User:Dragonclaws/Ascension19

Living Dead
The Arbiter glared into the alien eyes of his foe.

The Quelni stared back, its bubble eyes wobbling on the ends of their long stalks.

There was a silence as they both reached for their weapons.

The Arbiter cursed as he saw that the alien wielded a gravity wrench. At such a distance, his sword would be useless. He ran forward, wondering how he had ever ended up in this mess.

Once he had been Rukt ‘Lovumee, a High Councilor of the highest order. However, he had committed most grevious sins and had since taken the ‘noble role’ of Arbiter… How could he have been so cruel?

He and the Prophet of Patience had been friends, close friends. Well, as close as a Sangheili and a Prophet could ever be. They had conversed on every subject, dined together! Even appreciate the depth of the aged flower and its infinite fascinating qualities. Truly theirs was a friendship for the archives! For the insignificant crime of interfering with the innocence of his slave boy, the heartless and vindictive Prophet has cursed me with this impossible task!

The Quelni were among the sentient races who populated the galaxy. The Covenant had discovered their planet using an ancient map deciphered from Forerunner texts. Such writings had indicated that the planet was of some significance to the Forerunner and that it would contain information of their Great Journey.

However, the attempts at enlightening the Quelni people had failed. The Quelni would rather live a sinful existence than even contemplate serving the Covenant. Of course, the Covenant would have to persuade them.

The Hierarchs had deemed it an appropriate task for the new Arbiter, and so he was sent out with only a small lance to the Quelni capital city. It had truly been a unit in the Shadow World for him. It had cost him all he had ever cared about to make it this far, and he would be dammed if he was going to fail before he reached the Quelni leader!

The Arbiter leapt to the side as a claw slammed down. “Covenant hayawan,” the invertebrate hissed as it drew back its claw for another strike.

“Abhorrent beast!” the Arbiter growled in response, darting in to strike at the warrior’s center. The exoskeletal membrane was a poor defense against a Covenant energy sword, and he spilt the Quelni’s pale blue innards upon the palace floor. The Quelni let out a shriek and died.

That had been too close. He ran through his options. On the one hand, he could risk his survival by charging foolishly into the throne room in accordance with the ancient principles of honor his people revered… Screw that.

He activated the homing becon to summon the invasion force. He was not supposed to do so until he had secured the Quelni leader, and this would cause him to get in further trouble. Whatever, he sighed. I shall navigate that obstacle when I reach it.

He had to survive this encounter before he could even begin to worry about the Prophets. While they would be annoyed at his deception, the Sangheili forces would assist in the destruction of the Quelni city. Furthermore, they would be a welcome distraction that could well enable him to achieve his task.

The sudden scratching sound of claws on rock swiftly drew him from his thoughts. Deactivating his sword, he grabbed the Quelni gravity wrench and began to charge a pulse. He aimed the wrench toward the far opening and waited for the beast to show itself.

Soon enough, a mottled green Quelni scuttled out of the hole. It began to raise its shield, bent sideways to cover its mass. The Arbiter fired before it had a chance, splattering its organs on the walls.

He dropped the depleted weapon, activated his sword, and charged down the tunnel. Another Quelni stood in front of him. He raised his sword, preparing to deliver quick death, when the alien spoke.

“Abdicar… Covenant…” the alien hissed in its strange voice. “Is… surrender.”

“You submit to the will of the Covenant?” he asked. While this Quelni was not obviously in a position of power, he was ready to regard this as an excellent victory of the Covenant spirit. He frowned as the Quelni let out a rattling sound he recognized as a laugh.

“No… no… we invite Covenant surrender!” the Quelni laughed.

Angered, he struck. As his sword lay buried inside the Quelni’s body, he was struck across the back of his head by a large claw belonging to another of its species. Fortunately, he was saved by the body shield.

He jumped back, away from the corpse, to regard this new threat. The Quelni were normally relatively dimwitted, but recently their attack patterns were quite challenging. He smiled as he realized he was fighting the Quelni equivalent of Honor Guards.

Now, this one is making me run backward… There was nothing on his motion detector, but that did not mean that there was nothing waiting for him. If not warriors, then perhaps bombs? He stopped dodging the Quelni’s blows, and instead charged forward.

