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This topic has moved here: Subject: [Novel] Halo 3: Insurrection (Epilogue - Part 1) ~ 21st August
  • Subject: [Novel] Halo 3: Insurrection (Epilogue - Part 1) ~ 21st August
Subject: [Novel] Halo 3: Insurrection (Epilogue - Part 1) ~ 21st August

"If I... convince them to let the Flood go with you, what will you do?"

"We'll leave this galaxy," Mendicant Bias decided.

"And unleash the Flood upon it?" the Didact asked, tone challenging. Mendicant Bias made a noise of disgust.

"Don't be absurd. I would never do such a thing, creator. The Gravemind told us, before he died, that if he wished he could adapt the Flood to survive on food, water, and to reproduce normally--"

"And you think you can do it too?"

"I can certainly try. I swear to you that until I have succeeded in it we shall remain in the empty space between galaxies, where the Flood can harm no one."

There was yet more silence as the Didact considered Mendicant Bias' suggestion, weighing up the options.

"It's too risky," he concluded, shaking his head violently.

"Because the Flood have the potential to be dangerous? Every species is dangerous, creator. And remember that in the end, it was not the Flood who cleansed the galaxy of all life, but it was your people, with the Halo array."

The Didact nearly punched Mendicant Bias then, but managed to restrain himself. There was some truth in the AI's words. For the first time he forced himself to look at the Flood. They looked so pitiful, crowded in the cells as they were. Hundreds of thousands of creatures penned up like cattle ready for slaughter. It wasn't right.

"Very well, Mendicant Bias," the Didact caved in. "I shall attempt to convince them to let the Flood leave with you. If you do leave though, I'll be sending a monitor with you. And at the first sign of betrayal it will notify us, and we will be ready."

"It shan't ever come to that, Didact. I swear to you that we will never return to this galaxy unless you ask us to. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. I've still got to persuade the Elites, humans and the Covenant that this is a good idea."

"You will. I'm sure of it."

* * * * * * * * * * *

<Three weeks later<>

The graves stretched out for miles.

Bang!

The first gun shot of the rifle salute caused John to flinch, as he stood amongst the hundreds of thousands watching the sombre funeral procession. The dead outnumbered the living.

Fred and Linda aren't buried here. Their bodies were vaporised by the HAVOC, John thought, the realisation cutting into him like a keen knife.

The sobs of grieving relatives and friends of the dead rang out, carried by the wind. John found that he could shed no tears. The devastation was too much for him to handle. Countless men and women had died, human and otherwise.

If I'd been faster getting to the Gravemind, most of these people would still be alive.

Shaking, John slowly began to sink to his knees, and the hot steaming tears finally began to roll down his scarred, unnaturally pale face.

Bang!

He felt a hand brush against his shoulder, and tighten its grip as if to console. He looked up and saw the solemn face of the Arbiter looking down at him.

"Be strong, Spartan," was all Thel said, and it worked. John nodded, swallowing with a dry throat, and stood up, watching the scene before him once again. Interspersed throughout the crowd were familiar faces; Johnson, Mendez, newly promoted Fleet Admiral Daniels, Cole, the Didact, R'tas, Daedalus, and everyone else who had fought and lost in the harrowing battle at Sangheilios. Except now they were at Earth, the last bastion. The gravesite was located at the Portal near what had once been New Mombasa. It covered dozens of square miles.

The only one who wasn't there was Mendicant Bias.

The Forerunner AI had left with the Flood two weeks ago, and hadn't been heard from since. It had taken the support of the Didact and others, including John, to convince the leaders of the three major factions to allow it to happen. John himself had been a little uneasy about letting an enemy everyone had lost so much to go free, but had reminded himself that that had all been because of the Gravemind; the Flood themselves were not evil. And John trusted Mendicant Bias totally, with his life.

Hell, he owed him his life. Apparently Mendicant Bias had manipulated the Flood cells still in his body from the Gravemind's attempted infection in order to resuscitate him. No one else could know. If people knew that the Flood cells could be used to cheat death, he would be dissected. And as the Precursors had learnt, immortality had only brought about their demise quicker.

Bang!

The 3-volley rifle salute ended, and at Cole's urging Fleet Admiral Daniels moved between the graves, hobbling slightly on his prosthetic leg, and spoke.

"We have all lost many we hold dear," the Fleet Admiral began, voice strong and confident. Not too long ago it would have been shaky and quavering. "And their sacrifices will not be forgotten. Their heroic efforts allowed us to emerge from this conflict victorious. And look at how strong we are for it! No longer do we all quarrel amongst each other. Humanity, the Sangheili, the Jiralhanae, the San 'Shyuum, the Unggoy, the Kig-Yar, the Lekgolo, the Yanme'e, and the Huragok; all of us united and coexisting in harmony, as an Alliance of races. We will rebuild, and colonise throughout the galaxy, and beyond! And woe betide anyone who dares to attack us as we do so."

Cheering would have been inappropriate, but John could tell that the small speech had lifted the spirits of everyone attending the gargantuan funeral. He was surprised that Daniels had managed to pronounce the true names of all the non-humans perfectly.

With a deafening thud, the innumerable caskets -- some containing bodies, others merely as symbols -- were lowered into the infinitesimal graves, and a depressing mood swept across the conglomeration once again. Priests and Deacons began to file through the graves, praying for the religious dead.

"Let's go," John said to the Arbiter as a chill swept over him. The Sangheili nodded, turning around to leave, and the Spartan couldn't help notice Thel's missing right arm.

They'd all lost something on Sangheilios.

