User:RelentlessRecusant/Halo Wars/Archive 4

1
Shadowspawn, Part 1

Fifth Cycle (Covenant Battle Calendar), Installation 03, Security Sector Five-Eight

Screams resonated through the moisture-laden air, and fire knifed from the gloom and ambient, wafting dust and light ahead, and a perfect sphere of golden light lit in the air: one of the Ape rocket warheads connecting to a low-level Banshee strafer. Special Commander Marshal Aunto ‘Ayatolee hissed, four mandibles, all plated with the shaded bronze armor denoting an officer of the Special Encounter Assault Reconnaissance division of the Covenant army, clacking in rhythmic succession to form words, barely divisible from the residual background radiation, “All Raider Elements, pull back. Ground Units One and Three, move in!”

While it seemed him to be a lowly creature to be stooping in the acrid mud, the dirt impregnated with flea-infested waters and the corrupted grasses, blazing ill at him, the Special Commander Marshal was one of not honor, a Sangheili who longed for a blazing death in incinerating fire, but one of victory at any cost. This had landed him a lofty post with the S.E.A.R. commandoes, one which Sangheili had a love-hate relationship: love for the infamy affixed to any warrior chosen for the Special Operations force, hatred for the casualty rate and the lack of any glory. No Sangheili was ever paraded joyously for operations while attached to S.E.A.R. No, their victories were won in the shadows, with techniques that even the Arbiter would defame for their treachery. A death in S.E.A.R. was never known. Aunto recalled that a year ago, thirty of his comrade Sangheili, while he was attached to the regular army, had been called upon personally by the Prophet of Mercy to be transferred to an elite unit. There were ghastly rumors of biochemical augmentation and a shadow force named S.E.A.R. Five months later, even after contacting the Technical Corps, he could find no trace of his former comrades. None. Immediately afterwards, he had been demoted two pay grades, directly from the Intelligence Bureau (I.B.). None ever again dared to contact lost friends and brothers-in-arms after Aunto’s haphazard incident. The following cycles, it had been awkward to treat subordinates as commanding officers. Only several chivalrous acts against the Apes had redeemed himself from the scum of the lesser-trained soldiers, and brought him to rank of Field Master once again, the brazen, austere breastplate, the glories cast upon him as one after another, the Apes had yielded before him.

Then, while aboard the Reverence-class Cruiser Soulful Revelation, he had been taken by the I.B. in the dead of night. At first he had thought it was a political scheme, a kidnapping. When he was transferred by Phantom to the High Prophet of Regret’s Assault Carrier, the Sacrosanct Altar, and taken before the Prophet himself, that thought was vaporized within a millisecond. He was relieved of command of his typical ground contingent and deemed Special Prime Marshal of an arm of the I.B.: S.E.A.R. He had immediately cringed, unable to bear the thought of missions without honor, victories lacking the luster of glory before the army, death without notification of his extended family. Yet, before the High Prophet, none dared to utter a word or a whisper with insidious intent. Those people were removed immediately by the I.B. Aunto was compelled by fear of death and religious reverence from the Prophet of Regret. Thus began his career at S.E.A.R

Within five months, he had gained control of multiple field operations units after a promotion to Special Commander Marshal, and then was transferred upon the flagship Divine Wrath and taken to the Sacred Ring known to the forefathers as Gamma Installation, or Installation Zero-Three. He was enraptured by ecstasy when he had first set foot, the glorious aroma permeating him. After a skirmish with the Apes had brought his four units to solely two, the mantle of leading men into certain deaths set upon him, those sensations were suppressed. Half a dozen S.E.A.R. commandoes, plus those regulars under command of Field Sub-Master Krisha, were still his to lead into combat.

A small group of Apes, no more than twenty in quantity, had fled the engagement that had ravaged his ranks. His tactical errors were such that one would pity the Special Commander Marshal once he met with the Minor Prophet aboard the Divine Wrath. One of the Ape tanks had fired upon one of his three-man field op units. The high explosive shell had incinerated two, and the secondary automatic weapon had mauled the third. Yet another group was lost in uncertain circumstances, and the Technical Corps believed that that group’s commander had reported engagement with a Demon. They were officially denoted Missing in Action, yet the truth quotient in that was zero. They had fallen for sure.

However, he had rallied, and chased an Ape platoon to this horrid swamp of dismay. Now, only about eight underlings were left, and they would be trod upon by his own men. Four Banshee fliers had needled them, harassing them from cover to an exposed area with their twin plasma cannons and fuel rod guns. An Ape high explosive launcher had taken one of his fliers, Raider Four, yet that was inconsequential, for Raider Element’s objectives were two-fold: to chase the Apes from the concealed positions and to divert them whilst Ground Units One and Three drew swords upon them from flanking positions...

The Sangheili commander of Ground Unit Three echoed a stalwart affirmative, and Aunto ‘Ayatolee cast a look backwards at the six S.E.A.R. commandoes and a dozen Unggoy, walking bullet-rags, trodding behind him with utmost stealth. As they neared the apex of the low-running hill, the Special Commander Marshal impatiently gestured for the two S.E.A.R. long-range specialists to ready particle beam rifles. Then, a word escaped his clenched jaws. “Attack.”

Amethyst beams lanced out from both sides of the bowel-shaped, marsh-ridden location, and five of the Apes fell. As the three others uncertainly readied their primitive projectile weapons, the non-sniper soldiers dove upon them. He drew his commando carbine, sheathed with graphite and other materials for a near-zero aural signature and equipped with a 4x magnification zoom, and fired as he rounded the crest. The Ape in sight, idiotic enough not to don a helmet in times of war, fell from a double-round burst in its unarmored face. The first was sufficient to lance it, the second a back-up in the unlikely chance of a miss. Its weapon, denoted as a “submachine gun” in their infidel tongues, never even fired. The two others were swarmed upon by various Sangheili and Unggoy and dispatched, at the cost of only three Unggoy from a rocket. A glorious riddance in my opinion, Aunto thought contemptuously as he shot an Ape’s body several times, letting crimson alien blood disperse in the running waters of the omnipresent river that appeared to be canvass the entire swamp. As the gas hissed from his semi-automatic weapon after every shot, he whispered the name of a fallen S.E.A.R. soldier, and in an uncharacteristic external expression of rage, primed a plasma grenade and let it affix to the Ape’s shattered, disfigured head. It burned as a neutron star for a moment, and then detonated, casting vaporized blood over his visage of death, his helmet. One S.E.A.R. commando turned. “Enemies, Special Commander Marshal?”

He blankly stared at the few pieces of carbonized flesh remaining, being lost in the blurred lines of the river, never feeling the euphoria of righteous vengeance. “No, Marshal.”

He fully turned, recognizing the stature of the warrior and fully identified the warrior. “Marshal Kolante, tell the Sub-Master to withdraw his Banshees. They are no longer needed by me.”

Kolante clicked his mandibles once: an affirmative. Aunto turned to survey the aggregated ranks of Ground Units One and Three: six S.E.A.R. Sangheili warriors, ten regular Sangheili, most of Minor Domo rank, and a phalanx of twenty-one Unggoy. “Disperse to normal commands. S.E.A.R. troopers, with me. Others, return to the rendezvous position of Sub-Master Krisha at...”

He expectantly turned at Kolante, who was supposedly in contact with the Field Sub-Master. He clicked his jaws twice, the sign of being preoccupied but registering the query. A brief moment stretched into a quarter of a unit, and he felt rather angered at being unable to tell his subordinates where to move. He was about to check himself when the S.E.A.R. commando said smartly, “Excellency, I can not reach the Sub-Master.”

The gazes of the Sangheili regulars drifted to him as one spat on an Ape corpse, and then turned back towards him, faith in his commanding officer shook by how inept he was at communications. Aunto grimaced, momentarily feeling slighted by that Minor Domo’s blatant disrespect, a wonder if the Sub-Master had been taken by the prowling Demons, and then finally assuming a façade of irritability, one he knew all the S.E.A.R. troopers feared. “What, Marshal, did you say?”

Marshal Kolante, wondrously, did not supplicate so quickly. “His electronic signature is not being read by my armor’s communicators.”

He waved at the rest of his commandoes to confirm that, turned to the regulars to perhaps apologize for the blunder, and realized how lofty his rank was. He apologized only to Fleet Masters, Imperial Admirals, and Prophets. These Minor Domos were beneath his contempt.

A moment later, another S.E.A.R. commando affirmed that, and was followed by the rest in sequence as they could not locate the Sub-Master. He clenched his jaws. “This is impossible. Just five minutes ago, I commandeered several ground units and Banshees from his division.”

He turned, and initiated a communications link to the levitating frigate Ageless Defender. A field communications operator, a Sangheili clad in cyan armor, responded. “Yes, Excellency? Ageless Defender responding to hail.”

The S.E.A.R. commander hissed venomously, as if a Jiralhanae were addressing a Sangheili commanding officer, “Find me Field Sub-Master Krisha, commander of the Fifth Joint Regiment of Arcane Divination.”

The operator obediently offered a nod of acknowledgement and respect, but his eyes revealed the fright within his heart at working with a commanding officer so high. Every instinct within him screamed for him to run. The slightest error would result to a plasma beam in the head. “Working, Excellency. A moment of your time is deigned.”

He did not bother with an acknowledging nod.

After a full half a unit, of which made the Special Commander Marshal believe that the communications link was faulty, the Minor Domo returned, hesitant. “My apologies, Excellency, but Field Sub-Master Krisha can not be found even on a high-power communications carrier wave acquisition series. If it would please you, I could...”

He tersely said, voice with running blade of deathly cold, “What is your name, operator?”

He said jerkily, as if anticipating the fall, “Minor Domo Gaon ‘Ellaeree, Excellency.”

“When I return to your channel in half a unit, you had better be contrite and find me the Sub-Master. This is not a game. Soon, you will receive a call.”

Without waiting for a response, brusquely, he redirected the link to the bridge of the Ageless Defender, his calm demeanor inflamed with fury. “Ship Master Ceto 'Rosymee, your incompetence is not acceptable! Tell Minor Domo ‘Ellaeree to get me Sub-Master Krisha on his com line, now!”