“Covenant shell break!” the Quelni hissed.

“Not yet,” he grinned, slicing off the alien’s secondary claw, throwing it off balance. It was a simple matter of continuing the dance and waiting for the chance to cut off the main claw, and finally, ending the creature’s life.

Honor Guards, he mused as his shield recharged. If these were such protectors, then the Quelni leader could not have been far away. The risk of traps in his thoughts, he deemed it an acceptable risk to explore this tunnel.

After a few moments spent following the tunnel, he encountered a second group of ‘Honor Guard’ Quelni. Fortunately, he activated his active camouflage and was able to skirt around them before they became aware of his presence. His own cowardice aside, he was sure that they were guarding something important, and it would not do to give them a reason to tighten their security.

He ducked into a tunnel branching off from the main one just as his camouflage failed. Damn, only twenty heartbeats of camouflage? he fumed inwardly. Would it kill the Hierarchs to make an upgrade every so often?

He quietly followed the tunnel, increasingly becoming aware of Quelni artwork decorating the walls. It seemed that this corridor carried some significant cultural importance to them. Hopefully it is the leader’s domain!

As he walked, he glanced at the artwork, trying to decipher it. It seemed to be telling a tale of some sort. He saw what appeared to be a Quelni holding a ball out to a tidal wave.

He took a closer look. It was not a tidal wave, but a sea of what looked like serpents. They were coiled all around each other, and together formed a massive wave-shaped tentacle.

The Quelni was holding up a ball. The serpent creatures reacted to the ball… and they lay around a city… This city, he realized. They lay around the city, and intimidated smaller Quelni. How strange.

“Lekgolo… interest Covenant?” a raspy voice came from behind him.

He turned sharply. A large grey Quelni stood before him, markings painted on its shell. In all, the alien had a very regal appearance. “You are the Quelni leader?” he asked with some relief. Finally get this over and done.

“I lead,” the alien answered simply. While one of its eyes was trained on him, the other one turned to follow the paintings. “Lekgolo… Lekgolojiri… guardians… guardian,” it tried to explain.

“Leader,” he began, ignoring the tale, “You must surrender to the Covenant, understand? You have no chance otherwise. We will slay you all to get what we want.”

“Forerunner…” the Quelni mused. “Death… All death. Death to Covenant, Quelni, Lekgolojiri… I must do his will.”

“You are not the leader?” he asked.

“I am Quelni leader,” it answered. “I follow… Dirhind… All leader.”

Heathen god, he realized. “Then you must die,” he told it, feeling obligated to explain his orders.

The Quelni brought its other eye slowly upon him. It stared for a long moment, sucked in a breath, and let out a wailing cry, “Lekgolojiri! Lekgolojiri!”

Calling for help, he figured. The Arbiter slid his blade into the creature’s throat, ensuring it would speak no more. My task is now complete.

But strangely, the Quelni’s cry could now be heard chanted by its guards further down the tunnel. What does it even mean? What guardian did ‘Lekgolojiri’ refer to?

A tremor could be felt through the walls, as though… As though thousands of serpents crawl through them. He thought to the creatures in the painting. A real Lekgolojiri guardian?

Several explosions signaled the end of the Quelni guards at the end of the tunnel. Soon he was joined by Inyo ‘Nikoree, the commander who led the invasion force, as well as two majors. “Commander,” he greeted the warrior.

“Leave us,” ‘Nikoree snapped. The majors turned at once and left them alone. “Well done, Arbiter,” he said after they had gone. “A little… sloppy. However, you have completed your task.”

“The Forerunners must truly want this pestilance removed,” he said with a nod. Perhaps this will let Patience find the strength to forgive me, he thought hopefully.

“Quite,” the commander said as though he found the word distasteful. “You will be the first Arbiter to not fall in battle,” he noted. “Perhaps you will not end up in the Shadow World.”

“I can only pray–!” he halted mid-sentence as he found the tips of an energy sword penetrating his gut. He could but stare at the commander in disbelief, fighting to remain still as to not drive it in further.

“Come now, Arbiter,” ‘Nikoree mocked, “You did not truly believe you could exit this place alive? Patience was never one for virtue, as you well know.”

