RP:First Encounter

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Welcome to PROJECT: First Encounter, a Halo Fanon namespace project page created by the user RR.

Current Status as of August.28.2024: Roleplaying

Background Plot
The world Coral has been known for its enigmatic properties, the voluminous electromagnetic field, the disproportionate atmosphere barely conducive to human life, and greatest of all - the Forerunner structures that run underneath its crust. However, on November 3, 2552, hell materializes on Coral for the UNSC garrison. The structures unearth themselves in prismatic bursts of energy...and torrents of unknown entities emerge, slaughtering the UNSC personnel by the millions.

After several days of systematic eradication, however, there still remains one last bastion: Bravo Base, residence to several regiments of UNSC Marines, several dozen Warthogs and Scorpions, and greatest of all - a SPARTAN-II Special Operations unit - Aleph Team. It appears to be the site of a heroic, valiant defense by the SPARTAN-IIs...a heroic, climatic inferno...yet when ONI learns of this planet-scale destruction and sends a cloaked ONI prowler to investigate, the Seer...most unnerving evidence is recovered, contradictory to all beliefs...this is immediately encoded, and sent to HIGHCOM.

However, when the Seer and the rest of the ONI group in orbit is shot down by UNSC reinforcements straight from Tantalus, the crew, Marines, and even Spartans of the recon force struggle to evade and survive the Forerunner creations and hostile UNSC forces...what secret so vile could Bravo Base and Aleph Team contain?

Everything and nothing.

Covenant Seperatists
Primary Commander: Councilor Shch 'Nodotee 

Combined Regional Fleet of Contrite Purpose Taskforce
Commander: Supreme Commander Ryse Zar 'Uasumee
 * 1 Reverence-class Flagship - 3000 meters
 * Glorified Vengeance - '''Supreme Commander Ryse Zar 'Uasumee
 * Xt'ayd Legion
 * 4 CCS-class Battlecruisers - 1782.2 meters
 * Glorious Truth - Ship Master Sozei 'Zorfitee
 * Devastation - Ship Master Odch 'Siburee
 * Subjugated Phoenix - Ship Master Rach Adomoree
 * Light Revived - '''Ship Master Grel Dar 'Wandoree
 * Dr'ead Warrior Crèche
 * 5 Destroyers - 1500 meters
 * Revival -
 * Aftermath - Ship Master Myca 'Hetodee
 * Gloried Life
 * Seeker of Law
 * Obedience

Unnamed Taskforce
Commander: Imperial Admiral Vysar Tar 'Xztanee
 * 1 Supercarrier - 7245 meters
 * Anger & Retribution - Imperial Admiral Vysar Tar 'Xztanee
 * 2 Destroyers - 1500 meters
 * Reborn Sacrifice
 * Superior Wind

Covenant Loyalists
Primary Commander: Alpha Jiralhanae Aringal

Regional Fleet of Absolution Task Force
Commander: Alpha Jiralhanae Aringal
 * 1 Assault Carrier - 5346 meters
 * Warmonger - Alpha Jiralhanae Aringal
 * 2 Battleships - 2000 meters
 * Glorious Schism
 * Blood Renewed
 * Compliment
 * Jiralhanae-Pack Sigma
 * 1 Scarab Walker - Renewed Loyalty


 * 5 Destroyers - 1500 meters
 * Great Revival
 * Guilty Wind
 * Divine Destruction
 * Glorious End
 * Hopefull

Combined Fleet of Absolute Purpose Taskforce
Commander: Alpha Jiralhanae Vartarus
 * 1 Battleship - 2000 meters
 * Path of Life - Alpha Jiralhanae Vartarus
 * 3 CCS-class Battlecruisers - 1782.2 meters
 * Justice & Forgotten
 * Life Decision
 * Oversight - Alpha Jiralhanae Finurus
 * 1 Stealth Ship - 485 meters
 * Soul Seeker

UNSC

 * 1 Parabola-class Freighter - 525 meters
 * UNSC Hesperus - Captain Adam Graves
 * ''1 X-121 Prototype MAC-Cannon
 * 1 D77-TC Pelican-Class Dropships
 * 2 C709 Longsword-Class Interceptors
 * 2 Shortsword-Class Bombers
 * 6 Archer Missile pods
 * 20 50mm MLA-Auto Cannons
 * Compliment
 * SPARTAN-II Adrian-014
 * SPARTAN-II Angel-054
 * Third Generation Hybrid MIL AI "Helen"
 * 42 Marines
 * 30 Crew Members
 * 5 Orbital Drop Shock Troopers


 * 1 Marathon-class Cruiser - 1192 meters
 * UNSC Nautilus - Major Terry Jones, Imperial Admiral Vysar Tar 'Xztanee
 * 3 Magnetic Accelerator Cannons
 * 2 Shiva Nuclear Warheads
 * 75 Archer missile pods
 * 8 Pelicans
 * 36 Longswords
 * 80 50mm MLA-Auto Cannons
 * 2 Phantoms
 * Compliment
 * Major Terry Jones
 * Sergeant Major Ding Chavez
 * SPARTAN-II Petty Officer First Class Kyle-100
 * 140 ODSTs
 * 46 Sangheili survivors


 * 1 Prowler - 162 meters
 * UNSC Secret Treasure - Commander Tyson Grant
 * 20 HORNET Mines
 * 2 Pulse-Laser Turrets
 * 5 HEVs
 * 2 Pelicans
 * Compliment
 * Team Wakisahsi
 * 48 Marines (4 Squads)

Coral Garrison

 * Small Defense Fleet
 * Several Regiments of Marines
 * SPARTAN-II Aleph Team
 * Complement
 * Second Lieutenant Jesse Arm

Confirmed Active

 * 1) Councilor 'Nodotee [[Image:Donut 7.JPG|35px]] [ BattleNet ] - [ Covenant of Halopedia ] [ ASSISTANT MODERATOR ]
 * 2) Gho st I nsi de the M ach ine (Whisper through the Storm ) (My Journeys ) (Omens )  [ CHIEF MODERATOR ]
 * 3) Ares.117
 * 4) CaptainAdamGraves [ ASSISTANT MODERATOR ]
 * 5) Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM [ ASSISTANT MODERATOR ]
 * 6) James-001
 * 7) User:fork
 * 8) user:SPARTAN-077
 * 9) Troubleshooter
 * 10) Qual 'Fulsamsee
 * 11) Matt-256
 * 12) Chickenman

RelentlessRecusant

 * Role: Nova Team
 * Side: United Nations Space Command, Office of Naval Intelligence
 * Location: Undisclosed
 * Status: MIA
 * Other: SPARTAN-II Special Operations element, paramilitary
 * Role: Other
 * Side: Various
 * Location: Various
 * Status: Various
 * Other: To start RPG later tonight! =D

Donut THX 1138

 * Role: Supreme Commander Ryse Zar 'Uasumee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Commander of Covenant forces (naval & ground)
 * Role: Ship Master Odch 'Siburee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Zealot Ship Master
 * Role: Major Terry Jones
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: onboard UNSC Nautilus in space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: ODST Divison Commander and commander of UNSC Nautilus
 * Role: Councilor Shch 'Nodotee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: High Charity
 * Status: Active
 * Other: not actually here, but sending transmissions
 * Role: Imperial Admiral Vysar Tar 'Xztanee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Space, in orbit around Coral
 * Status: Active
 * Other: former leader of Contrite Purpose
 * Role: Alpha Jiralhanae Finurus
 * Side: Loyalist
 * Location: CCS-class Oversight
 * Sataus: Active
 * Other: 2nd in command of taskforce

Rotaretilbo

 * Role: Ship Master Myca 'Hetodee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Ship Master of Aftermath
 * Role: Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: Target Area Vodka
 * Status: Injured
 * Other: N/A

Ares.117

 * Role: Ship Master Grel Dar 'Wandoree
 * Side: Covenant Seperatists
 * Location: Space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Ship Master of Light Revived and sole leader of Dr'ead Warrior Crèche
 * Role: Alpha Jiralhanae Aringal
 * Side Covenant Loyalists
 * Location: Space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Leader of the Regional Fleet of Absolution and Ship Master of Warmonger

CaptainAdamGraves

 * Role: Captain Adam Deadrus Graves
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: Slip-space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Commanding officer of the UNSC Hesperus
 * Role: Spartan-II Adrian-014
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: Slip-space/Cargo Room aboard the UNSC Hesperus
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Training in Cargo Room/Re-cooperating.
 * Role: Spartan-II Angel-054
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: Slip-space/ Weight-Training Room aboard the UNSC Hesperus
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Training/Re-cooperating.
 * Role: Warren Leats
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: Slip-space aboard the Hesperus
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Working with Engineer staff/Training with Adrian-014.
 * Role: Curtis
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: Slip-space/Cargo Room aboard the Hesperus
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Training in Cargo Room with Spartan-014/Re-cooperating.
 * Role: Jason Orion
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: Slip-space aboard the Hesperus.
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Refitting his Longsword.

James-001

 * Role: Sergeant Major Ding Chavez
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: onboard UNSC Nautilus in space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Cleaning his gun.
 * Role: Spartan-II Petty Officer First Class Kyle-100
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: onboard UNSC Nautilus in space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Receiving upgrade to Mark VI armor to increase reaction time.

fork

 * Role: ODST Jon Grates
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: Changes frequently
 * Status: Active
 * Other: N/A
 * Role: Fleet Master Rach' Adomoree
 * Side: Covenant Separtists
 * Location: Revival
 * Status: Active
 * Other: N/A

KillerCRS

 * Role: Special Operations Commander Sangheili Zamin 'Gunnada
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Coral
 * Status: KIA
 * Other: SpecOps Sangheili Sader 'Derasu
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Coral
 * Status: KIA
 * Other: Ship Master "Qutar 'Radomee"
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Coral
 * Status: Active
 * Other: SPARTAN-099 Chris
 * UNSC/Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Coral
 * Status: Active

SPARTAN-077

 * Role: Edward SPARTAN-077
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: various
 * Status: Active
 * Role: Colonel Roy Stang
 * Side: UNSC, ONI
 * Location: Currently in Slipspace, aboard the Hope(Prowler Class)
 * Status: Active

Chickenman

 * Role: Second Lieutenant Jesse Arm
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: On the surface of Coral.
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Platoon Leader in a Marine unit.
 * Others characters on the way...

Matt-256

 * Role: Commander Tyson Grant
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: Onboard the Secret Treasure.
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Commander of the Prowler Secret Treasure.
 * Role: Team Wakisashi
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: On the moon of Coral
 * Status: 4 are Active, 1 is KIA
 * Other: A team of Spartan-IIIs from Gamma Company
 * Role: Alpha Jiralhanae Vartarus
 * Side: Covenant Loyalists
 * Location: Onboard the Afterlife of Absolution
 * Status: KIA
 * Other: Commander of the Combined Fleet of Absolute Purpose and brother of Tartarus.

0
Prologue

The particle/wave duality of photons (light particles) leads to a most interesting paradox, for how can a particle exist in two forms simultaneously? A photon in itself is a particle that is like a point in space with an infinitessimal radius.

i

That is, it occupies essentially zero volume. Then how can it exist? It just does. One of the quantum paradoxes that non-quantum physicists would rather shoot themselves than begin to unravel.

know

A photon is a boson, a particle that exhibits non-local quantum interactions. What the hell is that? Some particles form enigmatic pairs where they are inextricably tied to each other. (if you understand none of the above, just continue listening, sire, madame) That is, no matter how far away they are, the action of one effects the other's quantum state.

all

A clarification and a bringing about to the point. Let us say that two photons are on opposite sides of the freaking universe. One is changed, the other is also changed. Time lag? Zero. The changes on both particles occur instantaneously.

fears

Just let that fact sink into your mind. Two particles almost an infinite distance away from each other are effected simultaneously. That's a faster-than-light (FTL) effect, folks. Two particles are communicating at uber-faster-than-light speeds, simultaneous communications. Do you understand? Particle-less communications with no lag regardless of the distance!

where

Application for this? Well, of course, faster-than-light communications. However, neither the UNSC nor the Covenant don't utilize this, instead weaving through Slipspace and manipulating the quantum strings in order to shove their transmissions across the ethereal alternate dimensions. (if you still don't understand any of this, it's expected)

light

Why does this exist? How? This particle pairing is the pre-requisite for quamtum symmetry, indistinguishability. That is, you can't tell two photons apart after a while because their unique quantum waveforms dissapate. That's why in a photon particle pair, you can't tell the two apart! However, because they've both decayed so that their waveforms are each other, you can't tell the difference between photon numero uno and dos! What the Halo's going on?!

does

What if, however, you tried to communicate through this. How? Link trillions and trillions of bosons together, possibly photons, shove half onto one planet, the other half onto another planet. Change the quantum statuses of the particles in boson clump uno, and boson clump two yada-yada-yada light-years away reflects this change: a transmission of no lag, an alternate to power-gargantuan Slipspace communications.

not

Guess what branch of the UNSC was tasked with investigating this? ONI, Office of Naval Intelligence, Quantum Sciences Research Division. Don't ask who/what they are, or you'll find a red dot on your chest in under three hours. Well...QSRD was investigating this quantum pairing and possible alternate FTL communications for minimal energy expenditure, was encountering problems herding the waveforms...(technical problems, let's just say)...but conducted their first tests on Coral, a nice little place where no one could find out about ONI's myriad wierdo projects. Then strange things began to happen.

exist

One of QSRD's subprojects regarding quantum pairing FTL communications was finding out the relation between infinitessimal photon size and instantaneous communications. Two zeroes have to do with each other, eh? Some secrets were better left hidden, let's just say.

Cheers,

Gho st I nsi de the M ach ine <font color="#808080">''(<font color="#808080">Whisper through the Storm ) (<font color="#808080">My Journeys ) (<font color="#808080">Omens ) 18:03, 15 March 2007 (UTC)

1
And so, the Hesperus begins another chapter in it's story of survival...

All of the trials they had been through. From the drug ring on Ladnia IV to the Pirate attack in the 179 Lana-Atari System; along with the most current fights with the Covenant and the newest enemy: The Flood. The crew had lost good men, neigh, good family. Each of them had a different day of mourning whilst on the Halo; and a ceremony complete with testimony by each crew member in their honor.

Now... Twelve of the MLA Auto-Cannons have new names; in tribute to the memory of their fallen brethen, who will forever live within this ship.

'''Punch. Kick. Punch. Kick. '''

Though, even as time goes on, some things never change.

'''Dodge. Counter. Punch. Block.'''

To maintain some state of normalcy in ones life, when faced with extreme situations, people institute new activities to balance their lives out; daily rituals in which they keep themselves in check. Those who cannot re-assimilate with society, those who get lost in their struggle for normalcy, are washed away and tossed to the side. Those who can adapt and change to fit their new circumstances survive. This is the foundation to the principles of Social Darwinism. Who would’ve thought such an idea could hold universally true for so long…

The Leviathan: Adrian-Gray, the embodiment of courage, power and skill. Cast out of the Spartan project over twenty years before, he is a testament to the will power of humanity’s greatest defenders. All who had gone against him have fallen, whether it is from luck or his own personal skill. He has defied both the will of the Covenant, the UNSC and the Flood. Lent the power of a near-unimaginable Forerunner entity, he has used his strength to defend those he has cared about and those who have come to care for him.

He is a protector…

And to protect, one must be powerful. To protect everyone, one must attain ultimate power…

And that is what Adrian was hoping to find in the near-future, believing in the idea of fate and that he couldn’t have survived this long by accident.

Grey Team… Such a disillusioned, foreboding assignment. It held true to the mental state of he was in. ''Fuzzy. Distorted. Grey.''

A shining metal blade cut through the air, seemingly tearing a slit in the atmosphere of the cargo room with its sharpness. Adrian fastidiously dodged to the left; his reflexes at their peak in his Mjolnir Mark VI Armor. Another slash came down from above, to which he jumped back for several meters. The blade continued its attack, in the capable hands of Maximus “No-Look” Peterson, as Adrian continued to dodge and counter his friends moves. Adrian knew he was in no danger, the dense steel polymer blade could never puncture the titanium-A of his armor severely.

The nickname belonging to Peterson, which you are probably wondering about, came from his uncanny ability to take a split second look into his sniper scope and hit his mark. Reflexes like that had come from nearly ten years of training with the sword, studying near-ancient styles of kendo. He was now donning the robes which he had earned when graduating from the Kenmushin School of Aikido and Aiido over five years ago. Training, regimented daily, had kept his skills sharp.

Another slash tore through the veil of the artificial gravity and atmosphere of the cargo bay. In the background, the sound of a crane moving on its treads could be heard picking up the large, magnetized blue cargo boxes. The sound of metal slamming on metal, as it placed the large boxes down on the surface of the floor, reverberated throughout the room. Curtis, as he had come to be known only by his first name, showed a very rare smile as he placed the last ten foot box down in place. He leaned out of the side of the crane, and looked over at his two comrades training.

Then they stopped their attacks…

Adrian was apparently on the defense, as Peterson had come from above and slashed down on him. His blade was attempting to slice into Adrian, as he had brought his right arm up to defend. But there was something strange… Seemingly different about the defense from Adrian. Peterson’s blade seemed to be inches away from connecting with Adrian’s arm itself, as if some unseen barrier was stopping him.

Then there was a crackle of light at the point of the two contacts, as if a spark of lightning surged in that small pocket. That small space then crackled to life, in that instant, with a flooding of glowing, white energy. It resembled that of an over-shield used by the Covenant, yet it seemed more dense and refined with a different aura than that of the Covenant version. Peterson gritted his teeth as he applied more pressure and then lunged back in frustration, as Adrian stood up straight.

“So you figured out how to work that thing well, huh…” Peterson said, heaving a heavy sigh and sheathing his weapon. Though swords had become less than adequate several hundred years ago, he had often brought the katana into battle. Being a sniper, he had to be ready for anything. And he was confident, in his mind, that anything meant bringing his sword. Just in case some unlucky Covenant found itself trying to sneak up on Peterson, he would have a surprise waiting for him. And oddly enough it was a great asset when fighting the Flood.

“We’ll see… I don’t really know yet, but I think I’m getting a handle on it.” Adrian muttered out, taking the two round orbs from their individual leg satchels. He stared at them, as the right one’s symbols still retained some glow from that last charge.

“You’ve gotten a handle on it?” A voice in Adrian’s “mind” filtered out, a touch annoyed. The truth of the matter was, without Helen to compute the complex algorithmic equations associated with the distribution of the energy, he wouldn’t be able to utilize the power of the orb. But that was all small talk, as him and Helen were almost one cohesive unit. As long as he was around, so was she.

He closed his eyes, thinking of the ability he now had. He was harnessing forerunner technology to make him stronger, to increase his combat defenses and hopefully protect a lot more people.

And that’s all he wanted, to protect more people.

A young man with spiked, deep red hair stood staring at the chassis of his C709 Longsword-class Starfighter, bringing a less than enthused hand up to his face as he examined the burns it had received whilst engaging the several thousand sentinels that he had destroyed whilst on Halo. One mark in particular made him anxious. It had nicked his ship slightly, coursing from the tip of the wing to the bulk of the ship on the wing’s underside.