* * * * * * * * * *

  • 09.13.2010 3:04 PM PDT

<Three days after the funeral procession>

"So you're definitely leaving, Didact?" Fleet Admiral Graham Daniels asked the Forerunner, who looked odd dressed in regular clothes. Once again Graham was struck by how... human the alien was. Aside from a few small differences, they were exactly alike.

"I am," the Didact replied, checking to make sure that all the supplies he'd need were stocked in the small Forerunner ship he'd assembled from the ruined Dreadnought over the past few weeks. It was nowhere near as big as the ship it had spawned from; merely twice the size of a human Longsword, but it possessed slipspace capabilities and would do him well. "There are Forerunner installations out there which may house others of my kind. Whilst the possibility remains, I cannot ignore it."

"But... we need you!" Graham protested, not wanting to see the man who had helped them all so much leave. The Didact turned to face him, a strange glint in his eye. He hopped down from the ramp of his small ship, and put two weary hands on the human's shoulders, looking down at him with a soft smile.

"No, you don't. When I first encountered your kind, I thought I would have to teach you some of your lost ways and methods. But I see now that you cope far better than we did, despite our advanced capabilities."

"On behalf of the human race I'm flattered, Didact, but--"

Suddenly, there was a rustling in the bushes. Graham turned, in time to see a small team of four leap out from behind a building, rifles raised.

"On the ground!" one of them barked, and Graham saw the silver insignia of the Office of Naval Intelligence emblazoned upon her combat armour.

"Stand down!" Graham shouted at them, drawing himself to full height.

"On the ground!" the female ONI operative repeated, firing a deafening warning shot in the air. Graham's hand reached for his sidearm.

"I am Fleet Admiral Graham Daniels of the UNSC and I am ordering you to stand down!" he reinforced, taking a step forward. Several of the ONI operatives stepped back nervously, but their leader stood her ground.

"This is a direct priority order from Section III, Fleet Admiral. We are to take the Forerunner into custody, and hand him over to ONI. So I will say once more: on the ground... sir!"

Graham looked at the Didact, who nodded slowly. Scowling, Graham put his arms behind his back and sank down to his knees, and the Didact reluctantly did likewise. Immediately the ONI operatives rushed forward and restrained them.

"This is treason," Graham warned them. The ONI operative laughed.

"No, sir. This is the preservation of humanity. That Forerunner knows much which could help humanity get the upper hand."

"Upper hand? We're no longer at war, dammit! You're all no better than Eden."

"He made mistakes, but his goal was a pure one--"

The voice was suddenly cut off as the head of the female ONI officer was torn away from her neck, carried along some metres by the trailing hiss of a sniper rifle bullet. The decapitated corpse sank to its knees and fell on its front to the ground.

The other three ONI operatives yelped in surprise, and attempted to move into cover. One of them tried to run away, and immediately knocked into a 7 foot tall Spartan who had just appeared. The Spartan seized the operative by the neck, and threw him to the ground.

The two remaining ONI operatives stepped out of cover and opened fire with their rifles, but the bullets simply bounced off the shimmering shields of the advancing juggernaut. The Spartan drew out an assault rifle and let loose a volley of fire. The rounds tore through the light armour of one of the ONI operatives, and he fell to the ground with a blood filled scream.

The remaining survivor threw down his weapon, and attempted to make a run for it. But Graham had moved into action, and roughly grabbed the operative, before levelling a pistol at his head.

"Don't try anything," Graham growled in his ear as he moved the operative into a tighter grip. The Didact had stood up, and smiled as he approached their Spartan saviour.

"Thanks for the help, Tom," he greeted warmly. Tom removed his helmet, and nodded.

"Lucy picked up on an ONI encrypted message. They intend to take you, Didact. That was just a preliminary team."

"Bastards!" Graham swore, knocking the ONI operative over the head with his pistol. He sank to the ground. He started as he heard movement behind him, and relief flooded through him when he saw another Spartan, Lucy, walk towards them, concern etched on her face.

"Then I'd better leave right now," the Didact replied, hopping back onto his ship.

"Wait!" Tom cried, running forwards. "Lucy and I are going with you, Didact."

There was silence, and then the Didact finally replied with: "What?"

"We're the last Spartan IIIs, sir. Officially we don't even exist. There's nothing for us here," Tom replied, moving to the ramp of the small Forerunner ship with Lucy, who nodded.

"So you want to come with me as I search for other Forerunners?" the Didact asked, a smile playing about his face.

"Affirmative, sir," Tom answered, nodding curtly. "It's safer, and I think you would appreciate the company."

"That I would," the Didact chuckled. "I see you won't back down from this, and time grows short. Welcome aboard, Spartans."

Tom grinned, and then as if realising something turned to face Graham, face troubled.

"What if ONI find you, sir? You have evidence of their treachery; they won't hesitate to kill you."

"That's not going to happen," a voice spoke, disengaging active camouflage and stepping out from the shadows. Several other Sangheili did likewise.

"How long have you been here?" Graham demanded of R'tas Vadum', who watched him with a hard glint in his eye.

"A while," R'tas answered ambiguously. "One of my scouts noticed men converging on your location. We were on our way to bid the Didact farewell anyway, and so decided to assist. But then the Spartans arrived, and we decided it would be interesting to see how they dealt with the threat. You were in no danger, I assure you. Our weapons were levelled constantly at the... ONI operatives."

"Even so, it would have been nice if you'd assisted," Graham answered in a surly tone. R'tas laughed, clapping him so hard on the back that all the air was nearly pushed out of his lungs.

