on a large graph, which showed a large arch that represented the extent of the MAC guns' effective range (before ships could react in time). The Covenant fleet had 13 cruisers and 2 assault carriers.
"Fifteen Covenant capital ships holding position just outside the kill zone."
The screen also showed one of the UNSC 5th Fleet, which consisted of 8 cruiser and 67 frigates, and it looked like they were moving to engage the Covenant fleet.
Sure enough, a voice crackled in over the comm system, and the name of the caller was displayed. Admiral Joseph Harper. 5th fleet.
"This is Fleet Admiral Harper. We are engaging the enemy."
"Negative, Admiral. Form a defensive perimeter around the cluster." Lord Hood ordered. Closing the comm channel, he turned to Commander Keyes. "Commander, get to your ship, link up with the fleet." He ordered.
Keyes snapped of a quick salute. "Yes, sir," she said before she started walking off the bridge.
Lord Hood turned to Cortana's holo-tank. "You have the MAC gun, Cortana. Soon as they come in range, open up."
She smiled. "Gladly." Then her avatar faded out of existence.
Lord Hood turned back to the tactical screen. He squinted at the number on the screen. 15 ships.
"Something's not right... The fleet that destroyed Reach was fifty times this size."
"Sir, additional contacts." One of the officers called to from his duty station. He had a mildly panicked tone in his voice, which he tried to hide. "Boarding crafts, and lots of 'em!"
Lord Hood looked back at the screen, and sure enough, hundreds of little dots were pouring out of the two carriers like a swarm of murder hornets spilling out of a seriously pissed off hive, ready to swarm their target. All while the capital ships sat right where they were outside the MAC platforms' effective range.
"They're going to try to take our MAC guns offline, give their capital ships a straight shot at Earth." He turned his head over his shoulder at the Spartan. "Master Chief, defend this station!" He ordered before he walked away.
"Yes, sir." The spartan said before he looked at Johnson. "I need a weapon."
The veteran sergeant grinned. "Right this way."
Outside the bridge, near the tram station, Chief, Johnson, and a Marine Corps security team were readying their weapons.
The Chief grabbed a BR55 battle rifle and, for close use, a pair of M7 submachine guns. He picked up a dozen frag grenades in their plastic ring carrier and slotted that into the left thigh section of his armor. He'd need ammunition, a lot of it, for when things got hot. But there was plenty of that on this station.
As the marines continued to get ready, Lt. Commander Miranda Keyes and her security detail were just getting ready to head for her frigate, In Amber Clad, and were summoning the tram.
As they waited, Keyes walked up to the Spartan.
The Chief snapped to attention.
"At ease," Keyes said.
The Chief relaxed his stance, but only barely.
"Master Chief, can I have a word with you?" She asked.
"Ma'am, yes ma'am." He said.
The spartan followed her up the steps to the platform where her officers were still waiting for the tram. She then turned and they faced each other. He was over a foot taller than her, and she looked up into his faceplate, able to see her own reflection and her piercing green eyes in it. The Chief took a better look at her and was struck by how closely she resembled Cortana, who was in many ways a clone of Dr. Halsey. Which led to a peculiar thought to cross his mind...
"I have some questions, that I hoped you were able to answer." She said.
"I will answer to the best of my abilities, ma'am." He said.
She nodded. "Right. I read your service record. Very impressive stuff. My father thought very highly of you and the other spartans."
"The feeling was mutual, ma'am," Chief said.
"Of course. I also read the reports of the ring. Is it true that you were the one who..." she started. She paused. She seemed to choke up a bit, only able to finish with, "...my father."
The Chief would remember the Captain's fate until the day he died. From the video recorder from Private Jenkins' helmet cam, and the moment Chief found the Captain absorbed into that flood biomass aboard the Truth and Reconciliation.
"Yes."
She just stared up at him for several silent seconds, searching for the words.
"Was there anyway you could have saved him?"
Chief was silent for a few seconds himself before he answered.
"No, ma'am." He said. "But if it wasn't for the Captain, we would never have made it off Reach, and we might never have destroyed Halo. So with respect, ma'am, his life was not wasted."
Keyes just looked at him. "Thank you, I think. Carry on Master Chief."
