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  • Subject: Path of Reclamation: Level 2
Subject: Path of Reclamation: Level 2

TWP - Assistant Director
Blade Runner: #00124A
- - - - - - -
My Novel, available on Amazon.com

Homepage

23+ pages of story. This chapter will give you an idea of where all of our heroes stand so it is a bit "jumpy" but we will slowly get back on track as the weeks progress.
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Level 2: 3 Faces of War

Camp Eden
Command Bunker #12 // Civilian Refugee Camp
Central Egypt
October 29, 2552 // 22:53 hours

Steam filled the private washroom of Major Elizabeth Rawlings; Head of Artifacts and Forerunner Technology Research. Although the figure in the shower was not of an elderly woman that had been highly decorated by the ONI brass, instead the figure was well toned and much younger. The woman turned off the water and stepped out of the shower; wrapping herself in a full sized towel embroidered with the logo of the UNSC. She stepped gingerly across the cold metal floor of the wash room and wiped the steam from the nearby mirror.

Roselyn Santos always knew she was an attractive woman, but it had been years since she had seen herself with a short haircut. It was the requirement of the military that female haircuts were no longer then necessary. It was a nice look, and helped add more definition to her facial features. She wanted to fight, she wanted to be in the war and do her part to protect her home. Rose had helped save Camp Eden from an invading group of Brute wraith patrols, a task that involved disobeying orders but it was something that needed to be done. However, now that she was in the heart of ONI Section III she didn’t think that rejoining the fight could be possible.

“Rose.” A male voice carried from the hallway. “I have you uniform.”

“I’ll be out in a sec.” She casually replied. “Wesley, can you thank the Major again for me?”

“I’m not your errand boy, Rose.”

She hung her head and sighed, but quickly stepped toward the wash room door. She flung it open wildly, glaring at the young Private that had been stuck to her side since she was first forced into active duty. “Do you think I want this? What part of this is my fault, Wesley?”

“Cut it out, Rose. You damn well know what this is about.” Wesley turned his head, forcing himself not to stare down at Rose’s partially naked form; her towel barely covering her full figure features.

“Frankly, Wesley, I don’t. I thought we were past this.” Rose quickly realized that her towel was loosely falling off of her. She grabbed her uniform from Wesley and quickly stepped back into the wash room. “You know how I feel about Eric. So why are you acting like this now?”

Wesley leaned against the wall, his thoughts racing back to the moment they watched Eric and the Black Ops leave Camp Eden’s gate. “Trust me Rose, I wish it were that easy. Do you think I want to feel this, now? I don’t. I asked to be reassigned to a different squad and Major Rawlings declined it.”

“Then be angry with her, not me.” Rose stepped out of the washroom, wearing the UNSC Naval Officers Uniform. The light gray and white jumpsuit was a tight fit. “Damn it, you’d think somebody in the military would design uniforms for mature women.”

“There aren’t many women in the Navy quite like you, Rose.” Wesley grinned, almost blushing as he gazed at Rose. The uniform clung to her every curve. “Inside the suit, under your left and right armpits, there are adjustable lines. Give it some slack and it should give you more breathing room across the top.”

Rose reached inside and adjusted the strap; sure enough it allowed her more room across the chest. “Thanks.”

“It’s funny seeing you in Navy Officers uniform. I was getting use to seeing you in ODST fatigues.”

Rose quickly began to walk the short hall back to Major Rawlings office. “Believe me, I’d rather be in marine gear right now. I guess my service to ONI isn’t complete.”

“You would still be a civilian if you hadn’t given the Covenant that Crystal.” Wesley snorted.

“Thanks for reminding me of my treachery to humanity, Wesley. You’re such a nice guy for doing that. Besides, I was never a real civilian. ONI owns me until they are officially done with the Mark VI project.” Rose and Wesley turned the corner and glared into the cold stare of Major Elizabeth Rawlings.

She sat motionless at her desk while holding a data pad. “Be thankful he reminded you of your sins, Ms. Santos. As far as I’m concerned I don’t want you to ever forget the error of your ways.” She had overheard the conversation.

“Yes Ma’am.” Rose stated softly.

Major Rawlings looked to Wesley. “Doctor Halsey told me that you handled yourself very well on the Elite’s Seed Ship. Section III has more questions for you. Report to level 41.”

“I already made my report, ma’am.”

“Get out, Private.” Rawlings berated. “Or do you want me to suddenly remember how you failed to protect my Crystal, from the hands of your Ex-lover?”

Wesley snapped to attention. “No, Ma’am!” He quickly turned and walked out of the room. Rose felt the coldness flowing off of Major Rawlings. She was a woman born to lead, and her countless years of service to ONI had made her one of the most feared and criticized women in office.

Rose had never met the Major before the crystal incident in New Mombasa, but during her work on the Mark VI project she had seen her name on several forms and data spreads. Rose suddenly recalled how the Major wanted to put her in front of a firing squad, and a cold lump formed in the back of her throat.

Major Rawlings stood from her seat, dropped her data pad on the desk, and approached Rose. “When I first met you in Mombasa, I thought for sure I was sending you to die. I charged you with an impossible mission, put you under the care of a man that I personally knew would fail, but not even I knew that Lieutenant Eric Raynord was the infamous Black Ops 19.” Rawlings paced around the room, circling Rose as if she were a dieing lamb waiting to be slaughtered. “In my eyes, you, Eric and Wesley are traitors, and we should have executed you on the spot! However, not only did you survive your mission, you brought back half of the Elite population … to our aid. Admiral Hood wants to put a medal on your chest, if humanity survives that long. And even I have to be thankful for your actions yesterday in defending Camp Eden.

“Ms. Santos. I do not care about the whimpering moans of that love sick puppy that is stuck to your side. He’s what, ten years younger than you? Private Wesley Williams was a top Section III agent until he crossed your bed. If you were a spy, I’d say well done, but your motives were simple and stupid.”

Rose was foaming under her tight lips. “Permission to speak, ma’am?”

“You’ll speak when I tell you too!” The major snapped. “Wesley was charged the task of making sure that you did not leak any secrets of the Mark V and VI project. He did his job, but sadly you wooed him enough to prevent him from killing you when he should have. And then there is Lieutenant Raynord; head of Security at the New Mombasa ONI facility where you and he reunited. You had his head spun so wildly in college that even after all of his years in the military, he still couldn’t get over you.”

Major Rawlings walked to a mounted picture hanging on her office wall. “Do you see what I’m getting at, Rose? Your father, Patrick Santos, was a major UEG political figure. Although there were rumors that he was also smuggling weapons to Rebel Factions.”

Rose blankly stared at Major Rawlings. “What? This has nothing to do with my Father, or those false accusations that he…”

“False, Ms. Santos? No, I did my homework, and your Father was smuggling weapons to the Rebels. Although, in his defense he stated that he was doing it so that they could fight back against the Covenant. Are you aware that he agreed to those charges?”

Rose was taken back. “No… I hadn’t heard anything about that. You’re lying!”

“Do you know how we deal with traitors, Rose? We shoot them.”

Rose caught her breath as she stared wide eyed at the Major, “Did … you…”

“Yes Rose, ONI Section III killed your father for the benefit of humanity. And now I am accusing you of following in his footsteps.”

This was a bad dream, it had to be. Rose’s vision began to blur, her eyes filling with tears of burning hatred. Her hands trembled uncontrollably as her heart raced out of control. Her father was everything to her and his death changed her life.

“Rose, there is no longer a need to deny your involvement. How long have you been cooperating with the Covenant? Or is it the Rebels that have put you under this ploy? Did you transmit Earth’s coordinates to them upon discovering the Forerunner Crystal’s location? Who else is involved with your plan of revenge?”

Rose crumbled to her knees, holding her sides as if she couldn’t breathe. “I never… no. I didn’t do anything.”

“Tell me the truth, Rose. Tell me what you did. There is nothing to be afraid of now, I’ll simply assign you to a front line platoon, and put a gun in your hand. You’ll die in combat, but at least you will have done something positive for humanity.”

Rose screamed. “I’m not a traitor!” She lifted her head, with a snarling stare.

Major Rawlings stood six-foot-five, and for a woman closely approaching her late sixties she was still an impressive sight. Rose was no where near her stature, but she was young, strong, and a natural athlete. Major Rawlings could sense the urge for her to attack.

“I know what your thinking, Rose. Do not let my age fool you. I am quite capable of defending myself.”

“You killed my father…”

  • 03.16.2007 9:22 AM PDT

TWP - Assistant Director
Blade Runner: #00124A
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My Novel, available on Amazon.com

Homepage

“I didn’t kill anyone. The department did, I just happen to be a part of that department.”

Rose sobbed, “I survived. So what? That doesn’t make me a traitor. It’s not my fault that I lived. I didn’t do anything. Eric protected me, he wouldn’t let me fight. He kept me in safe places whenever he could. I didn’t do anything… nothing. I was useless.”

Major Rawlings turned to the picture on the wall once again. “I understand my dear, you’ve been kept in a jar this whole time. I knew that, I read the mission debriefing.”

“Then why are you accusing me of being a traitor?” Rose sobbed.

“Section III must know the limits of everyone. We must know what buttons to push when we need to know something. With you, it was your father, and you told me all I needed to know.” Major Rawlings turned from the picture and helped Rose to her feet. “I wanted to push your buttons because if you are going to wear that uniform, you will need to learn restraint. ONI is not in the business of accepting middle aged women who can’t keep their pants on. And you, my dear, have more emotional baggage then a class six star freighter. You are what I call ‘a bad seed’, but Section III needs you. And despite my aversion to you, they want you regardless.”

“You mean you were joking?”

“I do not joke, Ms. Santos.” Rawlings pulled a pin from her pocket and affixed it to Rose’s left shoulder. “Everything I said was the truth. Section III was directly involved in the death of your Father, it was a statement to the Rebels. As for why I told you, it is because I want you to know that I control the fate of your life, and I will not allow you to make another mistake that could jeopardize the safety of the human race.

Major Rawlings stepped away from Rose and she stood at full attention. “Do not forget that you gave away the Crystal, the Key to the Ark. If I feel that you are once again questioning your loyalty to humanity, I will personally put my side arm to your temple and pull the trigger. Warrant officer Santos, this promotion is the only way that I can clearly grant you permission into the Box. You are officially ONI Section III. Come with me.”

Silently Rose followed as Major Rawlings led her to an elevator. She had nothing to say to the Major, as she was well within her means to kill her. But Rose wondered why she needed her if she hated her so much? In the elevator stood three men, heavily armed with body armor Rose had never seen before. The soldiers stood silently and never flinched, even when she stared at their reflective masks. They were Major Rawlings personal bodyguards, and there were none like them on Earth. They were a special gift from Colonel Ackerson, something he had been working on for quiet some time, and proof that the Halsey’s Spartans were not the only means to win this war. The elevator descended for several minutes until they reached the bottom.

Rose and Major Rawlings stepped off the elevator. “Guards, we are the last to descend. Lock down the elevator when you arrive at the top. Wait for my orders.”

“Sir.” The three guards saluted. The door closed and the Major led Rose down another series of paths. These halls were very empty, only a sparse number of ONI officers walked about.

“Gibson.” Major Rawlings stated allowed.

A voice returned over the hallway intercom. “Go ahead Major.”

“Add Warrant Officer Santos’s ID tag and profile to your database. She’ll be assigned to the Box until her duty is complete.”

“Understood Major.”

The hallway soon opened too reveal a small cave. Light fixtures outlined the cave walls as workers dug mindlessly about the room. Major Rawlings stopped and examined the area.

“Ma’am, what’s going on?” Rose questioned.