He loathed the fact he hadn’t been able to destroy those mechanical pushovers without being touched. Taking pride in his piloting skills, the ex-rebel pilot was that of legend, which is probably why ONI picked him when they foresaw this mission being somewhat dangerous. In the beginning it was only marked as a simple escort mission. Yet Jason had perceived deeper into the situation after noticing the outboard MAC-Cannon. He had seen and been through more than any other pilot he ever knew, and that was a testament to his survival skills. Or his luck…

Some good men were lost on Reach that day. He had witnessed their destruction first hand. It was the first time his hands had shook whilst in the cockpit since the battle of Ageon III, where of course his commanding officer had been slaughtered by the Covenant.

That had been the time he had formed his resolve.

Join the UNSC, and kill every bastard in the Covenant with his Longsword. And it was his Longsword. He had the ship for the last ten years of his life, since nineteen. He had practically taught himself how to fly it. When joining the rebels, after they learnt of his extensive training as a pilot of terrestrial craft, they handed him a Longsword and told him to get comfortable with it.

There was nothing comfortable about the Longsword…

Terrestrial aircraft are nothing like Starfighters. Starfighters require more logic and calculation than skill; the reverse almost always the case with atmospheric jets and airliners. Though logic came into play, in the air it was more reflex and skill. In space it became more like a game of strategy; like chess. If he made one wrong move, there were weapons big enough to turn him into smoldering ash in seconds.

Needless to say, he compensated.

Within seven months, he had nearly mastered the Longsword with virtually no coaching. It was all instructional videos and tablets for him. He proved himself later on, by dispatching a UNSC frigate all alone, after dodging a near perfect MAC salvo and several dozen missiles as well.

Jason Orion: The Miracle.

But now he looked at his craft and heaved an even heavier sigh. “Great… Look at what they did to you…” He growled, into his palm. Then, a hand rested on his shoulder.

“Need a hand fixing her?” A familiar voice sounded, standing next to Jason now. Pearly white teeth shone off of the lights within the hangar bay. A face full of life and energy stared straight at the Longsword, several tools in hand and a force of Engineers rushing up to the bird to begin repairs.

“Thanks a lot, Warren.” Orion said with a grin, and the two of the laughed. Sentiments of thanks were often exchanged but nearly never spoken. They both grinned, walking up to the ship and beginning the refitting process. The Hesperus’ crew were finally getting their footing back.

“This isn’t ever going to end… Is it, Sir…” A whisper of a woman’s voice sounded in the medical bay, as a near sleeping Angellique Wilson lie in her bed. Her long, silky black hair stretched down to her waist; raising several questions about how her helmet got on. But that was beside the point. She was re-cooperating, having worked for several months just after watching her entire team decimated, fighting alien hordes on a mysterious planet and waking from a coma.

Strong girl, huh?

“Probably not for you. But for us, it’s possible.” The deep voice of her commanding officer sounded, clear authority coming from the way he spoke. Though, it wasn’t that of commanding authority to put others in their place, but rather that which came from years of running a ship and its crew efficiently. It came from leading troops into battle and coming out victorious.

It also came from the heart.

Adam Graves peered near reminiscently out the window, lost in his thoughts of the past months whilst staring into the blackness of space. What could possibly happen next? They had survived it all, from ancient death machines to the parasitic Flood to forces of Covenant soldiers ten times their own in strength. So now, what could possibly be in store for the crew of the Hesperus?

This was what he was trying to figure out; what did Fate have in store for them next?

Angellique pondered that for a moment, laying back in her plain white bed and staring at the plain white ceiling with her deep black eyes; their hint of silver shining off of the luminescent light fixtures set up all around the medical corridor. At the base of her bed hung her Mjolnir armor on a special Titanium-A hanger along with her sniper rifle and pistols, just in case she had to jump from her bed and get back to the fight once more in an instance.

And she was willing to do so.

She turned her head to her Captain, one she had come to trust and enjoy being in the company of. She would gladly lay her life on the line for him once more, after surviving two battles of high risk under his skillful command. To think, such a young man had such a promise in his future. Maybe when this damned war was over, he could go on to make something of himself one day. Maybe he could become a diplomat between races or something like that. And she would work night and day to see that happen. “So does that mean… You’re leaving me somewhere?” She asked tentatively, half of her wanting to know her future and the other wishing she never asked. She wanted to stay with Adrian, and would fight to the death to see that happen. No-one was separating the two Spartans again as long as she still drew breath.

“Yes… At the next planet we go to.” He said, closing his eyes. “But that’s not important, just rest now, Angel.” He said with a smile, turning to her and then walking towards the door. He looked back at her with a face full of hope and pride. “I’ll tell you more later. We still have a long time before we arrive at Coral. So, just sleep now.” He assured her, before shutting off the lights. CaptainAdamGraves 23:48, 14 March 2007 (UTC)

2
"Prepare to exit slipspace!" ordered Aringal holding tightly onto his Spiker. They were coming out of slipspace over a hostile world. Any mistake and the punishment was death. At least for his crew. A Minor Jiralhanae walked onto the bridge without completing the proper proceedure. He didn`t kneel in the might of the Prophets. Aringal snarled and drew his Spiker. "MINOR!" he yelled as he emptied his clip into the Jiralhanae`s face. The corpse of the now dead Brute fell to the floor that was stained with blood. "That will teach you to dihonour the Prophets" the Alpha Jiralhanae said to himself.

"Your excellency were coming out of Slipspace over the world" said the Jiralhanae at the Navigation Controls "Good bring us up to combat status" ordered Aringal with a smirk on his face. A world covered in browns and greens suddenly appeared on the main viewer. Aringals eye`s locked onto a moon on the left of the planet. It was covered in greens. "Sensor`s does that moon have an atmosphere?" he asked. "Why yes Alpha" replied the crewman. "Bring the ships to the dark side of that moon and send Blood Renewed to the surface to scout the Planet while we set up the main base on the moon. No one would suspect such a mass of troops on a moon" Aringal said grinning. "Yes excellency" Replied the Jiralhanae Chieftan in charge of all the ground forces as he backed out of the room and walked towards the Troop holding area.

"Sensor`s scan for any enemies. When they are sited let me know, we`ll have to hold them off while Blood Renewed makes its scan" said Aringal "and if they find anything Sir?" asked the officer. "Wipe the enemy from the planet. Ground forces. NO orbital attacks" ordered the Alpha as he walked to his chamber. "Excellency, where are you going ?" asked an Officer "A warrior needs armour" proclaimed the Jiralhanae.

 The God Of War  (Speak with Me)   (My Work) 

3
Time Unknown, Date Unknown, Location Unknown

Questions. Where? What? Why? When? They all ran through his head at once. How had he gotten here? All he could feel was the cold floor. All he could see was the ceiling. The purple ceiling. Wherever he was, it was Covenant. He tried to look to his side, but couldn’t. He couldn’t move. He tried to move his arm. It too would not answer his mind’s call. Neither would his other arm. Nor his legs.

Be still! Came an outraged voice in his head.

He shut his eyes, concentrating. What is going on? Do the Covenant possess telepathy now?

''Fool! The Covenant are nothing!'' came a quick, angry reply.

If it isn’t the Covenant, then is ONI messing with my head?

You pathetic humans and your organizations mean less than the Covenant! Again, the response was angry.

What then?

In good time.

Good time? How long have I been here?

Perhaps eighty hours or so.

Three days then? How did I get here?

''So your home planet takes less than twenty-six hours to fully rotate? This will make our search easier. We had trouble…converting you, but we will find a way.''

Converting?

''Oh yes. But this will be explained all in good time.''

What holds me here? I feel no bindings?

''Will of mind. Our will is superior to yours.''

We shall see. We shall see.

Or shall we? The invading presence drained from Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Winbleton IV’s mind.


 * --Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM 23:39, 15 March 2007 (UTC)

4
Adrian looked over at the wall of empty blue cargo boxes like they were an impenetrable blockade impeding his advance to a destination worth traveling to. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath full of life and energy, which flowed down his throat and began to clean his lungs of all impurities which remained from the last breath he had taken. Each was the same though; filtered by his Mjolnir armor to perfection. But when he took the time to fully embrace the crispness of the air which flowed into his helmet and savor it, he was able to appreciate much more than breathing.

Life.

He was still alive. Being able to not just draw that breath, but let it escape his lips without feeling any pang of regret was the joy of a healthy, living man. He had seen men, dying on the battlefield, fight with every ounce of energy in their body to hold onto one final breath. Yet he let it go so easily, without more than a second thought for the most part.

Ignorance in bliss...

He could no longer afford the luxury of playing on the sidelines any longer. Sidelines, you ask? Yes, in his mind, he could have done more to save all the people that had been lost. Eleven, count them, eleven men were lost on the Halo. They had been replaced by several able-bodied men from the Anasazi along with several others who had engineering experience as well.

But the fact remained, they could have been saved.

And it was with this resolve that the Spartan man was planning to push the limits of everything he had to become the greatest protector humanity had at its disposal. He could hold nothing back, leave no rock unturned and keep nothing to be left as regret.

No more death... No more crying.

He opened his eyes and the curtains drew on the scene in front of him. Curtis and Peterson stood by him, several feet to his left whilst watching. Peterson's sword was now in its sheath with his arms limply dangling at his side and Curtis with his rather muscular arms crossed on his chest. They were both waiting to see if this training session would come to be as inconsequential as the last. Yet Adrian had convinced them thoroughly that Helen and he had something new to try.

Try being the key word in that statement.

And now all eyes lay on Adrian, as he stared with concentration and a sense of anger at the stack of crates nearly fifteen feet from where he stood. The seemed to tower over him, casting a shadow of doubt and question upon him. It seemed to reflect his inner feelings of inadequacy and shame, having failed his self-appointed mission.

The thoughts of that snapped him awake from his trance-like state, as his eyes grew wide and he quickly went into action. The pouched containing the orbs sprung open, as he thrust his hands within them and retrieved the ancient energy recyclers. It was a near perfect system, as Helen had surmised, that kept the recycled energy concealed within the small orbs.

The process is rather extraordinary, as most Forerunner tech is. A marvel of innovation and obviously time spent studying the capabilities of Slip-Space for nearly all scientific fields. First, the orbs forcefully rip energy from another source, as if being charged like a battery. This energy can be heat, or electricity or even the particle field which form the energy shield of the Mjolnir armor. This energy is then used to begin the process of recycling within the orb, manipulating and distorting that energy to create even more energy. It's like a bike, but all the bike would need was one revolution of the pedal to continue riding for blocks on its own; driven by that single pedal.

The capacitor within the battery works with the recycled energy to further it's energy increase, but this is where it gets interesting. But studying the physics involved with the release of the energy back into the shield system, Helen found slight traces of the same radiation emitted from the Shaw-Fujikawa Trans-light Engines. This intrigued the construct into delving further into its inner workings, and what she found was astounding...

The Forerunner used contained Slip-space within the orbs to store excess energy which the orb created. What a magnificent use of a seemingly un-related field of technology. And there-in lays the mysterious intrigue which is coupled with the Forerunner.

Adrian growled, his anger rising, thinking of the many reasons why he would want to gain even more power. Not for greed... Or for himself...

But we had already gone over this.

His arms rose up in front of him, an orb in both hands. If Chris hadn't decided to let him have the energy recycler from the Halo they had been on he didn't think this could have been possible, or even it if it had this trial would have been more dangerous or harder. With more than on, the energy output could be doubled and it had an even greater potential of working. Now, it all rested on whether or not Helen's calculations were correct.

Adrian's thumbs and pinky’s pressed down on the circles on the top and bottom of the orbs, as the wing-like projections sprang out glowing a multitude of faceted rainbow colors. Several symbols in the ancient scrit of the Forerunner glowed as well; the same way several of the Forerunner chambers had glowed mysteriously. Adrian growled, in concentration. Though it wasn't about his physical body, he needed his mind to be sharp and ready. The suit's shielding was tailored to react to his thoughts, to increase it's density in one spent or decrease it in others. Now, he was planning to ask it something else...

"Helen... Drain fifty percent of the shield energy into the orb generators..." He mumbled, closing his eyes for a moment. His shields on the outside crackled and fizzled, draining into the two orbs which glowed with even more intensity. One could almost see the process by which it was recycled and released back into shield's systems en masse. Everything so far was normal; the shield's capacitors had shown remarkable resilience in handling the pressure of exorbitant amounts of energy which he had used in the past. On the Forerunner world, he had used the orbs power with very little knowledge of its capabilities and nearly fried his suit's battery charger. But what he had learnt from that engagement was the hidden power of both the Mjolnir armor and the objects he held in his hands now.

Enough power to stop anything...

"Warren... Can I ask you a question?" The voice of the young pilot Jason Orion sounds, as he lifts two ASGM-10 missiles and places them into their carrying bays on his Long-sword. There were machines that could do this for him; refit and repair his ship automatically. There were professionals who were trained and willing to do the job in an instance. But he did it himself, picking up two more of the long, white missiles into place on his ship. That made ten... And with that a smile alit on his face, and he placed his hands on his hips, as he closed his eyes momentarily.

"Sure, why not?" The young black man asked while continuing to sodder new metal to the portion of the craft that was singed by the Sentinels, with a sense of confusion and underlying worry in his voice. Asking whether or not you can ask of something was usually a pre-condescend to something serious. He didn't necessarily like serious, but he gave it a try every once in a while.

Jason straightened up and ran his right fingertips through his rather spiky, red hair. Red hair, to be naturally born with, was a rather rare feature for anyone. But on the colony world Jason was born, Arolin, it was rather common. For some reason the planet's atmosphere lended itself to manipulating the gene in the human body which dealt with establishing ones hair color. People had all colors of hair: Purple, Red, Green, and Blue. Strange... But true.

But that was beside the point. Right now, all he wanted to know was one thing from the other young man helping him with fixing the Long-sword. He opened his eyes; a sudden narrowing of his eyelids coupled with it gave the sense of seriousness as he looked over at Warren. "Why is it you trust in Adrian so much?" He asked, raising an eyebrow and staring over at Warren.

Warren stopped his work, and turned to Jason, averting his gaze slightly. The question had continuously filtered around in his head as well. But he knew the answer. "I trust him... Because I know he fights for me..." Warren muttered, before looking back up at the now somewhat surprised Jason.

His eyes were slightly wider for a moment, seeing the confidence and seriousness in Warren's eyes. He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck, as he closed his eyes. "Thanks, I was just wondering." He said, before reaching into another box and taking out a few bolts to replace the aging ones on his ship.

The reason he had asked that was not because he didn't trust Adrian, or his actions, but wanted some insight into those who blindly would go on a near suicide without any way of getting back just because he had suggested it. If Jason and the other pilots hadn't come to the aide of Councilor Nodotee' and the others, the crew from the Hesperus would have indeed died. But, answers like that calmed him and gave him new resolve.

Another pair of eyes stood looking at Adrian, concerned for his friend's safety. He watched as the energy around the Spartan warped and popped; the white glow of the over-shield dancing vibrantly around him. It was a rather scary sight, completely distorting the way the Spartan previously looked. Electricity wrapped around him, sparks leaping in all directions and even lancing the floor slightly. They carved small gashes in the ground; almost as if they were tiny blades extending from his body.

Adrian then lowered his left hand, keeping his right steady and facing the tower of crates in front of him. This is was it... Either make it or break it... "Helen, this is it..." He said with a lack of enthusiasm, closing his eyes and keeping his concentration.

"I understand..." Helen's voice sounded, as if she too felt the worry in his heart. What if something went wrong? What if he put the others in danger? What if he died?

That was the thing that would drag him down; his own doubt. He needed to push that aside if he was ever going to rise to protect.

And with that in mind, his eyes snapped open and the shield around him instantaneously disappeared and flooded over the palm of his hand. The sheer density of the shielding covering his hand was incredible, the sparks and light exploding from that area illuminated his entire body.

The deep, worried eyes of Private First Class Angelou Denahey looked on as the man who had guided him through the turbulent trials of the past year took on the form of more that of a Demon than a Spartan. CaptainAdamGraves

5
"Major, the Covenant forces have doubled in numbers. Although, it appears that they're fighting each other, several ships have already been destroyed."

Major Terry Jones walked over to the crewman's station, "Keep an eye on them. If they're fighting, I'm perfectly fine with letting them blow the s--- out of each other." The Major walked over to the Captain's chair and took a seat. A bridge crewmen approached him.

"Sir, FLEETCOM says they can't get us a replacement command crew anytime soon. So, i guess you'll be leading us for another few weeks. Sorry, sir"

"Understood. Dismissed." Major Jones stood up and addressed the rest of the command crew, "So, here we are. Now as you all just heard, we're going to be captain-less for another few weeks. So that puts me in command until then. You've all done great so far, but with the Covenant out there, you need to be perfect. Now, let's get back to work." Jones sat back down, letting out a sigh. "Move us around behind Coral's moon. We'll wait there until the Covenant's done blasting each other." Ryse Zar 'Uasumee clicked his mandibles, very much annoyed, "Excellency, the betrayers have followed us here. We're preparing to engage. Once the loyalists are finished, we'll continue as planned. The humans here are in great need of reinforcements, we arrived just in time. I'll do my best Councilor 'Nodotee. Ryse out."

Councilor 'Nodotee's image on the viewscreen nodded, and then disappeared.

Ryse Zar 'Uasumee then brought up the BattleNet, sending coordinates to the rest of the fleet. Several ships, including Ryse's Reverence-class, broke formation and moved off towards the plant's moon. The remaining ships moved around behind the plant, setting the final positions in Ryse's trap.

Ryse made a Sangheili equal of a smile. The betrayers wouldn't know what hit them.


 * Councilor 'Nodotee [[Image:Donut 7.JPG|35px]] [ BattleNet ] - [ Covenant of Halopedia ] 20:16, 16 March 2007 (UTC)

6
Aringal walked back into the bridge clad in his gold battle armour with his Plasma Cannon on his back and his Gravity Hammer in his hands. As he walked onto the bridge he heard a voice. "Sir, a Seperatist force is coming around the moon! orders?" asked the Jiralhanae. "Get the fleet in battle formation and prepare the ground troops for Combat, any remaining troops onboard are going to board their ships !" ordered Aringal as his crew suddenly felt the stress of battle on them. "Good. More kills for me" he muttered to himself.

"Communications have all ships charge their Plasma Turrets and have the Battleships charge all of their Energy Projectors ! Weapons charge our Plasma Turrets ! we'll have enough energy projectors from the Battleships" ordered the Jiralhanae. When the Sangheili came around the Planet he would have numerous Plasma Turrets ready and in total 24 Energy Projectors from the Battleships ready for firing. He couldn't lose this fight.

Grel Dar 'Wandoree stood on the bridge of Light Revived. It had been a while since he was on the command deck. After all, he did prefer to fight on the ground where he was in control. However even in such a fine vessel he worried for the lives of his Elites. The Dr'ead Warrior Crèche were his to command. They were also his to look after. "Ship Master we are recieving strange energy bursts from the far side of the moon. It is as if something is there" said the Sangheili at Ops. Grel's jaw almost dropped. How could the Loyalists have known their plan ? he thought to himslef. "'Calonsee ready the Dr'ead. Just in case and communications open up a channel to the Supreme Commander. I must inform him of the situation!" ordered the Ship Master as a holographic image of the Sangheili appeared on the viewer.

