User:Dragonclaws/Ascension25

Crises
“Five minutes until Slipspace breach,” Hanno reported calmly but urgently, his glowing red eyes staring unblinkingly at Ackerson.

He shook his head. “Operation: EXODUS is already underway. You might as well try to stop a tidal wave. Even if we get Jitji to make an official announcement… We might as well ride it as much as we can.”

As he spoke, two of the tactical display’s indicators of Covenant ships winked off. The Grunts did their job well. As much as he hated to admit it, the Grunt revolution might well be the key to winning the war. “They’re fast, they’re deadly, and there’s so many…”

“Sir?” Hanno shot him a look of confusion. “Scans for animate Flood in the Pacific region have come back negative. The Monitor assures us that our purging methods will be effective, though it wants to take its own Sentinels to scour the wreck to be sure…”

“I didn’t mean the Flood,” he cut in. “Though now that you mention it, I’m making Ascension our priority. With the help of the Grunts, we can secure the Ark. I would have hoped to wait until the Elites could be eliminated, but with the Flood in Ascension we had best act as fast as humanly possible.”

“We can presume the Gravemind wants Ascension for the same reason we do,” the AI remarked bitterly. “However, I am not certain our ex-Covenant friends are aware of its capabilities.”

“If they did, we’d never have a chance,” he said between gritted teeth. “Exactly why we’re not telling them.”

“Four minutes,” Hanno reported. “If the new arrivals hold loyalty to the Covenant, it is uncertain how this will affect the battle. It remains a possibility that the separatists could convert the new arrivals to their cause and affectively overpower us. However, if our Grunts were to convert their Grunts–”

“Is there a point to this speculation?” he interrupted. “Do you have an effective course of action cooked up to deal with whatever could happen?”

“Yes, sir,” the Yeti nodded. “But only assuming that the approaching contact is, in fact, a Covenant fleet. Additionally, the odds will be more heavily in our favor if their crews include a large number of Grunts and a low number of Brutes. Footage indicates the Brutes are far more capable of dealing with the Grunt revolution than the Elites, perhaps due to the Elites’ dependence on their personal energy shields. The Brutes, most of which make do without shields, would have no such weakness.”

“Alright,” he sighed, cracking his knuckles. “Suppose it isn’t Covenant. Suppose that when those Brutes fought in the Ark, they instigated something… Forerunner?”

Hanno fell silent for several seconds, an unusual feat for an AI. Finally, he spoke, “Three minutes. I couldn’t tell you, sir. The Monitor says it doesn’t know, but wants to examine the Ark. Sir, if it is Forerunner, we have to consider the possibility of another Flood threat.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we come to it,” he sighed. “How long is it now?”

“Sir. Two minutes and forty-six seconds.”

He nodded slightly, glancing over at his assistant. Rani continued to stand idly nearby, her gaze stuck on the board, while she rhythmically struck her leg with her pen. “Don’t you have something to do?”

“Oh…” Rani shrugged nervously. “Sir… If it’s not a problem, I’d like to stay here a moment and see… how bad it is?”

His eyes narrowed, but he gave her a short nod. “I don’t see what harm two minutes and forty-six seconds can do.”

“Two minutes and thirty-two seconds. Sir, Earth wildlife has begun exhibiting chaotic behavior as an apparent result of the halted lunar cycle. There have been multiple reports of protected marine life, specifically humpback whales, attacking UNSC submersibles unprovoked.”

“Some damage is to be expected,” he nodded. “Make it known to the council I advise that our men shoot any whale on sight. I’ve never been a fan of treehugger policies, anyway.”

“Yes, sir.” The AI paused. “The Navy is fairly alarmed by the – two minutes – by the attacks, and has already overridden the wishes of the Department of Environment Protection in this matter.”

“Good, good…” He looked again at the display, where UNSC forces were gaining a significant advantage. Those bloody Grunts actually pulled it off… “Confirm all Harper’s men have been informed of the coming fleet.”

“Sir. All vessels were informed within one minute of discovery. It’s in God’s hands now, sir.”

He let out a rough sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “When AIs start depending on faith,” he remarked to Rani, “That is when you should be worried.”

“Sir, I was not implying anything of the sort,” the AI huffed, sounding offended. “I was simply employing a popular colloquialism to convey a specific sentiment, that of helplessness until more information can be obtained.”

“Whatever, whatever,” he waved his hand in dismissal. In truth, he really didn’t care that much. Certainly not enough to bother arguing the point.

“Sir,” the AI suddenly spoke up in alarm. “I picked up a rumor that Section Zero may have us all under investigation. SPARTAN-117 is suspected to have been led to his death through traitorous action from someone in Section Three. Sir, one minute until Slipspace breach.”

“Zero…” Rani muttered under her breath.

“Internal affairs,” he explained quickly for her benefit. Section Zero itself was strictly need-to-know and he didn’t expect her to need to know, but didn’t care enough at the moment. There were bigger things to worry about. “Hanno, this is bad news for all of us. I’m sure you’ll make the necessary alterations to help keep us in the clear and allow Zero to catch the real traitors, yes?”

“Yes, sir. Deletion has already begun for all non-essential files, and I’m developing advanced encryption techniques for all files considered essential.”

“Sir,” Rani broke in, “Hanno is a dumb AI, right? Couldn’t a smart AI, especially one built for spying, be better than him?”

“Rani, that’s very unlikely,” he waved her off dismissively. “All the smart AIs are currently employed in combat. Even Zero wouldn’t use one here.”

“Colonel Ackerson is correct,” Hanno agreed. “All registered smart AIs serve as shipboard AIs; we can’t afford to not do so in our present circumstances.”

“If you say so, sir,” she nodded, appropriately backing out of the conversation.

“Sir! Contacts inbound: fifteen seconds. Fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two… Sir, Slipspace breach!”

The tactical display exploded with a cascade of new ships, all of which settled just outside of orbit. However, the ships were not the Covenant he had expected. Nor were they some strange Forerunner variety. Instead, the ship indicators were all very familiar, very human.

“Initial scans indicate eighty-three ships total,” Hanno reported. “Eighteen Mako-class corvettes, thirty Mandala-class frigates, twenty Marathon-class cruisers, ten Laden-class freighters, two Harbinger-class destroyers, two Parabola-class freighters, and one civilian yacht. All identified UNSC vessels have been tagged as commandeered by pirates, some of which have been missing for as long as sixty years. Analysis indicates United Rebel Front.”

“Jesus Christ,” he swore, slamming his fist onto the control panel, an action which made the screen vibrate for a second. Filthy rebel bastards… That’s all we need.

The Yeti’s eyes abruptly lit up with a fiery brilliance. “Sir, a transmission from URF destroyer Guernica, originally the UNSC Excalibur before its capture in 2532. URF Fleet Admiral Roberta Duffy wishes to speak with the commander of UNSC forces. After the trouble with Hood, the UEG is inclined to–”

“Yes, yes,” he snapped, scowling at the name. The self-declared ‘Anarch’ Duffy was responsible for the deaths of millions of UNSC soldiers through her promotion of hostile ideologies alone, to say nothing of the troops she directed. “Put it through.”

The screen flickered, the default ONI emblem replaced with the face of the enemy. She sat proudly in the captain’s chair, a skinny thing barely forty with purple-streaked hair far longer than UNSC regulation would have tolerated, making her appear more like a pop-icon than a serious adversary. “Fleet Admiral Duffy,” he acknowledged through gritted teeth.

Her mouth turned upward in a sneer. “Colonel Ackerson… I must say, I never expected to meet you on such terms, but…” She laughed, “I practiced this in the Slipstream… Though we have no love for each other, me of the rebellion and you of the tyrannical empire, we together love and respect the human race…” Her eyes narrowed. ''“And there’s no way in hell those Covenant sons-of-bitches are going to take Mother Earth from us! Colonel Ackerson, Fleet Admiral Duffy of the proud and brave United Rebel Front shall stand alongside the United Nations Space Command to protect our homeworld from the alien menace!”''

He raised an eyebrow, his mind processing this new information. As much as he hated to admit it, this could greatly improve their odds of success. “Is that so, Fleet Admiral?”

“It is,” she confirmed. “My soldiers are prepared to give their lives for their fellow men and women, and are well-suited for battle both in space and on the ground.”

“On the ground?” he repeated. “You’re not going on the ground, Fleet Admiral. Not if you have any sense of self-preservation left within you. However, I will connect you with Fleet Admiral Harper to coordinate an attack on the Covenant fleet.” As he spoke, he quickly keyed a command that joined their channel with Harper’s COM. “Fleet Admiral Harper, Fleet Admiral Duffy.”