“We need you Rose. That’s what’s going on. Four Hundred years ago, we discovered the cave which we now call Camp Eden; the cave that you saw when you first arrived. This smaller cave was discovered a few years later, we are directly beneath the center of the main cave above. ONI and The Egyptian Conservatory, studied this cave for nearly eighty years, but without any luck of uncovering what it is. This cave, you see, is not what you think it is. It contains fossil records of creatures never before discovered on Earth. For the sake of our own sanity, everything in this cave was considered top secret.”

“Understandable. That would reshape human history as we know it.” Rose stated as she examined a fossil outcropping on a nearby wall.

“What do you see?”

“Fossil remains … of …” Rose stepped back in shock. “An Elite?”

“Don’t worry, it gets even more complicated.” Major Rawlings descended deeper into the cave, passing several workers and approached a large black wall. “This is the Box. It is man made by the Egyptian Conservatory team that found it. They built this wall here to preserve what they found on the other side. This area was considered a shrine, until roughly a month ago.” The wall was pitch black and smooth to the touch.

“Major, I’m an engineer not a Paleontologist. I’m no good to you down here.”

Major Rawlings pushed open the door and they proceeded inside the Box. “Rose, you are the head of the MJOLNIR Mark VI program. You built the armor for the Spartans. Trust me, you are in the right place.”

Rose followed. “Major, I built the armor based on ONI specs. I made a few changes but it is mostly the same design.”

“Correct.” Another voice stated as the inner door parted. Doctor Catherine Halsey held the door open as Rose and Major Rawlings approached. “The design was far more human then what was originally thought of. After several attempts to copy the technology we decided to take gradual steps to reaching the desired goals. The Mark I - III were more clumsy and impractical but they served their purpose. Besides, not until my Spartans came along did we have anyone that could wear them. The Mark IV came exceptionally close to what we needed, but when the Project MJOLNIR committee found you… they found something special.”

“It is a pleasure to see you again, Doctor.” Rose smiled, thankful to finally see a familiar face.

“Like wise.” Halsey returned.

Rose questioned. “You said you attempted to copy the technology. You mean the Mark V design was not created by ONI?”

Doctor Halsey reached into her jumpsuit pocket and pulled out her dusty and smeared glasses. “The specs we gave you to design the Mark V and then the Mark VI, were originally based on this.” The group turned the corner and before them stood a tree, a large tree sprouting leaves that could not possibly grow in such an ungrateful environment; miles beneath the Earth’s surface. Rose was stunned to see the tree, but something else caught her eyes, something far more related to her expertise.

“Are those?” She gasped.

“Yes Rose.” Catherine Halsey smirked. “Nearly three hundred and twenty years ago, eighty years after the main cave was found, humanity found the Tree of Life. I’ve never been a follower of Religion, but I feel that the Biblical connection is a good reference. It is a bio-mechanical tree. The group that has been studying it reported that it ‘activated’ nearly thirty-eight days ago. And those two figures that have captured your eyes are the reasons why we decided to build the MJOLNIR.”

Rose wasted no time, nearly running into the stone carved room. Intricate Forerunner designs were etched into the floor, symbols along the wall, and even the Bio-mechanical tree seemed to represent Forerunner technology. But Rose was not concerned for the tree, at least not yet, for now her attention was captured by the two human shaped figures kneeling at the base of the tree. They faced outward, away from the tree, kneeling on one knee, with their heads bowed in an honoring display. One was a male and one was a female. But the two figures were clad in battle armor; perfectly preserved battle armor.

“Can I touch them?” Rose questioned in a child like awe.

“Yes, but be careful.” Doctor Halsey questioned. “A crew is studying their connection to the Tree.”

She ran her fingers along the edges of the suits, examining every inch of them. “The suits are air tight, the joints are genius. The design is inspiring!” She looked to the back of the female’s suit. “This power unit is closer to my Mark VI design, but it’s odd. It is almost as if they don’t have internal power. What do we know about them?”

“We know that they are nearly one hundred thousand years old.” Halsey stated.

“But that’s not older then caveman fossils.” Rose pondered.

Doctor Halsey grinned. “Correct, however, this technology should not have existed on Earth at that time.”

“Right, I see your point.” Rose examined the suits more. “Have they been opened?”

“These particular suits have not.” Rawlings added. “We found our study sources from elsewhere.”

Catherine Halsey calmly added. “The Ark I presume?”

Stunned, Major Rawlings glared at the women at her side. “Yes Doctor Halsey. It would seem you are well versed in the Forerunner lore. The suit we’ve been studying was found in the Ark, though it was badly damaged do to excessive use. We wanted to keep these two suits in tact, but we feel that is no longer a requirement. Rose, you have our permission to do what you must in order to understand how these suits work and implement what you can into the existing Mark VI Spartan armor.”

“Litran and Bitran.” Doctor Halsey said.

“What’s that?” Rose questioned in return.

“Their names. From what I understand of the writings on the wall, they were called … Reclaimers; the last Generals of the Forerunner Empire.”

Rose turned to Major Rawlings, “Any chance that my gauntlets were recovered from the New Mombasa facility?”

“Yes, Spartans 104 and 43 have already received the updated gauntlets. We were able to salvage several of them before the Covenant invasion. Spartans 087, 058 and 117, have yet to receive the updates because of their current mission.

  • 03.16.2007 9:23 AM PDT

TWP - Assistant Director
Blade Runner: #00124A
- - - - - - -
My Novel, available on Amazon.com

Homepage

“I’ll need a full tech setup, three data pads, various power uplinks, and someone who knows how to handle high radiation material. If I had the right supplies, I could fabricate parts. Just by looking at these suits, I see where I went wrong on a few designs. The power flow of the arms and legs is directly correlated to the suits abdominal servos. I can boost leg and hand power by … ten percent maybe. I know what to do, I just don’t have the tools to build them here.”

“My my, you do know your stuff.” Catherine smirked as she pushed her glasses up on her nose.

Major Rawlings turned away from the group. “I had Songnim transfer all their resources to Camp Eden when the second wave of Covenant ships arrived on Earth. You’ll have the full cooperation of their staff at your disposal. Also, there have been some weapons upgrades in the past few days, be sure to update the database accordingly, Rose. Doctor Halsey, you can stay as long as you need, but the Flood data is needed on Level 41.” The major opened the door to the Box and watched as Rose happily examined the two Reclaimer’s armors. Doctor Halsey sat hovered over her shoulder, both of them as excited as two children that had been given new toys. Yet Major Rawlings did not agree to their enthusiasm.

“All my life I have protected this shrine.” She thought to herself. “Forgive me for allowing them to dishonor your holly resting place, but for us to survive we must Reclaim what we have lost.” Major Rawlings walked out of the Box with a heavy weight upon her heart.

“I can do this.” Rose happily cheered to herself. “I can do something useful.” She was happy beyond compare. She wished that the ONI security nuts had let her see the suits before the war had started, she was sure that things would have been different, and the Mark V and VI could have been one man armies. But she couldn’t bark over facts she couldn’t changed. She thoroughly examined the suit and was assisted by Doctor Halsey for nearly an hour, but soon Catherine had to leave. Several tech officers arrived with a massive load of material for her to use and she began to work. “Eric.” Rose thought to herself. “I’m doing it… I’m being useful.”


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Black Ops Crash Site
Central Africa
October 29, 2552

Eric tasted blood, but he wasn’t sure if that was the reason why he was waking up, it could have also been the intense pain rolling throughout his head. Face down in a puddle, Eric slowly pulled in his arm, testing to see if anything was broken. Arms were okay, neck felt intact, legs were hurting but moveable, and with that he rolled over and opened his eyes, blood stained his mask; a large amount of blood.

He reached up and unlatched the seal to his helmet, only to find that it had completely split open. Cold water dripped onto his neck and sent a chill down his back; whatever the damage was it appeared mostly external as his senses and nerves were still in one piece. He pulled the helmet off to get a better look at the damage to it, and as he examined it he realized that it was a miracle he was still alive. His helmet must have taken the majority of the impact.

“How long was I out?” He questioned aloud. He dropped the helmet, let the cool water of the small pond wash over the back of his head and gazed into the twilight sky. Was it morning or late afternoon? Eric had no idea of time. He motioned to sit up, but his blood pressure was too low, he became increasingly dizzy as he rose, and was forced to lie back down. “Lost too much blood.” He softly whispered.

Eric sat motionless, fighting the urge to lose consciousness again. He had to stay awake. He had to live. He didn’t want to die like this, alone and separated from his team. Avoiding death was what he had done for so long, so many times he was on the edge of battle and yet walked out with only a few scratches and bruises, but this was not a firefight. He was not going to let his last enemy, a plane crash, be his end. But no matter how hard he fought it, he couldn’t overcome his body’s need to reserve energy. In mid thought, his body went numb, his heart slowed, and he slipped into darkness.

“Eric?” Kim’s voice radiated in his ears. Kim sat in front of him, as beautiful as the day he had first met her. She held a sniper rifle in her hand, with the barrel pointing upward, and the stock resting on the floor. She was cleaning the weapon, though she was covered in sweat and out of uniform. He remembered this moment. It was the Tylon campaign, the first mission the Black Ops had been assigned. Tylon was a hot desert world, primarily a mining colony and was at one time filled with colonists, but like so many worlds, it was one of the first worlds to be erased by the Covenant. Kim was wearing a large white shirt, stained in sweat, with her black fatigues unbuttoned to her waistline. The rest of the squad was on patrol with Melanie 05, leaving Kim and Eric alone. It was a welcome break, and one of the very few times that they had to spend together; as they struggled to keep their relationship a secret.

“You look like you haven’t been doing to well.” Kim continued. She stood up, and placed the gun to the side. Her face was dirty, smudged with grease and sweat. “Is the heat getting to you? We should probably get you out of those clothes then, eh?” Kim smiled, looking at him seductively. Eric wanted to talk, but the words wouldn’t escape his lips. Kim reached out and grabbed the base of his shirt, and began to slide it upward over his head. He felt at peace in this moment, happy to see Kim again, before her untimely death. This was a good time, even in the midst of the war, he was happy. He pulled the shirt from his head, and looked at the woman before him.

Kim was gone, replaced by the woman that had always captured his fantasy. “Will you teach me how to fight, Eric?” Rose questioned. Roselyn Santos was taller then Kim, but their build was almost identical. Rose’s Spanish complexion was strikingly alarming, as well as her fully endowed features. Yet something wasn’t right, Rose was not with the Black Ops on Tylon, she was busy working on the Mark V program while on Earth. No, something wasn’t right at all. His dreams were being jumbled, but was this a dream?

Rose leaned in toward him, kissing him softly on the forehead. “Don’t let me stay in this war without knowing how to fight.” She pulled away and lifted a gun, a small pistol, and placed it into Eric’s hand. She slowly came closer to Eric again, this time with her eyes closed and lips puckered as if to receive a kiss. Eric slowly obliged, closing his eyes and pressing his lips against hers. The embrace was filled with passion and he pulled back, thankfully for the sudden sign of affection, but once again the woman had changed.

Melanie smiled happily back toward him. “This is life, and Kim would want you to move on. She knows how I feel about you.”

Eric awoke to the thump of metal meeting metal. He rolled his head to the side and noticed that he was no longer lying in a puddle of water, but he was bandaged and resting inside the twisted hull of a Pelican. Someone had found him. He was alive, and his dream was most likely the result of him blacking out. The banging was coming from outside and he watched as two figures walked past.

It was night out, and a soft rain was falling in the area. Eric sat up slowly, but again became too dizzy to rise. A hand cradled his head and eased him back to his metal resting place.

