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  • Subject: [Story] Gold Team: Installation 03 (Chapter One Is Up)
Subject: [Story] Gold Team: Installation 03 (Chapter One Is Up)

The Director of Royal Films.

Prologue_____________________________________________________



40th Age of Conflict
Space Station Evangelical Advocate



The self-appointed High Prophet of Constraint massaged his head as he sat alone in the room. He lowered his hands and continued to type on his holographic console on his desk. So much work, he thought.

It had not been easy trying to maintain the remnants of the Covenant, but he was the only one that could; as far as Constraint knew, all the other San 'Shyuum had been killed by the Flood on High Charity. Not to mention the Demon, who had killed two of the three previous High Prophets.

And the Jiralhanae were not making things any easier. They were rebellious and often acted out against their commanders. Constraint only had a few hundred Sangheili to keep them in line.

It was pure luck that he had them at all. Most had left the Covenant during the Great Schism, and only because they were betrayed. Few actually left because of the lies the Arbiter told them. Fortunately for the Prophet, distant armies had not heard all the details and still believed in him.

Because of their low numbers the Sangheili were spread thin, serving only as Fleet Masters, Ship Masters, and Field Masters.

The door opened and Constraint looked up. A massive Jiralhanae walked forward and kneeled. He wore dark red armor, but had no helmet. A thick, tan beard covered his jaw. On his back was modified grenade launcher. The blade on the back was more jagged and a second trigger activated a Spike Rifle attachment.

He looked at the Prophet with his fiery red eyes. "Noble Hierarch. The fleet is about to arrive at its target. Soon the second war will begin."

Constraint gave a genuine smile. "Thank you, Rellik." He started typing again. "And now for your reward. I have found the Fist of Rukt."

Rellik's eyes widened with excitement. He had not been expecting this. "You know of its location?"

"The Separatists took it from Halo. Claim it from them and you will become the undisputed Chieftain of the Jiralhanae. I am sending the coordinates to your ship."

Rellik bowed his head, and then stood. "Thank you, Great Prophet. I will do so with haste so that I may return to the war."

Constraint nodded. "May the Forerunners aid you."

"And you, High Prophet of Constraint." The Jiralhanae turned and left.

Constraint sat back in his seat and relaxed. Rellik was loyal compared to the rest of his kind. He would put them in their place. Then things would go back to the old ways. Humans would be hunted down like the vermin they were, and the Covenant would follow the path of the Great Journey.



1414 Hours, July 17, 2553 (Military Calendar) \
UNSC Gamble, near Pluto



"Captain," called Thomas, the navigator.

Captain Montford walked over to him and looked at the screen. He saw over a dozen alien ships. "Is there a problem?"

"I don't know. The Elites shouldn't be here until next week with the supplies."

Montford shrugged, unconcerned. "Slipspace can be unpredictable." He looked at the communications officer. "Open a COM channel. We'll bounce the signal back to the station."
"Aye, Captain."

The alien ship transmitted an Elite's voice over the Gamble's speakers. "Humans. You were always too quick to judge. You thought the war was over, that all had given up. No, our Prophet has renewed our hope. We will be victorious." The channel closed.

Thomas could not believe his eyes. "Captain! Incoming Seraphs have locked onto our position!"

"Deploy the Longsword Fighters!" Montford yelled. "Call for reinforcements!" He knew that a single light frigate did not stand a chance against all those Covenant warships.

"Incoming plasma torpedoes!" Thomas informed. Everyone braced themselves for the impact. The bridge shook and an explosion could be heard in the distance.

"Damage report!"

"They hit the hangars. The Longswords never made it out."

"Captain! Our transmissions are being jammed! No one knows we're being attacked!"

"Breaches on decks three and four! Lockdown is failing! All their air is gone!"

Montford sat down in shock. He did not know what to do. If they fought, they would all die. If they retreated, they would never make it close enough to the station to warn them. There was nothing that could be done, nothing to stop them. The Second Human-Covenant War had begun.