The Ship Master paled beneath his golden visor. With startling suddenness, he replied, “Yes, Excellency!”

A long moment later, he was transferred back to Minor Domo ‘Ellaeree, who was already like a prisoner broken in interrogation. “Uh, Excellency! Yes! How may I serve?” His false, forced optimism broke when he said monotonously, “Did you get the Sub-Master’s line for me yet, Minor Domo?”

The emphasis on the derogate’s rank made him sputter uselessly, and he roared in a stentorian fashion loud enough to summon the operator’s manager, “WHAT IN THE ANCIENT’S NAME ARE YOU GETTING AT?”

A Major Domo scurried over on the oiled tiles of the Ageless Defender. “Yes, Excellency? This is Major Domo...”

He cut him off. “Find me Sub-Master Krisha, and prove yourself somewhat useful, unlike the pitiful failure before you. Now!”

A rapid-fire reply, wrought from fear. “Yes, Excellency!”

The reply was like a tape recording. “My apologies, Excellency, but...”

“You’re useless! You are all useless!”

He was about to terminate the link when the Major Domo pleaded. Perhaps some long-lost pity in his soul was dredged up, and he permitted him a few moments before calling the Divine Wrath and informing the Fleet Master to reprimand the Redoubtable.

“None of us eight communications operators can find the Sub-Master. He may be out of range.”

He shook his head slowly, unwilling to think of the alternative. “And you are sure that your communicators are operating properly, Major Domo?”

“Yes, Excellency!”

The conclusion was one in quantity and disturbing in heart and mind.

It was that Sub-Master Krisha had fallen in battle.

Cheers,

49 Proximal Secant[ oracle ] 21:34, 29 December 2006 (UTC)

2
Adrian waited a moment, the silence of the communications system muffled only slight by the long steady strides of breath he took, which seemed like forever; worry and confusion hanging like a heavy cloud over his head. Helen ‘’still’’ had yet to make contact with him, and that familiar sensation of warmth that accompanied the artificial intelligence accompanying him was still flowing through his body. This was extremely troubling, and he knew there was only one way to retrieve her. "Reclaimer, thou haveth thy artifact. Return it to thy control and thy will returneth thou construct," The wry, high strung voice of the one called 49 Proximal Secant sounded over his communications systems wired into the helmet of the Mjolnir armor system. Adrian frowed his eyebrows while trying to make sense of the garbled English with which the Artificial Intelligence spoke. It confused him, it sounded like the old English with which writers during the seventeenth century; like Shakespearean speech.

"Thou haveth troubles, Reclaimer? Thy have sensed thou state of confusion with thy speech. Thy will suiteth thou with a more contemporary dialect..." The one named 49 Proximal Secant continued, and with every word Adrian became more confused. He growled a little, bearing his teeth, his brown hair shifting slightly as his head hung a little lower. He closed his eyes taking a deep breath. "How does this suit you, Reclaimer?" The construct said with a sort of glee at the fact that he had encountered no resistance as he isolated and duplicated the modern English dialect which Helen had in her Reimann Matrix. The superiority with which 49 Proximal Secant manipulated the rather antediluvian construct was astounding, with such little resistance.

Days before, they had conversed briefly; it was quite an oddity that she had been on an accessible, stable frequency from the installation in slip space. She was innocent enough, but nothing that would stop him from disabling her in order to regain an artifact of the forerunner.

Adrian took a second, and a slight step back, his eyes wide. 'What was this thing inside of his head...?’ He thought to himself, as he looked over the scenery. He needed some questions answered, and he needed them now. "Listen to me carefully... Whoever you are..." Adrian began, that steady calm tone, low and grizzly siphoning through his speakers. A slight perking of interest could be heard from the construct in his speakers. "Return Helen back, now..." He growled even more. Unlike the encounters with monitors on the other installations by Spartan 117, Adrian was not playing nice. When you hurt Helen, you hurt a part of him.

A cackle of laughter could be heard from the construct, which made Adrian wrinkle his nose in disgust. This thing was mocking him. "Oh, Reclaimer, I cannot do such a thing whilst the artifact is still in your possession. Not that I don't trust you, Reclaimer. But something of such power should not be in the hands of an organic being. It is needed to power the installations, nothing else." The construct sounded, slightly more annoyed now. "Now, Reclaimer, please. Return the artifact to my control..." 49 Proximal Secant said, with a panging whine, frustrated to a point.

'An artifact? What was he talking about?' Adrian thought to himself, looking around, and then finally landing on his leg compartment. It suddenly snapped to his mind; The Orb. No, he couldn’t give that up. That left only one option. He lost his breath for a moment, and then gasped deeply.

"Reclaimer, is something the matter?" The alien construct inquired, with a tone of puzzlement and quirkily intrigued by Adrian's response. He was monitoring his bodily functions, and this is how he had gained such insight into Adrian's mood and attitude.

"Override Activation Code: LEVIATHAN WAKES!" Adrian shouted, and with that came another rush of warmth, stronger and more inclined, vigorous. A yawn, like someone stretching their legs, came across the communications system. Adrian sighed, a slight smile creeping across his lips, knowing what he had unleashed. With no anti-hacking software programmed into this prototype armor, he had only one way of ridding himself of the intruder; Helen.

"Hello... Secant," Helen's voice sounded, annoyed now. Her voice, high and mighty, was a wave of relief over him. "So nice of you to say hello…" She muttered a sound of disgust over his intrusion.

"Oh, hello... Helen... You're as lovely as ever. Even more-so, I believe. Have you done something new with your hair?" 49 Proximal Secant seemed to giggle, nervously; confused at the new coding form Helen had taken. It was like she had leaped ahead several stages, encompassing much more than she had originally any other time he had analyzed her.

She had been released from her 'Dumb' form now, the switch into her ‘Smart’ form completed and the limits on her Reimann Matrix severed; finally able to stretch her legs and learn. And learn she did. Anti-Viral and Hacking Intrusion measures had been downloaded from her core memory system, making her immune to the viruses that 49 Proximal Secant had unleashed. And now, the Cout De Grais.

"Just a small makeover, nothing too extreme, you know. But now, I need some alone time with Adrian. So, goodbye," She said with a cute giggle, expelling Secant's communications and creating a multi-layered firewall over the communications routines to keep him away for now. "He can be so... Obsessive sometimes..." She sighed, metaphorically shaking her head. Things like that, Adrian could almost sense.

"You know him?" Adrian inquired, quizzically confused at the whole situation at hand. He was just glad that last ditch effort to release Helen into her 'Smart' state actually worked. He was safe, she was safe, and the object The Covenant had called 'The Divine Judgement' was also safe. And that was all that mattered.

"We've met..." She said, less than enthused. "Let's go," She muttered, and with that Adrian turned once again to Jared-091. He eyed the sniper rifle in his hand, and grinned. They wouldn't need Peterson and his miraculous sniper abilities this time, they had better; A Spartan. He walked over to Jared, nodded his head whilst still clutching his BR-55 across his abdomen.

"Keep that rifle handy, I'm sure we're going to need it." Adrian said, flashing two signals of green across the acknowledgement panel on the communications channel before moving on to inspect the status of the troops. He felt like a leader or something of it again, with all possible weapons at hand. CaptainAdamGraves 04:55, 3 January 2007 (UTC)

3
Jared, relieved that Adrian had returned to normal, scanned the area for a good sniper's blind. His eyes fell upon a pile of rubble next to the bunker. It was a sort of metal-stone conglomerate, and glinted in the bright light. Perfect. It would disguise the slight reflection of his scope and protect him from most of the incoming fire. He crawled underneath a charred pillar and flipped his SRSA2's bipod down, quickly adjusting his scope's settings to perfection. The window of the scope enlarged to fill his HUD, and target data streamed across the right side, constantly updating the current wind velocity and readying his trajectory for him. Jared flipped this feature off. He had found that it only distracted his aim, and he already knew CPO Mendez's old addage.

Through the scope, he easily picked out a white-armored SpecOps Elite directing the Wraiths to firing posts; he seemed to be the one in charge of the Covenant counter-strike. Before lining his target up, the Spartan checked this theory, looking around the scene of battle. No, he was right: White was in charge. The sniper centered the scope's reticule at the base of the Elite's chin, a sure killing blow. The tiny circle flashed red, and the super soldier counted to three before firing, letting his breath out slowly. One... Two... Three... He squeezed the trigger. The sniper's rifle fired with a harsh bark, a flismy white vapor trail following the speeding projectile. The .50 caliber round punched cleanly through the Elite's flesh... and blew the back of his skull to pieces, splattering a nearby subordinate with bright purple blood.

The lesser Elite panicked and swiveled his head around, looking for the one who had killed his commander. He fired his plasma rifle at the bushes, burning the vegetation down under a hail of plasma. A shot to the base of the head was sufficient to put him down.

Jared clicked his comm on and spoke. "All rockets, target the leading Wraith!" A sharp whooshing sound hit his audio pickups as the four launcher-wielding Marines unleashed hell on the Covenant mortar tank. It exploded in blue-white white fire, killing several Grunts in its escort. "Re-target to the rearmost Wraith!" the Spartan barked. It too exploded, but not before its pilot had abandoned it. The other two Wraiths hastily pulled back, their hoverdrives flattening the vibrant green grass beneath them; grass that was now littered with shrapnel, drenched in blood and scarred by black craters. Birds flew over the gory scene, unaware of the battle raging below them.
 *  SPARTAN-091  [[Image:UNSC.jpg|15 px]] HelmetComm undefined Juliet

4
The Anasazi drifted, nearly dead in space. During the fracas over the ring, the Anasazi had been grazed by a plasma torpedo along it's starboard side. Before the engines had overloaded Capt. Jenson had aligned himself on an out-system vector and let himself drift. Pulse lasers had wiped out his sensor and comm arrays, as a result he had been out of contact with the rest of the fleet. Due to the nature of electromagnetic waves, he was able to hear any messages broadcast, but due to the fact that he was unable to broadcast himself, he was unable to respond. "What's the status of the engines?" Jenson asked his XO. "Nearly wiped sir. At most we would be able to pull 25 percent." Lt. King looked down, brought a hand to his forehead, and ran it backwards over his shortened brown hair. "Engineering teams are working on it now. Estimations are not looking good." Jenson looked at the stars. "And weapons?" His weapons officer looked from his station and shook his head. "With the engines spun down we're practically sitting ducks sir. MAC cannons at 78 percent and falling at .6 percent every 5 seconds. We've still got a fair portion of our Archer pods left unfired, and all three of our SHIVAs. Only two platoons of our Marine contingent were able to vacate the ship, but the remainder should be more than enough to repel any boarders." Jenson turned to the rest of his crew. "Will our correctional thrusters be enough to re-align this old tub one hundred eighty degrees?" His nav-officer furiously typed at his console. "Barely, but we'll have to power up the engines to at least 15 percent. Our engineers are saying that powering up now could cause further damage." Jenson closed his eyes. "How long until they can finish preliminary repairs?" Lt. King answered. "Unknown sir, their estimated range is between 2-15 hours." Jenson calmly walked over to his captain's chair and sat down. "Then it looks like we should get a little more comfortable. We're out of the fight for now. Power down all non-essential systems. And get an engineering team in vac-suits out to attempt repairs on our comm array."