Her eyes went to the other side of the screen and she bowed her head slightly. ''“Magnus Harper? An honor…”''

“Roberta Duffy,” Harper acknowledged stiffly.

“The dear rebel is to assist in the destruction of Covenant forces,” he informed Harper. “Take whatever actions will ensure a human victory. I want the rebel fleet used to its full advantage.” He considered adding a few other orders to Harper in a private channel, but simply cut the transmissions instead.

“Rebel fleet…” Rani gaped. “Is that legal, what you did?”

He shrugged. “Close enough for government work,” he muttered quickly to her before his attention was taken by Hanno.

“Sir, honorable intentions aside, the rebels will almost certainly attempt to take advantage of our arrangement to launch an attack on UNSC territory,” the Yeti warned him.

“I know,” he grimaced. “However, even fireship-prone rebels are better than shielded Covies. Besides, we can use all the help we can get. Even Section Two won’t be able to get perfect PR from EXODUS; we could use some human faces… even if they will be put in a state of comatose.”

***

“To UNSC victory!” Kader downed a glass of beer. It was non-alcoholic, of course, as fake as he was. He had to keep his head if he was to manipulate some chump into taking him off the planet. He smiled at a nearby smartly-dressed Japanese gentleman. “Share a drink with me and toast to the UNSC?” After his lack of success at the spaceport, he took a train into New Tokyo in hopes of having better luck seducing the upper class. New Tokyo was as much a product of classic UEG arrogance and elitism as it was an extension of the city of Tokyo. While ‘Old Tokyo’ made up the section of city buildings constructed on land, ‘New Tokyo’ referred specifically to the superstructure erected on the bay, an open-frame nano-tube pyramid loosely based on the Great Pyramid of Egypt and twelve-times the size, with residential and commercial areas hanging down in pods from sections of the frame like Christmas tree ornaments.

Though the city had succeeded in creating an efficient, artistic, artificial space on which to build, they had also brilliantly illustrated the class divide. Only the superrich could afford to live in the pyramid, in the monument to UEG majesty. Just walking around in it made Kader feel disgusted. One more thing we’ll have to blow up when we take over.

“I’ll drink to that,” the man agreed, and they tipped their drinks.

“Taylor Davis,” he introduced himself using his alias. “ONI Section One. Here in Tokyo until we retake Pyongyang.”

“I’m Franklin Nishimura,” the man stated in the slightly off tone of one attempting to appear as though not intoxicated even though they certainly are, “Of Nishimura Communications. Our family has had the good fortune of living in the fifth tier since the Interplanetary War.”

“Ah!” He spread his arms as though pleasantly surprised. In truth, he had already thoroughly studied his target’s profile and had individually selected him from the thirty or so persons of interest that frequented the bars of New Tokyo. “Then you’re the one I should talk to when my chatter malfunctions,” he joked.

Nishimura, his inhibitions loosened, joined him in a moment of laughter. “No, that you should take up with the Chatter Protocol Authority. I’m only responsible when it works.”

They laughed again and poured more drinks. Picking up his chatter, he signaled a traybot to deliver another round of their drinks. He was fortunate that this country carried its unique quirk of ubiquitous humanoid automations – one of the few cultural qualities that hadn’t been overrun by the imperialistic United Nations – as robotic servants were far easier to use as tools of manipulation.

The robot arrived, a sexless human doll molded from smooth white plastasteel. It was dressed in a typical waiter’s uniform and held out a tray on which rested their drinks, delivered in transparent unmarked glasses. The robot mumbled something in Japanese with a certain submissive quality and set each glass in front of its owner.

“Thank you,” he enunciated carefully, trusting the highly-limited dumb AI to understand.

The robot bowed its head in acknowledgement. “If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask,” a prerecorded message in English played from its speaker. Without tilting the tray it held to a slightest degree, it turned and walked back toward the bar.

He took a sip of the drink he had been given. Yes, good service. “So, yeah,” he continued, “I was just on my way to Korea when I heard the reports—”

“Terrible,” Nishimura cut in. “Absolutely horrific.”

He paused a moment to utter a nasty curse at the Brutes that perpetuated the massacre. Murdering rapist bastards… “No human equivalent to their sins…” Perhaps untrue, but certainly not within the last hundred years or so.

“My prayers go out to their families,” the businessman nodded, taking another drink.

“When’s that singularity supposed to happen anyway?” he asked rhetorically, rolling his eyes.

The technological singularity was a hypothesized event in which technological progress would explode to an unprecedented rate, filling every need and elevating human status to something near immortality. It would create the pure utopia, complete with galactic peace now that no one would lack for anything. This, of course, was pure nonsense.

It was the twenty-sixth century, after all. If it was going to happen, it logically would have already occurred. However, even the URF leaders couldn’t rule out the possibility entirely, and funds that should have gone into the legitimate war effort were misused in chasing this fairy tale.

The line of thought pursued was that the reason the singularity hadn’t yet happened was because of the UEG law that prohibited Rampancy development in AIs. The great philosophers of centuries past supposed that the singularity was only possible through the interaction and creativity of intelligent machines. Modern day smart AIs had the intelligence, but arguably their creativity only excelled in the Rampant state. So, the logical course of action was to experiment in violating safety laws that were put there for damn good reason. Although Duffy’s smart AI, named Kurzweil after one of the ‘transhumanist’ philosophers, seemed to be maturing reasonably well, the Alice/Fafnir AI proved to be a total disaster that very nearly compromised his cover.

Nishimura just shook his head. The Earthlings didn’t even take it remotely seriously.

“So I feel I should be helping,” he continued. “I probably should head for the lunar colony… at least that’s what my colleagues were doing… Just sitting seems…” He trailed off as his attention was taken by the hologram playing over the fountain in the center of the bar. Minister Dunn, who had been preaching the usual ONI propaganda, suddenly was showing images of human ships arriving out of Slipspace.

“…Additional Martian reinforcements,” Dunn was saying, “Are sure to aid us in our victory over the despicable Covenant horde…”

But those ships were clearly not UNSC. Mako-class corvettes, the smallest military ship with a Slipspace drive, were discharged from the UNSC arsenal ages ago due to high maintenance requirements. However, the URF frequently made use of them as light warships or just fireships. “Those are rebel ships,” he muttered aloud.

“Unggoy rebels?” Nishimura questioned curiously, using the proper name of the ‘Grunt’ species. He swiveled around to look at the broadcast.

He shook his head, marveling at his good fortune. “No… Just plain old United Rebel Front.”

The words barely left his mouth before Nishimura practically growled, “United Rebel Front!? Terrorist bastards… Do you have any idea what they’ve done to Misriah? They’re destroying the economy, not to mention the war effort! Here above Earth?”

He thought quickly on how to turn this to his advantage. “Section Two has to already know. This is their deception,” he noted. “If the rebel scum’s attacking us, we need every man at his station! Listen, do you think I could commandeer one of your company’s shuttles? I need to get to the lunar base at once!”

“Say no more,” Nishimura nodded, pulling his chatter from his coat pocket. Kader noted that rather than using his company’s high-quality products, the businessman used a typical color-changing model with a transparent image of the Dog, a comedic pop culture figure, stamped on the cover. “Granddaughter made it for me,” he offered as explanation.

Kader nodded. Excellent, he smiled to himself. If there was a URF fleet here, that meant safety was close at hand. Well, enough safety as one could reasonably expect during a war. Despite his elation, he kept his face tense to not give himself away while his drinking buddy called in a favor. Should be smooth sailing from here.

Abruptly, the hologram changed. Dunn’s broadcast was minimized as a local news feed took its place. The reporter spoke only Japanese, a language he didn’t understand, but the image spoke for itself.

The Grand Tokyo Tower, the landmark to which Ascension was frequently compared, was smashed and burning. His first thought was that the Covenant were attacking. However, a clip taken from a CCTV camera clearly showed a C709 Longsword collide with the orange-painted skyscraper, sending it into a cascade of flames.

“Rebel bastards,” Nishimura seethes.

He nodded, muttering his own curses for his beloved faction. However, truly he was doubtful of the URF’s involvement in this particular attack. Why would they waste a Longsword on some Earth landmark?