He snapped off a salute, and the commander turned away and walked onto the tram, and headed for the port-side docking bay where her ship was, while John returned to the Marines and Johnson.
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Cairo Station command deck.
On the bridge, Lord Hood and Cortana watched the main tactical view screen as it snapped to the incoming Covenant strike force. Hundreds of Covenant drop-ships and boarding pods, Ticks, streamed toward the Cairo's battle-cluster, escorted by the teardrop-shaped Seraph fighters.
The 5th fleet, made up of 8 cruisers and several dozen frigates, stood in their way, facing the Covenant strike force like a column of infantry from the Napoleonic era.
"Cortana, put me through to the rest of the fleet," Lord Hood ordered.
She closed her eyes and more equations flowed across her body. "Done."
"All ships, fire at will."
The three Super MAC guns, Cairo, Athens, and Malta, pivoted and fired—shattering dozens of the Covenant drop-ships in the shells' supersonic wake. The UNSC 5th fleet fired next, smaller MAC rounds and missiles were unleashed upon the Covenant strike force, blasting even more of their ships to bits.
But for everyone they destroyed, two more seemed to take their place.
They were soon in range of the fleet's point defense guns, which rattled away with their 50mm shells, hammering against the hulls of Covenant fighters, causing the enemy ships to fall apart under the sustained attacks and exploded.
Then the Longsword fighters joined the fray, unleashed missiles and auto cannons on the fighters and boarding craft they engaged.
It seemed like the majority of the pods had been wiped out. But just enough had gotten through. Several pods slammed into the hull of the Cairo, and her two sisters. The deck shuddered beneath Hood's feet, but he maintained his composure.
His offices did as well, and they began coordinating with the Marine security teams. Calling out orders on the loudspeakers.
"All UNSC personnel, heed and stand to. We have enemy boarding parties. Report to battle stations and prepare to repel boarders."
"Get me through to the other stations." Lord Hood ordered.
"Go ahead, sir," Cortana said.
"Athens, Malta. Status report."
"Stand by... their latched. Check your targets and watch the crossfires. They're in standard formation: little bastards up front, big ones in back... Good luck, Cairo.
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Cairo Station, 1421 hours.
Another loud clang raddled through the station, and Marines braced themselves on whatever they could grab.
"What the hell!"
"Did something just hit us?!"
Johnson directed the men. "That sounded close. This way."
The Chief, Johnson, and a squad of Marines headed into the next room, where a small mess hall was located. It had a large viewport that looked out over the planet below, and sure enough there was a Covenant boarding craft latched onto the hull in the next room. A firefight could be heard in the next room, and were now starting to cut into the mess hall.
"Oh Christ, they're cutting their way in!"
"Stow it Marine, I want a field of fire on that bulkhead." Johnson ordered. "Soon as it opens, let 'em have it."
Marines began to spread out, getting behind security barriers and metal railings, pointing their rifles at the door that was glowing brighter and brighter with each passing second.
The Chief took up position dead center and closest to the door.
Any second now.
Bang!
The door exploded into a hundred small pieces raining glowing hot metal fragments everywhere.
Seconds later, when the smoke cleared, several short aliens, wearing yellow or red-trimmed armor, methane rigs, and masks, began swarming into the room. The Chief allowed the target reticle on his HUD to hover over the first alien, and he pulled the trigger. The recoil compensators in his armor dampened the effect of the BR55's kick.
Three of the Grunts went down from head shots. Phosphorescent blue ichor spattered the deck. The Marines and Johnson opened fire as well, unleashing a sustained field of sire that was deadly to all who tried to enter the room.
Johnson and Chief each tossed a grenade into the next room, and a pair of explosions resonated through the deck, and they could hear the screams of injured aliens.
The Chief and the marines launched a counterattack and entered the next room, finishing off any alien that was still standing.
Soon, the area was clear and only the Spartan and the marines were standing in the room filled with alien gore.
The station shuddered again.
Lord Hood's voice crackled over the Chief's helmet comm.
"Master Chief, get to the main hangers and cut off the Covenant boarders at their source. The Marines will mop up the rest. Get moving son."
"Understood, sir."
He shared a look with Johnson, the two men nodded, and the Chief stepped over the dead bodies and was on his way.