***

The 5 Pelicans from the Anasazi had made landfall approximately 5Km from the official Human base camp, at a pre-existing structure on the ring itself. The commanding officers of the company had been left behind on the Anasazi due to a misunderstanding between the Marine leaders and the ships AI. As a result the only officer to make it off the ship was the Lieutenant that commanded Parker's platoon. As a replacement, due to his new duties of managing both platoons which had made landfall, he had assigned Sgt. Parker as platoon leader over all three squads, about 35 men in total.

-Vlad3163

5
Onboard the UNSC Prowler Jacob Rathens sighed. He knew he had been extremely lucky, he had a full crew and a full armament, well at least as full as a prowler gets. He had also not been spotted, as much luck as any prowler captain could ever pray for. However, as they had been sitting there, many crew members had remarked at how frustrated they were at not doing anything. Although he could understand, orders were orders. Unfortunately, he was as frustrated as the crew. Why had no one taken advantage of the 14 HORNET mines that sat below him? 90% of his crew he was certain would be willing to risk the planting of these mines right up the nose of one of those Covenant ships.

“Lieutenant Barlich” he asked “Have there been any updates on the com? “. “No sir” he replied, sounding a bit bored, “Nothing to do with us anyway, just the usual chatter.” Jacob liked Barlich, they had gone to school together, been best friends for a long time, Jacob still felt odd calling him Lieutenant instead of just Andrew. “With all due respect sir,” interjected Ensign Anderson “Why are we just sitting and waiting? We should just go in there and blow the purple brains out of those bastards.” Another one of Jacob’s friends, Derek Anderson also had a tendency to lose his temper. “No Ensign,” Jacob chuckled under his breath, “We have orders, and until ordered otherwise, we stay here.” In high school, Derek had been the better strategist. Jacob had always thought Derek was smarter than he let on but he had never showed any such ability so Jacob had just dismissed it as a false feeling.

Derek grumbled on, something about wanting to earn some combat pay but he returned to his station at weapons. Until they got new orders, Jacob knew none of his crew, not even the always cheerful and upbeat Tyler would be happy.

--Omrifere 00:43, 3 January 2007 (UTC)

6
1800 Hours (Ship’s Time), April 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Destroyer Erwin Rommel, location unknown

“Sir, we are receiving mutliple hails from most of the ships in system. Shall I turn our COM back on?” Janglur voice had a calming effect on the rest of the crew.

“No, send counter signal UNSC Code Three-Nine-Two,” responded Rebuga. He turned to Hänkel. “Why didn’t I just here a MAC round tear through space and blow that direct energy weapon to Hell?”

“Sir! I don’t really know, sir! The archer missiles veered off course, as did the Shiva, and the MAC capacitors are all depolarized!” Hänkel looked uneasy. Something like this didn’t happen, not even the Covenant could do something from that distance.

“Janglur, scan for a tap in our systems. Search for ‘49 Proximal Secant’ and tell me if you find anything.” It must be the same thing that hacked our COM earlier, though Rebuga. The ring builders had been messing with them from the beginning, and now he had a plan to get back at them for it.

“Sir, a viral handshake protocol from 49 Proximal Secant has entered our system and has control of all weapons systems!” Even Janglur seemed uneasy.

“Lock him out of steering and emergency maneuvering,” Rebuga spoke with a cool efficiency. “And life support,” he added. “Send any remaining marines ground side and signal to abandon ship. Launch any active cryo tubes.”

“Alright. Sir, may I ask what your plan is?” Janglur seemed a bit more confident with the knowledge that if he lacked a plan, the Commander didn’t.

“Certainly. If this 49 Proximal Secant program, or whatever the Hell it is, has expended all our ammo, then we’ll just use the ship as a weapon.” Janglur’s avatar looked surprised.

“Sir, who will guide the ship in? I can program a subroutine, but it won’t be able to identify the weapon on its own. I’ll need to stay on board to identify the weapon and properly crash this thing.”

“No…I am going down with my ship. Leave one Bumblebee escapepod with me. Cole Protocol is clear, destruction of an UNSC AI is unacceptable. You’ll be escorted with one of the marines.”

“Sir, is that advisable?”

“I have every confidence in the Corps. Page Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank Wimbleton to the bridge please.”

7
"Admiral!" Wills' cloaked avatar calmly said "The Erwin Rommel is falling towards the ring. They are jettisoning all active cryopods, bumblebee escape craft and launching pelicans, they are..."

"Abandoning ship," The Admrial continued "Currect trajectory of the Erwin Rommel?"

"Collision course with the energy weapon. ETA 14 minutes 42.56 seconds" Confusion washed over the AI "Weapons were fired but they all veered off course,"

"49 Proximal Secant," He muttered

"Sir?"

"The caretaker of this ring. Intercepted from covenant transmissions. He is an AI, similar to you. But, not as "young". If the covenant reports are right he is many mellenia old,"

"I understand sir. But Janglur is more than capable of fending off any system hacks." He stated with increasing confusion. Within a second he smilied "Covenant Frigate on an intercepting course" He said with renewed vigor

The Admiral smilied "Finally, Warm the MAC system,"

--MIL AI 2340 00:43, 3 January 2007 (UTC)

8
1801 Hours (Ship’s Time), April 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Destroyer Erwin Rommel, location unknown

Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank Wimbleton jerked awake to a flashing light in his helmet HUD and a beeping in his ear. Someone was requesting a COM with him. He opened his eyes. He came fully awake when he saw he was being paged by the bridge. He opened the COM.

“This is Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton!”

“''Master Guns, we need you on the bridge ASAP. And bring your gear.''” The ship AI’s voice was new to him, but he could tell it was artificial.

“Roger that!” Hank cut the COM, got up, grabbed his rifle, and began running towards the access hallway that lead to the bridge. He knew whatever it was they wanted him for was mighty important. As he reached the access hallway, a general alarm and the prepare-to-abandon-ship alarm were sounded. He rounded a corner and arrived at the bridge. Standing near the middle was Commander Rebuga. Hank and Brandon were long time friends. After the Battle of Eridanus II, Brandon had pulled some strings and had Hank permanently assigned to his ship. That had been over twenty years ago.

“Good to see you, Hank.” Some of the bridge crew seemed a bit surprised that the Commander was so informal with this noncom.

“You as well, sir. What is it that you wish for me to do?” Hank tried to keep things formal as was regulation, but it was hard to do so with an old friend like Brandon.

“Well, as you may know from the alarms sounded, we are abandoning ship. I want you to take the ship’s AI to the surface with you.” Hank was surprised, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Are you not coming, sir?”

“No Hank, I am staying on this ship to direct it. I will take the last lifepod shortly before the ship crashes. If I don’t make, well, it’s been a good run.”

“But sir, can’t the AI leave a subroutine or something to handle the final approach?”

“No, I’m afraid that if the weapon moves, or tries to shield, then a subroutine won’t know how to react.” Brandon turned and keyed the holotank a few times. The image faded. Brandon then pulled the AI chip out and handed it to Hank. “Take good care of Janglur. I’ll see you groundside.” Hank took the disk and put it into one of his pockets, zipping it shut. Hank turned to Brandon one last time before walking off.

“When we hit dirt, I’m buying you a beer!”

9
“Sir incoming transmission from UNSC stealth cruiser Call of the Wild.” Lieutenant Barlich announced. “Finally” Ensign Anderson sighed. “And what are our orders Lieutenant?” Jacob asked. Andrew let out a whoop of happiness and then read the new orders with a smile, “Captain Jacob Rathens, due to the present situation you are hereby granted free reign, just remember, do not be spotted and do not be captured. That is all.” “It’s about freaking time” Derek said. “Captain Rathens to engineering” Jacob said into his personal comm. “Yeeeeeeeeessssss?” replied the ever cheerful head mechanic Tyler Whitman, “We’re going in to help those purple blooded bastards blow their nonexistent noses, how long until the engines are hot?” “Well normally it’d take about 10 minutes but considering the situation I’ll have ‘em ready in 5.” “That would be well appreciated I assure you.” “I’ll get right on it sir” Tyler replied. “Sir may I interject for a moment?” interrupted the ship’s AI Sheila. “Go ahead” answered Jacob. “Sir may I suggest that we not go blundering into battle like savages?” “We’re not going to, look for the nearest covenant vessel and advise me of its location.” “Aye sir” the Ai replied.

“Lieutenant Barlich, send a message to all nearby UNSC vessels, tell them that we’re gonna make a new sun and if they don’t want to be part of the fireworks display the better stay clear of that Covenant vessel.” Jacob typed in the coordinates of their target. “Aye sir” Andrew replied with a grin on his face. It reminder of when they were in high school Andrew always smiled like that when he killed someone on the entertainment sims. “Ensign Anderson, have the mines ready for drop yesterday.” “Already done sir!” Derek replied with one of the biggest grins Jacob had ever seen. “Good work, keep that up and you’ll be promoted past Andrew soon.” “Thank you sir!” replied Derek.