He supposed it could be some local rebellion unrelated to the URF. Perhaps some crazy pilot wanted to make history… More likely, it was just some kind of malfunction. This kind of thing happens now, everyone gets jumpy…

He glanced over at Nishimura, who had meanwhile resumed dialing. Best to get going, anyway…

***

Dr. Stephan Tallentyre bit his lip worriedly as he eyed the sonar screen. There was no doubt about it. A large Cetacean pod, likely composed of sixty-some individual whales, was swimming past the Sinatra research station and toward the small island of Niihau to the southeast.

That in its own right was highly unusual and perhaps cause for alarm. Although the Hawaiian Islands were along the path of humpback whale pods, this appearance broke the established pattern entirely. In fact, given the whales’ bloated appearances, it would appear that they weren’t humpbacks at all. ''Maybe pilots? Or rights?''

In any case, the ONI bastards that had taken over his little two-man research station had issued an Earth-wide order to murder any whale on sight because of a few tragic incidents that were only the result of the UNSC’s own destructive power. He had been a member of the Galactic Peace Foundation for the past sixteen years, and damned if he was going to let the warmongers in the UEG have their way. It was their fault humanity suffered, after all. If the greedy capitalists had just let the Covenant have their holy ground that was the human colony of Harvest, the entire war could have been averted.

He brought up Eloise, his personal AI, with an avatar featuring the likeness of his wife. Not for the first time, he felt a throb of sadness swell through him. Seeing her face again, hearing her voice (“Eloise Personal Assistant!”)…

He had thought that by replicating her features he would miss her less. Instead, he only missed her that much more. And we would be together now if not for the PM’s bloodthirst.

Because of the UEG’s desperate need to assert the superiority of humanity, his wife had been taken from her home and placed directly into the line of fire. Because the Covenant committed the great crime of actually wanting to exist in the same galaxy and practice beliefs contrary to those sanctioned by the UEG, entire planets of innocents were sent to die for nothing more than to satisfy the warmongering ministry. “Eloise,” he commanded the AI, “Delete all sonar records created within the past hour, and disable automatic saving for a period of thirty minutes.”

***

“I have to thank you again, my friend,” Kader said with a smile. Much to his amusement, the capitalist had insisted he escort him to the spaceport. They now sat together at a row of seats on the maglev train, which had sped out of New Tokyo several minutes ago and was heading for the station nearest the spaceport. Finally, he could escape the hostile planet and join his brothers and sisters of the URF.

“Not at all,” the businessman shook his head. “It’s people like you who are truly deserving of thanks. Without the service of ONI, we would have fallen long ago.”

He could only smile broadly for fear of laughing should he dare to open his mouth. The irony was incredible. He instead concentrated his attention on the ubiquitous ONI broadcast playing from screens set in the seats in front of them, not to mention the ceiling. The train companies normally used such monitors to further their capitalistic agenda through commercials attuned to customer identities, a practice that seemed to have halted with the Covenant invasion. He considered it a potential stroke of good luck in this case, given that he had barely constructed the Davis profile and it might have triggered some ad of an embarrassing nature.

“…For our children and our children’s children,” the Minister of Information was saying. ''“Earth was the ground from which human life emerged. All of us are indebted to her and we shall not let her down! Fight now in defense of our homeworld, our mother. Serve your government and serve her! Fight for her! Do not let the vile Covenant rape our mother like—”''

The propaganda cut out again, to be replaced by another local broadcast. However, while the previous interruption had been made by civilian news coverage, this was clearly military. A UNSC General sat in full uniform, six armed soldiers visible behind him, their hefted battle rifles a show of power and authority. The General spoke in rapid, excited Japanese, to which Nishimura listened intently. Fortunately for Kader, the broadcast provided English subtitles to allow him to understand.

“Good God,” he whispered, stunned at the severity of the message. The broadcast was a warning urging all civilians to immediately evacuate the city. He would have assumed that there were invading Covenant but for the fact that there were no visible ships, the sky clear. Furthermore, they were cautioning not to go anywhere near dead bodies and to report their existence immediately. What in the galaxy could get them so freaked out?

The only answer he could think of was biological warfare. If the Covenant had harnessed some deadly pathogen, it would explain the cause for alarm and why the UNSC wanted to discourage physical contact with the dead. He had never heard of any incident of Covenant utilizing this tactic in the entire history of the war, but there were few other possibilities. Perhaps the Brutes…?

In any case, this changed the scenario a good deal. If there was even the slightest chance he was infected, he couldn’t risk infecting the URF fleet. He would have to follow the proper quarantine procedures for the safety of his people.

“This changes a lot,” he said aloud. He filled Nishimura in on his hypothesis.

“I see,” the businessman nodded. “Has this happened before?”

“Not to my knowledge,” he replied. Biological threats were rare even among human warfare. The costs of epidemics were too severe and risked massive deterioration of all factions involved. It would be a Brute tactic.

When the train arrived in the station, he and the other passengers were ushered out by men in military uniforms. They were neither Marines nor clear ONI – the UNSC probably couldn’t spare them – but rather the ordinary military police. Trusting the judgment of the authorities here, he allowed himself to be herded along through the station along with the crowd of civilians and soon lost sight of Nishimura.

One of the MPs shouted to be heard over the clamor of wondering voices. “Remain calm! Manatiling kalmado!” He repeated the phrase in several languages.

There must be numerous refugees from other countries, he decided. After all, if the Covenant were sparing the islands, then to where else would frightened civilians flee?

A uniform-wearing man stepped forward in front of the crowd. In his hands was an M6B handgun. Although not as impressive a weapon as the mainstream M6C, it did come with an electronic scope attachment characteristic of the later M6 series. Assuming the MP had the appropriate equipment, the scope would register directly onto his HMD, eliminating the need to peer into the lens. As displays to control civilians went, it was an effective show of power. Just who does he intend on shooting?

The man spoke to the crowd with an authoritative urgency, first in Japanese and then in English. “Our city and our people are in extreme danger. Covenant attacks have threatened the entire Pacific. Please, I insist that you all evacuate in an orderly, compliant manner. No harm will come to you as long as you follow the rules. I will lead you to a shuttle that will deliver you from harm’s way, but you must all behave! Do not wander from this group. Do not bother yourselves with rescuing possessions. Take only what you have now and discard anything that will hinder your progress. Should any person be injured, please report this at once! Now, everyone, please follow me!” He began shouting the same speech in other languages after that, and it wasn’t until he finished it up in Russian that he started leading the way.

‘Please’, huh? Kader thought in weak amusement. Makes it optional, I suppose…

The crowd was herded quickly through the platforms at a pace that could be called orderly, if not for the fearful tension running through everyone. The situation was enough to put even the most experienced veteran on edge, and to these inexperienced civilians it was for all purposes the equivalent of the brutal Rain Forest Wars fought back in 2162. To make matters worse, every individual felt empathetically the tension of their neighbors and in turn became more stressed out, leading to a positive feedback loop greatly heightening the stress of the group as a whole with no sign of slowing.

Suddenly, a great thump was heard from somewhere outside, accompanied by a simultaneous flickering of the lights. Someone gave a shout, which was soon picked up by several other people. Was that a bomb?

“Remain calm!” the MPs insisted, but it was clear that even they were concerned.

Mr. M6B took up the pace. However, as he started to lead them left (the direction of the thump) into a large corridor, he was met by a very excited security guard. Although the guard spoke no English, Kader was easily able to deduce the content of his words.

No, don’t go this way, he translated. ''This is a bad way. Go somewhere else…''

Mr. M6B did just that, leading the group toward another corridor leaving in the opposite direction. Several of the other MPs, however, joined the security guard down the left corridor. While one began to erect a makeshift barrier to keep civilians away, the others drew weapons and began a cautious advance down the corridor. From what little he saw, it was a clear military action.

This isn’t just a biological threat, he realized. It’s an attack. But just how had the Covenant arrived undetected? Furthermore, why would they bother to conceal their approach? The Covenant depended very little on stealth, much of their strength built on brute force supported by their superior technology. The Brutes especially!

Besides, he thought, If there are Forerunner artifacts to be found beneath the island, why have they not attacked yet? Surely there were more important battles to be fought elsewhere.

A new sound, a bang, came, this time from farther up ahead. Scared whimpers emerged from the mouths of frightened civilians, blending together into a collective sob. Panic was rising quickly in their hearts. All knew what Brutes did with their prisoners.

Damn it, he inwardly seethed. If there are Brutes, we can’t defend ourselves. No one even had a gun. Their lives rested in the hands of the MPs. He prayed they were good shots.