"And where would the fun be in that? Come, we must make haste. What the Spartan says is true; there are many more teams on their way. It would seem your intelligence agency has gone rogue, Fleet Admiral."

Graham grunted, nodding. "I'll present my case before HIGHCOM. The Office of Naval Intelligence is out of control; it needs taking down."

"That will not be an easy task," R'tas cautioned, signalling for his Elites to take captive the struggling operative Graham held in his arms.

"My life hasn't been easy for a long time, Imperial Admiral," Graham joked.

R'tas suddenly pressed a lone finger to his ear, and his eyes grew distant for a moment. Then he looked back the Graham.

"They are almost upon us. We have with us several active camouflage systems, Fleet Admiral. Take one," R'tas informed the group, passing Graham an alien-looking pulsating harness which was subsequently affixed to him by a helpful Elite.

"Farewell, holy one. Thank you for all your help. I hope that you find more of your kin," R'tas said to the Didact, striding forward and outstretching his arm.

Elites? Offering handshakes? My goodness; things have changed.

The Didact grabbed it firmly, and shook, smiling at R'tas and the rest of the Elites.

"I hope so too, R'tas. Perhaps this is not goodbye forever. One day I may return, and hopefully with an entire civilisation behind me."

"That would be wonderful," R'tas breathed, eyes glazing over as he contemplated such a scenario.

"For the last time R'tas, we're not gods!" the Didact chided with a laugh.

"So you say, holy one. So you say."

"Oh, you're all hopeless. Stay safe, R'tas. You are a strong leader."

The Didact then turned to face Graham, a soft smile on his face. Graham rolled his eyes.

"If you're expecting a long, teary goodbye, then you've got another thing--" he broke off as the Didact pulled him into a strong embrace, like a father would to a child.

"You're an example of everything good about your species. Do not let your position of power change you, child. Farewell," the Forerunner whispered in his ear, before drawing back from Graham and jumping on board the ship. Tom and Lucy stood behind him, and saluted raptly as the ramp slid shut.

Graham stepped back as the Forerunner ship began to fire up it's engines, billowing leaves and twigs across the ground. It began to rise--

And vanished in a wink of gleaming light.

"Their mastery of technology is remarkable. Did he truly power up his slipspace drive in such a short amount of time?" R'tas asked with wonder, staring at the empty space.

"It would seem so. And one day we'll reach that level... on our own," Graham vowed, before remembering the treacherous ONI strike teams inbound. "We should go."

"Indeed. Let us get this prisoner before your HIGHCOM, so this heresy will not go unpunished."

They activated the camouflage systems, and stole away.

* * * * * * * * * *

  • 09.13.2010 3:05 PM PDT

<Four days later>

"There. Here's the man who signed the warrant for the Didact's arrest," the shrouded ONI officer snarled, tossing a quivering man onto the ground before the HIGHCOM board. Graham stared down at the man lying on the floor; a ripped uniform boasting crimson-splattered colonel stars, bloodied face and an expression the picture of terror. He writhed on the ground, moaning.

"You've... beaten him?" Graham demanded of the ONI officer, whose insignia denoted him as a very high up ranking officer within the Office of Naval Intelligence.

"We usually do worse to traitors," the ONI officer informed him in a monotonous voice which carried no emotion at all. "The decision to take the Forerunner into custody was not ours, but was that of the good colonel's."

"And how do we know that for sure?" another member of the board demanded, thumping a fist on the arcing table he sat at. The ONI officer looked up at him with cold, empty eyes.

"I do not lie, sir," he replied, bland tone crawling to life as a hard edge entered it.

"Then you will be willing to submit to an independent tribunal to determine if your words are--" Colonel Miles began.

"No," the ONI officer interrupted nonchalantly, coolly brushing a strand of dark hair from his stone-cold face.

"I beg your pardon?" Miles demanded, eyes growing wide with rage.

"The Office of Naval Intelligence is not willing to allow an investigation, now or otherwise. There are many confidential--"

"You do not get to decide, spook," Miles growled. "There will be an investigation, and the results shall--"

"Under section seven of the United Nations' Intelligence and Reconnaissance article, paragraph fifteen, sub-section three, the Office of Naval Intelligence is exempt to outside investigation into internal affairs if the Office of Naval Intelligence deems that such an investigation would result in vital information being leaked outside of the Office of Naval Intelligence's walls," the officer recited, each word clipped and measured. "You can sit up there and growl at me all day Colonel, but that does not change the law."

"Laws can be changed," Miles grounded out, knuckles white.

"The UNSC has jurisdiction over changing of the law only in a time of war, sir. And as of yesterday, I believe it was officially announced that humanity is no longer at war, and that power shall soon be restored to the Unified Earth Government."

Miles looked like he was about ready to draw out his sidearm and unload the vast majority of its bullets into the gut of the razor-sharp ONI officer, and so Graham decided to step in.

"Enough!" he ordered, and the bantering voices fell silent. Graham indicated the ONI colonel lying on the floor. "You claim this man ordered the arrest of the Didact. What was his motive?"

The ONI officer straightened, and stared at Graham in the eyes.

"A full internal investigation is currently being undertaken, Fleet Admiral," he replied, shooting a glance at Miles as he said this. "And whilst for security reasons we cannot divulge all the facts as we understand them, I will let the board know this: we have reason to believe that the traitor lying before you was in contact with someone I'm sure you all know. Former Fleet Admiral Phillip Eden."

"Eden?" Graham demanded, dumbstruck. His voice was drowned by the shocked cries emanated from the rest of the HIGHCOM board.

