- last post: 01.01.0001 12:00 AM PDT
“The point is moot anyways,” he began, “All that remains on the Holy Ring are transport craft and dropships. We must return to High Charity and acquire a ship capable of entering Slip Space. Once we reach the Elite base, we will inform what remains of our force about what transpired in the control room and then set out. You, Commander, and the sergeant, will not leave my side for an instant once we debark.”
“You don’t trust us?” Miranda asked, before nearly smacking her forehead for asking such a stupid question.
The Arbiter turned and stared at Keyes for a long moment before shrugging his massive shoulders.
“It is not that I do not trust you humans, it is the others that I am wary of. Just because you travel with me does not change the fact that you are humans, and we have a sworn duty to destroy your kind.”
“So you would continue to fight mankind,” Miranda said, a cold lump forming in her stomach. “Even knowing your Prophets betrayed you?”
The ship shuddered to a stop, and Miranda glanced outside to see that they were now on the ground.
“I would not worry about myself, Commander,” the Arbiter said, walking out of the room, beckoning the others to follow. “I shall never kill another human for the rest of my life.”
The Arbiter’s words dissolved the cold feeling that had descended on Keyes, and she found herself smiling despite the situation. If there were other Elites were like this one, than perhaps peace could be achieved.
Their arrival had garnered a large crowd, Elites, Grunts, and even Hunters. Many of which let loose a mighty cheer when the Arbiter stepped out of the dropship. He seemed unaffected by the praise, as he simply turned and waited for the humans to debark. The cheers that had erupted so quickly, died just as quickly when Commander Keyes and Sergeant Johnson stepped free of the gravity-lift. Once more the Arbiter seemed to be oblivious to the reactions of the other Covenant, waiting for Miranda and Johnson to catch up before leading them away from the ship.
The Elites, Hunters, and Grunts that had managed to avoid termination by the Brutes and the Flood had retreated to the ring, setting up a base in one of Halo’s many research stations. From here they were able to listen in on the chatter-net to the sounds of those on High Charity slowly and efficiently be destroyed by the Flood.
Seko ‘Ekaporamee, the leader of Covenant Special Forces Units, was standing before the research station as they approached.
“So Arbiter, it would seem Tartarus was no match for our savior,” ‘Ekaporamee said in way of greeting. Normally the Elite was able to control his voice despite his disfigured mandibles, but in severe cases of exhaustion his words were slurred. Obviously he had done his fair share of fighting while the Arbiter had been battling with Tartarus.
“I am afraid to say that it would seem the death of Tartarus is only a small ripple in the grand scheme of things, Major,” the Arbiter said. “There is much to discuss, and these humans as well as the Oracle will help me explain.”
------------------------------
Luckily for the Master Chief, Lord Hood had been able to stop the firing sequence for the MAC gun before it could try and put a round through the Forerunner ship. He wasn’t sure if the shot would have actually harmed the craft in some way, but it would for sure give the Covenant aboard reason to try and take that gun out.
So far John had been fortunate. The lower maintenance levels of the ship were relatively unguarded. Engineers fluttered about but they were ignorant of his presence. His interaction with them in the past had been the same. They moved about in a kind of stupor.
It was times like these the Master Chief truly missed Cortana’s presence inside his mind. Granted she could be overbearing at times, and she often used his suit as if he were a battle cruiser but she was at least someone he could speak with. Ever since Reach fell, the Master Chief had been fighting without his fellow Spartans, the men and women he had grown up with were his family. After Reach, John had been forced to fight by himself, depending on no one but himself. This development had left him without a sense of security, as if every little action he took held the balance of whether or not millions would perish or live.
He was a Spartan, designed to fight and win under the most extreme cases of pressure, and if one were to look at his record, they would be inclined to believe that he was capable of overcoming odds that were so far against his favor that the only explanation for his survival would be that he were a God. With the responsibility of being the last Spartan alive, John carried the hope of humanity upon his shoulders. Such a weight could not be supported before troubling emotions set in.