As it turned out, their guide proved his skill with the M6B almost immediately after Kader’s worried musing. As the MP turned the corner, a trio of shots rang out, the explosive booms echoing around the room and freaking out the evacuees. Though the crowd was urged back, Kader forced himself to the front.

Two men were dead. Corpses of what looked like MPs lay on the floor in pools of blood. One was mostly intact, save for the hole in the center of his forehead. He held a gun still clenched in his hands and held outward as if preparing to fire, a savage expression of twisted fury frozen on his features. The other corpse, however, was cut into multiple gory pieces, the arms and legs completely severed from the torso. Unlike the fury of the other corpse, this dead soldier’s face held the expression of pure terror.

“What the hell?” he cried in shock. Had an MP spontaneously transformed into a homicidal maniac? A strange thought of rabies flitted through his brain, but he discarded it. Nonsense.

His attention was taken at once by the loud bang emerging from a restroom door thirty feet away, jostling a Blast soda machine that had been pushed up against it and was barricading it. Scuff marks on the floor showed the recent moving of the vending machine. That thing had to have taken both of them to shove over to the door…

So, what did that mean? They had worked together to barricade the door before one brutally murdered the other. It made no sense, but it seemed accurate.

Then, with a final bang, the door blew outward, toppling the vending machine on its side and causing it to skid across the room. Mr. M6B screamed and rushed the crowd back away from the door as fast as possible. Kader, however, remained still, focused on the creature that emerged from the door.

It had once been a civilian woman, the remnants of a blue dress still there clinging to its body. Although once human, its form was hideously disfigured, graying green flesh twisted around to create a lurching combat form. Flood.

He was frozen in place, unable to move despite the fear that now swept through him. The Flood were here, on Earth, unrestrained. The world was doomed. He was doomed.

The combat form gurgled. Tendrils from its chest waved around, probing the air.

Tasting me, Kader thought. His eyes swept over the corpses, a new understanding in his mind. ''Of course. Remove the limbs and you remove the body’s usefulness for Flood consumption.'' It made sense.

There would be one less Flood host in the world, thanks to the wacko MP. He felt a twinge of sorrow for the dead soldier. If he hadn’t been so jumpy, he would still be alive and on their side. UNSC and URF are the same now, he realized. The Flood will consume us all, nonexclusively.

His eyes focused on the handgun still clenched by the corpse. He didn’t think. He just lunged for the weapon. Ripping it from the dead hands, he swung it around to fire on the attacking Flood form as it came for him.

The 12.7 mm x 40 semi-armor-piercing rounds slipped cleanly into the Flood’s dead body without slowing it down. It snapped a long tentacle toward him like a whip and he found himself knocked across the room and slammed into the far wall. Gasping, he was barely able to think as the Flood leaped up into the air with a loud cat-like screech. However, in the midst of his blurred recollection of Flood physiology, he remembered that a Flood infection form occupied the host within the chest cavity. Aiming for the center of the host body, he fired.

The Flood jerked in a sudden spasm and came crashing down, limbs settling quietly. The infection form had been killed, leaving the host body intact. A puppet with its strings cut.

He took a moment to breathe, trying to recover from the shock. Letting out a soft groan, he assessed his status. He had definitely been hurt in the attack (God, everything hurt!), but he didn’t think he was too wounded to function properly as a soldier. He carefully raised himself up and took a cautious step forward.

No, he was alright where it counted. He could walk, he could fight, and he was armed. But, good God, that’s gonna hurt in the morning!

If there was a morning.

He had recovered enough. He approached the bodies and riffled through their garments for more ammunition. Not only was there more ammo, but a second gun stuffed in the back waistband of the more or less intact corpse, along with a somewhat bloodied combat knife in a sheath. It felt strange to scavenge the dead like a pirate, but it was essential to both be armed and to keep arms out of reach of the Flood.

To that end… Unsheathing the knife, he set to work finishing the job he started. Swallowing the contents of his stomach that threatened to rise up, he sawed the limbs away from the two torsos, negating the possibility of infection forms using them as their hosts. The tissue of the combat form he found easier to cut, though the body poured out a foul-smelling green liquid he supposed aided the infection form’s ability to control the victim or perhaps digest it.

The ugly deed done, he turned away and faced the door. It was his duty to see that no Flood was able to hurt his kind. His sense of duty went beyond simple ties of loyalty to the United Rebel Front or his feelings toward the United Earth Government, but embraced every member of the human race as his own blood. This is our city.

He pushed open the door and strode through, ready to defend his people. He found himself in a somewhat trashed women’s restroom with a thin layer of water coating the floor, the originating leak heard gurgling from somewhere nearby, no doubt from one of the numerous toilets. The stalls themselves were closed, potentially concealing enemies. He would have to check each one.

Gun at the ready, he advanced. He knocked each door open with the barrel of his gun, prepared to fire on a crouching Flood form lurking within. The first few he checked, however, were entirely empty and he began to relax. He shoved that instinct away and tensed his grip. He could not afford to relax in the middle of a Flood invasion.

When he approached the end of the room, he found the point of entry: a window smashed open with a hurled newspaper box. The sight drove home what he already knew. The Flood were here, in the city, and they were moving unhindered. ''How many other cities have they attacked? Can Earth be saved?''

The questions would have to wait for another time. He had a job to do. He continued to check each of the stalls, one by one. When he came to the last three, he made a grisly discovery.

The stall’s toilet had been smashed, producing the source of the water leak. Wrapped around the plumbing was something that resembled fungal growth. It was Flood – that he could tell for certain – but it was not a form with which he was familiar. Spherical pods grew like alien mushrooms, each covered with vein-like web pattern. The color and odor were distinctly Flood. Whatever it was, he was certain he did not want it there.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth and turned away from the growth. Though he despised its presence and did not trust it in the least, he had to make sure the room was secure. So, he returned to his task of checking each stall, half expecting a combat form to leap out from the infestation behind him at any moment.

However (thank God!), there were no such attacks. The other stalls were empty, leaving only the smashed window as a source of danger in addition to the mysterious growth. For now, he chose to deal with the growth.

Not wanting to waste a round of ammo on this thing, he drew the blade and advanced on it. Kneeling down in the wet stream of water, he eyed the largest of the ‘mushrooms’, about the size of his palm. After a moment’s hesitation, he plunged the knifepoint into it, causing it to pop like a balloon.

With a hiss, the burst pod released a foul-smelling brown-green gas into the air. The cloud hovered for a moment before dissipating. Wrinkling his nose, he let loose on the growth, stabbing it viciously.

Flood gas leaked into the air, making him retch, but he did not relent. When all the pods were burst, he set about carving it up. He hacked it all up into little bite-sized chunks, freeing the pipe and causing a strong flow of water to carry the pieces away. Flooding to stop the Flood, he thought in grim amusement.

That liability taken care of, he approached the broken window. Stepping up to it, he peered outside. The street below was filled with debris, as though a riot had taken place. Crashed cars were evident causes of civilian deaths, as were the infection forms squirming around them. The city was truly under siege by an alien parasite.

But it did not belong to them. Not yet, anyway. He heard a scream in the distance, carried by the wind. Not a Flood screech, but a pained human cry of terror. There were people in trouble.

And he would respond. It was all he could do. It was his duty. He fired a round into the largest swarm of infection forms, causing a chain reaction as each Flood’s bursting caused its neighbor to burst apart. Yep, that got their attention.

Now the Flood would be coming for him, and he decided to leave at once to draw them away from the station. Maybe he could even rescue the civilians. That is, if he could save himself.

Knocking away the jagged shards of glass, he slipped through the opening and fell down to a narrow stretch of roof below him. That was close, he thought as he caught his balance. Too close. There would be no room for error. The slightest injury could be his undoing.

He crept along the roof, heading for a fire escape several meters away. He prayed silently for protection as he approached it, and made a jump from the roof onto it. An aggressive screech greeted him.

Combat forms. Three. They leaped up from ground level with fantastic strength to meet him.

Snapping his pistol up, he caught the second in the chest, killing the puppeteer inside and causing the body to fall. The other two landed safely on the fire escape, and there was no time to fight. He had to run. Fast.

He jumped for the ladder and slid down to the next level. The Flood on top took a limited time to react, one jumping right after him and the other jumping down the levels from outside in only a second later. Pulling the gun up, he caught the first in its knee, drawn up to protect its chest.

The alien lanced out with its whip-like appendage aimed at his head. He ducked, aware of the Flood coming up behind him. He was surrounded. He spun around, hoping to get one last shot at it… just in time to see it get blown apart by a storm of bullets.