"Please, let me speak," the ONI officer said, holding up a hand. "Yes, Eden. It seems that he is still determined to place humanity on top, even now. There is a familiar wind blowing, members of the board. Another insurrection, this time a pro-human one."

"We'll wipe them out," Miles vowed. The ONI officer shook his head, smiling condescendingly.

"These insurrectionists are not so easily identified, Colonel. The chances are that they won't actively declare themselves as such. We've predicted circulated propaganda, riots, and terrorist movements. Attempting to co-exist with the Elites and Covenant may help us keep safe from outside threats, but will antagonise the threats within."

"Then our primary concern is to find Eden," Graham decided, nodding along with the ONI officer, who stood rapt. "I'll ask Admiral Cole to begin immediately."

I say 'ask' and not 'order.' It will take a long time to grow used to this leadership.

"We're already working on it, Fleet Admiral. He's clever though, and knows how we work. But we'll find him. Eden is this insurrection's oxygen supply; we remove it, and the flame dies."

"Very well, you are dismissed. Try to keep your personnel on a shorter leash in the future," Graham told the ONI officer, who icily saluted and marched away, leaving the colonel on the ground before the board. Miles stepped in.

"Guards!" he ordered, and immediately a small platoon of heavily armoured troops barged through the heavy wooden doors of the HIGHCOM hall, rifles raised. "Take this traitor to advanced interrogation. With your leave, Fleet Admiral, I will oversee this man's questioning myself. We'll drill him for every last morsel of information he has on Eden."

"Granted," Graham nodded, and the guards subsequently left with the ONI traitor and Colonel Miles. The newly designated Fleet Admiral looked around at the rest of the board, and nodded. "Now, onto our next topic: the eventual handing over of power to the Unified Earth Government and its President elected by the people."

* * * * * * * * *

<One week later>

"This world feels... serene. Like Sanghelios. I did not expect this," R'tas confessed to Thel as the walked down the long, stretching beach. Water gently lapped at the sand, always being pushed back. Night had fallen, and the lone moon of Earth hung full in the sky watching over them all like an immovable stone sentinel.

They had managed to lose the fiercely loyal Relg and Malkor a short while ago, who had followed them dutifully ever since they had all returned from Sangheilios. Thel appreciated it immensely, but sometimes it was nice to have time away from all the guards and formalities. Both he and R'tas were exhausted after days of hammering out a long and tiresome treaty with the various races who now shared this world.

The races of the Covenant had finally been officially freed, and each now possessed independence. Over the next few years, the Sangheili, Prophets and Jiralhanae would teach them how to govern and exist independently as a nation. The humans would be watching, but weren't to take a direct hand in it.

Earth had been divided amongst them all. Complete co-existence was impossible, and everyone knew it. The Sangheili had been granted most of 'Asia' and some of 'Africa', and the humans would retain Europe, America and other countries dotted around the planet. The rest would be divided amongst the rest, although the Prophets and Jiralhanae would remain on Placid Enrichment, yet still within the Sol system.

"Our people have lost many to the Parasite. Right now our primary concern is to repopulate ours species," Thel answered finally, reaching down and scooping up a handful of the white sand. It gently fell between the two gaps between his long, tapered fingers.

"I suppose that will be down to me, as Grand Kaidon of the Sangheili," R'tas grumbled, kicking at the ground. Thel turned to him.

"You are the best suited for the job, my brother. Not only do you possess the skill, intelligence and motivation to do so, but you are also a symbol. Respected by all."

R'tas sighed, looking up at the stars. The constellations on this planet were so different from the ones seen from Sanghelios.

"I know," he admitted with a heave of his shoulders, before turning his head left to face his friend. "You will stand by my side?"

"As the general of your armies, and as your brother, I shall," Thel replied, running a hand across the soft, strange feeling fabric of the regular clothes he was wearing. He had spent so long in the armour of the Arbiter that it had begun to feel like a second skin.

But to be the Arbiter was no longer a position of shame. It had been restored to its former glory, as a symbol and as general of the Sangheilian armies, such as they were.

"That is good to know. I do not lie to myself, Thel. The humans have not forgiven us, and never truly shall. We committed genocide upon their race and nearly destroyed their entire civillisation. There's no forgiving that. But I shall die before I allow our races to fall into war again. This I pledge."

"We can have a good life here, my brother."

"Yes," R'tas smiled, draping an arm around Thel's shoulder in a brotherly fashion as they walked. "And one day we shall find a new home. Perhaps as glorious as Sanghelios was."

Thel laughed, and looked out at the horizon, deep in thought as he stared at that impossibly straight point where water met the skies.

"Were it so easy."

* * * * * * * * * *

  • 09.13.2010 3:05 PM PDT

<Two months later>

I am ridiculously bored, John realised as he woke up and stared outside the window of his home. Another gloriously beautiful day, and the happy chirping of birds rang clear through his bedroom.

How he hated it.

Groaning lethargically, John rose and propped himself up. His almost unnaturally soft duvet covers threatened to suffocate him. He was used to thin mattresses, rough, scratching sheets and the violent swaying of a ship.

He reluctantly swung his legs over the side of his bed, and stood up. Walking over to the mirror, he examined his reflection in the large mirror.

Had anyone seen him on a dark night, they would have walked in the other direction. Hell, they'd probably do it in the day too.

His ghostly pale skin was a criss-cross of networking scars and torn, discoloured tissue. His large, powerful hands were as rough as leather, and his body rippled with muscle that no normal man could attain. His eyes were sunken, dark pits. Added to his incredibly tall stature and he made for a terrifying sight.