Melanie glanced into his eyes. “You lost a lot of blood, but we were able to stabilize you. You need to rest. We don’t know when we’ll get picked up, and I wasn’t able to find another med kit. Do you understand me?”

“Yeah.” Eric grumbled. He was happy to see her, though he struggled hard to push the dream out of his mind. “Where are we?”

“Unknown. The Pelican is fried; zero communications uplink. We barely have short range signals. 08 is out gathering supplies and looking for more med kits. The Marines are working on trying to figure out our position, and the ODST is digging a trench in case the wrong search team finds us.”

“What about you?”

“Fit as a fiddle.” She smirked. “I blacked out on impact, but nothing a good slap to the face didn’t solve.”

“No really. How are you doing, Mel? It’s me, Eric, not 19. Right now I’m not your CO, and we aren’t Black Ops. I’m your friend.”

Melanie smiled as she looked down at Eric. “You should know better then to ask a girl a question like that. Thank God I’m a tomboy. If it wasn’t for that I’d be crying my eyes out right now.” She chuckled softly. She noticed that she was toying with Eric’s bandages; girlishly fidgeting. She clinched her fist to shake of the childish behavior.

“And why would you be crying your eyes out?”

Melanie looked away. “I lost my sister not too long ago, Eric. I don’t think I can handle losing you in the same year.” She quickly looked back down at Eric. “But that would only bother me if I wasn’t so much of a tomboy.” She quickly stood. “Orders, 19?”

Orders, she asked. They were once collegiate friends and Eric had dated her older sister. But on top of all of this were the unspoken words that existed between them. It was not as complex as flirting, nor was it as simple as a familial bond. Melanie and Eric had experienced many sensations together; happiness, loss, heartbreak, and pain. For them, nothing could be as simple as giving in to their emotions, but for them there was no option in doing this. Eric understood that there was no way Melanie would ever step over Kim’s grave.

  • 03.16.2007 9:24 AM PDT

TWP - Assistant Director
Blade Runner: #00124A
- - - - - - -
My Novel, available on Amazon.com

Homepage

Eric looked up at Melanie from the corner of his eyes. “We camp here tonight. Tomorrow, we make our way to a marker and try to find our position.” Eric coughed. “Until I’m a hundred percent, tell 08 to take control of things.”

“08?” Melanie questioned. “But I …” She paused and gathered herself. “Yes sir. I’ll let him know.”

Melanie turned to walk outside but Eric had one last statement. “It’s not that I don’t think you can handle it, 05. I just don’t know where your head is right now. And if I need to be left behind, I don’t want you wasting time trying to figure out a way to bring me along.” Melanie exited the Pelican and remained silent.

The next morning, Mathew 08 shouldered his rifle. With only a half clip of rounds and three spare side arm clips, he gathered his small team. Melanie would have to be his point man for everything; she was Black Ops and the fastest of them all. The ODST would be level headed, even if he lost his edge. The two marines were debatable; they would keep pace, but lacked any firefight experience. The pilot would be essentially non-com. He could hold a weapon, but Mathew had serious doubts if he could hit anything with it.

“Private John and Jackson, you two are to watch over the Sergeant during transport. 08, you have point.” He turned to the ODST and the Pilot. “Corporal, you’ll pull up the rear with our flyboy. We’re headed east toward that mountain range.” Mathew pointed off to the distant small range of mountains. “While I was falling yesterday, I spotted a city just over the first peak, should be about ten clicks or less. Get the gurney, check your water supply and let’s move out.”

The ODST replied back, “Chief, are you sure it’s good idea moving him? If we leave the Pilot here with him, they’ll have plenty of water, and we can move twice as fast.”

“I considered that, Corporal Hall. But I also know that Black Ops never leave a man behind, especially when he’s still breathing.” He looked over the unbalanced squad and waved them forward. “Move out.” If the situation was different, Corporal Hall would have been right. ODSTs understood squad loyalty, but in a pinch they would leave a man behind if it meant jeopardizing the squad. But ODST were use to be dropped behind enemy lines, under weapons fire, and usually being pursued; this wasn’t the case.

Hours passed, yet the distance traveled seemed to only grow by a few inches. It took the group twice as long as they had thought to reach the foothills of the mountains. They had not crossed any roads, or found any trails. The jungle plains were spruce with vegetation, but the humidity was taxing them. They pushed on, each of them knowing that Sergeant Raynord needed medical treatment. They finally arrived at the base of the cliff side.

“05, I need you to recon ahead and get to the peak, we’ll set up camp here tonight. See if you can get a clear view to the other side or receive any short wave transmissions.”

“I’m on it.” Melanie downed a quick shot of water and bagged her container. She turned and double timed it to the base of the small rocky outcropping. Nighttime was quickly concealing the area in darkness, but she didn’t let that slow her down. She pulled on her helmet, switched to night vision and climbed feverishly fast. Even though she could have taken her time, Eric’s condition wasn’t improving and she didn’t want to waste any time. The more she could do, and the faster she could do it, the better Eric’s chances were. She hustled up the steep incline, a rough one-hundred foot climb, and settled at the top. The peek was more of a plateau, and directly in front of her was a row of weathered buildings; an abandoned observatory surrounded by a worn metal fence.

She powered up her short range communicator. “05, this is Recon. Area seems clear, no hostiles sighted. I found an abandoned complex, looks like an old space observatory.”

“Be careful up there, 05.” Mathew returned on the line. “Scope the area out, see if you can find any med kits or a clue to our location, and get back down here. ASAP.”

“Roger that.” Melanie pulled up her side arm, thumbed the safety off and primed a round in the chamber. She duck walked forward, through bushes and the aging fence. Her active motion tracker showed no signs of movement; friendly or hostile. She neared the outer wall of the first building, the walls were covered in foliage, and most of the windows were smashed out. She motioned around a corner and neared the door. She pried it open but it was hard to open. With her augmented strength she gave it a good tug, and it crumbled away from the hinge, falling to the grassy patch at her feet. The sound echoed throughout the building and caught the attention of something inside; her tracker pinged with motion. She quickly slipped inside and into the dark cover of the hallway.

“-blam!-.” She cursed, stealing a line from Eric. She got low, dropping to a knee and keeping her eyes peeled on the area. She pulled a frag-grenade and held it tightly in her left hand… just in case. She felt better with the dangerously volatile high explosive charge in her hand. There was something soothing about it that she never quite understood.

Her nearly all black modified ODST armor vanished in the dark corner of the first room. She kept her gun level, making sure to not let anything slip by her vision. Trusting in the motion trackers was never acceptable, because if an enemy stood still they would be invisible to the tracker. The Black Ops learned long ago not to put all of their faith in their technology. She crept forward, scanning each room with her gun. The building was only a shell of its former self, as Melanie could clearly see that the each room once served some very important purpose. She found an old booklet full of paper, it was weathered and torn. On the hinge were the words, “Mukutan Observatory Grid station: 2319 Febuary. Mukutan?” She pondered the name, as it sounded very familiar to her. “That would put us in… Kenya. But where in Kenya are we?” She pocketed the book and continued to scan the rooms.

Melanie noticed that the object on her tracker was beginning to move toward her, perhaps along the main corridor, and she ducked into an open door, and cautiously closed it behind her; leaving only a crack open. She paused in the darkness as the object came closer. It was moving at a casual pace, but she had to remain cautious. She targeted the opening and waited for it to pass by.

There were heavy footsteps, almost muffled along the stone floor. She listened closely, letting the repeating steps echo in her ear. She wasn’t sure what it was. “Wildlife? A big cat? No, it’s more like boots. Military grade, or civilian?” No, she knew the sounds of human footsteps and this was not human or animal.

Her eyes widened as the thick brown fur of a Brute paused at the door. He was heavily armored, with a massive hammer strapped to his back. This Brute was packing some very serious armament. Unlike the Brutes she had fought against during the Camp Eden defensive, this brute wore battle armor, this was undocumented and odd. These fierce warriors that attacked Earth were now completely new.

The massive beast stuck his nose into the air, sniffing strongly. Melanie knew that this was a bad sign.

The Brute roared. “Wake the others. I smell … flesh. Call the front lines and get my warriors back here.”

Another blip appeared on Melanie motion tracker, and a voice echoed in the background. “Yes, Chieftain.” Her helmet audio language decoder couldn’t have made such a mistake, but she was sure he couldn’t have meant ‘Chieftain’. Melanie thought for sure that the Arbiter reported that the Brute Chieftain, Tartarus, was dead.

Melanie gazed through the door as the Brute angled his head toward the door. He pushed it open and snarled at the human that sat before him.

“How you doing, ugly?” Melanie whipped. She pocketed her sidearm, it was useless against a Brute, and pulled down her Battle Riffle.

“Die human worm!” The Brute snarled. He gripped the handle of his hammer and readied himself.

Melanie turned her back to the Brute, lunged toward the wall, and prayed that it was as weak as the rest of the building. She crumbled through the degrading wall and rolled to a knee. She was outside, on the western side of the building. She looked back and watched as the Brute stepped into the hole after her.

“Gotcha.” The grenade she had once held in her hand exploded under the Brutes feet, severing his leg as he fell backwards. The Brute’s blood splattered over the walls as he screamed in agony. She aimed her rifle and easily put three rounds through his chin. The BR-55 rounds exited the top of his skull. He was dead, but clearly he had alarmed the rest of the camp. Melanie looked to the opposite side of the building and watched as several vehicles powered up. Her exit and explosion had put her in plain sight of a Brute camp. Jackals squawked in the distance, ghosts hummed to life, and stampeding Brutes raced toward her.

She looked at her rifle ammo count, Twenty-five rounds. She only had one clip. She turned and ran, but not toward her squad, instead she ran parallel to the cliff. She couldn’t lead them back to Eric. She put her full speed to the ground and beat-feet as fast as she could. She checked her tracker; it was glowing brightly for a moment but then stopped. She maintained her forward progress but looked over her shoulder and saw that she wasn’t being chased. A few Jackals appeared, but without the Brutes, and the Jackals were not going to give chase without their superiors. Melanie dropped a knee and slid along the ground until she was perfectly on her belly. She looked back and zoomed in with her helmet binoculars.

  • 03.16.2007 9:26 AM PDT

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“They’re fighting over his armor?” She was stunned at this. The Brutes didn’t care about her at all, and were fighting over who would be the next in command. Each of the Brutes were snarling at each other as they each attempted to pick up the hammer. A Jackal was glaring at her from the side of the building; they always had the best vision of the Covenant forces. Melanie leveled her rifle, put down the lone Jackal, and sprinted to the side of the plateau so that she could send a clear signal to the squad.
“08, this is Recon, you copy?”

“Crystal clear, 05. Status?”

“Brute base camp at the top of the plateau. Their… Cheiftain, is down. But, they are not pursuing me.”

“Chieftain? Repeat that, 05?”

“I’ll explain later. I am taking an alternate route away from our camp in case they send a team after me. I will rendezvous at the southern pass around the mountain at twelve hundred hours tomorrow.”

“Not an option 05. You get back here now, we’ll fight it out together if they do give chase.”

“Negative. I can not jeopardize the safety of the squad. I will meet you all on the southern side of the cliff tomorrow at noon. Confirmed we are in Mukutan, Kenya. Recon out!”

“Melanie?” Mathew shouted into his com, but there was no answer. She had moved out of range of the short wave com. “Damn it!”

Eric lifted his head and looked at Mathew. “Status?”

“Recon has gone solo. Possible Brute pursuit. She didn’t want to lead them back here. I’m going to go assist.” Mathew gripped his rifle and adjusted the straps on his gear.

“Negative, 08. She made the right choice. If she felt that the odds were against us, then she made the right call.”

“But Sergeant?”