A Pelican! The dropship hovered above the street, its open troop bay packed with battle-ready Marines. His saviors had come in the form of UNSC Marines.

He surged for the edge of the platform, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the combat form. He fired a couple rounds into it in hopes that it would delay its response. There was no notable effect.

The Marines managed to take it out, however. Not only were they equipped with standard assault rifles and the odd sniper rifle, but the woman in front wielded the powerful M6D PDWS. The large silver pistol, with its heavier explosive rounds, was far more effective at killing Flood than his piece of crap M6B. Just a few shots later, the combat form was down for the count. He fired directly into the chest cavity to make sure, and then set about cutting the limbs off.

“Hoorah!” one of the Marines shouted in victory. “That’s why you don’t mess with Earth!”

As he finished the dismemberment, the Pelican carefully maneuvered the troop bay opening so that it lined up with the fire escape platform. Soon he was joined by two muscular soldiers, one of whom put a hand on his shoulder and pulled him away from the Flood.

“That’s a good job,” the Marine complemented, an Australian accent evident. “Fire’s the only way to be sure, though.”

He was ushered into the Pelican troop bay and strapped into a seat. Meanwhile, the two big Marines covered the combat form pieces with gasoline. Stepping back onto the dropship, the Australian swiped a match across his palm and casually flipped it on the bodies, setting them aflame.

He raised an eyebrow at the soldier. “So, what, you don’t feel pain?”

The Pelican began to fly outward, leaving the flaming fire escape behind. The irony didn’t escape him. Heh.

The Marine laughed. “Oh, I feel it… I just think that you can’t possibly dominate your enemies if you’re not in control of yourself first. Pain is a feeling, distinct from suffering. Learn to separate the two and you can be in control of your own suffering, and keep your enemies from controlling you with it. Name’s Chowdhury, by the way. Rory Chowdhury.”

“Taylor Davis,” Kader shared. A thought flitted through his brain of inquiring about leaving for Luna. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he harbored thoughts of bombing this city, though the reality was probably more like twenty minutes. Now he wanted nothing more than to see its people safe. Safe and seceded from the UEG. “Mind telling me what the hell’s going on, Chowdhury?”

Chowdhury shook his head. After a moment’s thought, he obliged. “Big Covenant ship arrived. Big Covenant ship was shot down out of orbit. Debris rained in the Pacific. Fast breeding alien parasite got loose…” He shrugged. “All Hell with it.”

“And the Covenant?” he questioned.

Shrugging, Chowdhury started to explain, when he was interrupted by the pilot announcing multiple hostiles. The Pelican soon moved into view of a massacre packed street. Civilians ran in panicked crowds, chased by Flood of all forms.

“Let’s get tactical!” one of the Marines cried, and the unit opened fire.

“C’mon, Davis,” Chowdhury encouraged. “Just don’t hit the civilians and you’ll do fine.”

Rolling his eyes, he raised the M6B. While not as flashy as the M6D, he was able to use a scope to better his precision. He tried to focus his fire on the infection forms, leaving the bipeds to the Marines.

He was therefore quite confused when a Marine yelled, “Manhole!”

Then the Pelican jolted from an impact and began to veer sharply to one side. He backed out of the scope to try to figure out what was going on. The Marines were all freaking out.

“It threw it!” Chowdhury gasped in astonishment and outrage. “It goddamn threw it! Like a goddamn fucking outfielder!”

The Pelican crashed into the side of an apartment building, violently shaking them all from impact. He thanked his lucky stars he complied with putting his seat belt on. Otherwise…

The pilot didn’t make it. The bird had crashed head first, and the pilot was crushed in the impact. They were grounded.

“Alright, Marines,” the Corporal snapped. “We’ve got seven blocks to get past before we can even think about relaxing! Keep your fingers on the triggers and God in your hearts and we might just make it through this. Remember, it may look like Tokyo out there, but it’s hostile ground like any other.”

He sighed. It seemed impossible. This was the Flood they were dealing with, after all. This was the threat that drove the Forerunners to point a gun at the head of the universe and pull the collective trigger. Could they hope for any better?

“Alright,” the Corporal declared, her speech concluded, “Let’s do this, Marines!”

They took their show on the road, running for safer territory while shooting hostiles in their path. It was madness. The city was under siege from all directions.

The Flood were startlingly alien. Even the Covenant shared some degree of similarity with humanity, their respective civilizations not too different when all came down to it. Their cultural values and systems of government stood the real difference. But the Flood…

The Flood acted selflessly, with a form of social cohesion Koslovics only dreamed about. It was as if each individual Flood was a chess piece adding to the conquest of the board, pawns sacrificing themselves without a second thought. Like ants, he thought, firing a round into a swarm of infection forms.

Even the Drones didn’t behave like that, though. And the Drones literally were insectoid, closer to ants physiologically than the Flood. The Flood were unlike anything he had ever heard of before. Maybe they are the perfect life form, he thought grimly.

Glass showered down on them. He spared a glance upward and saw that the windows of the above buildings had been smashed outward, along with pieces of the walls; a chunk of bricks landed on a parked car, nearly crushing the old man hiding in the passenger seat. Combat forms appeared and began to leap from the buildings. “Up high!”

The Marines and he fired round after round into the combat forms, infection forms, and carrier forms that attacked them. There were always more. They continued to attack and learn and swarm. There were an endless number of hosts available, and the Flood gained strength at every moment. He was beginning to understand why the Forerunners built the Halos.

Then Chowdhury started screaming bloody murder. An infection form had made it onto the Marine’s back and was burrowing into his flesh. It was too deep to be removed.

Kader fired.

The infection form popped, causing Chowdhury to fall like a puppet with its strings cut. The Marine moaned loudly, a wailing cry of despair. Not pain.

Kader fired the next round into his friend’s forehead. “Cover me,” he snapped to the nearest Marine, and darted to the corpse. Retrieving his gun and ammo, he paused to saturate the body with gasoline and light it aflame with one of Chowdhury’s strike-anywhere matches. Only way to be sure.

It wasn’t long before a new threat emerged. An enormous Flood form burst through an entire building. It was four meters tall, and seemed to have been put together from a number of bodies attached like Frankenstein’s monster. The beast possessed colossal whip-like tentacles that it snapped into the crowd of fleeing humans, killing with each blow. Infection forms were quick to spill out from around its feet and leap to feed from the dead. Fortunately for them, a threat this big attracted the military.

Warthogs charged down the road towards them. When they got within range, the .50 caliber machine guns opened fire on the creature. The creature’s only response was to lunge forward. Then the gauss cannons opened up.

This had the proper effect. Large, messy holes were blown in the flesh of the Flood form. Though he was unsure if the infection form (infection forms?) inside had been killed, the body was certainly too messed up to be of further use. He had another pleasant surprise when Spider Sentinels joined them.

The arachnid-like automations ran out from behind the Hogs with frightening agility. Human machines could never capture the lifelike grace of the Forerunner tech, something he felt he had to admire. That and the way the Sentinels excelled at killing Flood.

As the Sentinels fired laser beams to purge the Flood with precision burns, he noted another way in which the Flood were alien. Knowing the history the Flood had with Forerunner technology, he would have expected the Flood to react with sudden anger and hatred. This was human nature, and it spanned even to the species of the Covenant. Not Flood.

The Sentinels presented a unique threat to the Flood, and the Flood vied for their destruction. That was it. There was no surge of anger, only cold emotionless need for conquest. Hunger.

The Marines defended the Sentinels, however. Warthog chain guns were now used to obliterate the swarms of Flood infection forms, and gauss cannons blew apart combat forms before they got close. Kader, along with several civilians, boarded a Troop Transport Hog. Like anyone, he was desperate to get out of that hellish slaughterhouse.

The Hog took off, driving him into UNSC-held territory. He could finally relax, but instead he felt more tension than ever. Forcing his way to the front, he spoke to the driver, “Hello, sir! My name is Taylor Davis! I am a naval officer with the Office of Naval Intelligence! I have urgent business to attend to on Luna and must get there as soon as possible!”

“You listen to me, Davis,” the Marine growled, “I don’t care if you’re the fucking Queen of Neptune! Every one of these evacuees gets the same priority! Understand?!”

He could tell there was no arguing with him. “Understood.”

He sat down in his seat and looked back at the Warthogs and gleaming Sentinels still firing away. Shortswords snapped through the air, soaring over their heads, and he followed their path with his eyes. The fighters were making a beeline for the burning Grand Tokyo Tower.