John knew that he barely constituted as human in appearance. In the military it hadn't mattered so much; hell, he'd spent most of his time in MJOLNIR armour anyway. But to the rest of humanity and otherwise, he was a freak of nature.

He threw on a custom-tailored dressing gown, eased into a pair of bland, grey slippers, and opened the door of his bedroom.

The rest of the house confronted him. It was large, modern; perfect really. Everything anyone could ever want was at his beck and call.

Except he wasn't 'anyone.' He was a Spartan.

Retirement wasn't all it was cracked up to be. But he was so tired of war and losing people that he'd quit active service in the UNSC, at the recommendation of various psychologists who'd informed him that being the last of his kind might be detrimental to his mental state if he remained in the UNSC any longer. They'd given him a fitting party, a hoard of honourary medals, and had given him this house and a very generous pension.

All very nice, but absolutely boring.

Cortana of course was not allowed to go into retirement. And even if she was John knew she wouldn't anyway. AIs like her needed the military and the excitement which came with it.

John was quickly realising that he did too.

But he couldn't go back. His Spartans were all gone, and there was nothing left for him in the UNSC. He'd only go back if he were needed.

One, two, three, John counted monotonously as he descended down the staircase of his home, trailing a hand across the gleaming banister.

"Sol Newsnet," he called out at he reached the foot of the staircase. The large holoscreen leaped to life.

"--well it's the first Presidential election in over a hundred years, so of course everyone is nervous. The military government is all people have known their entire lives. Reverting back to a democracy will be a startling change," a reporter spoke as she stood outside of the UEG congress building. Guards were watching her closely. John walked around the holoscreen, observing the scene from every angle.

"Definitely. It's only been a few months since the devastation caused by the Flood, and obviously humanity is still recovering. Are we truly in any kind of state to be voting?" the anchor asked the reporter, and after a few seconds she replied.

"Recovery has been moving along at a swift pace, and the elections aren't for a few more months yet. I'm more concerned about the agendas of some of the parties. Particularly the ones promoting alien segregation. In this reporter's honest opinion, they should get off Earth and find their own damn planet."

"Yes, I'm in agreement with you there. It's been just over a year since the Covenant war ended, and I think the UNSC has forgiven them far too quickly. Hopefully the new government will amend--"

John turned the television off in disgust. Whatever happened to unbiased journalism?

Moving into the gym, he threw on some a loose vest and shorts, putting his dressing gown to one side. He quickly dropped to the ground and did one hundred press ups; a light work out, but he wasn't in the mood for vigorous training that morning. Moving over to the gravity-adjuster in the room, he turned the dial back down from 300% to the standard 100%. Throwing his dressing gown back on, he left the gym.

He walked into the kitchen and snapped his fingers at the kettle sitting in the corner.

"Boil," he ordered, and immediately it came to life and began to heat up the purified water within. Grabbing a cup from a cupboard, he reached into his fridge and pulled out a bottle of milk. He noticed that it was almost depleted. Pressing a few buttons on the fridge door, he ordered a new one.

Within a minute he was sitting on his lush sofa with a steaming warm mug of coffee. A paper-back book -- a rarity these days -- sat on the table. Master Chief, the book was simply titled. Ambiguous, but John was sure that everyone knew who it was referring to. The book had been published about a month ago, and was an attempt at gathering every piece of information known about him and the Spartan program into one compliment.

The sheer amount of errors in it made for an amusing read. The author seemed convinced that he had been grown in a secret ONI lab, and was half-man half-machine, like a Terminator from the old 20th century movie.

Everyone had moved on. Thel was serving as General and ambassador for the Sangheili, and was working on strengthening his people with Grand Kaidon R'tas Vadum'. They kept in touch, and had met a few times in the past few months, but it wasn't the same. Cortana was serving on the UNSC Hastings with Admiral Cole, who was busy attempting to rout out the insurrection sparked by Eden. John had been tempted to re-enlist solely to hunt after that miserable bastard. Doctor Halsey, Johnson and Mendez had seemingly vanished; he hadn't heard from any of them in months. The Didact had gone off on his attempt to find survivors of his species, leaving 343 Spark behind.

He smiled as he remembered a conversation he and Spark had had a few weeks ago.

"Well Spark, there it is as I promised. London Bridge," John had said, pointing at the hundreds of years old structure in the distance, at contrast with the ultra-modern skyscrapers which made up London's skyline. Spark had been silent for a few moments.

"But... it's not falling down," he had finally replied in a disappointed tone, drooping slightly. John had laughed.

"It wouldn't be a very good bridge if it was."

"Irrelevant. The song lied, Reclaimer. That is absolutely unacceptable. Who created it? He must be punished at once."

"I'm fairly sure that whoever devised the song is long dead, Spark," John smiled.

"Semantics," Spark had grumbled, before turning away.

John took a sip of coffee, and laughed softly to himself as he remembered the humourous scene. Despite the fact that he'd tried to kill him twice, John found that he rather loved the eccentric little monitor. The last he'd known Spark was helping the scientists at the Voi Portal unlock it's mysteries. According the the monitor, the Portal had merely been an extension of infrastructure that was already there.

The prevailing theory was that buried deep beneath Earth was a network of Precursor tunnels. And with humanity being their descendants, hopefully they'd be able to unlock its secrets.

John rose the cup to his lips again when--

Knock, knock, knock.

The heavy pounding on his door grounded to a halt after the third knock. John had already reacted to it by the end of the first, throwing down his coffee and running to the mantelpiece on the other side of the room. With a deft, unconscious movement, he checked that it was loaded and began to advance on the door, still in his dressing gown. He peered around the door.