The sounds of fighting were even louder now, indicating that, in spite of the crew's best efforts, Covenant forces had still managed to fight their way out of the areas adjacent to their entry points.
It seemed as if the Cairo was infested with chrome-armored demons spouting plasma fire.
The Chief headed up a flight of stairs and entered Security station R-01, where a squad of Marines were trying to hold off Covenant boarders who had overrun the commons room below them.
Several dead marines and naval techs were strewn across the floor below.
John assisted the marines, using precision fire to take down grunts and allow himself and the marines to concentrate on the elites. Their shields popped under sustained fire and their will filled with lead before dropping.
"They're coming up the stairs!" One Marine shouted before falling back into the security room while firing at the flight of stairs.
Master Chief exited the room and went to the stairs on the side opposite from where he came in.
The Master Chief shouldered his BR and grabbed the two SMGs on his hips and ran into a shimmery, blue-clad Elite at the top of the stairs, and opened fire. There were Grunts in the area as well, but he knew that the Elite posed the real danger. He expertly sprayed at the alien. The Elite roared defiance and fired in return, but the sheer volume of the M7's projectiles caused the Elite's shielding to flare, overload, and fail. The bulky alien fell to his knees, bent forward, and collapsed. Frightened by what had happened to their leader, the Grunts made barking noises, turned, and began to scurry away. Individually, the Grunts were cowards, but the Spartan had seen what a pack of the creatures could do.
He and the Marines opened fire again. Alien bodies tumbled and fell.
John continued on through a hatch by himself, heard more firing, and turned in that direction.
He heard another loud clang as a boarding craft attaches to the Cairo. He stormed up to another catwalk and entered one of the main hangers, where a squad of Marines were struggling to hold off the Covenant boarders.
The Chief threw a pair of grenades down to the Covies below, and the Marines did the same, blasting several alien warriors off of their feet and splattering gore all over the viewports and bulkheads.
The Area was secure. As the marines began to police the bodies and gather weapons and ammo, one marine walked over to the viewport.
"Hey, check it out. The Malta's already driven off its boarders."
The Chief was intrigued by what the young man said and walked up to the viewport as well, with a couple other marines. The noncom was right. Several boarding craft were leaving the station and heading back to the Covenant fleet, which still hung ominously outside the MAC's effective range.
Apparently the brass had noticed as well, for not a second later, Cortana was already in contact with the Malta's defense coordinator.
"Malta, what is your status?"
"I don't believe it! They're retreating. We won."
The Chief didn't believe it either. In his entire career fighting the covenant, retreat was never an option. They often fought to the last-
Seconds later, the Malta blossomed like an orange flower, and its debris was sent scattering in several directions. The Chief and marines could feel the shockwave rumbling through the deck beneath their feet.
They were all dumbfounded and in shock by what just happened.
"Well... shit," the first marine exclaimed.
"This ain't good."
Another clang rattled the station, and the Chief still had his work cut out for him. He made his way to the next hanger, where a squad of Marines were trying to fight their way back inside.
Boots rang on metal as he slammed a fresh magazine into the BR55's receiver and he passed a wounded Marine. Chief remembered him. PFC Chips Dubbo. He was one of the Marines who had survived the ordeal on Halo with himself and Sergeant Johnson. The Aussie Marine held a dressing to a plasma burn and managed to smile.
"Glad you could make it, Chief . . . we saved some alien buggers just for you."
The Spartan nodded, paused at the edge of the door and looked around the corner and caught a glimpse of two grunts manning portable plasma turrets on the catwalk overlooking the hanger.
The Covenant were well entrenched, and several marines lay dead from a previous attempt to retake the hanger.
"What's our game plan, Chief."
Chief looked back at the marines, who were battered and bloodied, but raring for payback.
"Follow my lead." The spartan said, before he spun around the corner, bashed a nearby jackal with his rifle, smashing the birdlike alien's skull, and began peppering the plasma turret grunts with his BR55. They trained their guns on him, and splatted plasma all over his shields.
His suit alarm started going off as his shield drained. But the gamble paid off, as the marines began to storm the room, dropped the grunt gunners, and began to retake the hanger.
A group of jackals near the Chief were trying to flank the Marines, hunkering down behind their energy shields—handheld units, rather than the full-body protection the Elites favored. The Jackals shifted to take aim at the Marines, and the Chief saw his opening. He fired a burst at the Jackal's unprotected flanks and the aliens hit the deckplates, dead.