“All hands we are going to combat protocols, report to your stations immediately!” Jacob announced over the ship’s PA. “Sir,” interrupted Sheila again, “I advise you to reconsider, I-“ “I am aware of the situation and the risks,” Jacob cut her off “But one thing an AI can never Understand is that, for humans, sitting and watching your brethren be slaughtered before your very eyes can be as bad as being dead.” Jacob finished. The AI paused; she seemed to be considering this, “Very well captain, I just hope you know what the odds are of not being detected at that range.” “Just let me know when we’re in range to start dropping the mines ok?” Jacob asked. “Aye sir, whatever you say.” Replied the AI with a bit of annoyance in her voice.

“Alright people, we’re going in, I know it’s been a long wait but trust me, fireworks shows are ALWAYS worth the wait.” Jacob knew these words had perked up his crew’s ears; they were like a pack of starved wolves. But he also had a feeling that something bad was about to happen.

--Omrifere 08:14, 6 January 2007 (UTC)

10
The following paradox ran through the mind of Supreme Commander Ingo 'Kag Ratanaee, commander of the Fleet of Transcendal Reverence. Although his operational command was now restricted to "merely" thirty-one starships right now instead of the three hundred he normally had jurisdiction over, what puzzled him was how the derogate, Queta ‘Polsimee, had failed to neutralize a handful of the human pocket cruisers. Not only that, his intelligence network had found that Queta had also incited the anger of the Gods themselves, and his vessel was lanced by a titanic energy beam. Sozai 'Zorfitee had been self-appointed to "Fleet Master", a overly ornate rank for one ruling over the operations of three ships, but the situation had gone entirely out of hand. A flagship had been neutralized, thousands of warriors and crewmembers had fallen to both the Apes and another insidious foe that Intelligence knew nothing about except their existance, and Apes had defiled the sacrosanct Holy Ring. A full company of a hundred Honor Guards aboard his command ship, the Sublime Reverence, a variation on the name of the fleet he normally commanded from, had been ordered to arrest Sozai upon their reversion to normal space over the Installation now termed "Gamma Halo".

The NAV Officer's voice intoned the seconds..."Decaying of Slipspace field and quantum terminus in three, two, one..."

*  *   *

The Assault Carrier Sublime Reverence reverted to real space, surrounded by a phalanx of five carriers, five destroyers, and no less than twenty frigates. The bane of the Apes had arrived, and the life of Fleet Master 'Zorfitee was in flux...

Cheers,

49 Proximal Secant[ oracle ] 17:29, 6 January 2007 (UTC)

11
1806 Hours (Ship’s Time), April 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Marathon-class Cruiser-Carrier Winston Churchill, space above Installation 03

“So this thing’s called Installation 03 then?” ask the Vice Admiral.

“That’s what we’ve gathered from intercepted Covenant transmissions. They also call it Gamma Halo,” replied Will. His avatar dimmed and then lit back up. “And the caretaker is this 49 Proximal Secant. It seems that the ring builders have it out for us.”

“Damn. We were really hoping for their cooperation. What’s the status on that frigate that was pursuing the Erwin Rommel?”

“Sir, the frigate pursuing the Erwin Rommel has turned.”

“Commander Rebuga was a good captain, and I’ll bet my life he’s aboard that ship still.”

“His transponder reads that he is, sir.”

“Sir! A Covenant fleet just dropped out of slipspace!” yelled one of the bridge crew.

“Damn! I was hoping for more time. Will, get me a fix on those ships. How many are we dealing with?” Will’s avatar dimmed for a brief second, then an image appeared on the main view screen.

“I’m counting thirty-one, sir.”

“Thirty-one more ships? This is going to get tough.” He looked at each of the new Covenant ships: five carriers, five destroyers, twenty frigates, and an assault carrier. “A bit more than we bargained for, but I think we can manage. How many ships do we have left?”

“Sir, we have twenty-one ships: us, one carrier, five destroyers, and fourteen frigates. Also, that freighter is still in the area. Hmm…I am picking up the signatures of seven additional ships. It must be ONI, because the ships appear to be stealthed. That brings us up to twenty-nine. However, the Erwin Rommel isn’t going to be aiding us any time soon, and the Anasazi is dead in space. ONI probably isn’t here to help us, so we can’t rely on them, and we still can’t seem to break through the static with that freighter. We only managed a brief link. That takes us down to nineteen ships ready for action, sir.” The Vice Admiral looked at the TACMAP. His nineteen ships against the Covenant’s thirty-four? Impossible odds!

“Looks like we’re going to need a miracle.”

12
(This one might be kinda long...)

1802-6 Hours (Ship’s Time), April 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Parabola-Class Freighter The Hesperus, location unknown, Supporting UNSC Destroyer Erwin Rommel

Graves sighed, seeing Angel leave along with the soldier who had tried to keep her from entering the bridge. He kept his eyes closed, trying to take a moment to calm his thoughts, which were nearly overwhelming him at this point. His crew was fighting a battle on the massive alien structure against the Covenant and possibly the creators of the structure, along with a pitched struggle in space against the remaining Covenant ships. How was this freighter meant to possibly survive another impromptu engagement with Covenant forces, with a tattered unit of rag-tag defenders and a ship with a marred hull from a battle they had escaped by the skin of their teeth and a little luck from Adrian and Jason. The thirty soldiers who had gone onto the ring, along with the seven pilots in action, couldn’t be expected to perform miracles twice. His moment of silence was finally broken as O’Shay’s voice.

“Sir, the Erwin Rommel is acting really weird… It’s as if it’s malfunctioning…” O’Shay inquired quizzically, looking from the Captain back to his reports on his holo-screen and panels and back to the Captain. He watched as volley after volley of Archer missiles were shown being jettisoned on radar, then having faulty trajectories and veering off into seemingly randomized vectors.

“I see…” Graves muttered under his breath, as he consulted his own holo-screen and tried to piece together the puzzle. Then he noticed the bumble-bees were being jettisoned as well, and his mind slowly began to put it all together as it clicked into place. He sneered at what he was surmising, something gross and horrible; sacrifice. Something had gone wrong onboard, possibly hacked by the covenant, and all of their explosive material was being jettisoned along with the Erwin Rommel being influenced by the outside force. This left only one option: Use the ship as a weapon itself.

Graves wasn’t going to get in the way of a tactician with his back against the wall, but he would gladly stop a foolhardy commanding officer looking for some glory. But this didn’t fit that profile; why was all but one of the listed amounts of Bumble-bees idling to jettison? Surely, the commanding officer was meaning to vacate the ship if possible, instead of risking death upon a crash landing. And in that event, The Hesperus was going to be right there to pick him up.

“Keep on their ass… I want to make sure that the Erwin Rommel has a clear shot at that ring…” Graves shouted, as O’Shay corrected some minor changed he had made on the trajectory. Now, the Erwin Rommel looked like a brick floating through space in front of them, thought still some way off; The Hesperus was effectively her escort. “I don’t want whatever he is planning…” Graves began but was cut off by Peterson, who turned and shouted.

“Sir, a Covenant Frigate is moving to intercept!” He yelled, turning back to his panel and instinctively beginning the calculations for the Mac-Cannon. He brought the current full charge up on the holo-screens along with the representation of the frigate along with the data filtering into the systems. “All Archer missile pods are re…” Peterson began to continue.

“Set a fire solution for pods A1-A3 and fire immediately on that frigate, then open up a volley with the Mac-Cannon. Fire two rounds and then hold the third with a reserved rollover charge…” Graves barked out as he himself made some fine tuning adjustments of his own which he would use in this battle. His years at the Luna OCS Academy were all flooding back to him vigorously.

The Archer missiles, as commanded, were fired and their echoes rumbled all throughout the ship. Men and women still onboard, mostly comprised of the remaining crewmembers were taken back by the sound of the missiles leaving their pods. This meant only one thing; they were in combat again. Angel continued on, walking with the marine who now carried an MA5C Assault rifle across his chest, towards the elevator. She passed a group of engineers whom she had witness making adjustments to Adrian’s Mark IV armor, helping him to take it off and then put on the Mark VI. They seemed to have an uncanny knowledge for the workings of the systems, possibly from helping Adrian over time with his suit, and that would prove beneficiary for her situation. She had supposed they were the ones who had taken her suit off so that medical measures could be taken for her wounds. The Marine also beckoned over two other soldiers; one with a battle rifle, the other with a pistol. They all moved into the rather large floor elevator and went down several levels to the med bay.

“All able hands on deck; arm yourselves for groundside battle. I repeat, all able hands must be armed and ready for groundside deployment…” Graves said over the speaker system, which made several of the crew uneasy. Groundside… How was that possible without the Pelicans onboard?

That was the thought of the remaining forty-six engineers and mechanics onboard The Hesperus, who moved with uncertainty to find gear which suited them for battle. It had been nearly two weeks since their first and last battle between the Covenant frigate and the freighter, and they had since donned their traditional crew outfits and ditched the ODST suits they had acquired. Having every crew member find their outfit, in the captain’s mind, might take longer than they had…

Angel continued to walk, her slightly long brown hair falling down to the base of her neck, with the marine she had acquired from the hallway leading to the bridge still following her down the corridors. They passed a small unit, a division of the seventeen marines who still remained onboard. The marine following Angel motioned his head to the others, who followed as well. They all held assault rifle across their chest, strung over their backs by straps. Angel was slowly compiling an assault team. But before she could do that, they needed her in her armor…

She continued on, and to her surprise, spotted some very familiar faces. She had seen the same group of engineers rush over to her, and start stripping her of her Mjolnir Mark V with great ease, as if they had been used to the technology before. After that she had blacked out and presumably had recieved She surmised they had probably gotten the chance to fiddle with the systems when Adrian needed his armor taken off or put back on, and she needed them now. She yelled over to them, and they turned their heads, nodding and followed as well. The group of ten walked into the service elevator and slowly descended. “I just hope… We’re not too late…” Angel said under her breath.

The scene on the ring was one of great calamity. Though, the UNSC forces seemed to be repelling the covenant pretty easily. Adrian grinned, walking over to a warthog with mounted chain gun, seeing the keys already in the ignition. He opened a comm. Link with Warren. “Hey, Warren, wan’na go for a ride?” He asked, a hint of optimistic humor in his voice.