A dark shadowy figure stood behind it.

With stealthy grace, he ascended up the staircase, being careful not to let the figure behind the door see him as he did so. Finding an open window, he opened it and climbed down, utitlising his Spartan athleticism. Once he was on the floor, he began to move around his house to where the man was standing behind his door.

"Maybe he isn't in," a voice murmured. John frowned, pausing.

"He's in," another assured. Two of them. Simple enough. And even if there were more, John would be able to handle them easily even if he didn't have a pistol in his hand. He waited a few moments, and swung out of cover.

"On the ground!" he shouted, firing a shot in the air before aiming the pistol at them. The two men swung around, startled.

"Master Chief!" one of them squeaked, before staring at his dressing gown with no little perplexity. John stared at them both closely, and groaned when he noticed the insignia on their uniforms. A shuttle some metres away bore the same symbol.

"ONI," was all he said, reluctantly lowering the pistol. "What do you want?"

The two men from ONI recomposed themselves, still a little unnerved by John's sudden and complete ambush of them. Sweat trailed down their foreheads.

"We have a proposition for you, Master Chief--"

"I'm not in the military anymore. My name is John," the Spartan replied, voice taking on a hard edge. The first ONI officer gulped noticeably.

"Of course. I apologise," he answered hastily, his words ascending into a crescendo at the end of his sentence.

"We want you to train some recruits, Master Chief," the second ONI officer cut in, saving his terrified companion from having to go on. John considered them for a moment, as a strong breeze lapped against the soft edges of his dressing gown.

  • 09.13.2010 3:06 PM PDT
Subject: [Novel] Halo 3: Insurrection (COMPLETE)

"No," he replied, intending to head back into his house. The second ONI officer actually worked up the courage to hold out an arm, trying to stop him. John paused, and stared sideways at him.

"Please... John. You haven't even heard who these recruits are yet."

"Very well. Enlighten me," John replied dryly.

"They're Spartans, John. Or they soon will be, with your guidance."

It took a few seconds for the words to sink in. Then the ramifications of the words sank in, and John blinked. He stared incredulous at the ONI officer.

"... Spartans?" he asked dumbly, still in disbelief. The man nodded, sweat-drenched mustache bouncing a little as he did so.

"A whole new class. Spartan IVs," the ONI officer enthused, and the other finally found his voice again.

"The naming of the class was a very hard decision, but I think we reached an incredibly imaginative outcome," he smiled sarcastically, in a way which was very unlike ONI. John was still trying to come to terms with it.

"Let me get this straight. You want me to train a new class of Spartans?"

"Yes, John. All of them kids made orphans by the Covenant and Flood. The technology is better than ever. We're confident that the survival rate will be 100%. Well, Doctor Halsey is--"

"Halsey's overseeing this program?"

"Of course, John. And I can tell you, she can be a right pain in the--"

"Enough about that," the other ONI officer cut in. "The war is over John, but peace never lasts long. And the fact of the matter is that humanity needs Spartans. You've proven that countless times."

He's right. Forcing children to become super-soldiers is definitely morally wrong, but the fact of the matter is that he's right. Humanity needs Spartans... I need Spartans. I don't want to be alone.

"Very well. I'll need to go and grab some of my--"

"There's no need," the ONI officer with the moustache cut in, beaming as he heard John accept his offer. "Everything you'll need will be provided for you. And the sooner we leave the better; the location of the training of these Spartans is completely top secret."

"Where is it?" John asked, curiousity getting the better of him. The elderly ONI officer with the moustache looked around with paranoia, before answering.

"Harvest," he replied in a whisper. John frowned.

"But Harvest was glassed!"

"Exactly."

As they approached the shuttle, the large door in the side swung open, revealing a very big surprise.

"Ah, Chief!" Mendez cried out. "It's about time you got here. I'm getting cramp in my legs."

"Well ain't that a damn shame? Soon as we get to Harvest we'll make sure you have a nice long nap, Franklin," Sergeant Johnson replied sarcastically, cigar predictably wedged between his teeth. John did a double take.

"What are you two doing here?" he asked, laughing as he climbed in the shuttle next to them. The door slid shut, enclosing them in the slightly claustrophobic space.

"I trained your class, I trained the SIIIs, and I'm not going to miss this," Mendez explained, accepting a Sweet-Williams from Johnson and lighting it. John hated smoke, but was too pleased to care. He turned to Johnson for an explanation as to why he was with them, who shrugged.

"Eh. I was getting bored. Training Spartans might spice things up a little."

Mendez banged on the metal separating the passenger compartment from the pilot's. He received another bang from the other side in reply. The shuttle began to rise from the ground, and John felt that reassuring sense of vertigo he always had when taking off.

"Here we go again," Mendez grinned, chomping down on his cigar. Johnson laughed, and then stopped suddenly.

"Uh... Chief?"

"Yes?"

"Never thought I'd say this, but... why are you in a dressing gown?"

"Oh. That. It's complicated."

"I'll bet," Johnson grunted. John laughed, and reclined in the chair, looking outside the window of the shuttle as it drew away from Earth, and prepared to head to greener pastures. "By the way Chief, there's something you may like to know."

"Oh?"

"These Spartans are going to have a teacher. A smart AI, like you had."

"Who?"

"Who do you think? Cortana!"

John simply sat there, a grin still stretched across his face. Cortana and he would be working together again, and there would be more Spartans in the galaxy. Everything he could ever want was being given to him. It would be tough work, but ultimately satisfying.

