- soulguard
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- Exalted Mythic Member
NOTE: This level has not been edited fully, so you will find more errors then normal. I am posting it early because I am really hung up on all the Halo Viral news that has begun over the last few days... as it is all very important to the future of this story. I will be editing this level over the next weekend and then post the edited version to FF.net, if you would prefer a more cleaner presentation.
On with the show....
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Level 11: Protocols for surrender
Ark Excavation site // Mombasa observatory
ONI Facility Bravo A-11092G: The Gatekeeper
November 3, 2552
“How deep can they dig?”
“As deep as they want to. We can’t stop them. Our forces are in shambles, and HighCOM is under direct assault from a Brute Carrier wing.”
“How many ships does Truth have in his arsenal? Seems like more ships show up everyday.”
“The ships he has above us aren’t even a fraction of his forces. Most of the Elite ships are fighting the Brutes in orbit. We’ve received confirmed reports of Brute ships on every continent on Earth, including the poles. Civilian prisoners have been taken in North America, Japan and Europe. Marine forces are engaged in stronghold defenses in countless locations around the world… and then there’s the Chief.”
“That Spartan is still alive?”
“He’s managed to save several platoons on his way here. But getting faster transportation seems to be a problem. Time is crucial, but with those Brute Seraph patrols in the area… well, any pelicans that get close to the ground are shot down.”
“I recall the situation was not promising. Do you think he is really needed? Halsey’s freaks are old news.”
“Deny it as much as you want, Colonel, your Spartan III’s have not done nearly as much as the Master Chief has during this war.”
“If they were here and on the front lines…”
“Then why aren’t they here?”
The two men looked towards the view screen in silence as dozens of Covenant ships dug away layers of debris, slowly exposing the massive structure of the Ark. One of the men lowered his head and wiped away the sweat beads that trickled slowly from his brow.
He looked to the younger man to address him. “They’re all gone. Save only a handful that I had not sent to Onyx.”
“The Shield World?” The younger man questioned mockingly. “I just finished catching up on the report. You were warned, Colonel.”
“How were we to know that Delta Halo would thankfully misfire?”
“It is ironic that the salvation of the galaxy would be the downfall of your SIII program.” The man smiled smugly, giving the Colonel no since of sympathy. “The misfire sequence triggered the activation of the Shield World. You should have warned Ambrose. But now, all you can do is sit and pray that your Spartan IIIs are still alive.”
“I stand by my decisions.”
“Just like your decision to abandon your Halo outpost?”
“When did this become a direct attack against me? You young punks don’t understand the nature of Section III and the reason we make the choices we do.”
“I understand that the 501 battle group was nearly annihilated in its first day of combat, yet you somehow escaped unscathed… and happily found your way down here. Why didn’t you go to HighCom, Colonel? Or better yet, why not dock at Cairo station and fight alongside Admiral Hood? What brings you to the Gate?”
“Like I said, kid, you will never understand why Section III makes the decisions it makes.” The Colonel powered off the monitor and returned to his seat at a table. The lights powered on and the young man adjusted his vision. He turned his head away from the light and brushed his hair out of his face. The Colonel began to thumb through a small booklet which was covered in dust. Imprinted on the cover were the words UNSCDF: Terms and conditions of surrender.
“We’d rather die then surrender, Colonel.” The young man stated through gritted teeth.
“You didn’t seem that eager to die when Major Rawlings threatened to put you in front of a firing squad. Did Black Ops 19 teach you some courage?” The young man remained silent. The Colonel felt a sense of joy at finally silencing the young man. “Now, since I’m here, why don’t you explain to me how we lost control of the Seed ship? And I’d also like to know why Major Rawlings and my Spartans are missing in Action?”
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Mythic Beast // Jiralhanae Assault Cruiser
Camp Eden Defense Zone
Central Egypt
November 3, 2552
Moving at a snails pace, Gridolee and Simyaldee stumbled through the corridors of the massive Brute ship. Their wounds were finally catching up to them, struggle as they might, they could not move any faster. Simyaldee shouldered Gridolee’s arm and offered the young warrior some support to lean on. The two of them slowly made their way through several levels, nearing a final set of escape pods.
“Not much further.” Simyaldee gasped as he turned a corner. It took them nearly ten minutes to reach the lower levels, but time was soon about to escape them. An alarm sounded throughout the ship.