Eric held his head to ease the constant thumping. “I don’t like it anymore then you do, 08, but it was the right call. She’s faster then the Brutes, and in the dark she’ll become practically invisible if she decides to play hide and seek. This is Melanie we’re talking about. She’s Black Ops. She trained in stealth just like we did. You go after her and you’ll only be attracting more attention.”

Mathew stood motionless and lowered his head. The other men in the squad watched in silence, until the ODST intervened.

“Sirs, hate to bring this up, but if the Brutes are spooked, we should probably get moving. They may search the area.” Corporal Hall gazed upward to the top of the cliff side, thumbing his BR-55 nervously.

“You’re right Corporal.” Mathew sulked. “Johns, Jackson, grab the Sergeant and lets move south. 05 is on her own for now.”

- - - - - - - -

Troop Supply Territory
Camp Eden Civilian Defense Net
Abu Simbel, Egypt
October 30, 2552

Three Phantoms hovered over the battle field and rained plasma over the area. Flood combat forms melted under their constant barrage, but the parasitic creatures did not fold so easily. Rocket Propelled Grenades puffed into the air, leaving the shoulder mounted grips of the fleshy tentacles of the Flood. One Phantom was struck dead center, but easily shook off the impact. The other Phantoms dodged the incoming RPGs and turned their turrets toward them.

The Flood had found Earth, but this was not the result of Gravemind’s influence. These Flood forms found Earth by taking over Brute ships that escaped Delta Halo when the Prophet of Truth fled to Earth. The Flood followed Truth and the Brutes, but for what it was worth, the Human and Covenant Forces easily eradicated the threat, and these were the last reported Flood forces in Africa.

Less then a mile away, at the Abu Simbel airport, several Elite Field Masters continued to discuss the current situation.

“We have been successful in keeping the Flood threat out of the area, but this is only buying more time until the inevitable.” The red armored Field Master stated to those that were gathered. “I have sent my scout teams to patrol the areas west and south of my stronghold, none returned. Keeping the flood out of this quadrant is futile.” Several of the Field Masters agreed.

Another spoke up. “I too have lost countless warriors. Even the human aids that reported from the north were cut down before they could arrive. If the parasite pushes harder, they will easily take down this supply depot. Does not matter if their numbers are thinning, they can easily regain numbers if we loose warriors.”

A silver armored elite stepped forward. “Warriors, we are not here to complain. We are here to find a more strategic option to defending this supply post. If we lose ground here, the humans will lose all means of mass supply transportations.”

“The humans!” A Field Master roared. “Why should we bother to aid them? They are not warriors. We should be more concerned with our own. We have a ship in orbit carrying the last of our civilians. Our home is gone, we should be thinking of them not these lowly humans who have never proven themselves in our eyes.”

The door to the room opened and in walked the black armor clad warriors of the Spec Ops. Amongst them was a warrior wearing the helmet decorations of a Lieutenant. “If you are all done with your complaining, perhaps we can now get back to the task at hand.”

“Lieutenant Simyaldee, we meant no disrespect, but the other Field Masters and I agree, the humans are not worth defending. We should begin evacuation of all our forces to the Seed Ship.”

Simyaldee raised his eyes and looked to the decorated Field Master before him. He then returned his eyes to the display map on the table in the center of the room. “The western pass has been the most active in the past few hours. Shift units from post eighteen and nineteen to assist in covering it. Also, move a formation of wraiths along the river, there have been sightings of Flood activity along the southern banks. Notify the humans patrolling the roads to Camp Eden to tighten their patrols, as we will be forced to move more of our regiments closer to the area’s defensive.”

Simyaldee sat up and looked to the group of Field Masters. “I will not tolerate any further discussion of fleeing the combat zone. I will not have any more insubordination amongst my ranks. The humans are our allies just a much as we are theirs. That is all you need to understand. You have your orders.”

The group of Field Masters nodded sharply and quickly exited the room to return to their posts. Simyaldee turned to the silver armor of the councilor amongst them, “Elder, forgive them.”

“No, Lieutenant. Forgive me. I should have been the one to silence their pointless debate. It would appear that the news of Dorenth’s destruction is affecting my warriors far worse then I could have predicted.” The elder leaned over the holographic map of the region. “Your strategy is fool proof; you easily covered the one hole in our defensive. But will it be enough?”

“Time will tell, elder. The Arbiter and the Commander, against my recommendation, are off to secure the Flood crash site. We believe a brain form is within one of those ships. Killing that creature should prove to greatly affect the Flood within the region. Their numbers are decreasing, but for every warrior of ours they kill, they infect them and multiply. If the Arbiter is unsuccessful, I estimate the Flood will take this Region within the week. We can stall them if the humans provide support from the North, but that will only slow them down. The Flood will spread with every fallen soldier.”

The elder smiled as he listened to Simyaldee’s words. “The Commander was right in selecting you as the Mirratord Second. You are a brilliant warrior even in command situations.”

“Sir, I recommend we move all transport vehicles to this point.” Simyaldee ignored the Elder’s praise and focused on resituating the troops. “We need to be ready to evacuate what troops and supplies we can if a new threat shows it head.”

A series of beeps emitted from a local terminal, catching Simyaldee and the Elder’s attention. Simyaldee quickly walked over the station and powered on the Communications unit. An image of Lord Hood appeared on the visual display.

“Admiral Hood.” Simyaldee stated.

“Where’s the Arbiter.” Lord Hood quickly questioned.

“He took it upon himself to lead the assault against the downed Flood cruisers.”

“Very well. I need assistance. Our mission to infiltrate the Forerunner vessel ended in travesty. We lost more men then I would care to think about.”

Simyaldee was aware that the honorable human, Eric Raynord, was one of the soldiers involved with this mission, as well as the Demon and his … Spartans. “The Demon, and the Black Ops?”

“If you mean the Master Chief, he survived, but as of right now we are not sure where the Black Ops are located… if they made it. But to the point, we tracked the debris of the Rogue Fantasy, and it crashed several kilometers from the Supply post. I’m uploading the coordinates to you now. Two of our most powerful AI’s are inside that debris. We need them back.”

Simyaldee turned to the Elder, who gave him a solid nod of approval. “Admiral, I will personally lead a team to recover the Constructs.”

“Thank you. Once you retrieve them, deliver them to Camp Eden. I’ll send word to expect your arrival. My men will take over from there. Good luck.” The transmission ended.

Simyaldee turned to the holographic terrain map and input the coordinates that Lord Hood had transmitted. The image shifted several miles south of the Supply Territory.

Simyaldee exhaled deeply. “Several Jiralhanae scout teams went missing in that sector yesterday. We were tracking them, thinking they were trying to flank our position, but they never returned.”

“We have yet to see any Jiralhanae combat forms, so we must assume that they cleared the area.” The Elder thought aloud. “You must understand that I can not allow you to take too many of our warriors on this mission.”

  • 03.16.2007 9:26 AM PDT

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“I fully understand, Elder. I will only take two soldiers with me.”

“Two?” The elder questioned in shock. “That would be suicide, even for a Mirratord warrior such as you. Take a half platoon, we can spare that much.”

“Do not fret, Elder. I will be taking two of my Mirratord brethren with me.”

“I see. Then you will in fact be taking a full platoon.” The Elder councilor laughed.

Simyaldee nodded to the Elder and walked from the building. “We shall return by morning.” He quickly descended the stairs of the tower that overlooked the airfield. As he reached the base of the tower he turned to his two Mirratord Guards. “Remain here and protect the Elder with your lives.

“Sir.” The two Mirratord Guards replied. They positioned themselves at the door as Simyaldee walked toward the Southern post. He watched as human heavy transport ships continuously landed along the airstrip. Human civilian workers filled the vehicles with weapons, food, water, and various all-terrain vehicles. The Abu Simbel supply territory provided troops with supplies from all around the world. Supplies weren’t sent in and distributed to front line forces defending Camp Eden and the Ark, but the battle to control the Ark excavation sight was quickly being won by the Covenant.

Simyaldee turned his attention back to the task at hand, but a human raced up to his side. “Simyaldee!”

“What is it?” He questioned the non-warrior human.

“Sir, our supply shipment from New York was intercepted by a Brute Seraph Squadron. We lost communications with them ten minutes ago.”

Simyaldee sighed at the news. “This is the third shipment today. Very well, tell your superiors that the New… York supply route is no longer safe. The humans of New… York should find another route here.”

“They didn’t tell you, did they sir? We lost communication with New York last night. This was the last transport to escape before the Brutes took over the region.” The human hung his head. “We’re all going to die.”

Simyaldee understood the human’s sadness, but he was not going to let the human forget his purpose. “You must not give up. You still have a job to do, and that is to protect this base and make sure that the supplies continue to run. If we lost New…York, then we must make sure that the rest of the Supply territories are made aware. Contact all supply ports and tell them to be on guard. The Jiralhanae are attempting to cut off our supplies.” Simyaldee walked away as the human raced back to his post.

Simyaldee pressed his com and opened a channel, “Lieutenant Gridolee, meet me at southern post two.”

On the southern point of the territory, four hundred grunts and less then twenty elites, held a line of impeding Flood forms. Plasma grenades floated from the grunts hands, sailing close to a hundred yards into the heart of the flood charge. A wave of detonations swelled throughout the Flood numbers.

The sun slowly began to peep over the distant horizon as the grunts held their own. The Elites, scattered about the group, kept their eyes sharp as stationary turrets, wraith tanks, and needler rounds crisscrossed the field. Several Grunts watched as numerous combat forms raced into the area carrying heavy weapons, immediately demanding their full attention.

“Enemy rockets! Need help!” Shouted a frantic Grunt, and with good reason, as one accurate RPG could drastically change the battle formation to the Flood’s advantage. From the rear of the Grunts formation walked a black armored Grunt, with the marks of a Sergeant crested upon his shoulder. However, the rank of Sergeant was not the only mark to grace him, as he was also proudly wearing the purple strips of the Mirratord.

The grunt eagle eyed the Floods frantic charge. “Target enemy’s with the large weapons!” He shouted in the rough language of the Grunts. “Stationary guns, focus on incoming units.”

The Grunt Sergeant then turned to the Elites at his side, and spoke in broken Covenant tongue. “Sangheili, form up on me. We get in close!”

For two days the Grunt Sergeant had been leading the defensive just south of the airfield, and for two days he had done his job without debate from any of the Elites under his command. This was not the role that most Elites were accustomed to, following the orders of a Grunt, but he was not a Grunt to be questioned. He was ferocious in battle and had earned the respect of the Elites, and his Grunt kin recognized him as their King; a Messiah.

The RPGs streaked into their formation, the Flood had begun another push. Try as they might, the front line of Grunts buckled and eventually broke under the Floods endeavor. The Grunts began to tremble, slowly feeling the urge to flee, but a lone Grunt charged into the attacking mass.

In Covenant tongue, “Engage enemy! Wraith units cover flank!” Palab, the King of the Grunts, roared as he sprinted on all fours into the mass of combat forms. Closely following him were several Elites. “Focus on Flood with rockets!”

An Elite racing behind Palab roared. “You heard the Sergeant! Advance!”

The line of Grunts that were at one time trembling, found a new layer of courage. They lifted their plasma pistols, needlers, and fuel rod cannons, and followed their leader into the battle.

The Flood, sensing the tidal change, froze in position. Their attack was now a defense as hundreds of Grunts cascaded into them with the unchallenged aggression of a rabid pack of wolves. The Flood fought back, killing two or three Grunts with their powerful tentacles. Yet when one Grunt fell to his death, three more instantly took his place. The powerful claws of the Grunts ripped the flesh off of the Flood mass; popping the frail infection forms inside. The Grunts gave the massive carrier forms more clearance, letting them pop on their own, and then swarmed in to kill the defenseless infections forms that spewed from the mass of decayed flesh.