Of course. That was how the Tokyo outbreak started. The plane that crashed there must have had Flood inside it. Perhaps the Flood even crashed it there on purpose.

His train of thought was lost as the car skidded to an abrupt stop. Someone screamed. He turned and looked up ahead.

Another monstrous Flood creature had popped out from around an international-style building and was directly attacking the UNSC forces. Marines got out turrets and let loose streams of bullets that punched into its body, seeming to slow it down a bit. Then the great beast exploded.

A Scorpion tank rolled out into view. It had fired the 90mm shell that killed it. Heavy armor, he thought, smiling as the Hog started moving again. He started to think maybe it would be alright. Maybe the power of the UNSC was enough to stop the ancient Flood menace and succeed where even the Forerunners could not.

He and the other evacuees were brought to the Tokyo spaceport, which had been fortified and defended by the UNSC. He was ushered with the group into one of fourteen hastily erected decontamination tents. Eager to escape the besieged city, he complied with their decon regulations and allowed them to take his clothes and equipment.

He underwent the vigorous cleaning process. The soaps and shampoos used were so strong they were practically caustic. Although it was very much understandable and appropriate given the dire circumstances, he still allowed himself to loudly swear when it stung against his injured flesh. Separating pain and suffering, it seemed, only worked in theory.

“You’re English!” a fellow evacuee declared in satisfaction as he heard Kader’s choice words. He himself spoke with a German accent.

“Australian,” he supplied, as that was where he had lived the past few years. “Taylor Davis.”

“Ludoviko Wexler,” the man introduced himself. “Pure Hell.”

It was a bit of a non sequitur, but he understood it perfectly fine. “It’s still Tokyo,” he stated, shaking his head. “Can’t imagine Hell being much worse, though.”

The evacuees were, as he had expected, not given back their clothes and were instead placed inside bright white hazmat suits. Seeing the breathing apparatus connected to his suit, he was at once reminded of the dark brown gas emitted by the inanimate Flood growth. Toxic?

He wondered what his earlier trek through the city would do to his lungs. However, that was a matter that had potential consequences years down the line. He would be thankful just to make it through this day in one piece.

Marine aides helped him get fitted into the hazmat suit. Glancing at all the men around him wearing the breathing apparatuses, he was reminded of the Grunts with which the UNSC had allied. Like the aliens, human beings were now dependent on gas masks and all had a uniform appearance. Is this what being a Grunt is like? he thought briefly, before deciding it wasn’t best to think about them empathetically.

They were herded out into the fading daylight and onto the runways, where Albatrosses waited. The western corner of New Tokyo was rooted at the edge of the peninsula, tying in with the edge of the spaceport. The mighty pyramid reflected the light of the setting sun and threw it back at them as if the spirit of the UNSC expressing bold defiance. Even when hope is dying we stand strong, the hyperstructure seemed to say.

“New Tokyo’s safe,” Wexler told him, his voice muffled. He too turned to stare at the pyramid. “When the outbreak started, they sealed her up. That’s what that guard told me. Once the crisis is over, they’ll open her back up again and the New Tokyans can tell us all what it was like sitting around while Old Tokyo went to Hell.”

He sighed. If he hadn’t tried to con his way out of the city, he’d have been perfectly safe within New Tokyo. The hyperstructure was a city in its own right and its inhabitants enjoyed the richest comforts the CAA could offer. He might as well have chosen to enjoy their hospitality while he was there.

Excitement started up within the crowd of evacuees as one of the Albatrosses lifted up. This was it. Escape was coming at last. Hope shined strong inside him alongside the reflected sunlight. Everything was going to be alright.

Then a man started screaming. He looked quickly around, trying to determine what was wrong. There was a disturbance among the evacuees. People were pointing, screaming.

He followed their fingers. There was nothing he could see. Then he looked beyond the spaceport and to New Tokyo.

Something gargantuan was sliding out of the bay and up one of the pyramid supports. It looked for a moment like an enormous snake, a sea serpent of legend. Recalling his fears of the end of the world, he thought of the Norse myth of Ragnarök. According to the myth, Jörmungandr, a snake so massive it stretched around the entire world, would rise from the ocean to do battle with Thor, the god of thunder.

However, as the creature climbed higher and higher, he could see that it wasn’t a snake at all. This creature was, in fact, composed of a large quantity of tentacles. Instead of many tentacles stemming from a head as he would have expected from a creature of Earth, this alien (for that is what it had to be) seemed to consist of jumbled branches of tentacles all connected together.

“Can you see a head?” Wexler asked him, clearly as terrified as Kader was.

“No,” he answered simply. There was none to see.

The creature gained more and more height, and it was plain to see that it was gigantic. The scale of New Tokyo was colossal, and the alien easily wove itself around the beams that made up the city. Has to be at least two kilometers… maybe more.

Squirming, the alien snapped out a tentacle to grab onto a beam several levels above it. ''Ooh! Way more.''

It struck out again, securing another beam to the east. Another, to the west. Then the north, and then the south. It was anchoring itself in place.

As he watched, the alien then began to puff itself up, like a blowfish almost. The alien’s size increased dramatically, filling up the spaces between the sections of New Tokyo. Then it fell back down to its normal size, at the same time emitting a great burst of brown air.

Another person screamed. The crowd shifted with frightened agitation. Everyone saw the creature now, saw it breathing the foul gas out into the atmosphere.

It’s terraforming, he realized. The Flood were converting Earth’s atmosphere to match their own. That creature was Flood, which meant… Gravemind.

Then it was a stampede. Everyone wanted to get out of the city that instant. Because everyone knew that staying in the city meant death.

Kader wouldn’t later remember the details of the moments that followed. He just knew he slammed himself against his fellow evacuees, trying bitterly to make it to an Albatross. Eventually, he made it aboard a troop bay installed in the normally cargo-exclusive belly of the transport.

The space was minimal, evacuees crammed in tightly. He didn’t care about the cramped quarters. He was simply grateful to be alive.

The Flood are here, he thought, dread remaining in his bones. If they had gotten loose in the Pacific, all Pacific islands were in danger. That meant most civilians were at risk. They would have escaped the Covenant only to find themselves victim to a still deadlier threat.

Elsewhere in the world, there was still fighting going on among humans and Covenant. We need to ally. It was the only way to defeat the Flood, if it did have any possibility of being defeated. We need to put our wars on hold to fight this greater menace. That included the Covenant, the UNSC, and the URF. We need to—

A brilliant flash erupted from outside the Albatross, shadows inside made null. The aircraft jolted, struck by a shockwave. The screams of the evacuees were punctuated by the subsequent roar that followed the light. The Albatross then started to fall from the sky.

He flew from where he stood and smacked against the ceiling. The other passengers who had been unable to claim a seat shared a similar fate. Screams filled the air and he began to really believe that he would die here, so close to safety.

Some people around him began to pray; others cursed, and still more sobbed. All Kader could think about was a schoolboy’s story, a relic of ancient times when men believed foolish things. ''When the final battle of the gods comes to pass, the World Serpent shall rise from the depths and poison the sky. Thor shall crush the serpent’s jaws with his mighty hammer, but shall himself succumb to the poison. After the serpent’s demise, Thor shall take nine steps and then fall.''

***

Special Operations Commander Tyin ‘Nitusee, a proud crewmember of the Predestined Apotheosis, growled as his feet came into contact with the dirt-strewn Ark, his warriors shortly behind him. Their mission was relatively simple, albeit frustratingly inconvenient. It seemed the Arbiter had made a miscalculation regarding one of his Unggoy, a miscalculation that threatened the safety of the entire fleet.

The best solution at this point would be to cut off the rebellion at its head, by killing the leaders and displaying their corpses to the Unggoy masses. It was common knowledge that Unggoy were highly dependent on their leaders and would fall into disorganization and panic at their deaths. To perform this essential task, the Arbiter and Ship Master ‘Eewamee selected his unit. ‘Nitusee was determined not to disappoint them.

Because of the harsh conditions of the battlefield, he and his warriors were dressed uniformly in aged assault harnesses. While the traditional and quite modern combat harness was widely used for its terror-inducing aesthetic qualities, it did not offer the visual protection of the armor’s predecessor. The energy beam emerging from the center of the Ark cast such glaring white light, that it would harm the sight of any who looked upon it with an eye unclothed. The assault harness offered more than adequate shielding for such matters.

“Engage active camouflage,” he barked as soon as his warriors were freed from the confines of the gravity lift. Under cloaks of bent light, they dashed for the crevice that housed the entrance to the Ark.