Grel knelt at the figure. It was his act of acknowledging the honour the Supreme Commander had. "Supreme Commander there may be a large Loyalist force waiting for us on the dark side of the moon" said Grel still kneeling on the deck.

 The God Of War  (Speak with Me)   (My Work)   20:45, 16 March 2007 (UTC)

7
Sergeant Major Ding Chavez stood in the cargo bay, of the UNSC ship Nautilus in normal space. Ding was in his mid 60's, but he barely looked half that. He has jet black hair and a face and body chiseled of stone. But, there was one secret he managed to keep from even from the Captain. He stared out into the blank void of space, behind a moon size rock, whistling quietly to himself. He walked down the hall, passing cryotubes, noting that most of the personnel were just waking up. He also noticed that noticed Spartan-II Kyle-100 was out of his tube.

"Figures, that kid can never sit still." He whispered to no one in particular.

Kyle-100 was one of the few later Spartan-II's that volunteered to be a Spartan. He grew up and trained to try to mirror his idol and hero, the famous John-117, who was substantially older, but could still wipe the floor with Kyle.

Ding continued down the hall and entered the gym. He knew exactly where to find the young spartan. And there he was, working out is the high G section. Kyle methodically worked each area of his body in rapid fashion. Ding envied the Kyle. Though he was only 16 years old, he was in better shape than Ding for his age. Ding strolled in through the door and Kyle immediatly stopped working out and snapped off a crisp salute. Ding returned it.

"At ease Kyle," he said.

Kyle spaced his feet roughtly a foot apart and snapped his hands in the small of his back, but otherwise did not relax an inch.

"So son, you think you're done with your workout yet," he said.

"Almost sir, I just wish there was another spartan here so I could spar," he replied.

A slight smirk tugged at the end of Ding's mouth hearing that last remark. What Kyle didn't know was that Ding was one of the few living Spartan-I's.

"Well," Ding said, "I'll take you on, get in that ring and get ready."

"Sir?" Kyle said confused. "I don't want to hurt you sir."

"Did I stutter Petty officer?" The Sergeant Major said. "Don't worry son, I can take care of myself, you just worry about yourself, and don't hold back."

Kyle did as he was told and leaped 2 meters up and over the ring ropes like it was nothing. The Sergeant Major however took his time, climbing up the steps and under the ropes.

"Whenever you're ready kid," he said.

Kyle acknowledged with a single nod and sprang off his back foot and launched a crushing strike. In one motion, Ding grabed his hand and flipped Kyle over on his back. This came as quite a shock to Kyle who took a second before he rolled back on his feet. Ding had that same slight smirk on his face and connected with a roundhouse kick to Kyle's gut. To his surprize, that kick hurt kyle's side. It was like he was fighting a spartan.

"What's wrong kid, this old dog too much for you," Ding said sarcastically.

"No sir, just wasn't expecting you to be so strong"

"Dammit kid," Ding said, "Haven't you been training to expect the unexpected"

"Well..., yes sir"

"Good, now this time, don't hold back, or I'll bust your ass down to Third Class."

"Alright sir, I'll give it all I got," Kyle said.

Kyle made the first move, he made a quick fast uppercut that missed the Sarge's jaw my millimeters. The punch was so fast that the Sarge felt a gust of wind on his chin. Kyle rebounded and prepared to launch a kick at the Sarge's sternum. He let it fly, but the Sarge countered and punched and it was countered by Kyle. The two of them were in a stalemate. The Sarge backed off and Kyle was just about to attack when Sarge held up his hand. Kyle stopped.

"Awww comon' Sarge, I was just getting warmed up," Kyle said.

"Yeah, so was I," Ding said. "But we can't afford to beat ourselves up; save that energy for the Covenant son."

"Yeah, I guess you're right Sarge," Kyle said admittingly.

"Hey Sarge," Kyle said, "Where did you learn those moves from, and how are you that strong. You're about as strong and quick as I am. It's like you were a spartan before...were you?"

The Sarge pondered the idea of telling this young kid the truth, that he was an original Spartan-I.

"Well kid," Ding said, "I--

Ding glanced over at the entrance to the gym and saw Major Terry Jones listening intently, as if he were interested in the answer. The Major had hoped to find out before Ding noticed him. But it was not meant to be.

"Officer on the deck," Ding barked.

Ding and Kyle simultaneously snapped off crisp salutes, which were promptly returned.

"At ease men," the Major said. "We'll be moving soon, get ready."

"Get ready for what sir," Kyle said.

"Why, for battle son. It's time for these covie scum to meet the best the UNSC has to offer."

"You two ready?" the Major said.

"Sir yes sir," they both replied in unison. James-001 23:03, 16 March 2007 (UTC)

8
Covenant Slipspace Transmission

Diviner, Coral

The Diviner was a Covenant Stealth Ship, one of the shortest, swiftest, yet most au courant and elegant of all Covenant starships. As Major Domo Rann 'Uranee held the 3D tracing laser's wireframe in his armored glove, he beheld it with a reverence, running his gauntlet's index finger down the sleek, piscene back, like beautific, slender, lithe muscles running down an amphibian's back. This entrancement was almost religious, as if the stealth ship was sacrosanct. A most unusual turn-on for any Major Domo, especially one in Reconnaisance Command and tasked with the ship's navigational matters. Because the Diviner was on Alert Two, slightly elevated because of hostiles in the vicinity but at almost zero probability of detection and subsequent detection, Rann 'Uranee had the pleasure of staying at the rear station - the observational deck. An extremely restricted view, not the panorama of splendrous stars afforded by the bridges of Ape...or rather, UNSC ships (one was demanded to treat the former Ape enemies with respect, now that they were uniting with the Sangheili, but this dictum had not jerked itself into 'Uranee's mind fully yet)...but also thrilling. Most perplexing.

Ship Master 'Okoruee was at the command station (the poor fellow was also forced to be at the bridge during all alert stauses), as was the diligent Major 'Jakoqee (of Sensors). Diligent because of fear for 'Okoruee, a brutish cudgel with no intellect that deserves to be vaped like the Jiralhanae filth that had clung in murky strands to the boots of Sangheili glory, but was not being surgically excised by pulse lasers. 'Okoruee had even executed a Minor Domo two cycles ago for failing to reset the secondary particle screens for the Slipspace plasma coils. A greivous mistake, yes, but not one to murder for.

The third Major onboard was the Tactics and Communications Master, who also dually served as the onboard religious sermonizer during the ship's scheduled hours of prayer. Both an Ossonna and a Major, Eru 'Gathsee was a Major in that he was responsible for both tactical advising for 'Uranee, and an Ossonna, a spy of the (not Prophets any more) Central Command to ensure that no Sangheili onboard still favored the Jiralhanae (who would?) and to ensure moral and religious discipline. He had the authority to spy upon crewmen that he suspected were traitors or religious heretics, place them under arrest by the ship's diminuitive eight-man security force, and send them to the Politiburo for...trial by plasma shot.

As 'Uranee continued stroking the beautiful wireframe, the words that sounded within his light crewman's armored helmet materialized into...letters. Most unusual. Sound and sight are not equovicable!, he thought. The next imperative seized his mind with maddening force.

You will kill 'Gathsee, 'Jakoqee, and 'Okoruee.

There was not even an iota of mental resistance as his mandibles went slack as he incorporated the command into himself like a computer willingly accepting a computer virus. His eyes glimmered crimson for a moment, and his hands twisted in paroxysms, fingers flumbling over glossy armor and fingers, and his head oddly inclined itself one way, and the starfield before him twisted.

Cheers,

<font color="#D3D3D3">Gho <font color="#A9A9A9">st I <font color="#808080">nsi <font color="#000000">de the M <font color="#808080">ach <font color="#A9A9A9">ine <font color="#808080">''(<font color="#808080">Whisper through the Storm ) (<font color="#808080">My Journeys ) (<font color="#808080">Omens ) 23:36, 16 March 2007 (UTC)

9
D + 00:19:46 (Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton Mission Clock) \ Aboard unknown ship, unknown location

MOVE! Hank willed himself. Still nothing. He had been trying to break the iron grip this otherly being had on him for at least twenty minutes since he had awaken. He had tried everything that came to mind. Nothing worked. He had a thought. What if he were to think about something that would tie up the mental intrusion?

You can’t defeat me. the voice replied, as if on cue.

Can’t I? Hank replied. Hank searched his memory for something extremely difficult. Then he had it. Hank began to do the mathematics in his head to derive pi. His brow twitched.

No! the voice demanded. He continued his thoughts on pi. NO!! the voice virtually shouted. He continued to derive. Hank brought his right hand in front of his face. A smile widened across his face. He continued to calculate in the back of his mind. He was still in his uniform. The only injury he could surmise was a puncture wound at the base of his neck. It seemed odd that it didn’t hurt at all. Hank’s guns were gone, but when he felt his back, his sword was still there, cleverly sown covertly into the uniform. He drew his sword.

“Let’s find out who you really are!” Hank shouted. He paused. He had derived pi. For a second, the voice took control. Then Hank began to cross-check his work. The voice again lost control of Hank. Hank looked around him. He was in a room. There were two doors. One was red, signifying that it was locked. The other was white. Hank walked up and the door flashed several times before sliding open.

They were everywhere. They were on the floor. They were on the walls. They were on the ceiling. They were atop each other. The Flood was here. Hank stopped. What could he do?

Give up? the voice weakly suggested, having no pull over him anymore.

“No!” he shouted in defiance. Hank suddenly understood what the puncture wound was, and what the voice had meant by convert. He couldn’t be infected! He didn’t know how, but it seemed to be true. But then, it would more than likely be very painful to get poked by one of those pods again. Hank looked to his left down a corridor. Just what he needed. There stood a human combat form holding an SMG. It’s back was turned to him. He rushed forward and sliced it first across the waste, cleaving it in half, and then while its top half was still falling, he cut it cleanly from top to bottom. He picked up the fallen M7. The noise seemed to have gotten the infection forms’ attention, and they rushed en masse. The shells from the M7, which thankfully had an extended clip, clattered to the ground all about Hank like rain from heaven. After only a few seconds of continuous fire, the corridor was clear of the Flood and Hank was out of ammo.

D + 00:21:04 (Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton Mission Clock) \ Aboard unknown ship, unknown location

Hank dropped the spent M7 and shifted his beautiful sword to his right hand. It was true that he could wield it just as well in his left, but he still preferred his right. Hank took a moment to consider the work of art his ancestor had forged so many centuries ago. The blade was made on an unknown metal. Diamonds couldn’t even scratch the surface. On it, written in Thai, an ancient and forgotten language, it read บดเยี ทำสัำย ม่ำ, which roughly translated to Crush, Kill, Destroy. The blade was very fine, so fine that it could slice through steel like it was butter. Were this not so, Hank would surely not think it a practical weapon to use against the Elites with their shields and armor. But Hank’s sword had never let him down, and he doubted it would let him down now.

Hank walked into the next room. It seemed to have once been an armory. On the right, Hank saw his helmet, his guns, and most importantly, his red shades. Hank sheathed his sword and approached the stack. He put the shades on, then the helmet, and finally holstered his two M7s, slung the MA5B across his back, and picked up two M90s, one shotgun in each hand. The door across the way flashed and a chime sounded to alert Hank that the door was about to open. Hank squeezed one of the shotguns between himself and his arm, then grabbed an M9 fragmentation grenade from the table, primed it, and threw it too the door. As the door opened, revealing a clutch of combat forms, Elites this time, the grenade exploded, splattering the wall with green goo.

“It’s party time!” Hank shouted, grabbing up the rest of the grenades and then his second shotgun. He checked that both were fully loaded, and then set out through the door. A single combat form stood at the end of the corridor. He fired both shotguns simultaneously. The combat form was nearly shorn in half by the blasts. Hank jerked the two shotguns violently forward, and then just as violently back, cocking both the pumps. Two expended shells dropped to his feet. He’d have to conserve ammo. He only had two packs of sixty rounds in his small rucksack. Hank didn’t know where he was, but he figured he would have to get to the bridge to find the source of his problems. He finished cross-checking pi. Now all that was left was to list pi out. Hank wouldn’t have too much time. Hank only knew it to the fiftieth place.

Three. Hank charged down a corridor, hooked right, and blasted two carrier forms at range. Point. Both exploded, showering Hank with bits of flesh and green blood. One. Hank ran on, coming to a long service corridor. Four. The corridor was heavily guarded. One. A group of combat forms several meters ahead opened fire. Five. Hank dove into a roll around a bulkhead. Nine. Hank primed a grenade. Two. He threw it at the group and was rewarded by a shower of parts. Six. A group of carrier forms rushed forward. Five. Hank rolled another grenade forward. Three. There was another explosion, followed by a series of explosions. Five. Hank sprinted from cover. Eight. Hank blasted a combat form on the run. Nine. Hank didn’t have time to stop and cock the shotgun, so he dropped it. Seven. Hank came to another group of combat forms and infection forms. Nine. Hank blew them away with his shotgun. Three. Hank slung the shotgun and drew his assault rifle. Two. He rushed through another door. Three. He was in the bridge. Hank paused.


 * --Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM 07:33, 17 March 2007 (UTC)

10
Diviner

The security Sangheili's corpse laid before Major 'Uranee with such alacitry that 'Uranee was unaware how he had even executed his comrade. It was as if his hands had been enlightened in the art of warfare. All Sangheili, while on starship cruises or periods of waiting with zero risk of infiltration from enemy sources, had their personal energy shields deactivated for those times to conserve energy. Therefore, 'Uranee had grasped his Needler sidearm's base, and then jabbed the crystalline spikes fancifully arrayed across the top into the base of the Sangheili's neck-armor. Veins and arteries alike had been skewered, and then extravagant blood pressures had inexorably driven flourescent cyan blood upon him. 'Uranee raided the corpse. Its morbidity did not even have a note on him, nor did the oddness of the act he'd just done strike him. Carbine, four plasma grenades.

His blood-stained gauntlets then snaked around the corpse, and he heaved with exertion as he struggled to take the Sangheili, armor and all, into a secluded corner on the observational deck. He with quick command, his armor's shields raised for a millisecond, the intense heat projected by their raising flash-vaporizing the blood on his armor. The Major Domo's crimson armor was now blood-free, or at least momentarily. Sliding his needler into its holster, grenades onto magnetic latchers onto his belt, and carbine in hand, he strode boldly to the Station of Clarity - the meditative lounge that doubled as a recreational center.

Within its spartan travails: arcing marble walls that formed a sphere and running lights inlaid in the darkened room, was Major 'Okoruee and two or three Minor Domos...even with his weaponry, 'Uranee was a tad concerned that he would be mortally wounded. Yet, the intercranial pressure encapsulating his brain rose to maddening levels, discordant voices howled with corybantic

<TBC...>

11
They say there are two things that make a fighter strong. Two things, that at his very core, he must have. When a fighter lacks either of these motives, he becomes useless, no more than a lump on the battlefield. One, who cannot raise his fists to strike, will be struck down by those who can. A protector with nothing to protect becomes nothing more than a testament to time.

What are those two things?

Anger.... and Love.

Without them, the trial of fighting becomes meaningless. Even those who fight for no reason, fight for the love of fighting, have inside of them a hungry anger which unleashes itself on the battlefield. Those who fight for love, to protect, have a healthy bout of anger for those that oppose them and pose danger to those they protect.

So...

What do you fight with?

The glowing field of particulate energy amassed itself on the palm of Adrian-014's right hand. In his left hand, which hung by his side, were two glowing objects which resembled rainbow colored X's. Those looking on were wide eyed with both concern and excitement, as they watched the scene unfold. Not one said a word; Curtis or Peterson. If they had, it wouldn't have been much. Because in both of their minds, the only thing being thought was; 'Whoa'.

"What are you going to do now?" A voice asked, flowing into Adrian's mind like a river exploding through a flimsy dam. He was quickly brought back to his senses, having lost himself in the moment. Helen's voice had stopped him from losing his concentration and resolve in the moment to come.

"Just watch..." He muttered, taking a step back with his right foot and planting it firmly on the ground. He didn't know why, but this whole unfolding scene made his emotions run wild; and the sense of anger overcoming him was prevalent. His blood pressure spiked and his mind slowly became fuzzy and sterile. He had no though except for one; I have to get stronger...

He growled out, as he pulled his glowing hand back and got a bit lower. His face still stared at the mountain of boxes, as if they were the only thing standing between him and saving the one he loved; Angel. If she were on the other side of those things, trapped by some omnipotent being, he would gladly do anything in his power to get her out. That was the intent, the thought that was rushing through his mind at that moment. It slowly transcended into anger, which voiced itself loudly. He yelled out, his mind encapsulated with the one notion of bringing those boxes tumbling to the ground.

"Adrian!" Helen yelled out, fearing that her Spartan partner was losing himself. She had never seen him so angry, so ridden with angst and mal-content. She had to snap him back to reality, but even her 'yell' didn't faze him at all. He thrust his hand forwards, and with it every fiber in his being cried out as well.

"So I hear you got a promotion, right?" Warren asked, finishing the necessary welding on the wing. He smiled his coy little smile, rubbing the perfectly smooth job with his thumb just to see how it felt. Kind of hot, but cooling rapidly. It should pose no problem to Jason's flying in the future, as he knew it was vitally important that the pilot be in top form.

Jason laughed out, running a somewhat greasy hand through his hair. He hadn't noticed the grease until he brought his hand back down, and the laugh was replaced by a look of bewilderment as he stared down at the grease laden hand in front of him. "Fuck!" He shouted, stomping his foot in adolescent frustration.

Warren raised an eyebrow in concern, looking over at Jason before bursting out in laughter, so much so he needed to bend over and grab his knees for support. The laughter Warren had was from the streak of black grease which marred the red-heads perfectly styled hair and a small portion of his forehead. Jason growled, lowering his eyes and scoffing at Warren and his own stupidity. "Yea, the Brass finally paid attention to my work on that ring. Made me a "Full Lieutenant" or whatever that means..." He said wiping his face with a sweat rag, as Warren got back to his feet, laughing slightly still.

He took a deep breath, finding his Zen-like center and brought his arms to his side. He closed his eyes and stopped himself from laughing at his friend, who was still wiping his face. "That's pretty damn cool," Warren said with a now meaningful grin, bending over and putting his soddering iron away. He bent back up, to see Jason with a large grin and his arms out to the side.

"Better?" He asked, having wiped his face with the rag. What he didn't realize is that the rag was where the grease which had gotten on his hand had originally come from. The young black man was then lost in his laughter, as Jason found a place to examine his appearance; subsequently shocked by what he saw. CaptainAdamGraves 20:14, 17 March 2007 (UTC)

12
Zamin 'Gunnada yawned. He hadn't had any sleep since the Major Domo, Sader 'Derasu, arrived at the training center in ***** //Location Censored//. But, he had to admit, the Major Domo was growing on him.