[Edited on 05.18.2010 4:33 PM PDT]

  • 05.13.2010 3:22 PM PDT
Subject: [Story] Gold Team: Installation 03

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

i'm listening nice

  • 05.13.2010 8:35 PM PDT

The Director of Royal Films.

Chapter One_________________________________________________



40th Age of Conflict
CCS-Class Battlecruiser Everlasting Virtue



Kalt Zarikee wore the traditional gold armor of a Ship Master. It covered most of his dark brown skin. His green eyes glared at the Major in front of him. The sounds of continuous explosions were starting to unnerve him.

The Sangheili Major spoke, "Shipmaster, two more ships have been lost, including the Fleetmaster's. You have been given control of the Fleet."

"Raughr!" Kalt exhaled violently. He sat in his chair and calmed his breathing. "How many others are left?"

"Only two ships have managed to survive."

Kalt sat quietly. Each battle had been as easy as before, until now. Human ships had been upgraded to withstand Covenant attacks and their weapons did more damage to shields. Separatists, he thought. They had to be the cause of the humans' advantage. They must be supplying them with better materials.

He had to warn the rest of the Covenant. "Tell the others to retreat."

The Major was not sure he heard correctly. "Retreat? The Sangheili Council would never accept that! What of our honor? We will be the first to flee from the humans in this war."

Kalt stood quickly and activated his energy sword. He held it at the Major's throat. "Never question your Ship Master, be it me or another. It is not your place to make decisions, Sangheili Minor."

He let go of the soldier and turned to the others. "Inform the others that we are leaving, with or without them."



40th Age of Conflict
Space Station Evangelical Advocate



Kalt entered a dark, circular room. Sitting in a semi-circle were the five Supreme Commanders of the Covenant. Each wore gold, highly decorative armor as well as long violet cloaks wrapped around their shoulders.

The Ship Master knelt in the middle and bowed his head. "Great Council," he said.

One member spoke up, "Kalt Zarikee. You have supplied us with valuable information. It is surprising that the humans have this-" he stopped. "Our technology."

"Yes," another commander said. "After all, the Separatists have avoided being dragged into the war. Most do not interact with humans at all. They made contact through trade, but they never gave up any of our superior technology."

"It appears there are a few who are sympathetic to the insects."

The Supreme Commander that spoke first looked at Kalt. "While this information is important, you took unnecessary steps. Sending one ship to us would have been sufficient. We cannot afford to give the humans hope. Seeing us flee from battle will only give them strength to fight harder. It was your duty to stand against them until the end."

Kalt looked up in shock. Things were taking a wrong turn. "Supreme Commanders, if I believed-"

The second member interrupted. "Instead, you made us, the Covenant, look like cowards. You have dishonored your crew."

"Then let me prove myself again," Kalt pleaded. "Let me lead troops against the humans."

"The only troops you will lead are those who are more loyal to you than they are to the Covenant."

The first Supreme Commander spoke, "Kalt Zarik, you are exiled from the Covenant. I understand your desire to help us. You may keep your ship and use it as you will. But be warned: you can no longer count on us for aid."

Kalt barely heard the words after his name. Zarik. They had just removed the suffix '-ee' from his last name; the part that symbolized his honor. Kalt lowered his head and left.



40th Age of Conflict
Assault Carrier Merciless Onslaught



Feren Zarikee sat quietly in his private quarters. He examined his white armor on the shelves. Each piece had elaborate designs carved into it. His helmet was modified to contain his entire head and looked similar to a flight helmet.

The Special Operations Commander of the Covenant put the armor on and walked to the bridge. Waiting for him was his brother, Kalt.

"Your story is a sad one, Brother," Feren said.

Kalt crossed his arms. "If I have your aid, it will be a story of redemption in the eyes of the Covenant."

Feren looked at his brother, puzzled. "You believe there is a way to be accepted by them again?"

Kalt nodded. "I do. But I cannot accomplish this alone. I have but one ship and half a crew."

"Brother, you have always stood by me. I would shame myself if I did not assist you now."

Smiling, Kalt continued, "We will be remembered for this, Brother. We will lead the way to Glorious Salvation."

  • 05.18.2010 4:31 PM PDT