Grunts screamed, Flood forms tumbled, and Elites roared in war like ecstasy. And in the heart of it all, the Grunt king flailed his retractable elbow spikes in rhythmic poetry. He dropped his plasma rifle long ago, after taxing out its initial charge. He pounced with controlled passion, cutting into the Flood combat forms chests and gutting the tiny infections forms. He did not want to fight the Flood hand to hand, strategically it was suicide because one flood tentacle would be enough to seriously injure or kill him, but Palab had to rely on his quickness and agility because he was out of ammo.

An unlucky Grunt at Palab’s side was slashed across the back, sending him lifelessly to the ground. His plasma grenades tumbled from his satchel and rolled onto the ground. Palab was unaware that he had fallen, and continued to cut into a nearby combat form. Several feet away, a Grunt discharged his needler’s full clip causing a flood form to explode. The insinuating event caused a chain reaction in the plasma grenades nearby. Palab turned just as the first grenade ignited. With his battle sharpened focus he spun away, dug into the ground with his hands and pulled himself away from the exploding grenades. He planted his feet and kicked out; pushing himself away even faster. The concussion of the blast was still too fast, and quickly engulfed Palab in its blue haze. The four plasma grenades sent Grunts, Flood, and two Elites, screaming into the air.

Palab rolled to a stop, dazed and confused as dust settled around him. He gathered his barring, shacking off the shock that had just swept over him. His breathing became rapid, and he clawed at his methane mask. Something wasn’t right, and it was painfully obvious that his mixture of methane was malfunctioning. He was becoming increasingly lightheaded, that was the first sign; a bad sign. He checked his armor as he rolled onto his belly, and as he had feared his mixture was running low. His tank had ruptured and was leaking; luckily it hadn’t exploded in the plasma flame. He quickly took in a deep breath, shut off his main valve, and switched to his reserve tank; he could breathe easily for two minutes.

He breathed in the warm methane and he let it fill his lungs. He quickly stood and inspected the battlefield. Everything within several yards was leveled, but the fight was still being waged in the distance; at least one area was secure. But there was no time to be thankful. Palab quickly raced to a deceased grunt nearby, checked his tank, and quickly removed his methane supply.

“Forgive me. Me must continue fight.” Palab thought aloud in the patterned Covenant language. He dropped the new tank into his armor and powered on the main tank. He then began to gather weapons and grenades. Once his ammo was full he turned and sprinted toward the remaining Flood battle, as the Grunts cheered his return.

In the distance, Simyaldee was the lone passenger aboard his Specter all terrain vehicle, and he sped toward the smoldering battlefield which was Sergeant Palab’s defensive station; Southern Post 2.

Explosions were igniting the early morning sky as he approached, but the battle clearly ended as he arrived in the area. Placement shields sparked off and on from power overloads. Grunts sat silently, numb to anything around them. Elites patrolled the chaotic battlefield, policing the dead Flood forms and torching them with human flamethrowers. Some Grunts were scanning the bodies of their fallen kin, looking for survivors where they were sure not to find any. It was a hellish sight of scorched earth, piles of decaying corpses and war torn warriors.

  • 03.16.2007 9:27 AM PDT

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Simyaldee powered down the Specter and sprang to the dusty road. He cautiously scanned the area, looking for Palab or any of his Mirratord units. Sure enough, he spotted the unmistakable size of the Grunt King, and several of his disciples. Palab was a full head taller then his Grunt kin, his size masking his strength and intelligence. Simyaldee even began to think that Palab had grown more in size since they had landed on Earth.

“Sergeant.” Simyaldee stated as he approached the group. Palab held up the palm of his hand toward Simyaldee, halting him from saying anything else. Simyaldee hadn’t noticed, but Palab and the other Mirratord Grunts were quietly sitting near a pile of dead Grunts. After a moment, the group stood and continued on as if nothing had happened.

Palab spoke to his kin in their language. “Seek out the others and offer up thanks to their sacrifice. I must speak with the Lieutenant. Mittab, you are in charge until I return.”

Mittab, Palab’s first disciple, eagerly nodded his approval and led the other Mirratord Grunts toward the numerous other piles of the dead. In many ways, Mittab had become a good substitute for Etah; Palab’s older pack brother that had fallen in battle on the Elite’s home planet. But the connection was not the same. While Etah was the older of the Pack, Mittab was young, and inexperienced in combat. Mittab had not survived the Brutes and the Flood of Delta Halo, but he did survive the battle on Dorenth. He had learned a lot from the Grunt King, and was a happy addition to his young pack, but he could never replace Etah.

Palab sniffed toward Simyaldee, “Me sorry, Sir. Me Grunts needed to … rest, for a moment.”

‘Rest’, Palab had called it. Simyaldee huffed at the words, but he respected the Grunt’s religious heritage. “You have no need to apologize for honoring the dead. I shall always respect the secrets of the Unggoy.”

“You understand, but many not.” Palab stated as he watched several Elites push past a pack of ‘resting’ Grunts. “When we rest, we dream of kin; deam of them as they play on our home world. This way, we not forget them.”

Simyaldee also watched as the Elites ignored the resting grunts. “I wish there was more we could do, but for now we have a mission.”

“You lead, me follow.” Palab charged. He pressed his com, “Mittab, me go on mission with Second. Continue area sweep and refortify. Me be back soon.”

Simyaldee also turned on his com wondering wear Gridolee had gotten to. “Lieutenant Gridolee, report to the southern post immediately.” Within several minutes the massive warrior jogged to Simyaldee’s side. Standing nearly six inches taller then the average Elite, and covered in dense muscles, Gridolee was an Elite unlike any other.

“Sir.” Gridolee stated. “Forgive my delay. There was a commotion on the Eastern bank.”

“Understood.” Simyaldee looked to his two Mirratord brothers. “This will be a stealth mission. Check your camouflage status and ammo. The three of us are going south. I will debrief you as we go.”

“Sir!” Palab and Gridolee stated sharply. They quickly boarded the Specter, checked their gear, and the trio sped off into the wasteland.


To be continued.
********************************

Notes: Well, all of the characters are now back in play. Characters are scattered about the African continent, oblivious as to what their comrades are involved in. What will the future hold? And what about the "Tree of Life", what in the hell does that have to do with the Forerunners and the Ancient Reclaimers, Litran and Bitran? Soulguard is smoking crack again... but you know you love it. lol
stay tuned.

~soulguard

  • 03.16.2007 9:31 AM PDT
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hmm...very intriguing. also, i noticed something that may or may not be a coincidence: Etah...hatE, anyway, if this Box thing is so old and was discovered so long ago, how does humanity not know more?

  • 03.16.2007 1:54 PM PDT

The Mirratord The Right Hand Of The High Council

Never judge a man till you've marched a mile in his boots! After that who cares? He's a mile away AND YOU'VE GOT HIS BOOTS!!!!

Posted by: HLC 3
hmm...very intriguing. also, i noticed something that may or may not be a coincidence: Etah...hatE, anyway, if this Box thing is so old and was discovered so long ago, how does humanity not know more?


because the surviving reclaimers (guardians?)rawlings n kellys family kept it a secret



but great story soul im loving it cant wait for the next part

  • 03.16.2007 3:02 PM PDT

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Posted by: WildFire
Posted by: HLC 3
hmm...very intriguing. also, i noticed something that may or may not be a coincidence: Etah...hatE, anyway, if this Box thing is so old and was discovered so long ago, how does humanity not know more?


because the surviving reclaimers (guardians?)rawlings n kellys family kept it a secret


He's right, HLC 3. Camp Eden is one of Sections III's most closely guarded secrets, especially the Box. But right now it is being used as a Civilian safety zone because it is so secret... and well protected. As for Rawlings and Kelly being the last of the Reclaimers, more shall be shed upon this soon. I'm sure most of you remember the end of GotLK??

As for Etah...hatE... what do you mean, HLC? I'm curious.

~soulguard

  • 03.16.2007 5:22 PM PDT

Phoenix is dead, long live Phoenix!
Is it?

Reverse spelling, coincidence I think...

Wow, it took me this long to realise that you had posted another chapter. I'm ashamed.

Need I tell you that it is brilliant?

Can't wait to see more of the Mirratord mission.

  • 03.16.2007 5:26 PM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

(nods head in approval) You had me glued. Good work.

  • 03.18.2007 3:28 PM PDT
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yea buddy that was good, its good to here more about this rawlings however i wanna find out why she said she didnt like the idea of there being a cure to the flood infection from the previous story

  • 03.18.2007 5:45 PM PDT
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Why is Eric so horny?
alex

  • 03.18.2007 6:14 PM PDT

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Haha

INTUNEevo, it's not so much that he's horny, per-se. It's just that he happens to be surrounded by the women that he's always been "involved" with. He was in love with Rose, before he joined the military, basically dating Kim, till she died in combat, and then Melanie started to become... more then just Kim's little sister.

I guess Eric likes his women rugged. lol.

I'm glad you've all enjoyed this chapter, as it was a bit on the long side. There won't be any longer chapters for a while, most will stay in the 12-15 page range. But there may be one or two more long chapters in the future. Time will tell.

~soulguard

  • 03.19.2007 12:05 PM PDT
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sweet cannot wait, it gets more interesting by the word, i really admire your work and style

  • 03.21.2007 1:46 PM PDT

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Thanks tejan55.

Update
Short sweet and to the point. I'm currently at the halfway point of Level 3, targeting Wednesday for posting. Keep your fingers crossed. XD

~soulguard

  • 03.22.2007 10:27 PM PDT

Phoenix is dead, long live Phoenix!
Is it?

Fancy new forums...

Anyway can't wait for wednesday, needless to say.

  • 03.23.2007 4:34 PM PDT

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Well, Level 3 is complete.. yet I am not happy at all with it. The Idea of "combat High" plays a big role in this chapter... and while it works really well for the characters (as we know them), it comes off as a little too... comedic.

This chapter is intended to be more of an inside look at our heroes lives... how they interact under stress, and why their bond is so strong. But the more I read over it, the more i feel that the message is lost, somewhere around the final 3 pages. Trust me, this chapter isn't dull, in fact the last 3 pages is none stop action, well placed mind you, but far from dull. But as I try to relay the idea of "Combat High": A state of combat where soldiers become virtually numb to everything around them... I feel that the chapter looses something. While I would like to post it, I feel that a rewrite is needed, or some major editing. There is something about it that just doesn't fit, but at the same time, it seems perfectly plausible knowing what we know about the history of these characters.

I shall keep you all posted. If I decide to post it, I will possibly go up tomorrow, but if I decide to make changes, It may not get posted until friday.

thinking...

~soulguard

  • 03.26.2007 8:18 AM PDT
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I am a Sangheili Bard.
Tomes of the History of the Mirratord
For the honor of the Mirratord!

I know, we all start to feel like that at some point. I was doing really well with my own story until I hit chapter six and suddenly it was like I had fallen off my bandwagon... Maaaaan, what was I thinking? Needless to say the chapter has maybe three paragraphs in it, part one of three. Ugh. Am I speaking for all of us when I say I hope this doesn't happen to you? I'm certainly rooting for a big spectacuar ending!