"'Derasu!" yelled 'Gunnada, in a groggy voice from all the yelling he did the previous day. "TIME FOR YOUR NEXT LESSON"

'Derasu rised from his bed. He had a pounding headache, and was in no mood to be taught anything. "Commander, I am not well." he announced.

"Oh, is that so?" 'Gunnada said suspiciously. "Shall we call a doctor to see if you are unhealthy?"

"Sir, with all due respect, I have a pounding headache. I can't train with a headache."

"You think the Jiralhanae care about that? The only thing they'd want to do with your head is shoot it off!"

"I suppose. All right then sir. What is my lesson?"

"Active camouflage. The SpecOps' main tool of devastation."

'Derasu seemed intrigued. He was always interested with Active Camouflage, and would be happy to work with it...finally.

"Sir, before we continue, how does it work?"

"Well, this container I am holding is an active camouflage. Since your armor contains no system, you shall use one of these from now on in training. I suppose we all need a break, so we can take the day off. Death to the Jiralhanae."

"Yes sir, see you tomorrow."

The next day...

'Gunnada flickered on his COM. Ship master Qutar 'Radomee was on the channel

"Commander 'Gunnada? Are you there?" 'Radomee asked.

"Um...yes sir. What are calling me for?"

'Radomee sighed. "Well commander, for one, the Jiralhanae have invaded the human controlled planet they call 'Coral'-."

"How does this affect us? We are light years away from that place. It would take quite a while before they'd arrive here. And even if they do make it here, we have a cloaking device. And besides, the Humans can hold off on their own. They've proven that on a few occasions, with their 'Spartans' and what not." Interrupted 'Gunnada.

"Please Commander, let me finish. Now, you know that the Jiralhanae, Brutes, Bravo Kilos, Baby Kongs, whatever you want to call them are fools, but, they are mighty fools. Our UNSC allies are being slaughtered." Said 'Radomee. "Councilor 'Nodotee has already sent in hundreds of troops. We need SpecOps."

"Sir, I haven't even finished training the Minor and Major Domos you sent me!" 'Gunnada protested. "And another thing, why aren't you getting Rtas 'Vadumee's SpecOps soldiers there while I train these ones."

"'Vadumee is on Earth with the Arbiter, on other affairs, so I'm afraid you must send your SpecOps."

"*Sigh* OK sir. I shall finish with final lessons and-"

"Just get it done."

"...Aye sir."

Two hours later

'Gunnada called for all his men to form a line. As they stood there, patiently, he picked up a large crate marked "Ration" and stopped around 2 meters from his men.

"Sangheili!" He called out.

"Sir yes sir?!" They replied.

"IT IS TIME FOR YOU ALL THE GRADUATE! YOUR FIRST BATTLE IS NEAR!"

Everyone froze in spot. They weren't prepared for this.

"Inside of this crate, is armor. Not just ANY armor, Special Operations armor. You hear me?"

Still, everyone was quiet. Then, Sader 'Derasu walked up to 'Gunnada.

"I heard you sir. I am honoured."

"MEN! YOU COULD LEARN A THING OR TWO FROM 'DERASU OVER HERE! Now, get on your damn armor!"

After around 15 minutes, everyone had put on the SpecOps armor. There were mixed emotions all around. Still, 'Derasu seemed confident, and proud of his new promotion, and decided to speak.

"Sir?"

"Yes, Major Domo?"

"Where is it that we are being stationed?"

"That, my friend, is on a need to know basis. You do not need to know. Now all of you, we are leaving in 20 units, hurry up, and grab your guns. You are going to need them."

Qutar 'Radomee had 4 Lances behind him, all armed with Plasma Rifles. Since the Prophets were no longer in charge, Plamsa Rifles were standard issue to Unggoy, yet most opted for Needlers. He approached a ruin, with the Lances all following closely, watching his every move. He raised his head into the air, and started searching for a scent. Quickly, he turned to the Lances and pointed an area to the Northwest of their position. Then, 'Radomee approached an Ultra and whispered in his ear: "Take control and flank them from the Northwest, while I call for re-enforcements. There are many Jiralhanae here".

The Ultra nodded, and signaled the Lances to follow him. They hesitated at first, but then followed. 'Radomee flickered on his COM, and whispered into it:

"I need snipers at my position, tell them to walk. We can't risk losing this area because some soldiers were lazy."

Just then, 'Radomee heard a bloodcurdling scream, followed by Gunshots.

" *Sigh* Never mind then, send them in Wraith tanks. It appears as though stealth is no longer a virtue."

A distorted "Yes sir" could be distinguished from the static.

Restless Nights Reborn stopped 200 metres over the planet. It deployed it's Grav Lift which slowly fell to the ground. Inside the ship, Phantoms and Spirits were being filled with supplies.

"Sir, you haven't even prepped us yet!" Whined a Sangheili.

"Shut it, minor. Your mission is to kill Jiralhanae, but first, you must locate Ship Master 'Radomee and give him sniper cover. I hope you all have your Carbines?"

The Sangheili all shuffled, looking for the Carbines that were just spoke of.

"Just under the seat..."

'Derasu got up, and lifted up the seat. Inside was a Carbine, with ammunition scattered across the floor. Mimicing their major, the Sangheili all lifted their seats, and took out the carbines that were promised.

"Now men, these are special Carbines. They have energy shield peircing rounds, and are gassed powered. You can thank our UNSC allies for that one. But, don't go shooting your brothers for target practice just because it's a Carbine, because you would cause some serious damage, and may possibly even kill them. These are for those blasted Jiralhanae!"

Everyone inside Phantom cheered, and jumped out, to see Wraith tanks waiting for them. There were a few ghosts too, and eventually, everyone was on some sort of vehicle.

'Radomee waited patiently for his tank support. The sounds of Plasma rifles and Type-25 "Spiker" Carbines almost seemed infinite. 'Radomee knew that the Lances would be safe, as Kwarsh was with them, and he was an amazing tactician. 'Radomee flickered his COM channel to Kwarsh's frequency. "Hello, Kwarsh?" He whispered, not to give himself away.

"I'm kinda busy, what is it?"

"How are you and your men fairing?" 'Radomee asked.

"You might want to ask someone else at the moment, I'm surrounded by Jiralhanae..."

"Do you want me to assist?"

"They're just on top of the buildings to the Northeast, give us some sniper cover soon."

"All right then. I shall see you in a few Units."

"Kwarsh out."

CLICK

As 'Radomee waited, a new scent filled the air, coming from the south. It smelled like...Wraith tanks. He turned around to confront the Tanks, and saw that they were the ones he ordered to come. There were also some Ghost escorts, and they would be truly useful. 'Radomee paced around the new Sangheili troops, and gave them a grunt of approval. He noticed the bulk of them were SpecOps, while many of them were Domos. Minor and Major. There was one SpecOps commander...which had to be 'Gunnada.

'Gunnada signaled everyone to get in position on higher ground, as to get a height advantage over the Jiralhanae. They all drew out their modified Carbines and look in their scopes. 'Gunnada took out his Monocular and viewed the ruins.

"'Radomee sir," 'Gunnada said.

"Yes Commander?" 'Radomee replied.

"The Jiralhanae own the ruins, and are on top of one of the main buildings. Shall we strike there?"

"Yes Commander. Fire at will. But please, leave some men for the tanks. Also, get us some damn Banshee cover!"

"Sir yes sir!" 'Gunnada flickered on his COM. "We need Banshee support. Come in quietly."

'Derasu looked in his scope. Ugly Jiralhanae were firing at his allies down below. He applied pressure to the trigger, and took aim. He then squeezed and the Jiralhanae was dead. It's allies scampered around taking cover behind a rock. It would've worked too, but 'Radomee ordered a Tank flanking. Blue-white plasma mortars flew over his head, and drooped down to where the Jiralhanae were hiding. 'Derasu was blinded by white-hot intensified explosion, and when it cleared, saw a black hole in the ground.

The Sangheili who did the shot hopped out of the tank. "Hahaha! Nice shot, Eh Ship master?"

"I suppose. Is the sniping operation done?"

"Yes sir."

"All right, time to assist our allies."

‘Radomee approached a clearing where his Lances were. To his surprise, there were very little Separatist corpses. This was a good sign. That meant that the Second wave would be successful. Ordering all the soldiers into a crowd, he told them to split into groups. There was Ghost team 1, 2, 3 and 4. Lances 1,2,3,4 and 5 (more troops were added, making a fifth lance). Tank teams 1 and 2, Banshee groups 1,2,3 and 4. And SpecOps team.

“Excellent. All of you are in your teams and groups. Now, to explain the waves. Ghost 1, Lance 1 and Banshee 1 will go in first. After 20 units, I’ll send Ghost 2, Lance 2 and Banshee 2. 10 units later, I will send Ghost 4, Lance 4 and Banshee 4. Then, in 15 units, I will send in Lance 5 and Tank 1. 5 units after that, I will send myself, SpecOps team, and Tank 2. It should be an effective strike.”

Kwarsh slowly raised his hand.

“Yes Kwarsh?”

“Um, sir, I’m not in a Lance.”

“Well, that would be because you are with me.”

“Oh ok.”

‘Derusa was in the SpecOps team. It had been 50 units since the first wave had been sent in, and now it was his team’s turn to fight.

He was told to sit on one of the Wings of a Wraith tank. Behind him was an Unggoy that ‘Radomee called “Kwarsh”. He had silver-white armour, and seemed to be the Unggoy commander. He was friendly, but seemed to be able to take control of the situation. Kwarsh was Bloodied and Bruised, which showed he had been in many battles.

Tank 2 and the SpecOps team approached the battlefield. It was littered in blood. The occasional Spiker round was fired, but besides that, it seemed pretty much under control. Then, as if the Jiralhanae had heard his thoughts and felt his calmness, they bombarded the clearing with Banshees where the Separatists made camp. In retaliation, the Wraith Tank ‘Derusa was on fired a Blue White mortar, hitting one of the Banshees. It plummeted to the ground and exploded. The corpse that was once the Pilot hit the ground with a ‘thud’, landing right after the Banshee.

After a few more waves of Banshees, what was left of the Jiralhanae Lances attacked. Loyalist Unggoy and Kig-Yar accompanied them. Sticking to the original Covenant attack form, Unggoy went first, followed by Kig-Yar, then the bulk of the Jiralhanae. The rest of the Jiralhanae arrived when the majority of Unggoy and Kig-Yar were gone, which proved to be an effective tactic. As the Separatists were running low on weapons and ammunition.

‘Radomee chased after a Jiralhanae that decided to retreat. He showed no mercy, first slicing off his legs, then jumping in the air, coming down on the Jiralhanae with his blade. It choked on it’s own blood, twitched, then died. ‘Radomee retracted his Energy Sword, and pulled out his Carbine, seeing if any stragglers were in his immediate position. Two wretched Jiralhanae were behind a grouping of trees. Occasionally, they fired a few pot shots, but they didn’t hit anyone. Annoyed, ‘Radomee lined up his scope so both their heads were in a straight line, he pulled the trigger…and…

'Gunnada led many SpecOps into battle. But it seemed as if they were all being killed by the Jiralhanae travesties. Disappointed, he ordered his SpecOps to make a retreat. This proved to be a foolish mistake, as he no longer had anyone to cover him. 10 Units after the retreat, ‘Gunnada was shot, and killed by a Kig-Yar sniper. Afterwards, ‘Radomee ordered another assault on the Jiralhanae.


 * --Kwarsh [[image:Gruntiness.jpeg|35px]][ Talk to me! ] - [ Stuff I've done! ] 22:08, 19 March 2007 (UTC)

13
Edward, SPARTAN-077, moved his head from side to side. Nothing. The hallway was clear. Behind him, the squad of ODSTs shifted uncomfortably. "Command, this is Delta Team, we have reached the structure, please advise on next orders." There was a pause, then, "roger that Delta, any contacts? "No" Edward replied "all clear." There were footsteps behind and one of the ODSTs walked up and saluted. "Sir" he began "ready for orders" Edward turned toward the metal door blocking the way, "do you have cutting equipment?"The ODST nodded, and whistled to another one. The second ODST came over lugging a cutting torch, he set it against the door then started to cut.

Roy Stang yawned, though tried hard to hide from his crew. seeing their captain yawn would fuel.....ideas. "Lt" Roy called to Lt Kim "status on Delta Squad."Sir" Lt Kim began "their okay." "Good" Roy said, he leaned back in the command chair. "perhaps" Roy began. "What, sir?" Lt Harp asked. "I simply thought perhaps two more squads of ODSTs would....lessen the chances of failure. Lt Kim and Lt Harp both looked at each other. "Sir" Lt Kim said "If they have a SPARTAN with them.... "Sir" Lt Harp with a note of confusion in his voice "theres an incoming message, its checks out on frequencies."Patch it through." This is Rear Admiral Wales from ONI, I am ordering you to jump to the Planet Coral"what reason, sir"Roy asked. "A special reason"the voice said, rather calmly. The voice didn't answer. "Well" Roy said "that matter is....settled."

The cutter stopped slicing and the metal slab finally fell. Edward poked his head through. Nothing. he was getting a bad feeling about that. He walked through, careful with every step. The ODSTs followed, waving their rifles around watching, waiting. Edward came up on something he hadn't seen many times before: a holographic control panel. "Covenant tech" one of the ODSTs muttered. Edward turned to it, it wasn't Covenant tech, at least, it didn't look like it. He tapped it. Nothing happened. Instead, he pressed, there was the sound of a lock opening. "Think we got it" one of the ODSTs murmured. Edward turned just in time to see something big, hairy, and snarling come out. Whatever it was, it was pissed to see them. "HUMANS!" it growled at the top of it's lungs. One of the ODSTs fired his Battle Rifle. Big mistake. It did nothing other than get it's attention, and with lightning reflexes the creature threw itself at the soldier. The ODST fired his rifle, then fell. Suddenly, there was a bark and then the creature stood down. Edward looked in the direction of the command, and saw another creature stride toward him. It had a sort of flag attached to its back and wielded a blade-tipped weapon. The first creature moved over and to the second and began to mutter. Edward didn't have a clue what they were saying. The two creatures seem to have forgotten the ODSTs and Edward were there. One of the ODSTs took a step forward, Edward placed a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. "They'll kill you in one swipe."The ODST wrestled in his grip, but Edward held him. Finally on of the creatures pointed at Edward and the ODSTs and snarled. The second one nodded then slapped his weapon, then brought it up. "DUCK" was all Ed got out. the weapon fired a grenade at an insanely high speed, which connected with a ODST, sending him down immediatley. Edward took action. holstering his rifle, he charged forward, took out his combat knife, and promptly stabbed one of the creatures. Clearly, this creature wasn't use to being stabbed by a SPARTAN. The creature recoiled with a howl of pain. The creature lowered its head and glared at Ed. It lifted one of its claws, which clutched a SMG-like weapon with a blade attached. "Die Human scum!!!!!!!!" It howled. It fired.

As far as Roy could see, Coral looked perfect. Nothing wrong. "Lt. Kim" he asked "raise a COM frequency." Lt. Kim tapped a control, then listened. "Nothing" he answered. "Try again" Roy commanded, but not in a demanding tone. "Sir" Lt Harp said "picking something up, its...." his voice trailed off. Roy approached the monitor, leaned forward, and scrutinized what he saw. "Holy... Lt. Harp, get a sensor reading on that debris.""Yes Sir.""Sir, the sensor is either broken,or the ship has reflective... his voice trailed. "Its a Prowler?" he asked with confusion "but it can't be theres no Covenant presence here, no rebels either." "Lt" Roy cut in "theres no use wondering, the ground garrison killed their own allies." He looked up at his bridge crew. "They've gone rampant."

The Grunt Zezaw had once been told he was a natural commander. Even the Elites had acknowledged his existance. Now, he led a squad of Grunts. Zezaw held up his hand, the other Grunts stopped. "Something wrong?" one of the grunts asked. "Deploy" Zezaw told his squad. The squad sparang into action, the mobile Plasma Turret was set down, the Grunts crouched, ready for attack. Zezaw switched out his Plasma Pistol, he preferred it. Then, at an amazing speed the jungle canopy exploded.

Edward slipped off his helmet and laid it in the grass. The fight with the creatures had been the hardest in his life. he touched his stomach, where he'd been shot. It hurt. But he was alive, all thanks to the ODSTs. He curled his hand into a fist. They'd forgotten the rivalry between SPARTANs and ODSTs to save him. They had given their lives. When he got back to HIGHCOM he'd make sure they were commemorated. He lifted his head, the sun was setting. "Well looks like the Demon has forgotten that he's in territory of The Covenant."Edward froze. The voice: hard and brittle, could only belong to one thing: an Elite. The Elite pressed it's Plasma Rifle into Edwards head. It laughed. "The Prophets will reward me well for this!""Not if your dead."Edward said to himself quietly. Then, with lightning speed, Edward rolled, got up, and kicked the Rifle out of the Elites hand. The Elite growled, then brought something out of it's belt: an Energy Sword. He ignited it, then leaped. Edward sidestepped, avoiding the blade by a hairs breadth. Edward threw himself forward and grabbed the Elites wrist, and twisted. The Sword fell out the Elites grasp, then overloaded itself. With this, the Elite roared then wrapped both of it's hands around Edwards neck. Edward began to see spots of black, he was losing it. But he continued to fight it. With one hand trying to force the hands away, Edward used his other hand to reach for his Combat Knife. He felt the handle, then pulled. With all his force, Edward thrust the knife into the Elites mouth.

The HEVs broke through the atmospere and continued to the surface of Coral. Satisfied, Roy turned his head to the main viewscreen. All four squads of ODSTs were on their way to Coral. Roy flicked his SPACE-TO-LAND COM "Lt" he asked. A pause, then "all soldiers biosigns are good sir" the gruff voice of the ODST Lt said over the COM. "Good" Roy said then flicked it off. "Sir, I think you should probaly see this" Lt Kim said. Roy walked over to the screen, four long, sleek, ships had just entered system. Through years of service, Roy had never forgotten the exact shape and size of a Covenant ship. Four CCS Battlecruisers against a single Prowler. Roy put his hands together and realized they were sweaty. Wiping them quickly on his uniform, "Lt" he began "initialize the ship jammer."the ship jammer was capable of jamming 2 of these ships, which would be probaly just enough to keep their attention away from him. "Ship Jammer ready, sir" Lt Harp said. "Target the lead Cruisers" Roy said calmly. Lt Harp tapped a control, and the two lead Covenant Cruisers suddenly halted. "Lt Kim, move us into the moon's shadow.""Yes sir"Lt Kim answered.