“Blast!” Gridolee snarled. “We made it this far, only to burn in this Jiralhanae tomb.” Gridolee had set the collusion alarm to sound throughout the ship, to warn them that there time was nearly up.
“We still have time.” Simyaldee added as he neared a pod. He palmed the wall display, activating it. The panel glowed to life and Simyaldee quickly inputted his Spec Ops access code. Hopefully the Brutes had not taken the time to change them. The door parted and Simyaldee blindly flung Gridolee inside. He dived in behind him and rolled to the launch controls. There was no time to strap in. “Hold on.”
The escape thumbed to life as its engines propelled it from the belly of the ship. Simyaldee was thrown backwards, his head hitting the metal frame; his shattered helmet took the brunt of the impact. Gridolee hung on for dear life, but his grip slipped and he also began to tumble around the escape pod.
The Mythic Beast maintained its forward progress as the stationary guns of Camp Eden began to fire. The shields of the ship easily held against hundreds of ground turret fire as the ship impacted Camp Eden’s shield grid. The ship slowed, but only by half its speed. It continued to push forward, propelled by the same engines that could throttle it into orbit, as the shields finally gave under the tremendous amount of force. The hull of the Mythic Beast began to crumbled from the forward decks toward the aft. Explosions riddled the once mighty ship as debris spat from all sides. Yet the massive weight, and speed of the ship was too much for the human engineered shields of Camp Eden to withstand.
A bright flash of energy escaped the bubble formed around the base as the remains of the Brute ship speared into the base. The ship was nearly one-third the size of Camp Eden, and its impact was catastrophic. Buildings were toppled, roads were whipped away like sand, and fires scattered across the base. The Brute ship’s internal damage finally gave way and the engines began to fade. Secondary explosions marked all around the ship and Camp Eden as the base’s power grid failed from the impact.
The upper level of Camp Eden was without power and defenseless.
Several miles behind the ship soared Eric Raynord’s Pelican. Everyone on board looked ahead as the Brute ship flashed and sank into the base. Their hearts dropped.
Melanie powered up her COM. “Camp Eden, do you copy? This is Red Squad, come in!” She frantically shouted but no reply came.
Eric shook his head. “They’re in the dark, and Brute forces are most likely regrouping to attack. Palab, any word from Simyaldee?”
Palab placed his hand to head and listen for anything on the Mirratord or Spec Ops frequency. “Me hear nothing.”
The radar alarm blurred to life and the co-pilot quickly scanned the area. “Seraph interceptors inbound!”
“-blam!-!” Eric cursed as he turned to his side and picked up his helmet. He pulled it on a soft hiss filled the air, signaling that it had achieved an air tight seal. “05, button up.”
Melanie pulled on her helmet and did the same. The helmets were new ODST replacements and had yet to be field modified to the Black Ops tastes, but the standard updates would come in handy. Eric keyed in the local radar signatures as friendly’s and attached names to each: Palab, 05 and the two pilots.
Eric leaned close to the co-pilot. “Radio our coordinates to any nearby Lonswords or Skyhawks… anything!”
The co-pilot switched to the local military channel. “Mayday, mayday! The is Nine tail 087 out of Camp Eden to any nearby fighter groups. We need immediate air support. Mayday, mayday! Our coordinates are… ” The helm exploded as plasma fire melted through the top of the pelican, killing the co-pilot and pushing the pilot and his seat out of position to fly the bird. A group of Seraph fighters had got a lucky shot off and were flying in to finish the job. Eric was thrown back as the Pelican nose dived and began to spin out of control. The engine’s sputtered and died. The pelican was barely over one hundred feet when it was hit, so the ground was not far below, but the impact was still a wakening experience.
Palab rolled about the cabin, using his nimbleness to move closer to Melanie, He gripped her in his claws, wrapped his arms around her, and spun counter to the ships rotation just as the ship slid into the soft grassy soul of the surrounding perimeter of Eden. Unlike the dusty and dry area beyond Camp Eden’s gates, the interior was a lush and tropical manmade zone.
Eric held on to the bulkhead for dear life, recalling his previous landing, and adjusted to the pelicans sliding motion. The pelican stopped and Eric quickly grabbed Palab and Melanie.
“You two okay?”
“Roger.” Melanie sighed. “Thanks Palab.”