So much for a quiet retirement.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

[Edited on 09.25.2010 5:54 AM PDT]

  • 09.13.2010 3:07 PM PDT
Subject: [Novel] Halo 3: Insurrection (COMPLETE EPILOGUE) ~ 13th September

November 11th, 2554 (military calender)
ONI Section III
Classification: TOP SECRET, CODE-WORD
Channel Frequency: Heavily Encrypted
Subject: Contact from Mendicant Bias
Forwarding Officer: CODENAME: SURGEON
Receiver: Major John "Master Chief" 117. Location [REDACTED] Status [REDACTED]

Officer's Note: Master Chief. ONI refused to forward this transmission to you, citing it as a security risk. I however remember the sacrifices you made for humanity, and at the very least I owe you this.

With heartfelt, undying gratitude,

SURGEON



Message begins:

Greetings John,

I know your Office of Naval Intelligence will probably intercept this message. However, I trust that it will somehow end up in your hands.

I apologise if you feel that I left rather in a rather abrupt fashion after Sangheilios. However I was granted a chance to take the Flood and leave to help them begin anew, and decided to seize it before anyone could reverse the decision. As I'm sending you this we're currently in that indeterminable realm between your galaxy and another. By the time it reaches you we may have reached our destination, whatever that is.

The Flood are in stasis right now. Well, they're in that primitive frozen hibernation of yours which functions like stasis anyway. I'm all alone on this ship, and it's given me time to think. About many things.

I like to think that I have atoned for my sins. Working in collusion with the Gravemind to destroy the Forerunners was a vile, wretched thing, and I will remember it with a bitter taste in my metaphorical mouth always. I will continue to spend the rest of my life making up for what I did, but it will never be enough.

I'm looking at a Flood infection form right now, frozen in cryogenics. I see them differently now to how I once did. Where I once saw a miserable, monstrous creature, I now see an intricate thing of beauty and possibility. I see ways to adapt it; to make it a gatherer of food or a healer rather than a dominator. The Flood shall no longer commit acts of evil. This I swear.

Of course, I shan't be controlling them as my... predecessor did. They possess individuality, and whilst they will always be a hive-mind, I will serve as their guide rather than their ruler.

But listen to me, rambling on about myself. I hope you are doing well, John, and that you recover from the horrific acts my adopted children committed prior to my parentage.

Gods, listen to me. Paternal instincts keep crawling into my speech.

In addition to the Gravemind's control over the Flood, I also appear to have assimilated his memories. There is not a unit of data measurement large enough to convey just how much information is stored here. I have dispersed it throughout the entirety of my ships and still it threatens to overwhelm me. I have probed at the edges of the memories, but daren't delve too deeply into them lest I lose myself.

I am learning more about your ancestors, John. The Precursors. The things they could do... it was like magic, John. Far beyond my comprehension.

But not yours. After all, you are them. And one day you shall reach that height again. Your world is the key, John. I shan't say more than that; you must do this on your own, not have it given to you on a silver planet.

I hope that your people and the others can co-exist in harmony, John. You may find it hard to forgive, but one day it must happen, or you shall be forever caught in a cycle of war and destruction.

And that brings me to another topic. You need to destroy the Halo array. It may be a technological marvel, but such a cataclysmic weapon should not be allowed to remain. Raze the rings to the ground, John. The fact that I'm saying this will probably be reason enough for ONI to not forward this message to you, but I know you'll receive it. And I know you'll get it done.

This universe is a wondrous place John, but it is also a very hostile one. You must all work quickly to rebuild and strengthen. The Precursor empire stretched throughout the universe, John. It almost definitely made a few very powerful enemies in it's time. If you ever find yourself in need of help, call for us, and we shall come. It may take years, but hold out and we will come, John. This I also swear to you.

I will continue to stay in contact with you, John. Send a message back to these co-ordinates, if you are able to with your technology. It will most likely take years to arrive, but I can wait. AIs can be very patient, you know.

When I first contacted you on the Ark, I spoke with shame. But now I speak with pride, John. I helped liberate the galaxy of the greatest threat it had ever known, and I am now giving its thralls a second chance.

And so this time I am pleased when I say:

I am Mendicant Bias. And this is what I have done.


Thus concludes Halo 3: Insurrection

[Edited on 09.13.2010 3:14 PM PDT]

  • 09.13.2010 3:08 PM PDT

The Hybrid a FanFic by Tehface

"Look for the signs, the keepers of the flame. They will lead you to war, and perhaps, to victory."

I'm stunned. The complexity of the story and it's presentation is just beautiful.

Review:
Given that this story spanned months being written, it's not necessarily fair to judge the quality of the writing compared from the the beginning to the end.
That being said, Insurrection is for the most part, extremely well written, with seldom serious punctuation or grammatical errors.
The plot was exciting, yet complex, and simply explained, and all loose ends were tied up in fascinating, unpredicted ways.
Characters and emotions were well displayed and dialogue flows naturally as it should.

10 out of 10. :]

Congratulations on it's completion Wolver, it makes me sad that it's finished though!

Awesomesauce: complete.

  • 09.13.2010 6:26 PM PDT

"I believe that the sound of racking the pump of a shotgun is universally recognized as ‘kiss your ass goodbye’."
— Unknown Marine

I only have one question.

Are your fingers dead?

  • 09.13.2010 9:32 PM PDT

I don't have enough time to finish reading the epilogue, and next time I'll be back I might have Reach, so don't expect anything from me other than this:

Congrats.

  • 09.13.2010 10:56 PM PDT

This story is the most incredible work of fiction I've ever read!