He continued the climb up the flight of stairs to help the marines from above, and came nearly visor-to-visor with another Elite. The alien roared, charged forward, and attempted to use his energy sword. The Master Chief evaded the blow—he'd fought Elites hand-to-hand before, and knew they were dangerously strong—and backed away. He leveled his weapon at the Elite's belly, and squeezed the trigger. The Covenant soldier seemed to absorb the bullets like a sponge, continued to advance, and was just about to swing when a final round cut through his spinal cord. The alien soldier slammed into the deck, twitched once, and died.
The Marines were just mopping up.
One wounded elite was too injured to move, but continued to struggle nonetheless. "That's what I'm talking about!" a Marine crowed. He fired a coup de grâce into the injured alien's head.
The hanger was now secure. But their victory was short-lived, as Private Dubbo looked out the viewport.
"uh-oh. I think they're leaving the Athens."
Just like the Malta. And sure enough-
BOOOM!
Another station destroyed. The shockwave caused the station to shudder again.
"I'm getting real sick of this crap!" One marine exclaimed.
The Chief was inclined to agree. Then the Admiral's voice came in over his helmet comm.
"Cortana, assessment!"
"That explosion came from inside the Athens. Same as the Malta. The Covenant must have brought something with them. A bomb."
"Then they sure as hell brought one here. Chief, find it."
With Cortana's directions, the Chief made his way through the station, rushing down hallways, ducking under maintenance shafts and clearing out pockets of Covenant boarders along the way. There weren't as many marines to run into in this part of the station, as their dead bodies lay scattered across the deck. But there were plenty of dead aliens as well.
He even found the body of the Mastery Gunnery Sergeant from earlier who ran the station's armory and gave him his armor. Two dead elites lay by the armorer's feet, and an empty M90 Shotgun was in his lifeless grasp. His eyes were still open.
The Chief knelt down next to him to shut them.
'I didn't know you very well, Master Gunns, but I sure as hell wish I had. You must have been one hardass son of a bitch.'
That's when the Chief started to hear another firefight nearby. He rushed to assist, metal boots clanging on the deck as he slammed a fresh magazine home.
Lt. Commander Miranda Keyes, better known as the daughter of Captain Jacob Keyes, waited for the last cowering Grunt to round the corner. She shot him in the head, and the little methane-sucker dropped like a rock.
"Area secure," one of Sergeant Stacker's ODSTs said.
Sergeant Johnson took a quick peek, verified that the next corridor was clear, and motioned to those behind them.
"Which way, ma'am?"
She pointed that way and they were all on their way.
Her bridge crew followed as they all thundered down the hall.
"They're behind us!" One Helljumper yelled, and he fired at the Covenant forces who were chasing them. "Run faster!"
Miranda wasn't a sprinter—she was a naval officer. She turned to take aim on her pursuers, when a globe of glowing-green plasma sizzled past her ear.
"Damn," she cursed, then ran with renewed energy.
They rounded another corner, only to be cut off by another squad of Covenant warriors.
Keyes bridge crew and Johnson's Marines were completely cut off, and were running dangerously low on ammo.
That's when more gunfire was coming from the end of the hall that they had just come from. Whoever it was was giving the Covenant a real run for their money.
"What the hell's going on back there?"
Johnson grinned. "God's very own anti-sonuvabitch machine."
The covenant forces behind them all dropped dead, and sure enough a big suit of green death started advancing down the corridor, stepping over dead bodies and spraying the other end of the hall with precision fire.
"We were almost onboard when they showed up." Keyes said.
"Don't worry, Ma'am. I'm on it." Chief said, as he continued his onslaught.
Joined by the Marines and Johnson, they cleared out the remains of the covenant in the hallway.
When it was all clear, Commander Keyes exited cover to join the rest of her crew. But just as the Chief was about to move on, she called after him.
"Thanks Chief." She said. He looked back, and she could see her smile in his reflective visor. "I owe you one."
The Chief nodded and carried on.
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Cairo Station command deck.
Cortana was split between multiple tasks. She was monitoring the covenant and do everything she could to mess with the covenant, like blocking off their progress, depressurizing the compartments they controlled, and using the cameras to direct Marine fireteams.