Edward moved through the lengthening shadows like a liquid. Silent. Not making any noise. Then, darkness, due to Edward's SPARTAN augmentations, Night Vision or a flashlight wasn't needed. Edward rubbed his neck, he could almost feel were the Elite had tried to choke him. He moved aside a bush, then gasped. He had thought the Covenant presence would be medium, but not this large. If Edward had estimated right, he would say there were 3,000 troops. SPARTANs had proved their tenacity many times, Jericho 7 they had slaughtered 1,000 grunts with two squads only. But Edward hadn't faced 3,000 troops before alone. Decision making was one of Edward's talents. Calm in danger, taking in the full scope of it. He tapped the magnification on his helmet. Grunts milled around while bands of Jackal talked to each other. Edward didn't see any Elite's, which seemed extremely odd, even odder still, there didn't appear to be any mechanized units. Edward switched off the magnification and moved away, keeping at the edge of the encampment. Suddenly light flickered all around the tree's. Confused, he look at the direction of the encampment. teams of Jackals walked outward, plasma flashlights strapped onto helmets. Edward brought up his sidearm, it seemed like he wasn't about to get some rest for a while.

ODST Lt Simmons felt the HEV impact on the surface. He instinctively grabbed his dual SMGs and kicked out the door. The odd blue light of Coral met him. for some reason, the rainy territory had always been bathed in an it. But enough for scientific stuff, he was a soldier. Let the General and Admirals talk about that. He specialized in weapons, splattering alien guts around was another thing he specialized in. "Form up" he ordered over the COM. All the ODSTs acknowledge lights flickered.Then, an explosion. Simmons caught himself, he looked around, pinpoints of fire traced all around him. They were however, bullet tracers. He fired at the nearest pinpoint, and heard a cry of pain as the gunner fell. Simmons stopped. That had sounded to human, something was F-ed up here.

OX-223, Coral Sentinel, shifted its middle "eye" to the right, then to left, nothing. Coral Sector 445 was secure, at least for the moment. OX turned his (authors note: yes I'm calling it a "he", forgive me,) head to his companion, OX 224 "secure for the moment, no infidels have disrupted the function of the structure."OX 224 bobbed his eye, "good" was all he said, then floated off. OX 223 floated off, nothing for him to do here. After a little while his internal sensors picked up a signal, faint, but a signal. He zeroed in on its frequencies: "dammit soldier, I want results, not excuses" another voice came in: "sorry sir, this shit-heap of a transmitter is getting crowded up by frequencies" the first voice came in again: "then get it fixed, soldier" the second voice: "yes sir."Well, 223 had heard quite enough. He floated forward a bit, then stopped, he sensed that Humans whom he'd encountered knew he was there. Preposterous, he thought, the humans only have enough brain to know where they were. They definatley didn't know where he was.

14
Second Lieutenant Jesse Arm was disgusted with himself. At only nineteen years of age, he should have been in college. Instead, he was responsible for the lives of fifty-four other men. Well, was responsible. After days of devestating energy storms and the recent fighting with the Covenant invaders, Jesse had lost all but nineteen men. He had gone from commanding four full squads to a squad and a half. He was nothing more than a glorified sergeant. He had let down the men he had sworn to protect. He had let down the families of those men. He-

"Sir?" asked his platoon sergeant, pulling Jesse back from his episode of self-loathing. "Your orders?" Jesse took a moment to reexamine the situation. B Company had been tasked with taking this hill, which was currently occupied by the Covenant. The summit of the hill had until recently been the sight of a UNSC armory. After extended fighting with the Covenant, the UNSC was starting to run low on ammo. And now B Company had to get it. The problem was that the Covenant were allready there, and were dug in very well. The hill was covered in a thick forest of trees and boulders, providing plenty of cover, so Jesse's company commander had made the decision to assault the hill. As they slowly made their way up the hill, the Covenant rained plasma and needles down on them. The needles were especially tricky, as they could manuever around obstacles to nail the marines who thought they were relatively safe. Meanwhile Banshees were making strafing runs. Worst of all though, the same trees and rocks that provided cover for the marines, also provided camoflauge for numerous Covenant ambushes. Needless to say, many of Jesse's platoon's losses had died on this hill. Jesse vaguely recalled reading about a similair battle in school, something about "Hamburger Hill." He wished he could remember which side won.

He glanced around some more, noted the fatigue on his soldiers' faces, as they dug in, trying to get some rest before Jesse ordered them to march up the mountain again. He turned back to his platoon sergeant, Sergeant First Class Ben Kubrick.

"Sarge, I'm still new to this 'life or death' decision-making thing. What do you suggest we should do?"

Sergeant Kubrick paused, considering. "The way I see it, we have two options. Try another push at the hill, or bug out. We can't tell what the other platoons have opted to try, as these damned storms have been intereferring with communications. So really, the only thing we can-"

He paused, as Jesse lifted his MA5B Assault Rifle and aimed it in his direction. And he pulled the trigger.

Kubrick, surprised and terrified, braced for impact, but instead heard each round whizz over his shoulder. He turned and saw a Jackal crumple over, dead.

"Th-thanks sir," he said. Jesse just reloaded his weapon.

"So, Sarge. Your advice."

Sergeant Kubrick paused again. "I don't know," he admitted.

Jesse nodded. "Okay then. It looks like it's back up the hill." The platoon members within earshot heard this and groaned, getting up and preparing for another flirt with death.

Only moments later, the platoon heard a high, whiny noise. Kubrick swore. A sergeant yelled, "Banshee! Get to cover and get low!" and the platoon was moving.

The Banshee swooped in, strafing the platoon with it's plasma cannons. Earth blasted apart, showering the platoon with dirt and rocks. It began to make a tight turn, preparing for another pass.

What I wouldn't give for a Jackhammer right now.

It had finished its turn and was just about to fire when it suddenly exploded and burst into flames. Another banshee flashed by the tumbling wreckage before turning to pursue another banshee.

The Marines were dumbstruck. They had all heard rumors that the Covenant were going through a Civil War...

Jesse was on his feet in an instant. "Status Report!" he barked.

Everyone had somehow made it unscathed. Maybe things were looking up after all.

A needle came from nowhere and nailed a private in the neck. The needle stuck for a moment before exploding, ripping the marine's throat to pieces. Maybe they aren't. The platoon medic was there in an instant, hoping the damage wasn't too extensive. Another private gunned down the Grunt that had fired the needle.

Wraith tanks began to pelt the summit of the hill. So it was a civil war after all.

The medic turned to Jesse apologetically. "I'm sorry sir, I did all I could."

Eighteen men left. Thirty six dead.

"Let's let the Covenant decide this for themselves. We're heading back to Bravo Base."

Jesse began to make his way down the hill, the remains of his platoon in tow. The whole way down, he could feel their angry eyes staring at him.

-Chickenman 07:09, 23 March 2007 (UTC)

15
Anger & Retribution quietly slide out of slipspace. Imperial Admiral Vysar Tar 'Xztanee was pleased with how quickly his new fleet was coming along. There were a large number of Sangheili vessels here, at this Coral, and 'Xztanee intended on adding them to his forming fleet. Besides, even if they don't join with him, this is 'Nodotee's fleet, and 'Xztanee knew he could trust 'Nodotee. 'Xztanee was quickly snapped out of his thoughts when a Loyalist fleet appeared on the viewscreen.

"Those blasted apes! What the hell are they doing here?" 'Xztanee didn't even wait for an answer. "Move us closer, engage those ships. Disable as many as possible, then follow up with boarding craft. Hail 'Nodotee's fleet, request aid." Imperial Admiral 'Xztanee walked back and fourth across the command platform, he was very much concerned by a Loyalist fleet of that size.

"Excellency, incoming response,"

Ryse Zar 'Uasumee's image appeared on the viewscreen, he knelled to the Imperial Admiral. "'Nodotee is not with us, I'm in command here. We've established an ambush for the ape ships. Lore them to these coordinates. Ryse out."

"Move us to that heading right away. Inform the other Ship Masters." 'Xztanee was disappointed he wouldn't be fighting along side his former second in command, but this would leave him with all the glory this time! Major Terry Jones walked into the armory and picked up his sniper rifle, loaded a shotgun, and put the shoty on his back. Spartan-100 walked in behind him, along as several other ODSTs. Major Jones turned to his men, "Alright, we've got confirmed reports of Covenant forces ground side. The UNSC Nautilus will be leaving the cover of this moon in 9 minutes. Then we're heading towards the planet. Three waves of HEVs will launch, after we've done the grunt work, several Pelicans will be dispatched. We're search and rescue, you've all heard the reports of what happened to the UNSC forces here. We're going for the survivors. Be advised, the I've just been briefed on an ongoing alliance with the Elites, something about a Civil War and the Halos. Honestly, i don't care about that, what i do care about is that the Elites are fighting with us now, so don't get trigger happy and shoot an ally. Now. Gear up!"

The ODSTs returned to what they were doing, gathering up ammo and weapons. Several other ODSTs picked up rocket launchers and shotguns. They were going in heavy.


 * -- Donut THX 1138 [[Image:Capt Donut.PNG|32px]] [ Comm ] - [ CoH ] - [ 'Nodotee ] 23:19, 23 March 2007 (UTC)

16
"Sir, we've intercepted a distress signal from Coral!"

"Tell the people at Coral that we're coming!"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Commander Tyson Grant turned to a screen on his control panel. He pushed a button, and the screen activated.

"Team Wakisahsi, be prepared. We're heading to Coral."

"Yes sir, the team responded."

"Show that you really are Spartan-III supersoldiers! The Captain shouted again."

"Yes sir!"

The team began to pick up weapons from the armory bay. Matt-G256, the squad leader, picked up a Battle Rifle and two Sub-Machine Guns. Some minutes later, the UNSC Secret Treasure jumped into hyperspace, and then headed out of the system.

--Matt-256 23:03 (Denmark time), 24 March 2007 (UTC)

17
D + 00:24:37 (Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton Mission Clock) \ Aboard unknown ship, unknown location

Submit. Four! Hank struggled to regain control. Six! What Hank saw stunned him. Two! Before him, encompassing almost the entire bridge, was a single Flood entity of some sort. Six! Hank didn’t know what to make of it, having only encountered Infection, Combat, and Carrier forms. Four! This was definitely the source of the indomitable will over his mind. Three! It must be using some mixture of Covenant technology. Three! If the Flood had ships, then all was lost. Eight! But Hank couldn’t fight this giant mass of flesh and tentacles. Three! SUMBIT! TWO! SEVEN! NINE! Hank clenched his fists in concentration. Five! He had to get out of here. Zero! There must be another way to win. Two! Hank spun on his heels and ran out of the room. Eight. He turned down a corridor. Eight. He only had fifteen digits left. Four. Hank ran, spraying and slicing as he went, down a service corridor. One. He came to another room. Nine. The door blinked thrice and then slid open. Seven. He stepped in. One. Hank glanced around, looking for something vital. Six. There, that thick cable looked like it had some sort of major purpose. Nine. Hank took up his sword and easily sliced a neat line through the cable and the metal around it, cleanly severing it. Three. He did so a second time and then pried a piece of cable out, ending the connection. Nine. The ship jerked as the engines and controls disconnected. Nine. Hank ran on towards the escape pods. Three. The ship violently decelerated and exited Slipspace, which surprised Hank enough that he nearly toppled over, not knowing that they had been in Slipspace at all. Seven. Hank jumped into an escape pod, which roughly similarly shaped to the Bumblebee lifepod used by the UNSC. Five. He hit one of the buttons and the door behind him sealed shut and a panel slid away to reveal controls. One. Hank began prepping for launch. Zero. That was as far as Hank knew. Stay! Hank tightened every muscle in his body as if he were experiencing ten gees and then managed to bang his hand into the launch mechanism. NO! The escape pod blasted away from the ship. Hank feinted from mental stress.

Behind him, the Covenant light cruiser Honorable Vassal began accelerating uncontrollably. The pinch fusion reactors were no longer receiving responses from the control room, and as such, were increasing output at an uncontrolled rate. The reactors redlined. The Honorable Vassal sped into a nearby moon before exploding in a giant nuclear fireball. The explosion rocked the single escape pod violently, reviving Hank from his feint. He checked for his weapons. His sword was dug down to the hilt into the floor of the pod and one of his shotguns was still strapped over his back, but beyond that, he was unarmed. Of course, unarmed had little to do with lethality when it came to Hank. Hr looked out the main viewport. Ahead of him was a crisp blue, almost Earth-like planet. Hank tried to upload his navigation database on his helmet, but realized that, thankfully, it had been purged before the Flood had gotten to it. An involuntary shudder went down Hank’s spine when he thought again to the power of the Flood form he had just encountered, and was glad that it was dead. He opened up a TACMAP-like display and surveyed the planet. Around the moon much battling was commencing. It seemed that the Covenant and the UNSC were fighting. Oddly, it seemed like the Covenant was fighting itself too. And even stranger, it seemed certain Covenant vessels were working in conjunction with UNSC vessels. Hank angled his pod for the nearest UNSC vessel.


 * --Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM 06:34, 25 March 2007 (UTC)

18
The Secret Treasure came out of slipspace, and witnessed Coral. Its blue and green shine was seen very clearly. But, despite its charm, Grant was more focused on the Battle occurring around the planet and its moon.

"What are your orders, sir?"

"Let's see. We should set up a mine field around the planet. Ok let's go! Find out who's the one in charge here; alert the UNSC forces here about the minefield. We must lure the Covenant into the field!"

"Yes, sir!"

"And order Team Wakisahsi to jump into their HEVs. They're going to be dropped at Coral's moon."

"Team Wakisahsi, Commander Grant orders you to get into your HEVs, you'll be dropped to the surface of Coral's moon in five minutes"the crewmen said through the radio.

"Ok Team, let's go" Matt shouted to the others.

The team entered the HEV chamber, and selected one HEV each. They closed the lid and awaited the drop sequence. 30 seconds left. Matt saw the image of the AI Quinn on his left side. 20 seconds. He checked his weapon once again. 15 seconds. Oliver checked his Shotgun. 10 seconds. Pete banked on the side of his HEV. 8 seconds. The others do as well. 3 seconds. 2 seconds. 1 second. The HEVs disengaged and floated through space.

"Has the other UNSC forces responded?"

"Yes, sir. They'll try to lure the Covenant ships into the minefield with help of the Covenant Separatists, who apparently have formed an alliance with us."

"Alliance? Well, it will make the battle a lot easier I guess. Anyway, place the mines."

A lid on the bottom of the ship opened, and the mines took position in the black space. Then Secret Treasure headed to the other side of the planet.

Matt-256 10:01, 25 March 2007 (UTC)

19
‘Derusa activated his Active Camouflage. Quietly, he ventured inside the Jiralhanae camp, where the Chieftain was strategizing.

“Sangheili fools!” He yelled. “Our intelligence shows that they believe they know our strategy. Ha! Isn’t that right, Major?” Chieftain Zeltos yelled to one of his men.

“Yes Chieftain. Now, concerning the Humans…any Unit now, they will be sending in more troops, in a vain attempt to flank us. We should set up a few Lances at all directions, as to slow them down.” The Major said.

“Fool! They won’t even get past our Kig-Yar and-“

“Chieftain, don’t you think you are underestimating them?” The Major interrupted.

“Nay. The Humans are weaklings, and should be treated with NO respect, if anything, I am OVERESTIMATING them.”

‘Derusa took note of the conversation and proceeded to leave. Then, the Chieftain sniffed the air.

“Well well well. What do we have here? Show yourself Sangheili!”

‘Derusa froze in place. He wasn’t prepared for this. He went to grasp his Plasma rifle, but was shot in the arm. Purple-Blue blood gushed and squirted from the wound, and his active camo turned off.

“Well, what do we have here? Oh, a Major Domo! The Chieftain laughed. “Kill him.”

‘Radomee peeked his head out from cover. An almost what seemed infinite Jiralhanae was rushing towards the Sangheili stronghold. The Separatists had been moving forward, and were almost at the ruins where the Loyalists set up camp. The Separatists were running low on almost everything, and it appeared the Loyalists intended to take advantage of that.

After yet another attack, ‘Radomee ordered a tank strike on the camp. They were close enough for an effective bombardment, but he didn’t want to lose any Banshees.

Blue-white plasma mortars flew, then came crashing down on the ruins. Ancient rock went flying everywhere, as did Loyalist corpses. It was beautiful to the Separatists, who cheered as the Camp turned into rubble. But for ‘Radomee, it was just the eye of the storm.

‘Derusa braced himself for the shots that were about to come when the whole Planet shook. Being born on a flying city, he had never experienced tectonic activity, and he thought he was going to die.

‘Radomee watched the remainder of the camp collapse, and told his men to get treatment if they had wounds. The battle was over. He looked over to the corpses surrounding him. Sangheili, Unggoy, Jiralhanae. Unbeknownst to him, some Lekgolo were sent out to attack. None were dead though.


 * See ya!
 * --Kwarsh [[image:Gruntiness.jpeg|35px]][ Talk to me! ] - [ Stuff I've done! ] 20:47, 25 March 2007 (UTC)

20
A Covenant Stealth Ship closed in on the fleet that was right forward. It had tracked a Prowler, by the humans known as the UNSC Secret Treasure. The commander on the Stealth Ship opened the image projector.

"Ok, send this message to Vartarus", he told his crew.

"Yes, excellency", one crewmen answered the commander.

"Vartarus, excellency, there's someone that sends a message to us, should we take it", a Captain asked the Alpha Vartarus.

"Yes, of course"! He answered quickly.

The holographic image of the commander appeared, and began to speak:

"Honorful Vartarus, brother of Tartarus, son of Squartarus, we've tracked a human Prowler heading to a planet called "Coral", I thought you would be interested".

"Yes, interesting indeed. We need to track it down and destroy it".

"There's something else as well, it seems to be more humans and even Separatists on the planet too".

"Then we need a larger force. I'll lead a Task Force personally to this "Coral", Vartarus out"!

Vartarus turned to his command crew, beginning to speak again.

"Ok, prepare ships for a Task Force, and then we head immediately to Coral"!

Some minutes later, all ships in the Task Force were ready, and then headed out of the system for Coral.

--Matt-256 21:01 (northern time), 27 March 2007 (UTC)

21
Jesse was lost. Not only had he led nearly a squad of marines to their deaths, but now he was lost. The energy storms were not only playing havoc with his radio, but now it was putting his tactical map on the fritz. Hell, he couldn't even use an old fashioned magnetic compass, as the storm was pulsing with electromagnetic energy. His men believed he was leading them back to Bravo Base. Instead, he was leading them further and further into unknown territory, crawling with the enemy.

He waved Seargeant Kubrick over.

"Yes sir?"

"We're lost."

Kubrick shook his head in dismay. "I suspected as much."

A platoon sergeant's job was not only to serve under the platoon commander, but to show a young incoming platoon commander the ropes. Jesse had long ago learned to swallow his pride and ask his sergeant for advice. "What do I do now?" he asked.

Kubrick shrugged. "Well sir, moving is just going to get us more lost. I say we find a nice place to set up camp, and continue firing off radio signals, like we have been. We've fired off about ten SOS's, sir. Eventually, one is bound to get through the storm to Bravo Base."

Jesse nodded. "Sounds good. Let's find a place to set up that camp."

About five minutes later, the platoon halted when they heard movement. Jesse ordered his platoon to hold their position, as he and Kubrick crawled through the jungle to get a better look. They thanked their lucky stars that they had heard the noise when they did. The sound of the storm was masking somewhat softer sounds. Sounds like a Covenant base, for instance. The platoon had almost walked right on top of one.