  • 03.26.2007 10:41 AM PDT
Subject: Path of Reclamation: Level 3

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Notes: Well I decided to post it, so give me your brutal honesty in your comments after you read. Thanks and enjoy.
********************************
Level 3: Desperate Measures

Mukutan, Kenya
October 30, 2552

Clouds lined the sky as the sun rose overhead. Distant thunder cracked as Mother Nature did her earthly duties. It was a dreary morning, humid and wet, but Melanie raced on. The muddy soil beneath her feet sloshed with every step. She had been running throughout the night and she needed to know how far she had run. With a quick thought her Heads-Up-Display flashed; fifteen miles from her last check point. She stopped, placed her hands to her hips to gather her breath, and then pulled the helmet from her head. The humid air quickly washed over her face, instantly causing her to sweat uncontrollably. She stood motionless in a wide open field, blankly gazing into the distance.

Melanie had covered the full range of the plateau. She had climbed down the back side and ran all the way around it, and had finally arrived at the squad rendezvous point. A quick calculation of her speed and distance, and comparing that to the squads slow pace, she figured that she arrived roughly a few hours ahead of them; and the ETA was noon. She turned her attention to the cliff of the plateau, gazing up its incline and making sure that the Brutes had not sent out a search team. Hopefully they went north, following her original path. Hopefully they wouldn’t turn south and pick up her trail.

Hopefully.

A light mist of rain began to fall and Melanie lifted her head into the sky. She unbuttoned the top of her ODST armor to let the cool water wash over her. She sat down in the field, rocked backwards and rested in the tall grass. The squad would show up in a few hours, and the war would continue, but for now she was able to have a moment; a rarity not given in these harsh times. She pulled out her flask, and took a shot from the whisky contents and frowned when she realized it was empty. She closed it and looked at the engraved words; “Do or Die.”

It was hard to believe that three weeks ago she was on the Elite home world, trying to help the same creatures that had killed her sister less then three months ago. The events of this year were weighing heavy on her mind, and nothing could wash it from her forethought. She recalled the events of that dreadful day. The Elites lob grenades into their position, and a grenade landed between Kim and several civilians. Melanie then watched as Kim gripped the boiling ball of plasma, it instantly bonded to her skin, and she ran out into the field. She had sacrificed herself in order to save a few civilians.

Her big sister and leader of the Black Ops had died a hero, yet no one would ever know her sacrifice. The Black Ops, Black Operations Squad 011-Gamma, did not exist on any official document. Kim, Senior Chief Petty Officer Kimberly Peters, would never receive a medal of heroism, and her grave will be forever unmarked. But then there was the amalgamation of her consciousness and a machine; Siren.

Though she was dead, Kim was somewhat alive inside the processing power of a computer. Melanie rubbed her head in disbelief. What had the world come to? What had they signed up for? And who gave the military permission to map her big sisters mind and make it into a Virus AI? Somewhere out there Siren was floating around the digital void, in the wreckage of the Rogue Fantasy. Her sister, an AI, was lost in the world or destroyed.

Melanie wanted to scream in frustration, but that was pointless. She opened her eyes as the rain began to pass, buttoned up her modified armor, and pulled on her helmet. Her clock read 1158 hours. A hiss of compression confirmed that her suit was sealed and she stood to her feet.

“This is Recon, does anybody copy?”

“Loud and clear, Recon. You had us worried.” Mathew 08 replied over the com.

Melanie exhaled happily. “Good Morning. What’s for breakfast? I’m starving.”

Mathew returned. “Are you kidding? There’s wildlife everywhere around here. Shoot something and enjoy. And while you’re at it, kill two, then cook one for me.”

Melanie chuckled and watched as the Squad appeared in the distance. She zoomed in with her mask binoculars and took a quick head count. Everyone was accounted for, but she didn’t understand why Eric was now walking.

“19, why aren’t you on the stretcher?” She fumed of the Black Ops frequency.

“I’m feeling much better. 08 is a great field nurse.” The trio laughed at the tone and for a moment they simply enjoyed their reunion. It had been a while since the Black Ops had not suffered any losses, and seeing Melanie made them joyful. The past four months had seen their Squad numbers dwindle too fast.

The ODST, Corporal Greg Hall, was able to listen in on the Black Ops frequency, but the two Marines and the Pilot were clueless as to what was funny. Melanie walked toward the group and they all stood firm as she stopped in front of them. She quickly examined Eric’s bandages, making sure they didn’t need redressing. Dried blood spotted the bandage, a good sign of coagulation, it would hold until they could fine another med kit.

“How’s your head?” She questioned.

“Fuzzy, and a headache, but the dizzy spells are passing.” Melanie nodded an okay, but remained silent from behind her reflective mask. It was quiet for a moment and Eric quickly cut the silence. “Status, 05?”

Melanie snapped to attention. “The Brutes didn’t give chase, 19. I led them north, and hopefully they stayed the course, or gave up. I left a few presents behind in case they decided to follow my path, but so far I haven’t heard any fireworks. It was a platoon, mostly Brutes and a nest of Jackals; full vehicle support and artillery.”

“What about this ‘Chieftain’ you reported?” Mathew questioned.

“It was odd, but I certainly heard the Brute referred to as a Chieftain.” Melanie thought back to the encounter and began to give them the full details. “He was pretty heavily armored, I mean ‘heavily’. He was wearing battle armor, looked like something out of a King Arthur book; full helmet, shoulder pads, arm guards, chest plate… a big walking hulk of fur and metal. He also had a big hammer.”

“Amazing what can change in a few hours.” Eric added. “They didn’t have that much gear yesterday. And I thought the Brute Chieftain was dead?”

Melanie raised her shoulders in a shrug. “Beats the hell out of me, but I put a round through his chin and blew off is leg… so at least we know that they don’t have shields like the Elites do.”

“Thank God for that.” Airman Tsueng sighed.

Melanie agreed. “Also, they didn’t give chase because they were fighting over his hammer. I guess it was a sign of leadership; the next strongest leads.”

Eric agreed. “That would work with our findings, the Brutes have an honor system based only on strength, the strongest leads. I’m sure it’s more complicated then that, but this does confirm it. As to our location, you said we were in Mukutan. Mukutan?” Eric questioned aloud. “What the hell are Brutes doing way out here? There aren’t any strategic points of interest, just parks and wildlife reserves.”

“Anyone know this terrain?” Mathew questioned the others. A solid no came from everyone. “I swear I saw a city from above, but it could have been anything.”

“That’s where we were headed, so there’s no need to change our plans.” Eric returned. “We’ll continue to move East, slow and with eyes sharp. 05, you’ve been out all night, so take a break and watch our six. 08, you watch the left flank. That’s where the Brutes were patrolling. Corporal Hall, take the right flank. Marines, you’ll be on point with me. Visual spread, com channels clear. Move out.”

They fanned out into positions and began their trek east. It was only a matter of time before the group stumbled upon what Mathew had seen from above. Eric held up a clinched fist and knelt. He pulled the group together and they slowly crept toward the edge of dusty dirt road; thoroughly dried by the mid day sun. The water way on the side of the road provided a nice cover area from which they could inspect the town.

“08, you’re up.” Eric whispered. “Recon the first two blocks. Clean sweep. You have ten minutes.”

“Roger that.” Mathew pulled down his rifle, tripped the safety and crawled along the water path toward the edge of the town. He rolled out of the water way and took a knee as he gazed down the main street. He stayed low, knowing full well that his all black modified shock trooper armor was startling contrast to the white and tan buildings. The Black Ops worked best at night, not in daylight. He pressed forward, silently moving from cover to cover, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of movement.

The squad had stumbled upon a National Park forestry community. One of the last in the Mukutan area before it became a wildlife reserve. The community was once used as a veterinary training institute. Mathew scanned from street to street, and saw no sign of life. A few birds and rodents occasionally crisscrossed the street, but human life was nil. Cars and trucks sat in unattended parking lots, perfectly parked as if no one had left the town in a hurry.

Mathew radioed back, “Clear.”

Eric waived the squad forward. They all cautiously walked into the city perimeter and joined Mathew. Unlike the Brute occupied Observatory, the tiny town was well preserved, meaning that it was still in use. The buildings were maintained, street lights were in tact and the streets were clear of debris.

Eric once again took point. “08, take Corporal Hall and inspect that station.” Eric pointed to a distant building with a large antenna on its roof. “See if it has a working relay of some kind. Try to reach High-Com. “

“On it.” Mathew tapped the shock trooper and the two sprinted toward the building.

  • 03.27.2007 7:40 AM PDT

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“05, you and Airman Tsueng see if any of these vehicles are road worthy. If we can’t radio for a pick up, we have to get back in this war somehow.”

“Gotcha.” Melanie and the pilot walked to the nearest vehicles and tried breaking into them.

“Private John and Jackson, you’re with me. We’re going to see what those Brutes are up to.”

Eric and the two Marines jogged to the western edge of town, and it was only now that Eric was beginning to miss his modified ODST helmet. He was able to salvage the com system, but the rest of it was scrapped. He was now forced to rely totally on his own visual acuity.

They reached the western edge of town and glared into the distant mountain range. “Binoculars?” He questioned to the Privates at his side. John pulled out his pair and quickly gave them to Eric. Eric zoomed in using the binoculars nearly one mile range, and he was able to see the Brute Camp that Melanie had steered up during the night. The Brutes were looking into the town and were in perfect striking range for a plasma volley, but they didn’t seem to be gearing up for an attack. The Brute camp was active, but they were only watching, as if they were waiting for something.

Eric pulled down the specs. “-blam!-. What the hell are they doing up there?”

“Sir?” Private John questioned.

“They’re just sitting there. Even though 05 was in the middle of their camp last night, they haven’t budged. Some one or some thing is making them stay on the plateau. It’s a perfectly defendable position, they have the high ground, but they seem to be focusing all of their heavy guns at this town. Something’s not adding up. Maybe the Plateau is a target, another dig site perhaps.” Eric pressed his com. “Report in.”

“08 here, radio is pretty banged up, but I may be able to rig something together. Might not reach High-Com, but we should be able to contact someone within a few hundred miles.”

“Get on it and keep me notified.” Eric replied.

“05 here, and all of these vehicles are in working order; fueled and ready to go. Only problem is finding a color I like. I’m thinking the red one.”

“As long as it can get us to the nearest base, I don’t care if it’s pink with frills. Be sure that it can handle off road terrain.”

“Will do.”

Eric looked up to the distant Plateau once again. “Listen up everyone. Those Brutes are still sitting up there, in a perfect striking range of the town. Be cautious of snipers. Keep your heads low when you are in clear view, and try to stay behind cover as much as possible. Keep your trigger fingers ready in case they send an assault team.”

“Roger.” The squad sounded off over the com.

Melanie turned to the Airman, “We need to find a way to carry extra fuel, or find a ride that can carry us for several hundred miles. I’d hate to cross the desert and run out of hydrogen. That would be bad.”

“I saw a Meg-5, a block back!” Tsueng happily stated. “It can carry the seven of us easily, and it’s designed for off road driving.”

“A Meg-5?” Melanie questioned.

“It’s one of those big trucks that civilians use to take people on safari. They aren’t the fastest vehicles on the road, but it is tough and can go virtually anywhere and it has reserve Hydrogen tanks.”

“Let’s check it out.” Melanie smiled.

Meanwhile, Mathew and Corporal Hall continued to fight with the radio. “Anything?”

“Nothing.” The ODST replied as he turned the dial on the old fashioned transceiver. “None of this old equipment works right. Mind if I smoke, Chief?”

“Knock yourself out.” Mathew never looked up at the ODST and continued to examine the back of the box, pulling cables and replacing them with new ones. He wasn’t skilled at this sort of thing, but he tried what he could. Suddenly there was spark and the radio hummed softly.

Corporal Hall pulled the cigar from his lips. “I’ll be damn! We got something.”

Mathew jumped from the back of the box and looked at the controls. “Tune to the emergency frequency.” Hall turned the small dial until there was a faint hum, then suddenly a transmission sounded on the channel.