But most importantly she was trying to find out where the Covenant had their bomb and direct the Chief to it. She saw numerous firefights all around the station, including several with John. That's when one camera showed her a squad of Covenant troops clearing out the fire control station. They were dragging what looked like a giant purple pill the size of a small automobile, covered in spikes.
Its power readings were off the charts.
There you are.
Her avatar turned to face Lord Hood. "Sir, boarders have breached the fire control center. They have a bomb."
"Can you defuse it?"
"Yes, but I'll need the Chief's help to make contact with the detonator."
The Admiral pressed a button on his computer console and spoke into it. "Chief, get to the bomb, double time!" Then he looked up. The Covenant ships that had been holding position for this entire time chose now to accelerate toward Earth. "Cortana, prioritize targets and fire at will."
Admiral Harper's voice cut in across the fleet wide net.
"First Echelon, you're with me, blanket those cruisers, take 'em out one by one. Second Echelon, keep those carriers busy."
"Registering all hostile vessels inside the kill zone. Thirteen cruisers, two assault carriers. I'm going loud!" Cortana said.
The 5th fleet fired their MAC guns and missiles. The Cairo, and several orbital Super MAC guns from neighboring clusters, opened fire as well— streaks of white hot metal burned across the night. The Covenant answered by launching a salvo of plasma torpedoes at the UNSC fleet—so much fire in space that it looked like a solar flare.
Deadly arcs of flame and metal raced through space and crossed paths.
Plasma torpedoes collided with them and sprayed plumes of molten metal into space. After a dozen hits, clouds of ionizing metal enveloped the place where several UNSC frigates had been. They had been vaporized.
The last of the Covenant plasma hit the haze—scattered, absorbed, and made the cloud of debris glow a hellish orange.
Meanwhile, the 5th fleet's opening salvo and the Super MAC rounds hit the Covenant fleet. The smaller ship-based MAC rounds bounced off the Covenant shields—it took three or more to wear them down.
The Super MAC rounds, however, were another story. The first Super MAC shell hit a Covenant cruiser. The ship's shield flashed and vanished—the remaining impact momentum transferred to the ship—the hull rippled and shattered into a million fragments.
The Covenant fleet, outnumbered 5 to 1 by the 5th fleet alone, was woefully outgunned and outnumbered. The UNSC could only win naval engagements if they had a 3 to 1 advantage. But 5 to 1, and with nearly a dozen orbital guns in range, it wasn't even fair.
Covenant CCS-class cruisers with downed shields flared white and dissolved, or were left behind ... burning hulks that drifted in space. The other ships however, the assault carriers, shrugged off the damage. Each one being 3 times the length of a Marathon-class cruiser, their shields burned brilliant silver, then cooled, their advance unrelenting.
Plasma charges collected on the lateral lines of the Covenant carriers. They fired. Fingers of deadly energy reached across space . . . toward the UNSC fleet. White-blue beams flashed from their prows—a split second later several UNSC vessels were gutted and detonated.
"The carriers are breaking through, sir! They're heading straight for the Cairo!" Admiral Harper said over the comm.
"Cortana! Concentrate your fire on the first carrier. Admiral, do what you can against the second."
There was a pause, but the Admiral carried out the order.
"Everyone, form up. Follow my lead!"
The UNSC fleet engaged the carriers, MAC rounds and missiles slamming into their shields and making them glow a brilliant silver. As the battle continued to unfold, Cortana looked into the security systems again, and saw that the Master Chief was taking the elevator up to the fire control control room.
"Just so you know, there are quite a few elites guarding the bomb. You may need to get creative. Any ideas?"
She saw the Master Chief lugging an M247 general purpose machine gun. It was a .50 cal MG with a magazine capacity of 100 rounds. These were the types of machine guns placed on scorpion tanks or mg nests.
"Simple." He said, holding the gun up to the camera.
Fire Control station.
No sooner had the doors parted than the Chief started laying down .50 calibers of pure hatred down range, popping the shields of elites and blasting grunts in half. The elites tried to fight back, but they soon had fist sized holes blossoming all over their chests, and purple gore splattered the deck and the viewport.
By the time the gun ran dry, every covenant soldier in the room lay dead.