Jesse had a decision to make. Try to leave quietly, or make a hit-and-run attack, try to weaken the Covenant forces and throw them into dissaray. He opted for the second. If they tried to escape, a roving patrol might find them anyway. At least this way, the marines had the element of surprise.

He relayed his orders back to his men, who crawled over to his position.

"We're trying to catch them by surprise. Don't fire until I've given the order." he said. He was going to take the first shot. He lay his MA5B on the ground next to him. He loved the automatic rifle, but it was hardly accurate. Instead, he borrowed a sniper rifle from his lone surviving marksman. He sighted an Elite, placed the crosshair over its forehead, and pulled the trigger. The elite went down with a thud.

The other elites in the area turned around, spotted the humans and raised their weapons, but another, apparently their commander, almost immediatly told them to stand down. The elites reluctantly dropped their weapons.

The marines in turn, didn't fire. Jesse hadn't given the order. Instead, he blinked, wondering why the elites, the fiercest race of the Covenant that humanity had encountered, had surrendered after only one bullet.

Chickenman 22:47, 27 March 2007 (UTC)

22
D + 00:29:57 (Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton Mission Clock) \ Space

Hank keyed the COM on the escape pod. No response. He keyed it again. Still nothing. That was bad. A UNSC ship wasn’t just going to allow a Covenant escape pod to dock. They would likely target him and blow him out of the sky.

“Darn it all!” Hank shouted. He slammed his fists on the panel.

“Identify yourself,” blared over the COM. Hank keyed the COM again. Still nothing. “''Incoming Covenant escape pod, identify yourself. Friend or foe?''” Hank found it odd that any UNSC personnel would even bother asking twice for a Covenant pod to identify itself, but he wouldn’t question his luck. He keyed the COM yet again, this time typing U-N-S-C with Morse code. “''Roger that. Please proceed to starboard docking bay. And hurry, we’re due to land any minute now.''” Hank turned up the thrusters and aimed for the starboard docking bay. Again, it was odd that the UNSC would believe a Morse code identification so easily, but, again, he wasn’t about the question his luck. His small pod eased to the floor of the docking bay, the hatch sealing behind him and atmosphere being pumped into the small chamber. The hatch in front of him unsealed with a rush and then slid open and he lifted off a few feet above the floor and moved through. When the small door to his pod slid open, he was greeted by the business end of more than one assault rifle. Hank felt reassured by the extra security precaution taken.

“Welcome to the UNSC Nautilus…” the speaker paused for a moment as he regarded Hank’s Friend or Foe tags, “Master Gunns.”

“I’d ask permission to come aboard, but it’s a little late for that,” Hank replied. The marine who had just spoken, a staff sergeant, merely nodded, and turned. Hank followed the group as they led him to the bridge.

“And how did you happen by a Covenant escape pod?” a marine, one Major Terry Jones, asked.

“Sir, I’ll be honest. I have no idea. I woke up to find myself captured by a new race of aliens known as the Flood. I managed to escape and cause the ship to crash into the moon. I dearly hope I was the only survivor, because the Flood must be contained if we are to survive. Is the ship commander about? I’d like to speak with him as well.”

“You’re looking at him. This ship’s actual commander was killed in action and we haven’t gotten the chance to replace those who died, so I am in charge until we do.”

“Alright, well, if you would, scan for life signs around where the ship dropped out of Slipspace all the way along its course to the moon, as well as the crash site itself. The Flood must not be allowed to escape.”

“I understand. Well, welcome aboard. If your CSV reads accurately, you’ll be a fine addition to this op.”


 * --Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM 03:36, 28 March 2007 (UTC)

23
Spartan-G256, Matt, looked as his HEV came closer to the ground. The other’s HEVs had already dropped, and then his did as well, but they hadn't been unseen. The Covenant had seen their HEVs when they dropped, and began to send away Kig-Yar Lances at their position.

Matt picked up his Battle Rifle and killed the commanding Kig-Yar with a precise headshot. The Kig-Yar seemed to understand that his team wasn't standard humans, but attacked anyway, thanks to a Jiralhanae that forced them forward. The other team members picked up their weapons as well, and began to spray the enemy with them. They fought their way to a large, rocky hill, where they could take cover. But they found the enemy overwhelming in numbers, and Matt decided to call for support.

"This is Spartan-G256, we're forced back by the Covenant, we need air support, and hurry! We're losing ammo quickly!"

"We shall see what we can do", a person said through the radio.

Then Matt found out that he had no ammo left in his Battle Rifle, so he threw it, and drew his SMGs instead. The Kig-Yar and Unggoy fell quickly. When he looked to his left side, he saw that Pete had no more ammo in any of his weapons. Pete picked up a Spiker instead.

Vartarus's ships jumped out of slipspace, and saw Coral in front of him. "Hmm, the humans have more ships than just that Prowler, and they seem to fight together with the Separatists! Those traitors!"

"Orders? The crew cpatain asked him."

"Attack the Seperatists from the left flank; we're going to overwhelm them with our strength."

"Yes, excellency!"

Vartarus laughed as he saw one of the Seperatist Destroyers being destroyed as a Energy Projector hit it.

--Matt-256 18:17 (northern time), 28 March 2007 (UTC)

24
Major Terry Jones wondered why how the lone marine Sgt ended up on the unknown Covenant cruiser, but now wasn't the time. They were just about over the dropzone. The UNSC Nautilus arced through space, increasing speed as they went, Major Jones had been contacted by some elite named, 'Xztanee, saying that the elites have the UNSC's back. Jones didn't trust them, yes HIGHCOM said the elites were allies, but what if after they're done killing the Brutes, they start killing the UNSC again. Less than 2 minutes remained before the drop.

"Sir, delay your drop, we'll want to come see this", it was the ship's tactical officer over the Comm.

"Marines, stay your equipment, wait for me to return then we'll launch.", Jones turned back to the doorway and headed towards the bridge. On his way he noticed the naval crew seemed to be in more of a hurry than usual. Major Jones walked into the bridge, "Status?"

"Sir, the Covenant forces have started to engage one another again. The Covenant supercarrier just erupted into flames, those Battleships all turned and targeted it. Didn't stand a chance sir. So far the Separatists aren't fairing to well, they need our support." the tactical officer seemed to doubt his own words for a second. "We need to help the elites, and now, or else they'll all be dead and the brutes will target us."

"Ok, ready battle stations. That's simple, why did you need me here?" Jones settled into the Captain's chair.

"Sir, inbound Covenant Phantoms from the supercarrier. I've told them they can dock with us. We could use their tactical know how." the bridge officer backed up, waiting for the yelling.

"Good. Did their captain survive? If so, he can take over up here will i lead the ODSTs to the UNSC camp ground side, we'll both be in our zones of operation." Major Jones seemed usually calm. He stood and turned, "we'll need to greet them when they arrive." Jones stood in the hanger bay, several Phantoms came in and landed. The Nautilus barely had room for the extra Covenant dropships. The first elite out wore silver armor, with a clean gold trim. It walked over to Jones, "I am Imperial Admiral 'Xztanee, i thank you for taking in my crew. We were trying to lore the Loyalists into a trap, but they overpowered us." the elite seemed very much out of place.

"Hmm. I'm Major Terrence Jones, commander of the UNSC ground forces and of this ship. Currently I'm getting ready to go ground side to search for UNSC survivors, i need a commander while I'm away. I understand you've got a pretty good tactical mind, being an... Imperial Admiral was it? Anyways, point is, i need to you to command this vessel while I'm gone. The command crew on board can help you out. Sorry this is kind of quick, but i don't any time to waste, the window for our drop is quickly fading. What do you say?"

"Understood... Jones. I'll get your vessel through this storm alive. You'll need to stay in communication with me though, as this primitive human technology in unknown to me. Tell me what you want, and you've got it." 'Xztanee was overly confident, and he knew it. He'd never even the inside of a human ship before now. However, his years of knowledge would get his crew through this, it had to. Both his warriors lives and now the human's lives where depending on his naval skills. "Now, show me the command platform."

"Heh, you're gunna love this one 'Xztanee..." Jones couldn't wait to see the elite's face when it saw the bridge. The tactical officer's voice came over the Comm again, "Drop in 3, 2, 1..."

The HEVs shot out of the Marathon-class cruiser, carrying Major Jones and his squadron ground side. They were heading straight for the last known UNSC transmission. It came from a Lt Jesse. Vysar Tar 'Xztanee couldn't get comfortable in his human chair, he just barely fit in it. How did the human Ship Master command from such a device? Horrible! But no matter, comfort wasn't his top priority, he had to learn the basics of this human craft, and quickly.
 * -- Donut THX 1138 [[Image:Capt Donut.PNG|32px]] [ Comm ] - [ CoH ] - [ 'Nodotee ] 00:33, 30 March 2007 (UTC)

25
Vartarus checked out the TACMAP. He had broken a hole in the Seperatist line after destroying the Destroyer and also a Supercarrier. But he was angry over that some Phantoms had escaped.

"You are incompetent, you fools!" he shouted to his crew.

"But, we've destroyed two Seperatist vessels in a row", a Captain said, quite afraid.

"I don't care! I want the best from my crew, and I deserve it, don't I? Anyway, order Finurus to take Oversight and Life Decision to that moon. He will drop infantry to the surface and strengthen the grasp of it. Am I clear?"

"Yes, excellency!" the Captain quickly responded. Matt just saw Covenant wherever he looked. He was out of ammo as well. When could that air support arrive? Should it come at all? A lot of questions ran through his head while he picked up a Brute Shot, and used it to slice a Jackal in half.

By now it wasn't just Jackals and Grunts. At least one platoon of Brutes had arrived as well.

Now Vicky seemed to be out of ammo as well, and picked up a Needler instead. Just some seconds later, Oliver went out of ammo too. He quickly picked up two Spikers to replace his Sniper Rifle. Suddenly, they heard the sound of some Phantoms, who rained plasma fire on the Brutes and Jackals. "Excellency, what shall we do now?" the Captain asked Vartarus.

"Let's see. First, call the fleet, order them to send a new task force."

"As you wish, excellency," the Captain responded.

"Excellency, we've tracked the Prowler, it's right below us."

"Well, let's take on that Prowler first, and then attack the Sangheili from the bottom!" Vartarus exclaimed.

His ships turned down to dive. The Prowler wouldn't escape this time, he thought. But 5 seconds later, the Path of Life and the other two ships was destroyed by heavy explosions. They had been diving right into the minefield placed by the UNSC Secret Treasure previously.

--Matt-256 16:13 (northern time), 30 March 2007 (UTC)

26
D + 00:32:01 (Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton Mission Clock)

1502 Hours, November 3, 2552 (Military Calendar) \ HD 69830 System, Planet Coral, Entering Atmosphere

Hank had done this before. Dropping into a planet’s atmosphere in one of the UNSC’s fragile Human Entry Vehicles wasn’t a new thing for him, having served for so long. Though most wouldn’t guess it, Hank was seventy-four years old. He sure didn’t look it. But then, none of the participants in the ORION Project looked older than forty or fifty. He didn’t feel seventy either. He felt twenty, maybe thirty.

The air around Hank hissed and popped as the HEV caught fire and began to peel away around Hank, all standard procedure. The alloy skin melted away, revealing the crash cage, as it was called. Hank looked at the monitor, which displayed his HEV along with all the others, falling towards the surface of this blue planet.

Coral. That’s what the planet was called. When Hank had hooked up with the UNS Nautilus, he had learned their location, and the exact time. He had corrected his time logs to display when he had been captured and tried to predict, based on the Flood’s guess at his time unconscious, when he had been captured. The last log on his helmet was 0642 Hours, October 31, 2552 (Military Calendar), which roughly matched his mental math guess. He’d have time to review the camera log later.

Onward the HEV plummeted. The temperature around Hank rose to one hundred ten degrees Fahrenheit. Hank hardly noticed. He had trained in the ice fields of Chi Ceti IV, the jungles of Mamore, and the deserts of Arizona III. The temperature at Arizona III, where weather control was not implemented, could rise to one hundred fifty degrees or more during spring or autumn. During the summer, one hundred eighty was an average temperature, though the record still was two hundred fifteen. Hank and his fellow Spartan-Is had trained there to endure the unbearable heat. They started in the winter, so that the soldiers could get used to the high temperatures (winter saw highs of one hundred thirty). The memories of Hank’s old comrades, some of which suffered from mental problems, touched Hank slightly. He hadn’t seen a fellow Spartan-I in many years. Of the original group, only four or five still served in the military, and another ten or fifteen had tried to integrate with society on Earth. Of the rest, he knew not.

The temperature cooled suddenly to ten degrees Fahrenheit as Hank passed the exosphere and thermosphere and entered the mesosphere. It quickly warmed to fifty degrees as he entered the stratosphere, and then the troposphere. Hank braced as the parachute opened, violently decelerating the HEV. There was a bump, which Hank recognized as having not happened in previous drops, and then his primary parachute ripped away. The secondary deployed, but there wasn’t room in the design for a second full parachute, and it only served to stop the acceleration. The HEV collided with the ground at twenty meters per second.


 * --Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM 01:05, 31 March 2007 (UTC)

27
What happens when the dam breaks? When the water behind the concrete barricade garners too much pressure for the dam to hold, what happens? Is it a slow process... With cracks in the weakest points taking time to form? Or is it fast, all at once, as every piece of the would-be restraint falling apart from the water's new found vigor to escape it's confines; unsatisfied with the small trickle of it's true form which escapes in the form of a waterfall.

Encompassing everything in it's path... This powerful flood of water spreads out and stretches it's 'limbs' unto the world before it. Everything is consumed; trees, rocks, earth. The water never receeds. The water never discriminates. It is all consuming, relentless and destructive.

And now... The dam was breaking.

Adrian roared out, a mix of anger and pain in his voice. The energy wrapped around his hand seemed to warp and distort itself further as he yelled. It was almost as if the amount of energy he could control was increasing as his emotions ran higher and higher.

Peterson, caught a little of guard by the ferocity of the situation, took a step or two back with wide eyes. He muttered something about the intensity of the light, as it reflected in the pupils of his eyes. The vibrant white light, crackling and sparking, seemed like something otherworldly. But it wasn't that Peterson was surprised; he had already seen enough that surprise wasn't something he felt. It was more that he was... Overwhelmed. Frightened. Envious. But not surprised.

Needless to say, Curtis never flinched. He stared unwaveringly at his friend in the Mjolnir Armor. Mjolnir... The hammer of Thor. It was said that lightning storms are caused by the mighty hammer smashing down on Thor's anvil as he smith's. That was exactly what the white, lightning like energy flowing on Adrian's palm looked like. The sparks from the hammer of Thor.

With one final roar Adrian thrust his arm forwards. With it, his mind seemed to go blank; like a white slate, clean of any impurities. It was as if he were letting go of everything and anything on his mind, the only thing left were raw emotions and actions. It seemed almost natural to him, as his arm reached it's final point of extension. He could no longer thrust it any further, and now, he had to put his theory to the test.

Before when he had done this... It had been instinctive. The first time, he had wanted to stop the several plasma torpedoes from hitting the Hesperus, and his emotions had lent their hand in creating a shield strong enough to repel the attack. The second time... During the 'Fall from Heaven'... It had all been gut instinct. He just needed to make those feelings rise up in him again, so that he would be able to use this power whenever the need arose. So he could protect those around him... So no-one would die.

The part of his system which shifted the concentration of his shield coverage came to life in his mind, as in that split second, he made the calculations with Helen on how he would execute this. What he needed to do... was to extend the reach of his shield. He put all of the necessary energy into extending the reach, and managed to keep all of the power he had nestled in the palm of his hand intact. In a vibrancy of white light, the shield extended outwards from his palm and unto the room. It blinded all who were watching, momentarily, as it shot out.

Seconds later the bright light faded... Adrian stood slightly hunched over with his arm hanging in the air, breathing heavily. Mentally... That had taken a lot out of him. It had transpired physically as well. Yet, he had succeeded. A small smile appeared on the man's lips, as his arm fell and hung by his side as he straightened up. He had finally learned the potential of the capacitors power, and how to control it. He now knew what he could do to keep his comrades from dying...

He turned to Curtis and Peterson, standing straight up, and turned on the external speaker unit. The looks on their faces, even Curtis who was usually stone cold and unreadable, said it all. Shock. Disbelief. Envy. "So... What do you think?" He asked, laughing slightly, as he sheathed the two orbs in their pouches. Curtis was the first to firm up, quickly followed by the samurai wannabe.

"Amazing..." Curtis exclaimed under his breath, almost inaudibly, as he often spoke. Yet this was different. With wide eyes and a look of surprise, he was nearly speechless instead of soft-spoken. A smile crept across Peterson’s lips, walking forwards as he shook the expression of shock from his face. Instead, it was replaced in an instant by a laugh and smile as he walked up to the armor clad warrior. He placed a hand on the Mjolnir suit, trying to re-assure the man inside the armor that it was alright to have given such a vibrant display of power. As he placed his hand on him, a shock of static electricity transferred from the armor to Peterson’s finger. He lurched back with a yelp, and with that Curtis and Adrian laughed out. The mood… was nice.

But from the shadows, someone was watching. Someone was watching with wide eyes and a cold sweat running down his neck. The young man, Angelou, watched with fear and desperation. He took a step from the shadows, shaking slightly, coming into the light as the other turned to the now completely pale figure. “That… Is wrong! It’s horrible and wrong!” He yelled out, with eyes closed and panic in his movements, before turning and running away with tears in his eyes. The three figures in the room watched him leave, dumbstruck by his display and confused by what he meant…

The Hesperus... A ship among ships. It was a projection of human spirit unto itself. It had survived... So much fighting. She was a simple freighter; well she had always been a little special. It was the flagship of the I.S.S. shipping fleet for the last thirty years, and was one of the fastest and largest ships among Parabola-Class freighters. It commanded respect among most well-informed captains and crew, and was considered one of the most beautific civilian ships in operation. Not because of its outwards appearance, but because of its inner-workings. The ship was like a hotel had merged with a construction site; all the equipment a freighter crew could possibly need and well accommodated rooms to relax after a long-days work.

But now... Things were different.

She had survived two battles, one directly after the other, both against horrific odds. She managed to only lose twelve crew members, and gained nearly two hundred soldiers as a compliment from the Erwin Rommel and the Anasazi who had volunteered to come aboard after seeing how skilled and self-less the actions of the captain had been.

Captain Adam Graves...

A twenty seven year old prodigy.

And now the stoic young man stood at his position, on the bridge, staring out the aft window into the nothingness of slip-space. One could easily lose themselves staring at it, into nothing. As if the universe had disappeared around them and they were floating in a vat of crude oil; black and nothing else. His equally dark eyes fixated out the window aimlessly for a mere moment before being brought back to reality in instant later.

"Sir... We'll be exiting slip-space in within five minutes. We hit a wave and it just happened to guide us in the right direction. We should be exiting softly around Coral's moon." Young second lieutenant O'Shay said with a smile. Now there was a boy with promise. His future looked bright; he had the head to stay clear in combat and the training to use that clarity well. He was officially now with the UNSC instead of the I.S.S., and had even been promoted after the UNSC had learnt of his actions on the forerunner installation planet. And now, the redhead sat in his chair looking up at the captain with a glimmer of hope and happiness playing across his lips.

