- Wolverfrog
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- Fabled Legendary Member
* * * * * * * *
"Admiral Cole!" Surgeon shouted, banging a heavy fist on the door. "Admiral Cole!"
Suddenly, the door swung open again, and the Surgeon found himself staring down at the barrel of an eight-gauge shotgun. His breath caught in his throat.
"Don't ever call me that. I'm not an Admiral. Leave, there's no-one for you here," the grizzled old man holding the weapon growled at him. The Surgeon held his hands out soothingly.
"Please sir, let me explain the situation to you first. I wouldn't have come unless it was urgent," the ONI Investigator informed Cole, who frowned in puzzlement.
"Urgent? The Covenant's beaten. Are you telling me the UNSC can't deal with a few disgruntled Elites? That's a situation that doesn't require force, it requires diplomacy," the ex-Admiral replied, and the Surgeon realised just how out of touch he was.
"When was the last time you got news on this colony Cole?"
There was silence as the old war hero mulled the query over, scratching his scraggly beard in thought.
"About three months ago, when the last shipment of feed came in. Why?"
The Surgeon groaned, before proceeding to tell Cole about everything that had happened recently. How the Elites had begun to attack humanity again, how they'd both been on even playing fields. Then about the return of the Master Chief, who found other Spartans too. The Surgeon relayed how the Flood had infected Sangheilios, and how the planet had been a battleground ever since. And how, right now, the UNSC needed Admiral Cole's expertise. He then filled in many questions that the Admiral had, including "What the hell are the Flood?"
Admiral Cole stood in the doorway of his house, shotgun hanging loosely by his side and jaw agape. He then nodded, throwing the gun to the ground.
"I see. And what makes you think I'll help, Surgeon? I abandoned humanity when they needed me most. Aren't you even curious as to why?" Cole demanded, dragging the ONI officer inside his house and shutting the door behind him. The farmhouse was a bit of a wreck. The place stunk of alcohol and cigarette smoke. The floor and walls were dirty, and the Surgeon could see a chicken roaming around the living room, pecking at crumbs on the carpet.
"I have theories sir, but I would like to know something. Millions -- billions of people died because you disappeared Cole. How does that make you feel?"
Cole leaned against the staircase banister, the old, rotting wood creaking under his weight. He lit a cigarette with a shaking hand, closing his eyes.
"Terrible. I know I'm a coward, you don't need to tell me that. But in all honesty Surgeon, I was afraid. The Covenant were gaining on us, and eventually I wouldn't have had any ships left to go on my suicide runs. I was a broken man. Suffering from depression. I didn't tell anyone about it, but it was true. If I'd carried on the way I had been, I would have ended it all eventually. Then what would the galaxy have been left with? Not with the image of a legend going out with a bang, taking an Armada with him, but with the sad depiction of the only man willing to directly fight the Covenant, beaten and broken. I'm not making excuses, but I had reasons spook."
"You're forgiven Cole. Totally and utterly. You can atone for what you did in the past; become a Hero once again. If the UNSC knows Admiral Cole is fighting with them, then hell, we might stand a chance against the Flood after all. The Covenant and Elites fear you too, they'd be more inclined to listen to humanity with you on our side. Please; I'm begging you. Help us in our darkest hour," the Surgeon pleaded desperately.
There was silence for a few moments, in which Cole buried his face in his hands, breathing deeply. Finally, he looked back up at the Surgeon with moist eyes.
"I need to think this through. Go wait in the living room, please. I could be a while."
The living legend then turned away, tightening his grubby dressing gown a little bit, his slippers flopping pathetically as Cole trudged up the stairs, stooping and mumbling to himself.
Can this beaten shell of a man actually do anything to help us? The Surgeon wondered to himself, shaking his head doubtfully. Still, he complied with Cole's wishes, and went to sit in the living room, lifting disgruntled chicken off a chair so he could ease into it.
* * * * * * * *
Eden swore rather vulgarly, before staring down at the bleeding Captain at his feet with a little sympathy.
"We're leaving this ship, Captain. I'll upload fleet control to my PDA, don't you worry. Perhaps if we're fast enough, we might be able to stop you bleeding out. This should help."
The Admiral opened a medical cache, fumbling around inside. He came back towards Graham with a canister of biofoam and a syringe full of what looked to be pure adrenaline. After firmly telling the blurry eyed Captain to hold still, he injected him with the wound-sealing foam and then jabbed his arm with the adrenaline shot. Slowly but surely, Graham felt himself returning from the brink of death. He coughed.
"Why the hell did you do that?" he demanded, breathing slowly. Eden looked down at him.
"Because you're human. Don't try anything funny Captain, I may have saved you, but I wouldn't hesitate for a moment before shooting you in the head."
Graham rose to his feet, and weighted up the situation. Eden was armed, alert and dangerous. Graham was none of those things. He decided to go along with Eden's plan -- for now.
"What do we do about the Flood?" Graham asked the Admiral, who was preparing the Captain's lifeboat. Eden shrugged.
"Let them take the ship, we'll blow it up soon."
"I meant the ones fighting the Elites and Covenant," Graham reworded his concern coldly. Eden smiled satanically.
"I'd give them medals if I thought they wouldn't eat them. They're doing an awfully good job on the Covenant aren't they?"
The Captain shook his head in disbelief.
"Admiral, people are dying out there. They may be alien, but they're sentient. Unlock the fleet, now." He attempted to reason with the crazed Eden.
"I'm afraid I can't do that friend. Not yet anyway. Not until the Elites and Covenant are destroyed. Just work with me now. Who knows, maybe you'll get lucky! I might stumble for a second. Then it'll be your moment. But until then, it's mine."
Graham sighed, but decided that as conceited as he was, Eden was right. He began preparing the lifeboat alongside the Admiral, taking provisions from the racks on the wall, and throwing them in the pod.
The screams outside were getting louder, as the Flood drew closer. They knew what their target was. The command console of the Galapagos. Graham's heart constricted as if a hand had tightened its fist upon it; those shrieks were unnatural. Did the infected Flood's host still live whilst the infection form controlled the body? Trapped inside its mind, unable to do anything but watched as its body committed atrocities? The Captain shuddered.
"I take it you won't give me a gun," Graham said to Eden. It wasn't a question, rather a state of fact.
"Of course I won't. If you want to live, stay behind me. Help me activate this mech unit Captain," the Admiral instructed, pointing to a dormant mechanical humanoid resting in its storage pod. The being was controlled by a dumb Artificial Intelligence -- it could fight, but not as efficiently as a human could. Neither was it particularly mobile either.
Still, it would have to do. Graham unsealed the storage pod, keying in the code which would activate the mech unit. He stole a glance at Eden. Could he possibly program the robotic fighter to target the Admiral?
"Don't bother Captain, I know what you're thinking," Eden shouted over without even bothering to turn around. "That machine is completely under my control, and its gun won't work in human hands. Just set it up near the door."
Crestfallen, the Captain nodded, lifting up the mech and placing it in a position of light cover, behind a small crate. It flexed its robotic arms, the light on its lens coming to life.
"Done," he called over to Eden, who nodded, before pointing a gun at Graham's face.