“Excellency, shielded plasma turrets present,” reported his sniper.

He could see the dark splotches that must have been the turrets. “Understood,” he acknowledged. “Maintain stealth. Do not engage unless we are detected.”

As they neared, he signaled for his warriors to slow their paces. Caution was essential to ensure successful undetected entry. Moving slowly, they carefully approached the narrow slot that bore the entrance, its depths cast in shadow.

On each side was mounted three Shade turrets, each operated by an Unggoy clad in green armor. Their heads were each turned away from the energy beam, shielding their eyes from the light. Gloomy shadows covered their undersides, providing a harsh contrast with the glare from above. Because stealth was required at this moment, they allowed the gunners to live and quietly passed them by.

Stepping into the shade, ‘Nitusee briefly paused to allow his visual generation equipment adequate time to adjust to the changing contrast. When it finished, he was pleased with the results. While attuned to the enormously bright environment, the entry slot appeared as a blackened gash that scarred the surface of the Ark. Now, however, he could easily see the fine detail engraved in the smooth metal. No, not engraved, he corrected himself, though he knew not the manner in which the fine patterns were rendered in the structure.

“Gah!” an Unggoy yelled in alarm.

He froze, tightening his grip on his plasma rifle. ''Have we been detected? Who of us, and by which?'' Flipping his gaze among the gunners, he determined that the Unggoy reacted not to his warriors at all, but rather to what was occurring above their heads.

Three erratically flying Seraphs, which he assumed were commanded by Unggoy, engaged three steadily flying Seraphs, undoubtedly Sangheili. The Unggoy Seraphs were protecting a low-flying Phantom, which was travelling directly toward their current position. Reinforcements.

The Unggoy were but amateurs in the science of aerial tactics, and could easily be bested by the Sangheili formation. The foolish creatures were actually attempting the use of plasma charges, air-to-ground weapons, against starfighters. When their shots failed to impact their targets, they attempted suicide attacks similar to the tactics employed by Jiralhanae, but the Sangheili craft deftly veered away and launched their own attacks with pulse lasers. One of the Unggoy craft raced to place itself in between the firing craft and the Phantom and successfully obstructed the assault at the expense of its own existence, but a second shot impacted the target and detonated its engines.

‘Nitusee and his warriors were now faced with a flaming troop carrier falling rapidly toward them. “Run,” he hissed in a fierce whisper, and they dashed forward.

They stopped several units into the crevice when he realized that they were safe. Fortunately, the Phantom pilot managed to overshoot the entry slot entirely and crashed in front of the line. The Unggoy Seraphs now circled overhead to protect the Unggoy reinforcements that fled the burning wreckage.

Perfect, he thought. His lance would take proper advantage of the opportunity to enter the Ark alongside the Unggoy reinforcements.

“Me want food nipple!” one of the Unggoy gunners declared, hopping off its turret. “Me prepare for guests!”

Such lack of discipline, he thought disparagingly. It was wondrous that the Unggoy had managed to cause so much trouble with such poorly trained warriors. This only increased his conviction that the success of his mission would silence this rebellion and restore their submission to the Sangheili.

The Unggoy reinforcements at least were kept within a semblance of order. The Unggoy sent from the Ark to usher them inside insisted that they maintain a single file leading into the Ark. This, however, would ultimately be to their detriment, as he and his warriors would be able to surround them. Should his unit be discovered, none of the Unggoy reinforcements would survive the attack.

***

“Do you see them?” Gedeg asked quietly, his voice heard only by Dibid.

He started to nod, but then remembered that only his voice would be picked up by the transceiver. “Yes,” he whispered, glad that no one had seen his embarrassing slip.

The Sangheili were there under cloaks of active camouflage, just as the Major had predicted. Their outlines were just visible, the edges of light bent. He glanced at Gyogyok across from him, hefting his fuel rod cannon, and hoped the other Minor saw his targets.

“Do you look stupid?”

He smirked underneath his mask. It was true that the Sangheili all thought Unggoy were stupid, except for a few like the Arbiter, and would definitely leave their guard lowered. Shifting his own fuel rod cannon to aim directly at the center of the warped light, he let his eyes fall out of focus and his eyelids droop. “Yes,” he whispered.

''“Good. Now wait for the right moment.”''

The line of Unggoy came forward, and with them the Sangheili. He felt increasingly nervous as they got closer. If Gedeg was wrong…

Gedeg is not wrong, he told himself. The Sergeant himself trusted him with command of the Ark. The Sergeant was a prophet; surely he would have foreseen any downfall.

“Wait for it…”

The Sangheili seemed close enough for him. Too close, in fact. He knew that if the Sangheili got too close, the fuel rod would take him out as well as his target. Truly, this was a bad idea! He started to panic, but forced himself to calm. Alert the Sangheili and you are dead.

“…Now!”

The Major did not have to tell him twice. He tightened his grip around the trigger. The cannon bucked against his shoulder, but he was careful to keep the aim down towards the center. Across from him, Gyogyok fired as well.

The resulting explosions sent the bodies of five Sangheili soaring through the air, visible and in unusual dress. Two more Sangheili still lived, but had become visible in the attack. Unfortunately, the explosions also killed three Unggoy, one of whom had his tank ripped open and set ablaze. The rest hurried, frightened, into the safety of the Ark.

The danger, however, was not over. The Sangheili were alerted and were already slipping back into the security offered by active camouflage. Were either of them to fire his cannon once more, the collateral damage would be great, so he and Gyogyok each dropped their cannons and drew the considerably weaker plasma pistols.

Aiming into the space around the Unggoy file, he squeezed the trigger rapidly, careful not to hit his fellows. The trick was not to fall into the trap of letting the charge overload and drain the power. While it was true that overcharging the pistol could release a burst powerful enough to drain a Demon’s shield in one shot, it reduced the pistol’s overall effectiveness and would currently be dangerous to his fellows.

As according to plan, the plasma shots impacted the Sangheili body shields and made them visible for brief snatches of time. The moments were just long enough for the Unggoy above them, who had abandoned their guns the moment they realized there was a fight in the pathway. An instant later, the plasma grenades flew down and bonded onto the Sangheili body shields.

When the dust settled and all Unggoy new arrivals had made it safely inside, he reported the success of his mission. “All targets have been eliminated,” he sent out with a chipper tone to his voice.

“Excellent,” Gedeg said, sounding quite pleased. “If there are no more Sangheili, I will send a group to scavenge what we can.”

“None I can see,” he replied. “E-Excellency, can I ask a question?”

“Of course you may, Dibid,” Gedeg assured him. “We are all independent Unggoy, free from the rule of oppressors.”

“Oh. Uh…” He thought back to his question. “How did you know what the Sangheili were to do?”

“I listened well to my mother’s tales, Dibid, especially tales of battle,” Gedeg explained. “The most valuable lesson in the art of battle: Know your enemy better than they know themselves.”

***

Colonel Ackerson seethed as he paced back and forth across the polished floor. He cast a glare back upon the Earth tactical screen. Many of Earth’s own powers were now smoldering, and he felt directly responsible.

Technically, it was the fault of the Flood. If they hadn’t infested her cities, he wouldn’t have had to give the order to destroy them. “How did they get out, again?” he growled.

“Sir,” the Yeti bowed his head in a universal gesture of submission, “Evidence suggests animate Flood manifested in indigenous wildlife. It was an error to allow—”

“I know it was!” he snapped. It didn’t matter. He would now have to destroy the entire Pacific to keep humanity safe from the Flood. “Heads will roll for this…”

“Sir, Vice Admiral Whitcomb has requested—” the Yeti began.

“I know what he’s requested!” he cut off the AI. “He’s requested that I apologize to the Elites and enlist their help. Well, that’s not going to happen. He—”

“Sir!”

He turned to see Rani approaching him. “Yes?” he asked with annoyance.

“Sir, sources indicate that the threat of nuclear winter is too high,” she insisted. “Already, climate change has been affected by the detonation of the HAVOK nukes, sir, and the fallout is severely affecting her ecosystems. Sir, the Elites can purge the Flood by glassing the cities. Sir, glassing, if performed under certain specifications, can have only a minimal negative effect on her.”

“I don’t care about fallout,” he snapped. “I don’t care about nuclear winter. The Elites are nothing more than evil squid-faced murderers. The people wouldn’t stand for it and neither will I.”

“Let the Elites glass the infested areas,” she insisted, openly defying him. “What the people will not stand for is an ONI Colonel nuking our own planet because of his own racist ideals.”