"Good... I'll inform the boys..." Graves said with a solemn grin, tapping the transponder on his holo-board and clearing his throat. The reason he wasn't as joyous was because of the fact he didn't trust anything he couldn't see. He knew there was the possibility, and a good one, that when they exited slip-space they would be thrown back into combat. But that was a risk... He had taken. O'Shay turned back to his holo-panel and continued making last second calculations on the exit vectors. "All hands... We're exiting outside Coral earlier than expected. Please, assume stage three battle-stations until further notice. He closed communications as he looked back into the nothingness. He hoped... with all his heart that they didn't see combat again.

With the sounding of the Captain's voice the young men snapped out of whatever haze they were in. Angelou had already left the scene, apparently completely shook by Adrian's display. Such hatred... I guess when people are presented with things they can't understand they become afraid of it. This often happens when people are already stressed out. You could call that young man's situation stressful, I think.

"Lets go..." Adrian muttered out, turning to leave the cargo room to retrieve a set of weaponry from the makeshift armory they had constructed from several adjoining room outside of the cargo room which were used to house vehicles such as warthogs, and now tanks. There were still some of them in storage; seven warthogs, four ghosts, two scorpion tanks and two Wraiths to be exact. Councilor 'Nodotee had been extremely generous to let them keep the covenant tech on board. He had even lent some swords and Jackal arm mounted shields which were no longer needed onboard the Elite-controlled ship. All the Jackals onboard that ship had been... Dealt with. And no other species besides the human could make use of the shielding because of either pride or physical parameters.

Behind them, in the cargo bay, nine boxes lay strewn about. Two were dug into the wall, and the rest had been thrown back against said wall with force and meaning; as if they had been thrown individually by a giant. But we knew there was no giant. Only a leviathan, by the name of Adrian Gray.

It was time now… To fight again.

The monstrous freighter tore slip-space open like a strong-man tearing a phone book. The dark nothingness of space waverred and split; a wavery white light shining as it exited into normal space. The first signs on space seemed quite peaceful, the blackness dotted by the small shining light soothing to mind at first glance. But... Something hid behind the opposite side of the moon to which the Hesperus now idled. And O'Shay caught it within moments.

"Sir... Come and take a look at this..." The red head second lieutenant said with a tone of fear and surprise in his voice, his eyes slightly widened. Graves walked over slowly, took a look at the paneling and stopped dead in his tracks.

"No..."

Covenant, neigh Brute, ships were coming. It was clear they needed to act fast or die in moments. He straightened and with a yell got the small crew of three on the bridge to attention. "Raise all alarms! We're going to stage five battle conditions immediately! Get the comm. channels all open and make sure fleetcom 7 is maintained! Warm the MAC Cannon and prepare to launch a max. volley; ten, twelve shots. We're going to need every one..." Graves growled out, yelling as he walked up to the control station he manned.

War followed him... Or did he follow war?

CaptainAdamGraves

28
1507 Hours, November 3, 2552 (Military Calendar) \ HD 69830 System, Planet Coral, Target Area Vodka

A smoldering wreck that had at one time been an HEV lay crumpled on the surface, about three kilometers out from Target Area Vodka, the designated landing zone of the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers of the UNSC Nautilus. The collision, twenty meters per second, had severely crushed in the nose. The pod itself had dug down six meters into the rather soft dirt. In fact, it wasn’t really dirt at all, but rather, mud. Around the wreckage, the water from the shallow stream that had been blasted away by the impact slowly trickled back towards the hole, putting out the small fire. Several minutes passed. The water was especially cold. Suddenly, a piece of metal flew up from inside the hole, the remains of what appeared to be a door or hatch.

“Can’t rely on anything these days!” Hank shouted as he crawled out of the wreckage. Though he silently cured his luck, he understood just how lucky he was. To impact the ground at twenty meters per second in a small, unpadded pod, was not something the average person walked away from. Even a genetically enhanced soldier like Hank wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for the river bank he had landed in. He checked for his weapons. One of his M7s had been snapped clean in half, one end sharply bruising his left hip. The other was crushed to about half its regular width. His BR55, which had been slung across his back, had come off in the crash and was probably still in the pod. Hank turned to retrieve it as the muddy hole closed off. “Darn it all!” he shouted. He checked for his sword. Still there. His pistols? One of them was still there. Hank looked about for other pieces of the wreckage, hoping to find undamaged supplies or weapons. Of course, the draw back of landing in the mud was that the pod hadn’t broken apart on impact, but rather had dived deep within the mud before coming to a quick stop. Hank futilely dug at where he guessed the hole had been, but the mud slid back in as quickly as he scoped it out. That left him with his sword and a single M6D. He drew the pistol. It would be more useful in ranged combat, and he hoped that he would be identifying any targets while range still made a difference.

Hank went to key his radio and relay his position to the rest of the ODST from the Nautilus. Surprise, surprise, luck wasn’t done with him yet. His COM piece on his helmet had been crushed. In fact, most of his helmet now resembled a quartic function, sloping out like a parabola and suddenly denting in near the middle. He removed and tossed away the now useless helmet, and continued cursing fate. He had survived a crash, just to be left stranded without supplies in hostile territory. Hank smiled. This was what he had trained for. He began heading for where he suspected Target Area Vodka was. He had to link up with his fellow marines.

The trek took nearly half an hour over the constantly shifting elevation and terrain, and when Hank arrived, he found the remnants of a hastily constructed UNSC outpost. It had been abandoned, likely because the ODST were off setting up a main base of operations. He spotted foot prints and began following. He wasn’t about to miss out on all the fun. Hank paused for a moment, mentally reminding himself of this new “Separatist-UNSC Alliance” he had been briefed on. Well, it would still be fun.


 * --Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM 06:35, 31 March 2007 (UTC)

29
Imperial Admiral Vysar Tar 'Xztanee sat on the bridge of the Nautilus, giving orders to the men and women of the UNSC ship that Major Jones had left him. The Major had a feeling that Kyle-100 would be easily bored, fighting a ground battle. He would call it a "cake walk." So Jones left Vysar orders to let a soldier named Kyle-100 to take a covert squad of elites and ODST's and board a brute ship, the Oversight using a phantom. Major Jones, along with Sergeant Major Chavez would lead the ground assault with the rest of the elites and ODST's.

"Spartan!," Ding said.

"Sir," Kyle replied.

"You ready for this?"

"Sir yes sir!," Kyle said

"Good, well, I have good news and bad news for you. Which one do you want to hear first son?"

"Sir?" Kyle said confused, "Is this some kind of test?"

Ding was trying to teach this young spartan that not every situation had orders and in the field, he would have to make choices like this simple one without hesitation. The only thing hesitation gets is people killed.

"You will not be going on the ground for the fight..." Ding said.

"But sir, I--" Kyle started to say.

A simple glare from Ding silenced him before he could protest.

"You will lead a special covert task force and board a Jiralhanae ship. You will procede to destroy the ship from the inside out. Your group will consist of ODST's of your choosing and...elites."

Ding leaned closer and whispered, "Between you and me, the elites have their uses, but if one so much as spits in your direction...well, use your imagination. You shoot at whatever shoots at you. Now, you will report to the medical wing for an augmentation to your neural interface and them be given an A.I. for use on the enemy ship."

"Dismissed," Ding said.

"Sir," Kyle saluted, spun on his heel and walked toward the medical wing.

"Looks like it's up to me and you again Sergeant Major,"

"Yes sir," Ding replied.

"We're going in hot and heavy so pack as many weapons as you can inside that HEV. I sent Spartan-100 off to board a ship. So, you and I are going to lead the ground assault. Also, we might see Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV there. His HEV was rumored to have landed...off of the planned trajectory.

Ding thought to himself: "Geez, its been a while since I've seen Hank, not since the ORION Project..."

"--Terrain is sketchy down there, but the bulk of our squad will most likely land near the forest." Jones said. "We will have elite and some grunt allies. The elites will have translators so don't be afraid to order them into the line of fire, if you know what I mean."

"Yes sir, I think I get the picture" Ding replied.

"Good, let's get down there before all the fun is gone.

The two of them, along with about 100 ODST's and about the same number of elites secured themselves into the drop pods. It was time to jump. Ding inserted a disk into the drive of the HEV and loud "flip" music played through the speakers. I was time for him to do what he had been trained to do. Two things are certain, the Brutes won't know what him 'em, and things are going to start dying real quick.

"Company ready to disengage" Jones said to Vysar.

"Very well human, I will deal with these brutes up here" Vysar said.

The HEV and covenant drop pods disengaged and went plummiting toward Coral, uncertainty and doubt crept into Ding's mind, but he quickly banished these thoughts to the far reaches of his mind. Landing is 3...2...1.

TBC...A.I. for Kyle?

Kyle looked down the ranks of his covenant-human task force. A motley crew to say the least. The Imperial Admiral had been very gracious in giving him a force of 5 Special Ops Elites, which were experience warriors, battle tested and ruthlessly efficient killers of UNSC personel for decades, now under his command. On the other side were a group of also 5 ODST's, ones that he had personally observed in combat. They could do this. But could he.

Kyle found himself questioning his leadership abilities. He caught glares and whispers from elites who could barely stand to see the sight of a Spartan in that olive drab armour without raising their pistols and shooting him. No, Kyle had to lead by example, follow the example the Master Chief had left. He could do this, he was ready.

"Alright, everybody, on the boat. We got brutes to kill," Kyle said.

"Yes sir," the ODST's replied.

The Spec. Ops. elites said nothing but followed his instructions.

<font color="#007700">Contact me ·  · James-001 ·  ·  Find me  22:27, 31 March 2007 (UTC)

30
1514 Hours, November 3, 2552 (Military Calendar) \ HD 69830 System, Planet Coral, Target Area Vodka

“Hello?” Hank called out. There, by that rock outcrop, a twig snapped. Hank’s grip of his pistol tensed. If there were enemies behind those rocks, the pistol would lose its advantage. Perhaps he should draw his sword. Across the way and further off, a bush rattled. Perhaps he should keep his pistol out. Hank drew his sword with his off hand and held the pistol in his right. A Brute, followed by several lances of Jackals stepped out from either the rock outcrop or the bushes. The Brute ordered the Jackals forward, and all but one obliged. The Jackals were wielding strange weapons Hank had never seen before. They were like miniature energy swords. Hank dubbed them energy daggers. The Jackals also lacked their regular energy shield. The Jackals were all clumped together. Hank ran forward, swinging his sword, cutting straight through one Jackal’s forehead and another’s face. Hank switched his grip on the sword, slicing a diagonal line from the base of the throat to the back of the head of a Jackal that had been flanking him. He brought his M6D to bear, firing twice into one Jackal’s face and blowing apart its jaw. Hank swung his sword again, slicing another’s head in half. He turned with the blade and decapitated another Jackal. Hank spun, suddenly changing the blade’s direction, and cut a third Jackal in half. He turned and fired three shots, blowing a Jackal behind him apart, while at the same time decapitating a Jackal stabbing at his exposed back. He turned again back to face the remaining Jackals. He swung across and up, cutting one across the face and another across the forehead. He ran towards the last few Jackals. He began spinning his blade, cutting three more down. He fired two shots into a Jackals head, then jumped into the air and cleaved a Jackal across the waist. He raised his M6D and expended the last three shots into its face, completely blowing its head apart. The slide locked back. He dropped the pistol. The lone Jackal that had stayed behind raised its needler. It fired. Hank began deflecting needles with his sword. One got through, connecting with his jaw. The Jackal stopped firing as the needle exploded. Hank fell to the ground, clutching at the small hole that was dangerously close to his throat. The Jackal stepped forward and pressed the needler to Hank’s head. Hank continued clutching his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Anger welled up in Hank; his hand began to quiver with rage. This Jackal meant to execute him! Hank grabbed up his sword and cleaved the Jackal’s head horizontally in two before it could react. It managed to take two surprised steps back before one half of its head slid away from the other half. It fell backwards, dead. Hank stepped forward to the Brute. It slashed out with its brute shot, Hank being too close in for it to use the grenade launcher. Hank parried each blow. It pulled out a spike pistol and shot Hank once in the cheek and twice in the chest. It fell forward, as if to finish what the Jackal had started. Hank managed a weak smile as the pin from a grenade came free. He rolled it between the Brute’s legs. As the Brute turned to see what Hank had done, Hank tackled it, the two landing atop the M9 HE-DP fragmentation grenade. There was a sickening thud and Hank was thrown five meters back. He didn’t move, except for the involuntary quivers and twitches as he bled unabated. Was this the end? Hank heard the dirt near his head crunch. A boot came into his peripheral vision.

“Someone, call a medic!” a voice shouted. Hank thought he recognized the voice. The edges of his sight began to darken as he lost consciousness. Everything went dark.

Fifteenth Cycle, 42 Units, 9th Age of Reclamation (Covenant Battle Calendar) \ Aboard Destroyer Aftermath, HD 69830 System, Planet Coral

Myca ‘Hetodee looked at the expanse of space before him. The lights of the gods were beautiful this night. Stars, Myca corrected himself. When the Prophet’s had betrayed his people, the Sangheili, he had abandoned the pursuit of the gods. He hadn’t mentioned that to anyone, however, because many Sangheili still believed.

An explosion caught Myca’s eyes, marring the perfection of space. A Jiralhanae destroyer was impacted by a plasma torpedo, which washed across its hull like the tide coming in on his home planet, Familiar Hope. The metal of the hull melted and smeared like the elegant calligraphy that was the Sangheili language. The destroyer listed and spun wildly like an Unggoy without methane. It corrected its trajectory, and turned towards the Sangheili cruiser that had fired upon it, like an angry Kig-Yar turning to an Unggoy that had insulted it. By this time, the cruiser had prepped another shot, and its lateral lines glowed white like an energy sword. A plasma torpedo tore through space like a thrown honor guard pike, gashing into the destroyer. It fired its own bright blue orb of blue death, but the shot dissipated as the destroyer’s weapon control went offline. Something vital in the its engine must have gone critical, because it suddenly exploded, its outline burnt into Myca’s eyes for a split second. Myca blinked several times to clear his vision.

“Excellency, there is a Jiralhanae destroyer moving to engage us,” a Major Domo standing at one station calmly stated. Myca nodded an acknowledgement. His crew had faith in him. He did not fail. He rerouted navigational control to himself.

“Increase power, and begin heating lateral lines for plasma torpedoes.” He maneuvered the Aftermath around to face off with this other destroyer. The other destroyer had already prepared a shot, and fired the plasma torpedo immediately. “Spin up the energy projector. Aim for that torpedo. Rout power from maneuvering to the energy projector,” Myca ordered. He turned his ship to face the torpedo, presenting a smaller target, as the Aftermath began to drift, no energy being wasted to halt its movement. “Await my command to fire.” The Aftermath drifted on, slowly lining the shot with the firing destroyer. “Fire!” The energy projector shot out, cutting right through the plasma torpedo and disrupting the electromagnetic field guiding the plasma. The energy projector continued on, striking the destroyer. Its forward shielding collapsed. “Engage with unguided plasma,” Myca spoke with a calm visage. Several shots flew forward towards the enemy destroyer. It tried to evade, but one of the plasma lances collided with the nose of the destroyer and melting its sensors. Anything in front of the nose was invisible. Myca’s lower mandibles, clicked together in the human equivalent of a smile. “Fire a plasma torpedo. Keep it lined up with the destroyer’s nose until the last moment. Aim for the lower auxiliary plasma conduit. The plasma torpedo shot off, always lined with the enemy destroyer’s nose. The destroyer turned so that it could see the Aftermath, completely unaware of the plasma torpedo. It struck the lower auxiliary plasma conduit, which caused a chain reaction that blew the ship in two. One half drifted off, caught in the moon’s gravity. The other collided with a Jiralhanae light cruiser.


 * --Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM 03:55, 1 April 2007 (UTC)

31
"Loneliness"

A feeling one gets when none other are around to aide them. A feeling of desperation and sadness one experiences which can mar their perception of the world. Or rather, open their eyes to the distorted ways people go about their daily lives and disregard those around them who truly could use a helping hand.

Selfishness. Anguish. Ominousity.

"Sir... All comm. channels are synched and open." Ensign Avery said, turning to the captain. She had turned out to be more than a capable addition to the crew, now that Ensign Peterson had taken a more field-motivated position amongst the crew. She was a slender 'girl' with a pretty face and rather pointy features. Her short cut brown hair formed a sort of outline around her head, to which she seemed rather content with. Striking the world as more of a straight-forward type than one for play, she would often just stare straight ahead at her controls than offer any sort of fleeting interest with the world around her. She was different than Peterson, like a complete 180. And Graves respected the young man's talent with the sniper rifle, as it was more than prevalent that Adrian felt he was a good addition to the spec. op. team as they were not called.

That was a joke that a few of the engineers had started, ever since Adrian and his team came back from the Halo with seconds to spare before it vaporized. A special operation for a special team, and it caught on quickly. Not a bad tagline, right?

Graves nodded, gravely, turning to his tac. map. He saw two supposedly Jiralhanae controlled ships headed towards him, without having made radio contact even to announce their attack. But this was bad... As far as he knew they were the only ships in the area. It meant that the "puny" freighter would need to fight two fully armed Covenant ships; one destroyer and one frigate. Quite a daunting task for any ship, let alone a civilian freighter.

Then, suddenly, one of the destroyers turned and engaged another Covenant ship. That was when the radar came alive, as dozens of debris and active contacts alit on his tac. map. He glanced over at O'Shay who was working feverishly to try and gain more Intel. Graves grinned for a moment before re-assessing to situation. The fact the destroyer turned must mean that the other ship was with the Sangheili separatists. His eyes widened, as a glimmer of hope lit across his face. He opened tab on the comm. link and began to broadcast a message.

"To all U.N.S.C. human controlled ships and Sangheili separatist, this is Captain Adam Graves of the U.N.S.C.-I.S.S. Hesperus. We are requesting immediate support on our position, as we have an incoming hostile frigate T.O.C. fifty seconds..." He said, with urgency and a sense of calm in his voice.

Then the shit hit the fan. The seperatist destroyer turned and engaged the Jiralhanae controlled craft and destroyed it with ease. Did this mean that the Elite, neigh the Sangheili, were the more skilled captains? From what he had observed from Councilor 'Nodotee this was true. And this engagement, with the Separatists caught off guard and still victorious, put a smile on his lips.

But, pushing his wandering thoughts aside, he began to re-re-assess their current situation. The last time the ship had engaged a frigate they narrowly escaped with the lance-born slash in the rear armor outside the engine bays. They had only managed that because of Adrian's shield, and there was no way that would be able to aide them now. Graves had to think, as his crew began to take evasive maneuvers to outrun the frigate to safety. He watched as one half of the destroyed destroyer was swallowed by the gravity well and was pulled towards them in the oncoming direction. An easy dodge, of course.

But...

What if they didn't dodge it?