Cortana suddenly appeared on a pedestal near the bomb, which looked like a giant metal pin cushion.
"Me, inside your head, now!" She said.
The Chief ran over, placed his hand over the pedestal, and allowed Cortana to transfer to his suit's systems. The sensation of her entering his neural implant located on the back of his skull felt as if someone had poured a cup of ice water into his mind, followed by a momentary jab of pain, and a familiar presence.
It was good to have her back, but they had work to do, and he ran over to the bomb, which was starting to emit a high-pitched whine. It was about to go off.
He slammed the palm of his hand onto the bomb's control display, and the red blinking lights suddenly turned a nice aqua blue.
Bomb neutralized.
"So, how much time was left?" Chief asked.
"You don't want to know," Cortana said, almost shaken.
The station was now safe. The first of the two carriers outside the station passed the viewport, blowing through the Malta's debris field and began to descend the surface below. Its sister was continually pelted by UNSC MAC rounds.
"Cairo, this is In Amber Clad. The carrier's shield is down, I'm in position and ready for an immediate assault." Said the voice of Miranda Keyes.
"Negative, commander. Not against a ship that size. Not on your own." Lord Hood responded over the comm.
"Sir," Chief said, "permission to leave the station?"
"For what purpose, Master Chief?" Hood asked.
"To give the Covenant back their bomb." He said.
There was a pause in the radio chatter. But eventually the Admiral's voice came through the Chief's helmet.
"Permission granted."
And with that, the Chief grabbed a hold of two of the bomb's spikes, and began dragging it across the floor, metal screeching as a couple dozen metal spikes were dragged across it. The Chief was soon able to get the bomb onto the elevator, whereupon he hit the button and began his descent.
"I know what you're thinking," Cortana said, "and it's crazy."
"So? Stay here." Chief responded.
"Well unfortunately for us both... I like crazy."
The chief was eventually able to drag the bomb all he way to one of the station's hangers. It rested the bomb in the path of one of the doors and walked over to a support column with a console on it. Before he interacted with it, he looked out the airlock and saw the battle unfolding outside.
The entire UNSC 5th fleet was chasing down the two carriers, pelting them with MAC rounds. But the sheer size of the carriers meant that they would be doing this for a while.
It was time to even the odds. So he slammed his fist against the column, and a handle extended. Just as he grabbed it, Cortana spoke up again.
"Just one question. What if you miss?"
"I won't."
And he pulled the switch.
The doors began to part, and the vacuum of space started to suck out the station's atmosphere, allowing all loose objects to start flying out the hanger. Including the bomb, which the Chief grabbed a hold of as it flew by, carrying him out into the void of space.
Soon he was over one of the two carriers, which were both still heading for the atmosphere.
One UNSC cruiser flew too close overhead, and was hit by one of the carrier's energy projectors. The ship was gutted amidships, and began to lose power, before a powerful explosion ripped through the hull.
A pair of UNSC longswords zoomed past the Chief and unleashed their payloads on the Covenant carrier, ripping a large gash in the unshielded hull. The chief flew through the fiery explosions and passed right through the open gash, where he found himself floating around in a massive chamber, which housed the carrier's main reactor.
The building-sized reactor coils pulsed with blue-white lightning and threw hard shadows onto the walls. The Master Chief adjusted his low-light filters to screen out the glow from the reactor.
This seemed like the right spot.
John pushed pushed a button, and then used his feet to fly out of the carrier, just as a powerful explosion ripped through the ship, putting it out of action for good. John then found himself a perfect spot to land: the hull of a UNSC frigate.
Miranda Keyes sat in the command chair of her frigate, the In Amber Clad, and watched the video footage of the carrier breaking up high above them. Just as she was about to issue her next set of orders, a loud clang resonated above.
She and Johnson and the whole bridge crew looked up at the ceiling.
That's when they received a call from the radio. "Thanks for the ride, ma'am."
Johnson cracked a smile. "For a brick, he flew pretty good." He said, causing the pilots to laugh.
Miranda smiled and shook her head before she pressed a button and put herself through to the Spartan riding her ship. "Nice work Chief. Now get inside and gear up. We're taking this fight to the surface."
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Hey folks, that was the first full chapter.
Hope you enjoyed.