“… present speed. I repeat, a new Flood outbreak has taken control of the Southern Nile posts and are moving north toward Camp Eden. Camp Prettyman, Fort Bravo, Fort Singlow, and Tamari Base have been overrun. Fatalities are 100% across the board. Elite Forces have reduced Flood control zones in Egypt, Uganda, and Kenya. All troops presently not engaged are to evacuate to Egypt and Rally at Abu Simbel stronghold and Supply Depot to assist the Elites in defending the Zone. Newest Flood wave last seen moving North toward Mukutan, Kenya, putting them three days outside of Abu Simbel, at present speed. I repeat, a new Flood outbreak has…” The message began to repeat.

“Please tell me he didn’t say that the Flood was heading toward Mukutan?” The ODST gripped his head, rocking nervously. The old War vet was at his limit, and this had sent him over the top. “Dear God, this isn’t happening. This can’t be happening! My life sucks right now!”

Mathew switched the channel on the radio, and set the uplink as quickly as he could. He pulled on his helmet, grabbed the ODST by the color and pulled him out of the building. He quickly tripped on his com, “19! We have to get the hell out of here!”

Eric heard the panic in Mathew’s voice. “Report.”

“We checked the emergency frequency. The Flood! The Flood are moving north, through Mukutan! We are sitting in their path! That’s why the Brutes won’t come down off the Plateau! They knew that the Flood were coming!”

“Not again.” Eric whispered. “05, tell me you have things ready.”

“And then some! I’m ready when you are. Everything okay?”

“Get to the main street, engine hot. We are leaving!” Eric and the marines turned and hauled as fast as they could. Eric pulled away from the much slower marines and adjusted his pace so they could keep up with him. His heart rate began to climb with the exertion of the run and he was starting to get lightheaded once again. “Not now.” He grabbed his head and began to slow his pace, when a ferocious screech filled his ears.

His com burst with static. “You’re kidding me, right? Tell me that wasn’t the Flood? Please!” Melanie remembered the horrific scream of the Flood, and she had hopped to never hear it again.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Eric gasped. He was now running at a slight jog, holding his head as the blood was being drained into his powerful legs, taxing the blood in his head. He was on the verge of blacking out.

The two marines ran up to his side, “Hang with us Sergeant!” They cupped him in their arms and gave him a shoulder to rest on.

“One more block! We can make it!” John shouted as he looked back. He almost wished he hadn’t.

The slowly decaying flesh forms of animals, humans, Brutes and Elites quickly filled the street behind them. The gargled shrieks of the Flood rumbled from their chests, leaping toward the three humans with a savage hunger. John knew they weren’t going to be able to out run the horde of monsters. He pulled out his side arm and emptied his clip into the crowd. It was a pointless effort and he was slowly loosing control of himself. He had to run.

John pulled away from Eric, dropping the Sergeant’s arm and ran ahead of them. Jackson held on to Eric and carried him as best he could; watching as the other marine left them to die.

“Run.” Eric mumbled. “You can move faster without me.” Eric’s attempt to run turned into a stagger.

Jackson gripped Eric’s waist and dragged him. “No Sir!”

Like an angel’s wing, the Meg-5 pulled in front of the terrified marine. The door slid open and Melanie leaned out with her BR-55 level to her eye. She fired over Eric’s shoulder as John dived into the all-terrain vehicle. She focused on the Flood forms closest to Eric, putting rounds through the controlling infection forms.

Eric’s com echoed in his ear. “Eric, if you don’t run you won’t make it. I don’t care what you need to do, but stop slacking off! Get your ass in gear and run towards me, now!”

  • 03.27.2007 7:41 AM PDT

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Eric opened his eyes, saw the open door of the Meg-5 and planted his feet to run. He watched as Mathew and Corporal Hall climbed onto the top of the vehicle and began to fire at the Flood horde snapping at his heels. Eric’s first step drained what energy he had left, and he instantly began to lose balance. He focused and ran straight, his vision had completely blacked out, but he pushed forward. The Marine at his side guided him as best he could and the two men ran at a full stride toward the bus. Jackson could feel the flood crawling across his back as he jumped through the door of the Meg-5.

Melanie’s rifle clicked empty as the auto chamber hummed without any ammo to fire. She slammed the door closed as the flood rammed into the side of the Meg-5. “Tsueng, Go!” Six twenty-six inch all wheel drive tires spun wildly as the powerful vehicle pulled away from the Flood, but the creatures gave chase. The All-Terrain Safari bus cut easily down the central road and maintained its course north.

On the roof seating of the Meg-5, Corporal Hall continued to fire his weapon at the trailing Flood, but Mathew calmed him down. “Cease fire, Corporal. You’re wasting ammo. Mathew then climbed down to the small steps to the lower bay. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Eric returned, holding his head as he rolled onto his back.

Mathew exhaled, “I got the uplink working, so you better transmit before we get out of range, or the Flood take out the antenna.”

“Take out the antenna?” Hall questioned. “What the hell? They’re monsters, how can they be smart enough to know about the antenna? This is great. This is just great!”

Eric ignored the Corporals mental breakdown, and began to transmit. “This is Black Ops 19 to any local UNSC forces. Copy?” He rolled onto his back and tried to steady his breathing.

“Sergeant Raynord? Is that you?” Came a familiar female voice.

“Kelly? Thank God, you made it.”

“Sergeant, we’ve been worried. Where are you?”

“Mukutan, headed north.”

“Be advised, the Flood have massed together in that area. We thought we had them under control, but large packs of them have been popping up all over that region.”

“We found out the hard way.” Eric commented. “What about the mission?”

“The Admiral is diverting it. We have new orders. The Master Chief is heading East, to Voi. 058 is taking a squad to meet Blue Team in Northern Africa. I am heading back to Camp Eden’s Defense Net, RP Abu Simbel.”

“Roger that. Best guess, we are three days from RP, Abu Simbel.”

“We can swing by and pick you up, Sergeant. I’m sure the pilot won’t mind.”

“Negative. I repeat. That is a negative. The Flood are all over us, but we have a fair head start on them. We’ll try to give you guys more time, but an ammo-drop would be most appreciated. Check my heading via GPS markers.” Eric nodded toward Melanie, and she quickly uploaded several marker points over the signal using her GPS uplink. “We will slow down as many of the Flood forms as we can. Get to the Abu Simbel Rally Point and get them ready.”

“Roger Sergeant. Coordinates received. I’ll dispatch three pelicans to drop at your markers… good… …Sergeant? … Ops…” Static increasingly filled the line.

“05?” Eric questioned.

Melanie shook her head. “We lost the signal. GPS uplink is also severed. We’ve lost com. I have the marker points, but I won’t know where the ammo dumps will be until we are practically on top of them.”

Mathew chuckled. “Man I love this job.” He climbed the short steps to the roof and looked into the dusty wake of the Meg-5. The Flood was still pursuing in the distance; chasing them with a blood thirsty determination. Corporal Hall sat at the back bench, gazing out at the now distant flood forms.

“Every time we slow down my heart starts racing.” Hall stuttered. “I’m terrified that if we stop… they’ll get closer.”

Mathew sat beside him, but had nothing to say. Mathew, Black Ops 08, had seen the Flood first hand. He knew their unrelenting aggression and determination all too well. His thoughts went back to Sammy and Justin; Black Ops 13 and 14. They had been killed on the Forerunner Seed Ship after Sammy’s mutation. There was nothing he could say to ease the Corporal’s mind. The truth was that the Flood would follow them, and they wouldn’t give up the chase even if they were out of sight. The Flood needed to spread, they needed to feed, and until something else crossed their path they would not be discouraged in pursuing their prey.

Eric pulled himself into one of the chairs as Melanie assisted him. “Thanks.”

“Thank me when this is over.” Melanie stated the traditional Black Ops response.

Eric grinned hoping that she understood that he was thanking her for pushing him on. He then turned to Private Phillip John. “Private, you did what you had to do.”

John lifted his head and dried the tears in his eyes. He was young, a mere rookie hoping to do his part to help save humanity. He was ready to face the Covenant; the Elites, Jackals, and Grunts. But he was not ready to face the Flood. Like every military recruit, they all knew the face of their enemy. The size, weapons, and attitudes of the enemy, were basic study topics during boot camp. Tales of heroic actions by the Spartans and space battles motivated humanity to believe, against all odds, that they could stand toe to toe with the Covenant and win. But the Flood … The Flood were mindless, barbaric, horrifying creatures that didn’t kill you, they stole your body and mind, and made you into a tool to kill. Private John, and many others, was not ready to face the Flood.

“I’m sorry Sergeant.” John wept. “I lost myself. I was… I was so scared.”

Jackson, the other Marine, intervened. “Scared? We’re all scared, mate. That doesn’t explain you acting like a pansy and leaving two men behind.”

“We’re alive.” Melanie stated calmly. “That’s all the matters for now.”

“If you say so, but I know I don’t want him watching my back anymore.” Jackson stood up and walked to the front of the Meg-5 and sat in the passenger’s seat. Tsueng overheard the argument and looked at the Marine as he sat beside him. Tsueng chose not to add to the discussion and did what he did best; pilot the transport, even if it was on the ground.

The road ahead was a mere dirt trail, crisscrossing the open fields and maintaining a northern course, but for how long? Tsueng was aware that eventually the road would break, and they would then be forced to go off road.

“Jackson, look around and see if you can find a road map.” Tsueng stated to the Marine.

“A map?” He questioned aloud as he opened the glove box and looked in various places around the passenger’s seat. “Got it. It looks like we’re on the boarder; heading north-northwest. The road turns hard west in about… two miles. Sergeant, we have a problem!” Jackson called back to Eric.

Eric scuffed at the words. “What?”

“The road turns west in a little bit. It then snakes into the mountain range. That’ll slow us down. But if this map is right, we can’t go north beyond the road. The mountains make this area into a valley; a dead end.”

Melanie laughed. “So we go into the mountains and risk the Flood catching up with us, or we bypass the mountain path and go straight; hoping that there is another way through the mountains. Not to mention the ammo drop is most likely further north.”

Eric thumbed his chin. “Tsueng, how’s the fuel?”

“Three-quarters of a tank left. Fuel should be able to last all the way past the mountain range. And we have two spare Hydrogen tanks.”

Mathew then added from up stairs, “But if we take the mountain path we risk being overrun by the flood, and we have no ammo to fight back.”

Melanie laughed again. “We could always use harsh language.”

“That didn’t work on Dorenth, so I doubt it will work here.” Mathew returned.

Tsueng shook his head in confusion. “How can you make fun of this? Sergeant, the road is turning west!”

“05, is the ammo-drop in the valley?” Eric questioned.

“If they made the drop, yes, but probably another five miles north. I won’t know until we are within six hundred yards.”

“We risk it. Tsueng, head north.” Eric ordered. The all terrain civilian transport bounced hard as it left the beaten path and began to rumble across the grassy plain.

“This is nuts. This is nuts. This is nuts.” Corporal Hall mumbled from the top.

Mathew patted him on the shoulder. “Look at the bright side. You’ll feel much better with ammo in your hand.” Hall looked down at his half empty BR and smiled awkwardly.

“I’picking up the Drop signal!” Melanie shouted as a waypoint appeared on her HUD. She raced to the front of the civilian transport, hovered over Tsueng shoulder and guided him toward the ammo-drop.

“08, Jackson, and Hall. Get ready to grab the gear and load it into the back.”