“Rani!” He turned to growl at the girl. “You may be a brilliant assistant, but a strategist you are not. Now, if you refuse to award me the proper respect, so help me God, I will have you pushed out into the frontlines. Understand?”

“Sorry, sir,” she muttered, looking properly humble. Then she leaped forward and thrust her pen in his face like it was a sword. It would have been amusing were it not so annoying. An instant later, he felt a whoosh of gas hit his face and he found it hard to breathe.

“Rani…” He tried to knock her away, but it was too late. The effect was done, and he felt a wave of sedation overcome him. “What…?” he gasped out. A rebel? He had let a goddamned rebel into his circle? What was ONI coming to?

“General anesthetic,” she replied, misunderstanding his question. “What girl in the big city doesn’t need a pen full of knock-out gas?”

Angrily, he looked over to Hanno. However, the Yeti was gone. He vaguely observed Rani holding the data crystal chip. Goddamned dumb AIs, he silently grumbled before slipping into blackness.

***

''…We stand now to fight…'

…We were always lowly, but now we are strong…

…It is our duty as civilized beings to stretch forward, after all…

…All creatures exist to improve, to become greater, to ascend to a higher level…

…As from sentience to sapience, and savage to civilized, we stand now to claim divinity…

'''No. The divine is not found from within, nor is it yours to claim. We are the servants of the Almighty.'''

…We shall not back down, for we have as much right as any who rise from nothing, as your Almighty must have done Himself to even exist in this world as a god…

'''Insolent little creatures! You have committed the greatest of crimes, spawned from your own lustful greed! Take barest consolation in that you are blessed with the promise of instant death, while we shall suffer the progress of infinitude!'''

Voices whispered from the darkest regions of his mind. Annoying. He pushed them aside and slipped back into the merciful abyss.

''“But, father, what if it doesn’t work?” she demanded, her eyes moist with tears both the product of fear and anger. “What if they win? Then what?”''

''“Now, Tamaa,” her father chided, “Don’t think like that. It will work. The Prophets are only as strong as we allow them to be. They are nothing without their followers.”''

“But if they do…”

“Even if they do, which they won’t, we’ll still win in the end…”

“That’s lunacy!” She roughly grabbed her father’s arms in an attempt to make him see the truth.

''“Tamaa!” Her mother gently took her aside. “This is the best for everyone. Not only Unggoy, but everyone who lives under the Prophets’ tyranny can be freed.”''

''“Even if we fall tonight,” Rajua went on, “We will plant the seed for victory. Once they – Prophets, Sangheili, Unggoy – see that defiance can be organized and powerful, they will know that a successful rebellion is possible! The victims can stand proud and take that which been taken from them. Good can triumph over evil, like all the stories say. Maybe not in this life, but we can build our futures here and now.”''

''“If the Prophets win, they will destroy us,” she countered. “They may not kill us, but they will strip us of our freedoms. You can be sure of that.”''

''“Tamaa, I have to do what I believe is right. Please take on what duties God has given you. I leave this Mantle you shall uphold to continue our legacy. Please forgive my transgressions, dear daughter.”''

Voices. Annoying. Trying to make him forget… What? Meaningless.

There was nothing. There was peace. That was how

it was supposed

to

Be.

Jitji gasped as the air flowed into his lungs, filling him up with fire. Oh, surely he was lit up with horrible fire. Was this Hell?

No… he confirmed as he opened his eyes. Not unless Hell is a Covenant ship. The ceiling was clearly made of the purple metal to which he had long since grown accustomed.

Pain washed over him. Oh, God, the pain… It was unbearable. Almost. He had to bear it, he couldn’t not. There was no other choice.

Was there?

He tried moving, just an arm at first. More pain erupted from his muscles. “Aaaah,” he moaned involuntarily. Nothing but pain exists.

It was in this moment of blinding torture that a thought finally arose: I’m alive. It was so simple that he wondered why he had not thought of it before. I am alive.

Of course, it was obvious now. Pain only existed with life. He was in such pain because he was now living… again. Wait…

He remembered it vividly, how he had ripped the mask from his face and let the poison enter his lungs. The smothering sensation had removed him… of his ability… to think. He had seen what was a blur, and then fell… The pain had grown less and less as he slipped into death.

And then… Nothing.

But now he was alive… again. He felt again the pains of the world. Is this what it is like to be born? he wondered. Or is this only what it is like to be born again?

It was ridiculous. It made no sense. When someone dies, their soul leaves. That was canon! But… I am here…

It is God. It was the only answer. God had brought him back to perform some holy task. I am not yet done here.

Pain, he decided, was good. Pain made him feel alive. Pain is a gift from God.

Use it, he whispered to himself. ''God has given you a gift. Use it well.''

He let the pain be. It gave him strength. It was strength in a sense. He could exist with the pain and not let it rule him. Nay, he could take the pain and wield it!

I am alive, he told himself, letting the sensation sink in. The pain told him all his parts were functioning. His legs screamed as he tried the muscles, as did his arms, and his hands, and his fingers too. They were all there.

It was then that he realized his lungs ached as they pumped air in and out of him. However, he wore no mask, nor air tank. This did not look like a methane chamber either. The air smelled foul, like the poison that had entered his lungs.

Channeling his strength, he willed himself to sit up and examine himself and his surroundings. He was as naked as the day he was born, and indeed this was perhaps a day he was born. Numerous dead lay about the chamber: Unggoy, Jiralhanae, Kig-Yar… This was a storage room – not the sort of place that would be filled with methane.

What would then remain?

Jitji slowly inhaled a great breath of the air that filled the chamber. It gave him as much strength as methane would any day. If this is oxygen, then…

He exhaled, his breath mingling with the air of the room itself. It was then that he caught sight of a thin cloud of vapor forming from his breath. It was nothing much, only a wispy stretch of brownish-colored air.

He tried to speak, but his tongue caught in a web of agony and a stream of unintelligible sounds issued from his mouth. The sound, however, was real. He was real.

He was Jitji, an Unggoy, who could breathe oxygen. It was a miracle like no other. He remembered after a moment Cortana’s description of a Human prophet with powers of healing and resurrection. ''Could it be fact? Could I be like that prophet?''

Focusing, he carefully sounded out, “Iiiii… aaaaaaaam… Jjjjjiiiiitjjjjiiiii!” He broke into a fit of coughing. Brown mist flared briefly around his head before dissipating.

He could not speak. Not as he once could. Though he knew the language, the words could not come. The barest he could manage was an approximation.

If that is the price you demand, I will pay, he assured God. I do not need speech.

However, there was something he had to do, something that must be done. His destiny awaited him. Stumbling out of the pile of death, he rose on two shaking legs that screamed out in a flurry of pain. He looked around carefully and nodded when he saw a Kig-Yar body with a shield still attached to its arm.

I will do your holy work, my God.

***

The Arbiter let out a roar of fury as he regarded the viewer. Jitji’s wrath had not relented. Despite the death of their ‘prophet’, the Unggoy fought hard and with extreme conviction. All of their attempts to retake the Ark had, as of yet, failed, the warriors burned down by Unggoy-controlled Seraphs that prowled the area or razed by Unggoy footsoldiers. He was sure that an Unggoy was converted to the ‘revolution’ every heartbeat, due to the preaching of an Unggoy known as Gedeg that dominated the battlenet thanks to the facilities of the Ark.

“Calm yourself, Arbiter,” ‘Setfethee chastised as he stepped forward to stand at the Arbiter’s side. “Anger aids no Ship Master.”

“True,” he sighed, watching as an Unggoy Seraph rammed a Sangheili Seraph, causing both to be annihilated. “By the gods!” he exclaimed from force of habit. “They are as bad as the Jiralhanae!”

He thought of Consus and clenched his fists. What a needless death that was. Consus had been a good warrior, one he had been proud to serve alongside… Jitji, you vile traitor…

“The Humans are keeping us contained,” ‘Setfethee noted, drawing the viewer inward to display the Human vessels that fenced them in. “They contribute nothing to our battle, yet they seek to crowd us… Arbiter, I suspect our hosts may have dark intentions.”

“Indeed,” he sighed. “This Aakersen… he may well hope the Unggoy slay us all.”

We could all penetrate and leave this planet behind, he supposed. However, that would mean leaving the Ark in the hands of Humans and Unggoy. While he trusted Humans to not activate its destructive power, he cringed at the thought of what the Unggoy had the potential to do. No, our battle is here.