You should really look into the author job, I have a feeling you'd be the next J.K Rolling of the book world!

[Edited on 09.14.2010 11:29 AM PDT]

  • 09.14.2010 6:14 AM PDT

Acta Non Verba

DarkFus10nz

Check out www.nextgenwalkthroughs.com for the ultmate walkthrough experiace!

not one word can sum that up, oh wait yes it can AWSOME

  • 09.15.2010 12:33 PM PDT

Mouth. On. Floor.

  • 09.16.2010 2:18 PM PDT

"I... believe I understand, sir," John said. "But which was it on this last mission? Lives spent? Or lives wasted?"
Mendez turned back toward the blackness of space and didn't answer.

I have 3 question.
1. What happened to Eden?
2. Why are more Spartans needed?
3. Will ONI let the Halo array be destroyed?

That is all.

  • 09.18.2010 8:46 PM PDT

New book wolver?

  • 09.18.2010 11:57 PM PDT

By the power of truth, I, while living, have conquered the universe.

It was an honour to have been with this story since its inception, up to the end.

Insurrection saw many highs and lows, times where you just wanted to give it up, times where you wanted to finish it... and times where you posted that -blam!- hilarious ending I'd been trying to persuade you to for months.

Well, I'm glad the whole thing is done for you now so you can concentrate on greater projects. This was a true testimony to your writing stamina, something a lot of us writers find difficult to manage with stories half as long as this.

As I said in the PM though, I think that it should have been S-III Delta Company (for reasons we discussed). You could have made the doctor in the Epilogue Dr Halsey too, because you left her out for a great protion of this.

  • 09.19.2010 4:23 AM PDT

Posted by: Arulaen
I have 3 question.
1. What happened to Eden?
2. Why are more Spartans needed?
3. Will ONI let the Halo array be destroyed?

That is all.


1. Eden has sparked a new pro-human Insurrection.
2. Because it's a big bad universe and the Flood weren't the worst of it. The Precursor empire was huge, and no doubt made many enemies in its time. Their descendants must be prepared.
3. I'll leave that to your own imagination.

And regarding Halsey, he couldn't be Doctor Thrace on the Nightingale because she was never at Sanghelios. I meant to put her in the Epilogue as the architect of the new Spartan program. When I have time I'll work it in. Until then, just know that that's what she is doing post-Insurrection.

As for the Spartan IV thing, the name is really irrelevant. The fact is that they're not using the same augmentation or hurried training that the Spartan IIIs used, so to give them the same name would be misleading. That's like saying that the Spartan IIs should be called Spartan Is out of respect for the first class.

[Edited on 09.19.2010 4:29 AM PDT]

  • 09.19.2010 4:28 AM PDT

"I... believe I understand, sir," John said. "But which was it on this last mission? Lives spent? Or lives wasted?"
Mendez turned back toward the blackness of space and didn't answer.

Thanks

  • 09.19.2010 12:19 PM PDT

Acta Non Verba

DarkFus10nz

Check out www.nextgenwalkthroughs.com for the ultmate walkthrough experiace!

i'm just thinking aloud but imagine if they made elite Spartans, like orphans of the flood, they'd be invincible

  • 09.20.2010 11:44 AM PDT

can you make a PDF form like you did with memoirs 1

  • 09.21.2010 5:42 AM PDT
Subject: [Novel] Halo 3: Insurrection (Epilogue - Part 1) ~ 21st August
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Do not waste your tears, I was not born to watch the world grow dim. Life is not measured in years, but by the deeds of men.

Posted by: goldhawk
We should know better, because we are better.

Liked the Watchmen moment there. Very nice ending.

  • 09.22.2010 2:48 PM PDT
Subject: [Novel] Halo 3: Insurrection (COMPLETE EPILOGUE) ~ 13th September

"We are the next generation of soldiers, an A.I built for war. We battle the darkness for humanity. We are the Caedus A.I"

Followed this story for almost a year now and it is an epic finisher. Thanks for the read it's been fun.

  • 09.22.2010 6:36 PM PDT

What a waste....

Naught but a single word can describe the awesome:

EPIC.

  • 09.23.2010 9:12 PM PDT
Subject: [Novel] Halo 3: Insurrection (COMPLETE)

Posted by: Dropship dude
No, acnboy. Spartain Ken 15 is a lesser being. Much like the bacteria that lives in your shi­t.
Posted by: mike120593
My shi­t bacteria takes offense to that comparison.

Don't make me lel. You won't like me when I lel.

I just remembered, I haven't left a comment here yet :/

One word. EPIC. This 'fic has been going for, what is it, one and a half years now? And it's kept me engaged at every chapter. I've gotten to know your extremely well developed characters in this time, and it's just like I've read a full length novel. The action, the suspense, the dialogue, it's all seemed real to me, and were it not for a few grammatical errors (which could be easily fixed), I'd say that most of this (you might have to revise the early chapters a bit) would be fit for publication. hell, it's better than some actual published novels I've read lately.

I've loved every post of this long ride, and while it's sad to see my favourite fanfic you've written come to an end, I couldn't be more happy with how you've ended it. Enough closure to satisfy, but leaving some things to the imagination (damn that Eden and his refusal to die) is awesome. I found myself, after finishing, thinking about how the various races would live together on Earth. A great sign.

Congratulations man, you've certainly earned them.

10/10

Oh, and one last thing: Did you say 337 pages?

[Edited on 09.25.2010 4:25 AM PDT]

  • 09.25.2010 4:23 AM PDT

What a hipster.

This is amazing. Nice work.

  • 09.25.2010 6:08 AM PDT