“Last time we went for a ride… You nearly got us killed by the covenant and those zombies… And then you found that crazy ball… But sure, anything’s better than waiting here for the Covenant to knock us back,” he said with a laugh, as Adrian knew he wasn’t much of a shot long distance. He wasn’t much of a shit up close with those machine guns either, but he got by alright. Minutes passed, and Adrian looked around. Something was wrong; where was Warren. The answer came seconds later when a fatigued marine came running up to him, sporting an MA5B Assault Rifle. Adrian raised an eyebrow, not used to seeing the older model weapon in some time. But that was life, and probably part of the temporal-space/time anomaly he had observed whence they came back to normal space in this battle. Something had sent them back in time, and he had a good idea what it was. It wasn’t change he had found this orb… It was fate. And fate was guiding them to this ring as well, even by bending time itself.

“Sir! The entire two companies are engaged in battle right now… We can hold the Spectres… And the infantry… But…” The marine gasped, catching his breath, having apparently run a far distance quickly to tell him. “But there are incoming Wraiths approaching a thousand… And we don’t have enough remaining M19 rounds to deal with all of them and still…” The marine was cut off as Adrian put a calm, steady hand on his shoulder. The marine watch with both confusion and respect as the tall, stoic man walked past, his armor shining off the sun, as his walk slowly picked up pace into a full run. He looked like a blur as he passed the marines sniping the Covenant with their M6-D pistols. He continued running, and opened a comm. Link with Jason who was still maintaining his 30,000 foot altitude.

“Jason, get down here with the Short-swords… We need air support on seven Wraiths inbound on my position. I’m going to engage them myself, draw their fire from you…” He said, with his run continuing. None of the Covenant saw him, as he darted from rock to rock.

“No problem, Adrian. I’ll swing by on a return after the bombing for pick up alright?” Jason said over the link, the sound of his engines blaring and picking up speed in the background. Adrian continued up the rocky outcrop, staying concealed from the covenant who were trying to take the human bunker with less than exemplary achievements.

He came up behind Jared who had just finished sniping a group of Elites. He knelt next to him, and signaled with hand movements around that he was going to go in and needed cover, then pointed to the right where in the distance the silhouettes of the incoming Wraith squad could be seen. He didn’t want to break his fellow Spartan’s concentration as he needed him at his best so that he would be able to allow Adrian some room to move out there while he ran for those Wraiths, so he didn’t enact a comm.. Link, rather reverting to the hand motions they were taught during training. He flashes the acknowledgment light green for a moment, then vaulted the rock and was off running.

Sir, we have a problem!” O’Shay shouted out, leaping from his seat. Peterson’s eyes grew wide as well as the TAC-readouts from the new system radar array lit up like a Christmas tree.

“That’s insane…” Peterson muttered under his breath, turning to their Captain as did O’Shay. They looked at him, waiting for a response, hoping to their individual gods that their leader had a plan.

“Peterson, hail the Winston Churchill… I don’t care what you have to do to cut through that static to do it, I need established radio contact to know what we can do to help with this fight…” Graves uttered out, then leaned on the railing in front of him, with the look of desperation. There was no way their forces could counter that… But he needed to stay strong, he though, as he looked up with a refreshed confidence washing over his face. He stood up straight, looking at his two crew members get back to work with worry on their faces. “O’Shay, keep that Mac-Cannon warmed… We’re going to need it…” He muttered, knowing that it was their primary weapon keeping them from being destroyed in an instants notice.

O’Shay’s eyes lit up as he turned to his Captain. “We’re through, I think something is blocking the signal transmissions, or at least hampering them…” O’Shay said, half quizzical and half excited. This was the opportunity to get involved that they needed.

“Good…” Graves said, before opening a channel to the Winston Churchill. “Vice Admiral Cory Johnson, of the UNSC Marathon-class Cruiser Winston Churchill. This is Captain Adam Graves of the UNSC Parabola-Class Freighter The Hesperus… We’re ready for orders, Over.” Graves said, still clutching hold of something, now it was the control panel from where he was transmitting the message. He way anxious, too anxious… Worry was something he could not afford, yet it was weighing heavily on his mind. The first of several Mac rounds left it's chamber, resonating a thud throughout the ship.

CaptainAdamGraves 23:32, 6 January 2007 (UTC)

13
"Danm it, Will divert as much power as you need to get those capacitors charged!" The Admiral barked

"Aye,sir" Will replied his cloaked form dimmed and relit "Capacitors at 92%! Recieving a Hail from the Herperus"

Captain Graves voice blared through the bridge speakers "This is Captain Adam Graves of the UNSC Parabola-class Freighter Hesperus Ready for orders,Over"

"Captain pick up any cryopods and lifeboats you can" The Admiral ordered "We'll will handle the frigate. Admiral, Out"

"Firing solution calculated,sir" Will reported and smilied "MAC system hot"

"Fire" A bang resonated throughout the hull and a trio of white hot metal slugs raced towards the frigate. Its shield flashed once then failed. Twin bolts of thunder hit the ship amidships near the reactor, obliterating it. Then moved his gaze the to displays. "Try to hail the ONI forces. Do whatever you must to punch through the static"

"Yes, Admiral" Wills avatar bowed and fadded. --Will 18:54, 06 January 2007

14
"Where's he going?" Rodney asked, watching Adrian talk to the Marine and then walk off. The anwser came only a few seconds afterwards when the comm. channel clicked on and a Marines voice played through their headsets. "Charlie Company requesting support from all nearby units. I repeat, need support from all nearby units. Sending coordinates now." The voice stopped and Rult heard a click as the comm. link shut off.

Another moment later and coordinates for their position appeared on a screen. "Looks like we get to go another round." Rodney said, doing a quick weapons check and turning the safety's off of the Anvil-II missle pods. "Let's hope they don't get a knock out punch." Rult said quitely to himself as the Pelican lifted off the ground, sending dust flying in small waves around it, and flew off towards the coordinates given to them.

As they neared the area, Rult lowered their altitude and speed so they wouldn't be so obvious to Covenant anti-air and small arms fire and slowly made their way to the site of the battle. They stopped just close enough so they could see what was going on. The Covenant seemed to outnumber the Marines, if only by the Grunts that the Covenant used to swarm their enemys with. He also saw Ghosts and Spectres zip around the battle field, alternating their targets and occasionly getting blown up by a rocket. But the Marines seemed to be holding up well. Seemed being the key word. They were obviously starting to get low on ammo, the fact given away by some of the marines resorting to using pistols to shoot at the Covenant. "Rodney, turn the safetys off of the Anvil-II missle pods and get ready to fire at the Spectres. Lets try and even the odds some." He said, unaware of the Wraiths that were inbound on their posistion.

"Safteys off. Ready to fire." Rodney reported, looking up from the control panel to face the battle. Rult knew that he was following the Spectres and preparing to fire. "Fire at will." Rult said, suddenly increasing the speed and causing the Pelican to jump to life in response to the acceleration and move into range of the missle pods and 70mm chin turret. Two missles flared out from the missle pods and flew towards two unlucky Spectres that had grouped up. The two tried to get out of the way, but they had seen the missles to late and they hit right next to the Spectres, sending bits of metal flying out of the cloud of fire and smoke that used to be the Spectres.Lekrel 01:07, 7 January 2007 (UTC)

15
Absolved, Covenant Frigate

The entrance of Honor Guard Unit "Anointed Acolyte" to the bridge of the frigate Absolved was akin to that of Special Operations forces performing a door-breach on insurgent Heretics in an urban environment. A Class 3-E plasma charge was detonated on the holographic control of the primary door, and a volley of concussion grenades were hurled; distractory charges. Light and sound cascaded in the darkly shaded control room, and two dozen heavily armed Honor Guards clad in their scarlet armor and attention-attracting appendages surged forward: the point men. A moment later, the two secondary entraces were similarly breached, and even the overhead plasma conduit sparked and detonated. Energy rippled, and crewmen found themselves impaled by spears of radiation as the overhead lights abruptly found themselves lacking a power source, and the ultraviolet lights flickered on. Even though the Elite bridge crew could see in ultraviolet, Covenant biology had never fully intended for such, and they saw hazy outlnes. In contrast, the Anointed Acolytes set their HUDs to ultraviolet range, and a moment later, forty-eight soldiers had taken the control room.

*  *   * Sublime Reverence, Covenant Assault Carrier

Major Kazanar found himself seething at his post at the aft of the control room of the titanic carrier, the bridge security post. It was simply that his father, a Chieftain, had refused to use the razor edge known as his bureaucratic powers granted upon one with a rank equivalent to a Sangheili Councilor, to promote his eldest son to a cushy position within the Covenant heirarchy. In Kazanar's estimation, it would take thirty further years of military service to attain even a bottom-scraper rank in the higher ranks. Yet, the Jiralhanae Chieftain had insisted that his three sons earn their badges of authority as he himself did, hands bloodied from the deaths of the enemies of the Covenant. When he found himself in the regular ranks that fateful day a dozen years ago, he had found himself a vengeful, seething spirit, unable to rein his temper. His adrenal hormones had earned him a proclaiment of "mentally unstable". His father had been caring enough to assign him to a field position: the only humanity in the dank, bottomless chasm known as his soul. MEDCOM had reassigned him to a security detachment aboard a damn starship. Not a single kill.

Yet, when the Jiralhanae had gained the favor of the Prophets, and Sangheili had been reported as murdered by the Jiralhanae, Kazanar found that his dozen-year exile would end with the contact of the organization known as Bloodied Avengeance. They were a covert Jiralhanae-exclusive organization that were dedicated to the downfall of their oppressers, the Sangheili. Yes, it was madness, but his mind had gone rampant for twelve years on security detail with no prividges, no honor, no glory in combat...

He turned to Lord Tartarus, perched to his right. He was there...yet he was not, as the lines of his figure seemed blurred, nondistinct. Perhaps it was the jinz he shot himself up with last night? No, most definately not. He had taken the counteragent. Perhaps the Jiralhanae's almost childishly idiotic mind didn't register that his body, after 781 times of taking jinz, metabolized the drug much faster and had become dependent (Kazanar didn't known that after taking an addictive drug 781 times that he'd become fatally hooked), he was now taking seven times the regular dosage to experience the same high. The counteragent didn't work any further, and was deteorating his already shriveled cerebellum. The Jiralhanae were, on a whole, animalistic creatures. Their higher brain functions were decreased compared to those of the Sangheili, so logically, their cerebellums were already sufficiently shrunk...