  • 03.27.2007 7:42 AM PDT

TWP - Assistant Director
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The group sprang to action and hovered near the door of the Meg-5. The vehicle began to slow down as the ammo crate came into view. A parachute covered it partially, but the letters ‘UNSC’ were still clearly visible. Before they could stop, Mathew, Jackson and Hall jumped out and raced to the crate. Mathew gripped it and ripped the edge off with his bare hands. Jackson and Hall were stunned by the act, but too worried about the Flood to question it. The Meg-5 backed closer to the crate and the trio began tossing weapons into the back door. Melanie caught some, but let most of it tumble to the floor. They could sort out the mess later, time was crucial. Eric quickly began to pick up rifles and clips, making sure that each weapon had a full clip inside, while Tsueng revved the engine nervously. By now, he knew that the Flood had crossed the road into the mountains and would be heading toward them. They were official trapped in a dead end valley and the only way out was through the Flood horde.

What was the Sergeant thinking? It would have been easier to out run the Flood, instead of going to there certain death.

“Tsueng, Go!” Eric shouted to the front as Mathew, Jackson and Hall jumped back into the Meg-5. They rocketed off as fast as the vehicle would carry them and to no ones surprise, a dust cloud of fleshy monsters soon came into view.

Eric continued to inspect the new MA5C Assault riffle as he peeped at the approaching Flood stampede. “Hall, 08, upstairs with RPG’s and Assault Riffles. Watch your backs up there, those things like to jump.”

“Let’s kick some ass, Corporal!” Mathew shouted as he shouldered two rifles and an RPG. Corporal Hall was not as an enthusiastic, but he grabbed his gear and followed the Black Ops up to the roof.

Eric turned to Private Johns, “05, you and the John watch the cabin. Keep them off our sides. Jackson, stay in the passengers seat and protect our pilot. I’m going top side.” John exhaled slowly as he picked up an MA5C and sat with his back to the driver.

“Look, point and fire, Private.” Melanie softly stated to the Marine. “Breath easy and don’t panic. 19 and 05 are over ours heads, we get the easy job.”

Loud thumbs of RPG exhaust sounded off as the battle swung into full gear. Mathew fired two quick successions of Rocket Propelled Grenades into the horde. Flood stained debris scattered in all directions as he loaded his last two rounds into the RPG. Hall then took aim and fired as the Flood swelled back together, his rockets flew true and cut deep into the Flood’s charge. He dropped the RPG and pulled up the Assault Rifle.

“Steady Hall, wait till they get closer.” Mathew shouted. “The assault rifle is no good at this range.”

Eric stepped beside Hall and leveled his BR-55. The three bursts of fire cut down flood forms with easy; bursting the tiny infection forms that acted as the brain. Hall was mesmerized by the sight. Eric was deadly accurate, even with the Meg-5 bouncing over the rough terrain. Tsueng turned the vehicle slightly to avoid the large craters created by the RPG’s and began to run over dozens of combat forms at a time. The green blood of the Flood stained the front of the powerful vehicle and Tsueng turned on the wipers so that he could see clearly.

Eric shouldered the BR and pulled down his new MA5C. The full-auto chamber roared as it tore into anything in his view. Flood combat forms were split in half by its gas fueled chamber. Eric turned and went to the back of the roof seating area and provided rear support. Hall and Mathew continued firing into the Flood at the front of the Meg-5. A Flood Elite form sprang into the air and landed on the roof, behind Eric. Hall spun around wildly, horrified at the hulking mass of flesh. Eric hadn’t seen it.

“Sergeant!” Hall leveled the riffle and squeezed off a spray of fire. Eric heard the commotion and dropped to the deck as the lifeless combat form feel on top of him. He kicked it to the side and continued firing toward the side of the transport. Hall exhaled and turned just as another Combat form pounced on top of him. Its gargled roar filling his ears as its tentacle slapped his riffle from his hand. Hall fell backwards, as the creature stalked toward him. It was once human, but now it was an unrecognizable twisting of flesh and broken bones. He swung another tentacle at Hall, but Eric kicked it dead center in the back, followed by a full round from his assault riffle. Eric reached down and helped Hall to his feet.

“Thanks, Sir.” Hall sighed as he picked up his riffle.

Instinctively, Eric replied with the standard response. “Thank me when this is over.” Eric turned, popped the empty clip from the stock, let if fall, and slammed a new clip inside. He leveled the riffle and pulled the hammer all in one motion. The barrel of his MA5C was beginning to glow red from the constant fire, and the accuracy slowly began to fade.

Mathew’s gun was doing the same, glowing hot from too much sustained fire. The MA5C was designed for continued use, but not in such rhythmic progression. Generally there was enough time for the barrel to cool between clip changes, but Mathew and Eric were so fast with the change that the gun couldn’t cool the barrel fast enough. Even the self-cooling gas used to power the auto chamber, was not helping in keeping it cool. But Mathew and Eric anticipated this.

The Black Ops had long being familiar with the MA5Cs younger brother; the MA5B. It was the standard weapon for the Black Ops when they first began their training on Troy. They hoped that the redesigned MA5C would improve on its cooling ability, but sadly it didn’t. After all, how could the Research and Development teams know that there were soldiers in the service that could change out and empty mag in less than three seconds?

“Barrel’s hot!” Mathew shouted.

Eric chimed back, “Same! Switch out!” They needed ten seconds for the barrels to cool. That much time was insane in heavy combat, but luckily Eric kept count of how many clips he had used. It had taken six magazines for the MA5C to overheat, a stark improvement to the MA5B’s four clips. Normally this wouldn’t happen in combat, rarely did anyone sustain fire at that length of time, but they were the rare squad. Mathew and Eric pulled up their side arms, and aimed cautiously. Each bullet from the Magnum chamber had to count.

“Hall, maintain fire!” Eric shouted to the Corporal as his assault rifle clanged on the deck. Hall turned and watched as Eric and Mathew switched to their small side arms. He didn’t understand why they had switched, knowing that they hadn’t used all of their spare clips, but he turned and continued firing into the Flood onslaught. He was no longer scared, but he was determined to live. He then noticed that the road was now smooth and they were quickly getting closer to the mountains.

“We made it to the road!” Hall shouted. He fired into the four legged shape of some cat like Flood form.

Eric knelt and picked up the cooled Assault Rifle. “You know, I’m going to have a serious word with those R&D guys when we get out of this!”

Mathew reloaded and dropped two combat forms. “I agree. I can’t believe they still can’t keep these guns cool enough for us!” The two of them laughed.

Combat high; Eric and Mathew were in the zone, and unfazed by anything happening around them. Hall didn’t know what to make of it. They were talking casually and shooting with expert marksmanship. Hall could barely maintain his focus with all the screams and blood curling screeches echoing in his ears. He looked ahead of the transport and finally saw that they had cleared the Flood, they were all behind them now.

“We’re clear up front!” Hall shouted.

“Great!” Eric replied. “Since you’re so bored right now, how about going down and getting me and 05 some more ammo?” Eric was still firing at the creatures that were clinging to the side and rear of the transport.

“I only have one clip left, and I think it would be good to have more.” Mathew laughed.

“You guys are insane.” Hall quickly jumped into the transport and watched as Melanie fired wildly out of the back window.

“I have more fun taking a bath!” Melanie shouted as she fired into a flood form that had managed to stick it’s tentacles into the cabin. She kicked and fired at it at the same time. “I didn’t say you could come in! You stupid girl scouts!”

Hall grabbed spare clips and cupped as many as he could. He looked at Johns crazed glare, “What?”

John looked back at Hall. “She’s nuts. She’s been screaming at them the whole time.”

“Yeah, so have the two up top.”

“How can they be so calm?” John nervously asked as he aimed at a combat form that was reaching into the window. He fired and killed the creature.

“I don’t think they’re calm, I think they’re just not letting it phase them.” Hall turned to the front and made ready to go back to the top. “How we doin’ fly boy?”

“This was stupid, we wouldn’t have to deal with this if we just went to the mountain pass!” Tsueng stated as he turned the first curve of the pass.

“We have our orders, and we don’t question it.” Hall stated.

  • 03.27.2007 7:43 AM PDT

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Blade Runner: #00124A
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Melanie took a breather and began to reload all of her gear. She then tossed a frag out the window for good measure. “Fire in the hole!” The grenade detonated with an echoing cry of dieing Flood forms. “I love that sound.” She stated. She then turned to the discussion up front. “We came this way because we had to fight. The flood are heading toward Camp Eden, and our job is to slow them down… not run away. We needed ammo to fight and do as much damage to them as we can before they get to Eden. Our lives are forfeit to our duty to protect the civilians at that camp.”

Tsueng finally understood now. Melanie was right. This was their mission, to fight the war no matter where it came. This revelation was calming to him, and now he was ready to do his part. He drove, and drove hard, but he knew that ultimately there duty was to do as much damage to the flood as they could.

“Corporal, get up here with the ammo!” Mathew screamed from up top as he fired his RPG into the trailing Flood forms.

“Hold your horses, I’m coming!” Hall quickly climbed the ramp and passed out the MA5C magazines.

John was still shaken up by everything, but he sat at Melanie’s side and fired at any combat forms that came close. He pushed the idea of dieing out of his head, but then watched as Melanie began to do something he didn’t expect.

He started to say, “Ma’am, those are …”

“Lotus Anti Tank mines.” She stated heavily. “Enough to take out anything within one hundred yards.” She began to affix them to the seats and sides of the transport.

“Ma’am, why are you doing that?” John nervously questioned. He pulled the trigger at another combat form and then swapped out his empty clip.

Melanie continued to wire the mines. “We’re on the mountain path, and our speed has been cut in half because of the curves and the incline. Right now, the Flood are faster then we are. I don’t know about you, but if we get stuck or turn this rig over, I don’t have any plans of letting them get to Abu Simbel before we do. If we run out of options, I’ll send as many of those bastards to hell as I can.” She then looked up as John’s face began to grow pale. She laughed. “You think I’m crazy. Trust me, kid. You haven’t seen what those things can do… nor do you have any idea of what they are capable of becoming. I’d rather vaporize then have those things try and take me over.” Melanie then laughed. “Don’t worry. If it comes to this, you’ll thank me on the other side.”

John nodded softly and aimed out the window.

Melanie grabbed another mine and found a med kit under the case. “Great! 19, I got something for you!”

“Is it a Pelican or a Longsword Bomber?” Eric cracked.

“Even better. It’s a med kit!”

Eric sighed. “05, that was dry.”

“Yeah, but you love my sense of humor.”

John whispered to Melanie. “How can you be so calm? Those things are chasing us, you’ve rigged our transport into a rolling bomb, and there is literally no chance for us to live through this!”

Melanie looked at the young Private. “We Black Ops have been fighting together for almost thirteen years. We’ve seen a lot of things and lost a lot of good friends along the way. Even though I may not show it, my senses are sharp, I’m focused on every sound, movement, and ping. I can hear Eric and Mathew shooting. I can hear Corporal Hall walking back and forth, nervously looking for targets. I can even hear the engine straining to climb this hill. In order to keep our senses sharp, my sister taught us Black Ops to relax in the most severe situations. Eventually we go into a Combat High… and quite frankly, the adrenaline rush is amazing. I’m calm because I have to be. Otherwise, I’ll be like you, nervous and panicking.” Melanie turned to the last mine and set it in place. “19, I just finished cooking, and the Flood will absolutely love what I made for dinner.”

Eric and Mathew nodded toward each other. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Eric replied.


To be continued.
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NOTES: As I said, there was something about this chapter that I wasn't 100% happy with but i hope you enjoyed. Aardvark, I feel the same way nearly half the time I right something down. LOL
Thanks again for reading.

~soulguard


[Edited on 03.27.2007 7:46 AM PDT]

  • 03.27.2007 7:45 AM PDT