Having Cortana with him while he fought was almost like being back with his unit. She was as tactical as a Spartan, if not more so, and was always prepared for any situation that might arise in the midst of battle.
Here on the Forerunner ship, the Master Chief found himself wishing for the intrusion Cortana presented when occupying his mind.
‘I must be going insane,” John thought to himself as he peered down a corridor. ‘Next I’ll be wishing that I could run through one of CPO Mendez’s survival exercises again.’
The corridor looked empty, so John slid around the corner and hurried down it. The Forerunner’s seemed to prefer making their ships confusing in their general architecture. It made for hard navigating, but it did make sense. What better way to insure that somebody attempting a hostile boarding would get lost than to make the ship so damn confusing even having the layout of the place wouldn’t help.
Just as he was about to turn the next corner the Master Chief heard heavy breathing and the sound of shuffling feet. Heavy feet, to be precise. Stopping his charge, he leaned into the wall, waiting for the enemy to appear. He was certain a pair of Brutes were about to come around the corner.
His assumption was proven correct as two Brutes walked past the turn in the corridor. The last thing they expected to see was a human, let alone the one they called ‘Demon’, so there was a moments pause before their brains kicked into gear.
That moment of surprise was all the inclination John needed. His Battle Rifle was out and he aimed a vicious butt stroke across the chin of the first Brute. It fell to the ground, hard, sliding across the floor until its momentum was halted by the wall. The second Brute, seeing what had just occurred, quickly charged John, intending to knock him to the ground.
The Master Chief had expected the maneuver, and when the Brute swung its massive arms at him he dove to the side avoiding the attack and, quickly planting one foot on the bulkhead, launched himself at the overextended Brute, landing a hard elbow into its neck. The Brute may have had the superior bulk, but John’s momentum knocked it into the wall. Wasting no time, the Master Chief grabbed the Plasma Rifle from it’s belt and shoved it against the Brute’s face, holding down the trigger. The weapon overheated and John tossed it aside, letting the Brute’s lifeless body slump to the ground.
By now the first Brute had risen to it’s feet, and was snarling angrily at him. His adrenaline burning, the Master Chief charged the Brute, dropping his Battle Rifle to the side as he did so. The Brute had obviously not expected for the Chief to run straight at him, but he was not loath to pass the opportunity aside. When the Master Chief was within arm’s reach it ducked down and aimed a savage punch to his midsection.
John planted his left foot firmly on the ground, the Brute’s fist a mere centimeter from his and pivoted to the right, avoiding the attack by a narrow margin. Before the Brute could take into consideration that his attack had failed, John had slammed a fist into the Brute’s face. If not for the helmet the Brute was wearing, it’s skull would have been crushed from the pressure. The Mjolnir armor as well as the genetic enhancements made the Spartans powerful enough to lift a Scorpion-class tank. A well-delivered punch could break through a ship’s bulkhead.
The Brute slammed to the ground, and before it could recover the Master Chief threw himself on top of him, reaching back and sending another punch into the Brute’s face. The helmet gave way under the Chief’s unyielding attack, and there was a loud crack as his fist drove the Brute’s head into the floor. The body twitched for several moments spasmodically before finally stopping.
His heart was beating wildly as he got to his feet, reclaiming his discarded weapon. With luck his encounter with these Brutes had gone unnoticed. John was in no hurry to have every Covenant on board come barreling down on him.
He continued on his way, moving down the hallways the two Brutes had come from. There was a small window off the port side, and he took the opportunity to glance outside. The ship was still in orbit around Earth. The fighting between the remainder of the Covenant fleet and the orbital defense stations still raged on.
Why would the Prophet of Truth be content to sit back and watch the battle from afar when it was certain that this Forerunner ship could easily beat back Earth’s defenses?
Regardless of what was going on, the Master Chief needed to make it to the bridge before the ship decided to enter the fight.