The jinz became a manevolent demon that seized him, with an intent as villanous as any Demon. He frothed from his lips...for his 781th time would be one too many for him. Rage came upon him, and his dream-land of himself becoming a Chieftain on the High Council merged with reality and the edicts of the Bloodied Avengeance melded with the Brute Shot affixed to his chest.

Let us draw the curtain of haphazard delusion over this scene to prevent the madness of what occurs to permeate your mind.

The facts are this:


 * Major Kazanar fired multiple HE grenades into the Control Room of the Sublime Reverence'
 * Supreme Commander Ingo 'Kag Ratanaee died in combat immediately afterwards, with a post-mortem report of massive lacerations and tissue disconjunction
 * The Sublime Reverence immediately lost a high percentage of its crew in the minutes following the murder due to what is believed to be "internal security dysfunction"
 * The Covenant battle fleet fell into disarray

Cheers,

49 Proximal Secant[ oracle ] 01:26, 7 January 2007 (UTC)

16
“Sir proximity alert” reported Ensign Miller on Navigations. “Enemy ships?” asked Jacob, ever since the covenant fleet had appeared out of Slipspace he had been on edge. “Negative sir, looks like we weren’t the only ones to get the free reign order. Reading all other ONI forces, reading 3 destroyers and picking up the traces of two prowlers and one stealth cruiser.” Explained Levi Miller. “Sir, getting a sketchy transmission from AI Will from the UNSC Cruiser-Carrier Winston Churchill, they’re asking for our assistance.” “Tell them that we’re on our way,” said Jacob “We’re going in and dropping our mines right in front of those bastards. Lieutenant Barlich, see if we can get our friends on the other prowlers to coordinate with us and help us enhance our abilities.” “Aye sir, I’m on it” answered Andrew with a slight quiver of excitement in his voice. “Both are going to follow us in side by side and drop the nukes.” Mr. Miller, coordinate with the others and calculate a trajectory, Mr. Anderson, see if those destroyers will help us punch through those shields.” “I’m on it sir.” Derek replied. Jacob knew that if the free reign order had not been given this plan would have been disregarded, the Call of the Wild would have just told everyone to disregard his ideas.

“Destroyers have replied sir,” Derek announced, “They will fire two salvos of MAC slugs each; they have asked when we will be in position to detonate the mines.” “Levi, any estimates on the subject?” Jacob asked. “At current velocity we will be in position in approximately 12 minutes.” Levi announced. Jacob was starting to get nervous. Not only would they be passing extremely close to the Covenant fleet, they would also be dropping hot nukes. This plan was a gamble; if it worked the potential payoff was very high. If they failed however, their ability to stay stealthed would be extremely limited. “Send a message to the UNSC forces, tell them ‘We’re going to try to thin their ranks a little, any help would be appreciated.’ Also, advise them on the plan so we don’t have any accidents.” “Yes sir, I’m on it.” Said Andrew. “I hope we’re doing the right thing, the last thing I want to do is sacrifice this many men for nothing.” Jacob thought to himself. “Sir, If I may say something,” The AI Sheila interrupted his inner monologue. “I think that this plan has a 72.518% chance of succeeding.” Said the AI. “That’s good-“started the captain. “But…” the AI interrupted, “The odds are that at least one prowler and at least one of the destroyers will be destroyed in the attempt.” “Well it’s a little too late to be retreating now isn’t it?” Jacob asked. “Well yeas that’s true, “answered the AI “But still my point stands.” Jacob remained silent.

Jacob knew that, one way or another, some people were going to die, and it made him hate himself. Yet he knew that, without this plan, without this sacrifice, the odds were that with so many covenant ships in the system, the UNSC forces would be decimated. Even if this plan could only take out 3-10 ships, it would improve the odds immensely. “Let’s get ready, as soon as the mines are in place and we’re out of the blast radius, let the destroyers know that we’re ready. One way or another, someone was going to die.

--Omrifere 01:58, 7 January 2007 (UTC)

17
"Yes, Sir..." Graves said, and then put their comm. link on standy instead of cutting it out. He didn't want anyone jamming their frequency so he left it active, yet standy allowed for conversations among other ships. He turned to his subbordinate officers and raised an eyebrow. "Well get to work, you heard the man..." Graves said, raising a hand to his chin. As said before, he only did this when seriously thinking something over.

What had the power or technological advantage to overpower a disruption like that... Then it clicked into place. Helen must have been released once again. He smiled, glad that with that knowledge, Adrian made it to the ring safely.

"Sir, we're enacting a scan for all lifeboats and sending out a S.O.S. quick-response signal..." Peterson said, typing away at his keypad on his systems panel.

"Good, but stay on course with the Erwin Rommel... We're going to be there when it crashes, help the boy's who get out of that crate alive..." Graves said with authority. He turned and saw the incoming message from the prowler. He clicked it and heard Derek's message to the fleet asking for reinforcements. He thought about where he was heading, and rethought his orders from the Admiral. He sighed, weighing out his options. "O'Shay... Set a course, coordinates four-zero-five by six-one-seven..." Graves muttered, as O'Shay had the ship list to starboard. Everyone on the bridge knew what was about to happen. Turning to the holo-screen and watching the fleet of the Covenant with worry and gross-despair. It was wrong, this war... It was wrong. CaptainAdamGraves 03:45, 7 January 2007 (UTC)

18
1808 Hours (Ship’s Time), April 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Destroyer Erwin Rommel, space above Installation 03

The Erwin Rommel had exhausted almost all of its emergency thrusters dodging the direct energy beam. It was on its last leg. Thankfully, Rebuga and two volunteers were the only two men left aboard.

“Ok, this is it. We don’t want to destroy that ring with all our men on it, so we’ll need to deactivate the engine, lest it explode on impact.” Rebuga looked over to one of the two who began tapping at his console.

“I’m on it…”

“Not yet! Before we take it off line, I want every last ounce of it used up. Give me 300%.”

“Sir, this is suicide! The Bumblebee lifepod will never survive the deceleration and we won’t be able to manuever at all in case that thing takes another shot!”

“We won’t have to. But you are right, I want you both to head down to the Bumblebee lifepod and take off. I’m old. I lived a good life and fought a good fight.”

“But sir…”

“No buts. Go! That’s an order!” The two men left. Rebuga monitored the final Bumblebee lifepod, and the moment it launched, he initiated the max burn. The Erwin Rommel immediately began accelerating. Rebuga put on the pressure suit he’d made a tech leave him. He wanted to be awake to the last moment.

The Erwin Rommel sped ever faster towards the ring. The direct energy weapon took a shot, but the beam was disrupted by the fire now surrounding the ship as it burned through the artificial atmosphere of the ring. It began to break up, small bits of debris falling away as it sped at insane speeds towards the ring.

Thirty seconds before impact, the engine sputtered and died. The heat from the entry mixed with the heat of the max burn had melted the entire area surrounding engineering. The Erwin Rommel, however, continued to accelerate, powered now by gravity.

There was a brilliant explosion. A crater with a diameter of four kilometers was all that remained of the what had once been a direct energy weapon and a UNSC destroyer. A single transmission was sent over FLEETCOM 7, heard by any UNSC ship with a working COM system. It was but a whisper.

“En mortis est gloriam.”

1815 Hours, April 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ surface of Installation 03

Hank turned to see the giant fireball flying towards the surface of the ring. Most of the marine forces that had been aboard the Erwin Rommel had landed and established a basic fortification. Now they all turned to pay their last respect to the Erwin Romml. There was still no sign of Brandon and the two volunteers, but then many of the Navy elements had been picked up by The Hesperus which had followed the Erwin Rommel. There was a huge explosion. A pillar of smoke rose from the Erwin Rommel’s final LZ.

“Well, let’s get this party rolling. We need to connect up with the other marine forces on the ground.” Hank turned to the speaker. He recognized Bryan immediately, even if he was wearing a Navy Lieutenant insignia rather than the Marine Colonel insignia he had worn when they had met twenty years ago. He had received the Silver Cluster for his actions on Eridanus II, as had Hank. Then Bryan, rather than accepting a promotion to Master Sergeant, requested honorable discharge so that he could pursue a career in the Navy. Hank had also refused the promotion to Sergeant Major because Master Gunnery Sergeant paid the same but he maintained his MOS with his current rank, while Sergeant Majors received a new MOS.

Bryan had joined the Navy Academy on Luna and pursued a career as a Navy officer. Brandon, whom Bryan had escaped Eridanus II with, pulled some strings and had Bryan assigned to his ship. Brandon had tried several officers for the open position of weapons, but most had not met his requirements. Bryan had apparently impressed Brandon.

Hank thought about Brandon again. He really hoped he had been picked up by The Hesperus. Hank knew it would be Brandon’s style to go out with a bang, but he also knew Brandon wasn’t entirely insane. Certainly if presented with a way out, he would have taken it, and Brandon would never endanger the life of his crew, even if there were only two lives at stake. Hank felt more reassured, knowing that Brandon had gotten off safely because he wouldn’t endanger the two volunteers.

Hank looked to the other marines around them. They didn’t seem to like the idea of a swabbie leading them. Navy didn’t know the ground like a marine.

“You think Lieutenant Hänkel is not fit to lead this marine group?” Hank shouted. “Then speak up! I’ll have you know I served with him back when he was still in the Corps. He is as hardcore as they come, and I am honored to serve under his leadership. Now you numbskulls will fall out or, so help me God, I will drag you out of here by your innards!” That seemed to hit home, and soon the marines were heading towards the main marine base that the ODST had established, called Alpha Base as per protocol. Hank, and everyone else around him suddenly heard a single transmission, broadcast over FLEETCOM 7. It was but a whisper, but Hank recognized the voice immediately to be Brandon’s.

“En mortis est gloriam.”

1808 Hours (Ship’s Time), April 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Marathon-class Cruiser Winston Churchill, space above Installation 03

"Admiral, you should see this," Will informed. The main veiw screen showed the Ewrin Rommellaunching its final bumblebee lifepod then immediatly accelerating into the ringworld, its hull glowing with the heat of reentry. The destoyer slammed into the ring obliterating the energy weapon. Before it did Commander Bradon Rebugas voice whispered his last words, that Will broadcast over the entire ship.