A large smile across his face, as he stroked his chin, he put the finishing touches of his formulated plans together. He walked to the side, quickly, past his tac. map and leaned over the edge of his command stoop down to his crew. "O'Shay lock onto the incoming craft debris, turn us about, and make sure you match velocity with it, enough to catch up as it passes. Avery, keep the MAC Cannon warm, divert 65% of the power we were saving for a max. volley and divert it into the cannon's 'punch'. We're going for a more concise attack, four or five shots dead on without fail. Make each one count; we're only going to have one shot at this." Graves finished saying, as the crew got to work on their parts. Now, he thought to himself as the debris came into view, it was up to fate.

The half of the Jiralhanae destroyer came into view and fastidiously made its way in orbit around the moon. It was slingshotting further into the gravity well at an extreme speed, but the Hesperus was now aligned with it and caught in its wake. It was as if the hunk of purple melted metal were drafting a wake for the Hesperus to follow in. Every second, the two masses of speeding ship came closer to the incoming Jiralhanae frigate which was visibly ready to attack. It would take a plan of considerable skill to make it out alive.

And given everything at his disposal, Graves was trying his best to do so.

"We have a full lock sir!" Avery yelled out, showing a well guarded emotion in her voice and face, as she turned to Graves who was on the opposite side of the room and above. He stared directly out the window, at the show. It was as if he were unfazed in that one moment by the calamity and high strung tension of the situation, his stoic persona showing full through in his bright white Captain's uniform.

"Fire at will, Avery!" He announced with authority and a deep tone, sneering almost at the frigate which was coming to take his crew and ship from him. Not today, not now! "O'Shay, divert all engine power to the right side emergency thruster and put us into a pitched roll now!" Graves yelled out, as the first sound of thundering MAC-round exited the cannon and barreled towards the Frigate.

The frigate did not move though, confident in its shield which absorbed the impact. Another shell left it's chamber and rocketed at the frigate, which took another hit dead on as it came closer and closer in range with the freighter. It was now or never...

O'Shay enacted the plan and put the Hesperus in a roll, as it spun out from the concealed hiding place behind the massive destroyer half. The frigate, now shield-less and expecting to rip the 'defenseless' freighter apart, launched a massive volley at the destroyer and subsequently all they could see of the freighter. Since no more MAC rounds fired, they believed the freighter to still be behind the mass. The frigate's plasma torpedoes lanced straight through the unshielded metal, as it burned and boiled in the sub-zero temperatures of space. But, to the surprise of the frigate, there was no Hesperus.

It had not been destroyed by the plasma. It had dodged and was now pitched in its roll after evading the plasma. But, unlike the frigate, it was charged and ready to fire. Even in it's roll, it would be able to connect a shot with each turn on the frigate, as it's X-121 Cannon had the ability to move and align it's shot independently than the ship.

And it did. Three more thunderous booms resonated throughout the ship, and subsequently three MAC-rounds connected with the frigate. The first depleted the waning shield which had struggled to reform. The remaining two shots gutted the ship vertically, piercing a hole in the center and its front. The ship listed, and then floated dead in the water.

With that a cheer arose from the three-man crew. With an exhaustive huff, Graves sat back into his deep, soft Captain's chair. He stared through the window with heavy eyes, ready to take on a new challenge laid before him. He just hoped his crew was ready for it.

With the sound of MAC-rounds thundering from their chambers, Adrian straightened up and took note of a battle to come. The 'roll' alarm continued to blink on the wall, but that didn't matter to him. They were in the rotational section of the ship; they didn't need to worry about it as there was artificial gravity within. But the roll itself mattered to him. That mean Graves had to implement strategy. And for that, this battle must have been serious.

Adrian turned to the others, who now held their individualized weapons of choice. "Get ready... We're needed again." He said with a cool, calm authority, as the others took the appropriate reaction to that statement.

Readiness. CaptainAdamGraves 00:15, 2 April 2007 (UTC)

32
‘Radomee awoke to sounds of Plasma Fire. He looked outside, and saw Sangheili being drilled by Kwarsh.

“Keep firing but let go when it’s about to overheat!” Kwarsh commanded.

As if almost by cue, all the Sangheili dropped their weapons.

“Now, throw some grenades!”

Grenades littered the sky.

Chris-099, a Spartan II, had just been deployed from a Pelican dropship. Eager for some action, he cocked his MA5C Assault Rifle, and held it at his waist. He ran to the Battlefield, only to see some Elites throwing random grenades. He approached one. “Um…I am at the right place?”

The Elite turned around and stared at the Spartan. He pulled out his Plasma Rifle, and aimed it at Chris. A Grunt walked up to stop him.

“Sorry about that, his best friend was killed yesterday.”

“YESTERDAY? We’re that late?”

“I wasn’t under the impression you were summoned…”

“Ya, we got a message from some Elite named “Zeltoc ‘Jiralmee”.

“Hmm, I don’t know of any ‘Jiralmee…Ah well. Yes human, you are in the right place, but a day late.”

The Spartan looked around his surroundings. It was a grassy clearing, covered with Separatist buildings and technology.

“I suppose I should tell the others to leave…”

“That would be necessary, Human.” A Golden elite said.

“Huh?”

“You may stay with us, and help us in our Campaign against the Jiralhanae.” Replied the Golden Elite. “By the way, my name is Qutar ‘Radomee.”

“Um, a Jiralhanae is a Brute, right?”

“Sigh, in your Human language, yes. But we prefer Jiralhanae opposed to Brute.”

The Spartan nodded and walked away to report to his superior officer: Lieutenant Wilkins.

“Sir, the Elite over there reports that the battle ended yesterday.”

“I know. Intelligence shows that Zeltoc ‘Jiralmee was actually an alias for a Brute Chieftain named “Zeltos”. He died yesterday.” “Oh. Well, the Elite said that we should stay to aid them. Should we?”

The Lieutenant frowned. He was still uncomfortable around Covenant Creatures. It was only last month that the alliance was formed, and there were still mixed feelings all around. “I don’t know, I’ll have to check with the higher-ups and…”

“Sir, with all due respect, the Covenant aren’t the most patient creatures towards us. You might want to hurry up.”

“Aye Spartan. I suppose we’ll stay.”

Chris-099 nodded and put his gun on his back. “I’ll go tell that Gold Elite.”

‘Radomee saw the Spartan approaching. Human names for the Separatists and Loyalists were tiresome. In fact, last month on the third Halo, he had hated Humans with all his might and did not think them worthy to name anything. Now he’s seen their weaponry up-close, used their tactics first hand and even used their weapons from time to time, he had come to respect them. Especially the Spartans. They were almost Human engineered Sangheili, and were physically Superior to almost all foes they faced. And to think that at one point he knew them as “Demon”.

Speaking of which…

“Hello again! My Lieutenant said that we may stay with you.” The Spartan said. “Should we set up camp?”

“We have plenty of space here in empty buildings. You may stay in those if you like. You may even use our food if you like. We aren’t very crowded. We lost 67 men out there.”

“Oh. What’s your total?”

“…123.”

“Wow. That’s…not a lot. We brought around 300 troops…and we brought living quarters.”

“300! THAT’S EXCELLENT!” ‘Radomee embraced the Spartan, almost crushing him with his steel-like biceps. “I’ll go tell the others!”

Chris-099 was puzzled. Did an Elite just hug him? He tried to erase that memory from his mind and decided to go speak with the Lieutenant. While he walked back to one of the dozens of Pelicans, he couldn’t help but approaching a Grunt, and talk to him.

“Well, hello there!” He said, seeming happy.

The Grunt pulled put his Pistol, but then re-holstered it, started scratching his head while saying “Oh yeah, Human friends!”

“I’ve always wanted to talk to a Grunt, I’ve just never really had a chance!”

“Oh. Well, we aren’t all that interesting. So I’m going to walk away now…”

Chris seemed…disappointed, and walked to the Lieutenant. As he walked, the ex-covenant soldiers stared at him, glaring. He withdrew his weapon, out of instinct, but felt a sharp pain in the back of his head…followed by blackness.


 * All right, I'll post some more tomorrow, I still have tons!
 * --Kwarsh [[image:Gruntiness.jpeg|35px]][ Talk to me! ] - [ Stuff I've done! ] 02:07, 2 April 2007 (UTC)

33
1523 Hours, November 3, 2552 (Military Calendar) \ HD 69830 System, Planet Coral, Alpha Base

“He’s coming too!” a voice shouted. “Someone get some stim packs!”

“Giving him any more would risk cardiac arrest!”

“And giving him any less would risk a mental breakdown. We can bring him back if his heart stops.” Hank tried to open his eyes. They fluttered, but sagged back down. He felt something enter his mouth, like a pill. Someone closed his mouth and held his nose. Hank swallowed and was allowed air again. His eyes came open and he began to convulse.

“His heart’s stopped!” someone yelled.

“Hold on! It’s still charging!” someone else yelled. Hank felt two cold slabs of metal press against his chest. “Clear!” Electricity like Hank had only felt a few times before coursed through his body.

“We’ve got a heart beat. I think he’s awake.” Hank shut his eyes, then tried to sit up.

“Woah woah, buddy, don’t push yourself so fast!” one doctor said, pushing Hank back into a lying position. “You took four needler rounds from what we can tell: two in the face and two in the chest.”

“Three were from a spike pistol,” Hank weakly corrected. He blacked out again.

“I think he’s coming around,” one doctor said calmly. Hank opened his eyes.

“How long was I out?” he asked.

“Since you were shot or since you were revived?” a doctor inquired.

“Both,” Hank clarified.

“Its been ten minutes since you were revived, and nineteen in total since you were shot.” Another doctor nodded to confirm these times. Hank pondered. That voice from before, he swore he recognized it.

“Who found me?” Hank questioned.

“Sergeant Major Ding Chavez,” the doctor replied. It all fit together now. A fellow Spartan-I.

“Can I see him?” The doctor nodded. “Where’s he at?” Another doctor pointed.

Sixteenth Cycle, 09 Units, 9th Age of Reclamation (Covenant Battle Calendar) \ Aboard Destroyer Aftermath, HD 69830 System, Planet Coral

“Can you handle the battle here if I go to the planet?” Myca inquired of his lessers.

“Yes, Excellency!” they all replied. That was good. Myca found space battles to be annoying. He loved space, found it beautiful, but to battle in it irked him more than a little. The ground was a much more fitting place for battles, where there was nothing Myca held as having artistic value that was being destroyed.

“Order a team of Commandos to drop pods. I will be accompanying them.” Myca turned and headed towards the drop pods, where he met up with several groups of Sangheili warriors. These were all of the Druu’giir Warrior Crèche, one renowned for its skills with long range and stealth combat. Myca felt right at home, hefting his particle beam rifle. “There is Jiralhanae activity here,” he activated a holo-pedestal that displayed Coral, rotated it, and then zoomed near one of the caps. “We believe they are looking for Forerunner technology to give to their false Prophets! We shall stop them!” A general cheer arose from the warriors. “As our human allies say, lock and load.” Each Sangheili clipped a particle beam rifle over its shoulder, grabbed a carbine and a handful of ammunition, and then loaded into a drop pod. Myca also grabbed one of the untouched plasma rifles, holstering it on a clip near his right hip, and an energy7 sword. Most Sangheili preferred the energy sword, but the Druu-giir Crèche thought it impractical to use an energy sword while stealthed. Then, Myca wasn’t going to be using much stealth on this mission, and the sword could prove useful. He walked down the row of pods, shutting each door as he went. He loaded into the last one, and touched a panel of light that activated the drop sequence. One by one, the pods ejected. Myca felt a rush as his pod accelerated from zero to twenty-six units (roughly from zero to sixty miles per hour). The ride down was rather uneventful, the anti-gravity generator activating mere units from the ground and decelerating the pod enough for a “soft” landing of nine units (roughly twenty miles per hour). The door popped out with a hiss and Myca stepped out, his carbine aimed at low incase of Kig-Yar or treacherous Unggoy that had been forced to join the Jiralhanae or were still subservient to the Prophets. None were forthcoming, so Myca took another step forward and sighted his allies.

“Excellency, what are our orders?” a Special Operations Officer asked.

“Move to this position. Maintain absolute stealth.” Myca highlighted a ridge overlooking the Jiralhanae encampment on the navigational database linked with the team’s armor. “When we arrive, we will open fire at once and then those with close quarters weapons will charge forward while those only with long range weapons will support.” The other Sangheili clicked their mandibles in acknowledgement.


 * --Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM 04:56, 2 April 2007 (UTC)

34
Chris-099 woke up. His head was throbbing, which was a good sign that he wasn’t dead. He was sitting on a chair, but could get up because his arms were pinned down. Frantically, he shuffled around in the chair, trying to escape.

“I’m afraid escape is quite impossible.” A voice said.

099 activated his flashlight. As the light filled the room, he saw what looked like half-a-dozen Covenant Elites.

“You disgusting Demon. Let us converse.” An Elite walked over to the Spartan, and punched him in the face. 099 flinched in pain. “Ha ha ha, did that hurt you wretched Human?”

“What…do you want from me?”

“I want you and the rest of your incompetent race dead. You have been a burden to this Universe for too long, and I will take it as my duty to destroy each and every one of you.”

“Wha-huh?”

“What is wrong? Can you not speak?”

“Why are you doing this? We’re allies!” The Spartan retaliated. “Face the sake of the entire Universe, Humans and Elites need to be at peace!”

“WE ARE NOT CALLED ELITES!” The Elite yelled. “WE ARE CALLED “SANGHEILI!” YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO CALL US BY THAT…HUMAN NAME!”

“I’m sorry, Mister ‘Sangheili’.”

The other Elites were closing in on the Spartan. He had to think fast, or experience a certain death.

In the darkness outside of his Light’s range, 099 saw a mesmerising blade being brandished. It was almost like oil from a car on the asphalt…colours moving around like a rainbow. But then, he saw it heading towards the Elites. It cut through 2 of them with one graceful blow, their bodies spewing Purple-Blue blood. It continued slicing through the Elites, until there was one left.

099 took this chance to break what ever was holding his arms down, and pulled out his Sidearm. Stupid Elites didn’t care to remove it. He pulled the trigger 12 times at the Elites body and Head, hoping to kill it. All the bullets did though, was make it angry. Using his own Sidearm, the Elite shot Green-white plasma balls at the Spartan, but his training had prepared him for that. He strafed to the left, dodging all the shots. He then reloaded, and shot for more bullets at the Elite, who fell to the ground in a puddle of his comrades’ blood.

“Loyalist Sangheili”. ‘Radomee said. “I am sorry they troubled you.”

Chris-099 was so confused at the moment. A Loyalist Elite? He thought all Elites were allied…shows what Humanity knows about Alien Species.

“What? There are Loyalist Elites?”

“Yes. It is horrible. Sangheili side by side with Jiralhanae…”

“How did they get into the camp?” 099 asked. “I thought you guys were awesome at keeping out undesirables.”

“Normally yes, but we used the Prophet’s DNA technology. All that remains of that was on High Charity. We didn’t even bring any when we escaped.”

“Oh. Well, you can use OUR technology. Our polygraph tests are good for seeking the truth.”

“If I know my Sangheili, which I do, they wouldn’t touch a Human machine. No offence or anything…”

“None taken. But seriously, I should help my buddies set up camp…”

“That isn’t necessary, we already helped them with that. The camp is outside of ours. We also devised an attack plan.”

Spartan-099 sat and listened to the Elite’s plan. It was complicated, yet so obvious. The Spartan always wondered how the Elites’ minds worked, their thought pattern, and now he knew how they won so many battles. Their intelligence was far greater then almost any human he had ever seen, well, except for a few.

The plan consisted of using cloaked Banshee scouts to find the Loyalist stronghold(s). Afterwards, the 3rd Ghost team, Banshee team and Lance would be sent out for the west flank. Next, the Golden Elite would call for more troops, possibly hundreds of assorted Elites and Grunts, led by himself, to assist in the west flank, and the east flank. 099 would lead 150 or so men to the north flank, and the remaining troops would form up at the south. That meant that the 150 soldiers and some fresh SpecOps troops would have to set aside their differences. That worried Chris. Afterward, they would all form up, hopefully taking the Brutes and Jackals by surprise. All this sounded easy, but would take some serious choreography. They couldn’t just run in there, they’d all be killed too soon. Fighting Brutes is a whole lot different then fighting Elites, Brutes would literally rip your face off if you get them pissed enough.


 * See ya.
 * --Kwarsh [[image:Gruntiness.jpeg|35px]][ Talk to me! ] - [ Stuff I've done! ] 20:36, 4 April 2007 (UTC)

35
The Separatist Phantoms continued to fire on the Loyalists to help Team Wakisashi. Matt ordered his team to storm the Loyalists to help the Phantoms from the ground. They fired their weapons like rain on the Brutes and Jackals. Matt ran right into a Brute and threw it to the ground, and then cut its head with his Brute Shot. He watched as the Jackals and Loyalist Grunts escaped in all directions.

"Squad, let's move on", Matt said to the other members, who nodded.

When they climbed over a hill, they saw Wraiths, Ghosts, Brute Ghosts and Spectres. On the ground was also dozens of Brutes and Jackals. Matt knew that his team couldn't defeat that group. He had to think out a way.

Some minutes later, in the Loyalist encampment, a Brute were on patrol, when he suddenly falls down to the ground, dead. Two more Brutes arrived and checked the corpse.

"What has happened to him?" one of them said.

"He must have been killed by a human sniper. Send out scouts, find the humans or Sangheili being here" the other one said, while the other ran away to report.

Meanwhile, Matt and the team uncloaked themselves. The camoflage cloaks had come to good use. Now they were inside the base. Now they just had to kill the Chieftain and then get out of there. But the encampment was guarded very well, and the tent the Chieftain was in was even better guarded than the other parts of the camp.

"Come on squad, I've got a better idea than outright killing the Chieftain", Matt shouted to the team.

They moved to another well guarded, large tent. They could see all the explosives inside: 1 Covenant Bomb, 3 Anti-Matter Charges and at least 200 grenades. Detonating all those explosives should destroy the whole camp, which was a opportunity Matt would use. The team used the camoflage cloaks, and moved closer. When Matt gave the signal, they opened fire and they were able of killing all of the Brutes at the tent opening. They ran into the opening and began to work. They prepared to activate the explosives.

"Ok, we're ready to blow this damn thing up, but the Loyalists are coming", Matt exclaimed to the others.

"Then we need to hold them off long enough to let them explode!" Oliver responded.

"I'll stay behind", Pete said bravely.

"Are you sure?" Matt said quite surprised.

"Yes, I'm sure. Now get away before they come."

"Then this is a goodbye, right?" Matt said sadly.

"Yes, but run away, now!"

And they did. They ran as their lives depended on it (who it actually did). They climbed over the large hill and turned back to see the whole camp be destroyed by the explosion, as they planned. Matt took up the team member list on his Heads Up Display. He listed Pete as MIA, as the Spartans never die, at least the others must think so. The team jumped into the Separstist Phantom awaiting them.

"Where are we going?" Matt asked the Sangheili.

"We're going to help in the boarding of Oversight, a Jiralhanae-held Battlecruiser.

The Phantom speeded out into space, leaving the encampment area.

--Matt-256 15:34 (Scandinavian time), 14 April 2007 (UTC)