“En mortis est gloriam.”

The Admrial silent and solemn saluted his fallen comdade. "He is a hero,sir" Will added "and will never be forgotten" His avatar too saluted the Hero.

19
Rear Admiral Shafer chuckled under his breath. Captain Rathens had either lost his mind or was far smarter than he let on. “Ready the MAC guns Mr. Turkildsen; we’re going to help the destroyers punch through the shields.” Michael knew the possibility of this plan succeeding was about straight down the middle. He also knew that Jacob was no fool.

Ever since this alien artifact had been discovered things had been a blur. But one memory that would always be in his mind was the image of the Erwin Rommel exploding before his eyes and the voice of her captain on the comm. “En mortis est gloriam.” The words were etched into his mind.

“Simmons.” Michael said. “How may I be of service Admiral?” replied the ever obedient AI replied. “How many rounds can we fire from the MAC gun before the Covenant Pinpoint our position?” “At my best guess, we would borderline our stealth capabilities after 3 rounds from each of the two guns.” The AI explained. “Add onto that the fact that we could also fire 100 archer missiles as well.” “Thank you Simmons.” Michael replied. “Mr. Turkildsen, make it so.” “Yes sir.” Calvin replied. Michael just hoped that if he didn’t survive this battle, that they wouldn’t write about him in the history books. After all, he was only a soldier.

--Omrifere 03:20, 9 January 2007 (UTC)

20
"Navigation, pull back to safe distance if that ring fires i want us to have time to doge it, make it as far as you need got it' the Nav officer replied 'yes sir pulling back now".

"ok well everyone elses weapons dont seem to be having an effect so dont bother firing well wait for orders, but send in a flight of C709s to the ring world armed with ASGM-10s and Heavy Payload LGBs aswell as heavy payload free fall bunker busters, there target is the control room of that weapon get on with it Flight Control"!

Captain John Edson

21
As Adrian dashed toward the incoming Wraiths, Jared calmly reloaded his sniper rifle. The Covenant squad, having panicked at the loss of its leader, was finally regaining order, and a pair of Jackals had scrambled to higher ground. Uh-oh, the Spartan thought. That's a sniper team. He raised his rifle to fire, but was hit with a beam from the Jackal's rifle. He ducked until his shields recharged, then rolled to his left. Two shots cracked through the air, and the two Jackals were neutralized. Jared then turned his attention to Adrian, who had almost reached the Wraiths. He quickly sniped a pair of red-armored Elites who seemed to be giving orders, and eliminated the Grunts under their command.

"Heads up!" Juliet shouted. A pair of Banshees rocketed overhead, spewing plasma from their twin cannons. They quickly heaved over and made another pass, killing several hapless Marines with fuel rod rounds.

"Marines, target those fliers!" The super soldier opened a comm link with Adrian. "Watch out for Banshees inbound on your position." A rocket flew from its launcher and tagged one of the Covenant craft, obliterating it. The other flew to a safe distance and suppressed the rocket-wielding Marines in the bunker with a hail of burning plasma. Jared breathed out for a quick second to steady his aim... and squeezed the rifle's trigger. The depleted-uranium shell punched through the Covenant flier's cockpit and exploded, reducing the pilot to shreds of blue-tinted flesh instantaneously. "Adrian, you're clear. Good Luck," the Spartan spoke over the channel.  SPARTAN-091   HelmetComm undefined Juliet

22
"okay lets go give support to the Alpha Base, this is Longsword Gamma-679 we are heading towards target ETA 21 seconds, okay preping ground radar... on okay detecting 3 Wraith MBTs and 40+ troops inbound arming scorpions... scorpions armed were hot firing in 3..2..1.. now, birds away okay were pulling back for rearming good look alpha".

Jack replied "okay missiles will hit in 2..1.. now okay MBTs down".

"okay were going home be with you in around 13 minutes Zulu Base over, Gamma-679 out".

1st Lieutenant Jason Orion

"This is Major Lance Peterson commander of ODST Delta Company of UNSC Midway DCM-68 we are requesting emmediate EVAC on our current location i have lost 13 men already, have 5 wounded and are holding up inside a structure i have 47 left we were attempting to take control of the rings control room but the covenant beat us to it, we need emmediate EVAC we have MBTs on our current location and are under heavy fire sending postition now, repeat need emmediate EVAC over"!

A voice came in over the radio "roger that this is pelican Tango-631 over we have 4 pelicans en route now but aswell we have a longsword inbound to help clear the area, ETA 19 minutes out"

"Roger that but hurry up well keep em busy for as long as we can, Delta company out!"

Major Lance Peterson

"this is longsword Gamma-679 Delta Company DCM-68 we will be at target area in ETA 50 seconds"

Jack responded to Jason "okay picking up 4 Wraith MBTs along with 100+ ground troops, targeting MBT's ok all MBT's locked scorpions armed, Cluster Bomb + LGBs armed ok its up to you jason"

"okay Delta Company were inbound take cover!"

Jason fired the Scorpion Missiles in rapid succesion and then pulled away to re align for the next strike.

Jack spoke "okay all 4 MBTs destroyed 100 over 100, activating laser designation system... targets designated okay up to you again"

"okay bringing her in line... arming bombs, altitude is 17,500ft droping in 4..3..2..1.. bombs away"

jack responds again quickly without hesitating "okay all 3 LGBs away cluster bomb away, impact in 6 seconds...., okay most of the targets downed around 33% of ground troops left, inventory is 2 scorpion missiles, 1 LGB and 1 cluster, fuel is 81%"

"okay this is Gamma-679 looks like thier retreating your all clear, okay Tango-631 you and your boys are clear well stay and provide air-supperiority over and out"

Major Lance Peterson spoke over the open radio with excitment in his voice "okay thanks Gamma-679, Tango-631 we are securing landing zone now, over and out."

1st Lieutenant Jason Orion

23
1827 Hours, April 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ surface of Installation 03

A ragtag group of marines and Navy officers trecked across an open desert. All of the occupants of the Bumblebee lifepods that had landed on the surface had managed to gather and were now heading for Alpha Base. Lieutenant Commander Vrana had taken tactical command of the situation, there being no Marine Corps officers aboard the Erwin Rommel when it had been abandoned. Vrana was in communication with Alpha Base and the Winston Churchill, and had managed to request Pelican support to ferry the group part of the way to Alpha Base. The ten kilometer march didn’t appeal to the marines, let alone the Navy officers. An LZ would be established seven kilometers from Alpha Base, and the Pelicans that had served on the Erwin Rommel would extract the stranded crew and fly them back to Alpha Base. Vrana was still waiting for a communiqué from The Hesperus, which had picked up around half of the lifepods and all of the active cryo tubes from the Erwin Rommel. A burst of static told him that a COM was being opened.

“This is Captain Adam Graves of the UNSC The Hesperus''. We finished the head count. We an account for forty-one of the crew.''”

“Bad news then…” Vrana spoke into his radio.

“''Why? How many were you expecting?''”

“Forty-two. That confirms that Commander Rebuga went down with his ship. Unless, of course, you have him accounted for.”

“''The Commander was not extracted by our ship. We were hoping he was with you. I suppose that explains the final transmission from the Erwin Rommel.''”

“In death is glory…that sounds like Rebuga’s style. Thanks for the update. Over and out.” Vrana closed the COM. It was a real shame that Rebuga had gone down with the ship. Vrana had a lot of respect for him. It would be even tougher to explain this to Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton, however. Rebuga and Wimbleton were old friends, it seemed. Vrana remembered when Wimbleton had first asked permission to board the ship. He was the only survivor of Tango Company besides Hänkel’s squad, which had been assigned to the Erwin Rommel rather than the Socrates. In fact, he was the only survivor from the Socrates period! He turned to the team. “Bad news guys. The Commander didn’t make it off the ship. The Hesperus confirms they do not have the Commander aboard, and they rescued the last lifepod to exit the ship. It seems he sent the two volunteers on and stayed aboard.” Vrana turned to Wimbleton. “I’m sorry.” Wimbleton’s face almost completely hid the fierce rage that burned within it. Almost.

“Don’t be. His death won’t be in vain. We’re going to give them Hell for this.”

--RotBrandon 22:34, 9 January 2007 (UTC)

24
"Sir, Multiple Longsword squadrons commencing attacks on the ring," Will reported

"Status of covenant ships?" The grief stricken Vice Admiral asked

"Intercepting courses. I estimate that within 15 minutes they will be in weapons range," The AI replied

"Order the fleet to charge MAC guns and ready Archer Missiles. Were just getting warmed up," He smilied --UNSC AI 22:59, 9 January 2007 (UTC)

25
"okay well we have are orders, Weapons officer work with daedalus fire both mac guns from this safe range, oh and daedalus".

daedalus replied "yes, sir"

"i want them to hit, okay flight control how are the longswords doing that are en route to the ring"

Flight control responded "ETA 7 Minutes captain"

"okay well order another 20 to target those covenant ships have 4 ready carrying shiva-class nukes for when there shields are down and damaged as soon as this happens tell those longswords to pound em with Shiva's until they get through, Deployment control now that we have comms with the ring world open see how are boys are doing on the ground send them all the help they need and have Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Echo companys standing by for deployment along with longswords and Pelicans okay lets make it happen people"

Captain John Edson

26
“Mr. Whitman, give me 30% power to the engines.” Jacob was now counting on luck and prayer to help them stay hidden now. “Yes sir, I’m on it.” Tyler replied. “Derek, what’s the status on the minefield?” “Almost done sir, we still have 3 mines.” Derek replied.

“Alright sir, all mines are dropped and hot.” Derek reported. “Good work, Mr. Miller, when can we detonate those mines?” “Ready in 5…4…3…2…1…0” Levi announced.” “Lieutenant Barlich, link up with the Ethereal Hand and the Windtalker and get their status, when they’re ready, tell Derek and he will collaborate with the destroyers and whoever else has decided to help us and we can finally blow those assholes to hell.” “Yes sir.” He replied. “Everyone’s ready, Derek it’s all up to you now.” Derek then began talking into the com. “A little haste wouldn’t make waste in this case Derek.” Jacob commented. The mines were set and now there was no way to replace them if the covenant went out of range. “I’m trying sir.” Derek replied. “Everyone will be ready in 1 minute 30 seconds sir.” “Set timer for 1 minute 40 seconds then.” Jacob ordered. He wanted as few mistakes as possible, so he gave them extra time, but he still didn’t give the covenant a huge head start. “Done sir, T-minus 1 minute 27 seconds and counting.”

Jacob hardly dared to breath, in 1 minute 4 0 seconds, hell would be unleashed. Yet, hell itself was not enough to kill these monsters. Jacob, only to himself, prayed. He prayed for success, he prayed for a miracle, but most of all, he prayed for those who would inevitably die.

“Sir, Ensign Derek Anderson from Shadow’s Blade.” reported Chief Warrant Officer Nielson. “He wants to collaborate so that we know when to fire the MAC guns.” “Very good, patch him through with Simmons. Simmons likes making things blow up.” “Ha ha very funny sir.” said the AI. The owner of the brain Simmons had been created from had been killed in an explosion. “Just as long as I’m not on the other side of the gun I don’t mind. Patch him through please Mr. Nielson.” “Just a sec” he replied with a sigh. Brady Nielson had always been lazy, and as long as he wasn’t in charge he hated everything.

A timer appeared on the front view screen. “Only 1 minute 40?” Michael remarked. “Yes sir, all ships that are confirmed as going to help us will be ready in 1 minute 30 but Jacob is going to give 10 extra seconds in case something goes wrong.” replied the AI. “That’s good, the sooner the better.” Michael remarked

--  O M R I F E R E  TundefinedC 01:59, 10 January 2007 (UTC)

27
En Mortis Est Gloriam... In death, is glory... The crew on the bridge of The Hesperus fell silent as the destroyer Erwin Rommel plumetted towards the ground of the alien superstructure. Graves knew that there was no way that anyone could survive this, escape what was already in motion. He watched, along with Peterson and O'Shay, as the brick-like mass fell towards the energy weapon which now fired defensively at its would be undo-er. Graves gritted his teeth, finally exerting his frustration. "You fool! You goddamn fool!" He yelled out, and then was blinded momentarily from watching as the bright flash of explosion lit up the windows of the bridge. He shielded his eyes, and when they were opened again only a crater remained of where the direct energy beam had been. Graves growled, then clenched his teeth and let his head hang low as the transmission sounded over the comm. system. "If glory is found in death... Why strive for it when alive?" Graves muttered, and then looked up at O'Shay and Peterson. There was no way they were ready for what he was about to propose, but he knew the UNSC battle group would need their aide. ‘Hopefully he made it off of the ship…’ Graves thought to himself, still downtrodden from the likelihood of that. "Continue on course... We're going to flank the enemy..."

"Sir... We picked up quite a few stragglers..." The voice of Staff Sergeant Wilkox sounded over the comm. link. He was the man who had rallied the troops during the last fight on the Covenant. Without his leadership, The Hesperus would have fallen to the Covenant easily.

"Good, get any in cryo-tubes out, and have them form into squads with the remaining members onboard. I want all available hands ready..." Graves sounded off with certainty in his voice. Staff Sergeant Wilcox made an affirmative grunt, and the comm. channel clicked off. When he wanted to, he could make quite the conversation. But when battle was about, he was normally a man of very few words. Few, yet powerful. He then received the message from the men of the Erwin Rommel who had hit land. CaptainAdamGraves 03:04, 10 January 2007 (UTC)

28
"Okay Daedalus i want you to target the closest enemy carrier with the MACs, but i want you to fire 1 slug at the actual carrier, aim for the engines and then fire the next shot at your calculated distance before the bow of the ship, so that when it tries to evade the 1st shot, we will nail it with second which it moves into, okay Daedalus get those calculations done and fire as soon as you see fit" the captain pausing to take a deep breath and focus on the battlefield "okay, Tactical Ops fire archer pods J-Z at the same carrier fire on Daedalus mark, Flight Ops get 2 squadrons of C709s on that same carrier i want 2 of them to carry heavy payloads, Shiva’s if we have any left, i want them to pound that thing till theres nothing left, dispatch another squadren to intercept those Seraphs, Navigation Ops perform evasive maneuvers, now get it done!" The captain paused for a second as he saw the 3 pulse lasers heading directly for the ship he quickly yelled "Navigation, engage all starboard side emergency thrusters on my mark!" "Ready, 3..2..1.. MARK!" the pulse lasers raced past the ship 2 of them hit the ship on the starboard side the other flew off into outer space, a massive tremble came about the ship.

The captain aggressively shouted "DAMAGE REPORT!"

The damage officer suddenly shouted "the armor with stood one of them the second made it through, we have confirmed numbers, 17 dead, 21 injured, damage contained, sir, proceeding with internal re-armoring, sir"

"okay good, make sure its done, Daedalus as soon as that Carrier's shields are down hit it with everything we’ve got, what’s the estimated time till it shields are down"

Daedalus appeared on the hollow screen, "sir, i estimate that 2 more MAC shots along with around 50+archers and ASGM-10 as well as the longswords bombing runs should be enough to take the Carriers shields down, that’s based on our specifications..., sir, i will have the longswords form up and commence an all out attack on my order, i will inform you as soon as we have its shields down, sir."

"Okay, get that split-chinned piece of metal destroyed, COMMs, find out how our forces on the ground are doing" Captain John Edson

"Sir the Carriers shields are down"

The Captain without hesitation spoke "okay fire MACs, Archers and tell longswords to engage"

"Sir MACs firing in 3..2..1..NOW" The UNSC Midway fired both MACs at the Covenant Carrier, an earthquake like tremble rumbled through the ship as both MACs fired at the same time, the two white hot slugs rampaged out of thier barrles and raced through space toward thier target like crazed dogs toward a piece of flesh, the MAC slugs smashed through the armour of the Covenat Carrier and a ripple shiverd along its armour from the shockwave of the MAC slugs penetrating it with what looked liked ease, the arhcer missiles were on a ballistic collision course with the Covenant Carrier they hit in the damaged open sections of the ship were the MAC slugs had penetrated, when a bright white explosion occurred from the ships engines, Daedalus appeared on the holo tank and spoke "sir, the Covenant Carrier is going to blow, i have intercepted transmissions of a fuel cell rupture" the captain shouted "Recall all nearby longswords, warn all ships near by" when suddenly a titanic explosion occurred as the ship was obliterated, the shockwave vaporized 3 longswords near by and took the shields down of a near by Covenant Frigate, for a fraction of a second the shields were down then they re-appeared just as fast as they fell, before the Carrier was destroyed it fired 3 Pulse lasers 1 hit a UNSC Frigate and Melted it into molted metal flaming through space, the other hit the armour of a UNSC destroyer, and the third flew right by the UNSC Winston Churchill only just missing it.

"Sir current ship kills stand at 1 Covenant Carrier and 1 Covenant Frigate, orders"

The Captain spoke "pull back to the safe range we had before and act as fighter support... oh and only fire the MAC if you can guarantee it will hit, because it looks like we may need the ammo, and bring me up the remaining ship forces of both sides"

"Yes Sir, current UNSC remaining forces are 1 Marathon-Class Cruiser, 3 Destroyers, 9 Frigates, 1 Parabola-class Freighter and us, remaining Covenant Forces are 4 Carriers, 4 Destroyers and 18 frigates" John spoke "COMMs open a secure channel with the Winston Churchill" the captain then approached the COMMs station and spoke over the ship-to-ship COMMs system "This is Captain John Edson, commander of the UNSC Carrier Midway service number 00861-28556-EJ, sir we are out numbered i am acting as fighter support unless directed otherwise sir, what are our orders, over and out"

Daedalus MIL AI 2608

29
1839 Hours, April 26, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Marathon-class Cruiser-Carrier Winston Churchill, space above Installation 03

The Vice Admiral surveyed the tactical situation. They were without hope. Even with the direct energy weapon no longer a threat, the Covenant easily had the upper hand. COMs were coming from many of the ships requesting orders. The Vice Admiral had ignored them for the last thirty seconds. He frankly didn’t know what to do. He thought back to the miracle the Socrates had provided at Eridanus II. Such a miracle was impossible in the current situation. Still, he felt compelled to pray for such a miracle. Another request for orders sounded over the COM.

“This is Captain John Edson, commander of the UNSC Carrier Midway'', service number 00861-28556-EJ. Sir, we are out numbered. I am acting as fighter support unless directed otherwise sir. What are our orders? Over and out.''” The Vice Admiral opened the COM.

“Edson, continue fighter support. I’ll send you orders if anything comes up. I…” He suddenly stopped talking. As he looked at the view screen, what he saw before him was an answer to his prayers. A Covenant frigate turned and fired on a Covenant Carrier. Suddenly, the entire Covenant fleet was in utter disarray, firing upon each other blindly. “Scratch that. Pull your ship back.” He opened FLEETCOM 7. “All ships disengage. I think we’d best leave them be. They seem to be doing a good job for us.” The Vice Admiral looked up, as if to God. “Thank you,” he whispered. He didn’t know what had happened, but the Covenant seemed to be in the midst of some sort of Civil War. Something must have happened on their end.

“Sir, I am intercepting messages from the Covenant BATTLENET. It is in complete chaos, but from what I can discern, it seems that a yet unknown race of Covenant soldiers rebelled against the Elites and killed the Supreme Commander. Some of this new race controlled ships, so the battle is now across this entire fleet. I think it is isolated to this sector, however. I doubt this has spread across the entire Covenant,” piped in Will.

“Yes, but now we know there are extreme rivalries, even racial hate, within the Covenant. Maybe we can use this to our advantage later. For now, we’ll let them whittle each other down, then move against the remaining Covenant ships.”

“A good plan. they seem to have forgotten all about us. As long as we don’t fire, they probably won’t notice us moving into a flanking position.”

“Also a good plan. Decide on a formation and send out the orders, Will.”

“Already working,” came the reply. --RotBrandon 22:43, 11 January 2007 (UTC)