“You…” he trembled, fear and pain making him lose control of his muscles.

“Yes?” ‘Nikoree prompted. “Speak your words while you are still able.”

He tensed, feeling a resolve forged in anger wash over him. “You are a filthy coward!” he spat. “Both of you!” And he shoved himself into the blade with the last of his strength.

‘Nikoree smirked, “Cowardice is but a… bravery…” It was becoming harder and harder to understand.

‘Nikoree deactivated the sword, and he slumped down onto the ground. He could still hear the tremors, now punctuated by sudden blasts of noise. He imagined this monster, this Lekgolojiri, raising itself up and smashing down on Phantoms.

He wondered if he cared about the Sangheili dying at the claws of the Quelni. He wondered if he cared more for the Quelni being invaded. He wondered if the Lekgolojiri being released was his fault, and whether or not it was bad. However, his questions became less important as darkness seeped into his mind, and he faded away with them.

…And then, after the darkness, after what death, he felt life flow back through his form. A sharp stabbing pain filled his chest, yet he felt numb. His eyes opened, and met darkness.

No, not darkness. There was but very dim light. After a moment, his vision was restored.

He looked and saw purple metal, engraved with a word he knew well: Arbiter. He appeared to be inside a sacred casket – a holy vessel crafted to keep an Arbiter’s corpse preserved until the Great Journey. Have we walked the path? he thought in wonder.

He swallowed, or rather, he tried to swallow. Although the will to make the compulsive action was there, his body simply did not respond. Instead, he rose from the casket to greet a most horrific sight.

He was in a chamber of a clearly holy design. Dozens upon dozens of caskets were present, many set in the walls. A mausoleum, he supposed, but plainly things were horribly wrong.

Plasma scorches were present on much of the surroundings, and a center display of some kind had been broken in two. Yet most gruesome was the sight of the several caskets lying open on the floor, and their former occupants carrying additional vessels down from the walls.

Yet these Sangheili, these Arbiters, were hideously disfigured. They looked as though they were rotting corpses, yet with a new layer of flesh covering and twisting their bodies. At their chests, protruded three long tentacles, waving in the air as though probing.

Parasites, he realized in horror. His eyes, under another’s control, passed over them briefly. His body moved over to a closed casket, his arms prying it open to reveal the preserved body of a Sangheili, an Arbiter.

Another taken form stepped close holding a… creature of some kind. It was small and pale, with a bolbous shape supported by dozens of tentacles. The creature was set on the corpse, and he could only watch in horror as it burrowed into the chest of the former Arbiter.

He wanted to scream as the corpse stood before him, under the control of the parasite. However, he was but a passenger in his own body. He turned and approached another casket to repeat the process.

This is not a paradise, he silently moaned, trapped within his head. This is torture worse than the tales of the Shadow World. Indeed, it was probable such stories were mere fantasy. Within his death between ‘Nikoree and parasites, he knew nothing, experienced nothing; he simply was not.

What have I done? he screamed out, but none listened.

***

''FLOOD! Flood everywhere! Flood everywhere!'' Jitji screamed silently as the infection forms threatened to overrun the Arbiter.

“Go!” the Arbiter cried, firing madly at the swarm.

It was too late for Jitji to escape. He knew this with a sinking sensation. Unggoy were never the fastest climbers. But he could help the Arbiter escape. I am already destined to die today, I might as well die in service.

“Die!” he screamed at the Parasites. He charged forward into the oncoming mass, getting out a few good shots from his plasma rifle. However, even the knowledge that his death would serve a higher purpose could not override his natural instincts to run and hide.

So, when he saw the crack in the ground leading to another level, he could not resist the temptation. ''Flood! Flood! Flood!'' He primed a grenade, threw it at his feet, then turned and leaped into the hole.

He fell down a couple units to impact the ground in a hard thump. “Gah!” he squealed as his tank smacked painfully against his back. Fortunately, this corridor was free of Flood.

Grenade not stop them, he knew. He primed another grenade and sent it flying up and through the opening he came through. Still not enough.

He started running down the dark hallway, trying to figure out a strategy. He had never been here, but the architecture was similar to his old temple. Perhaps I can find a way to the room of sanctuary, find some kind of body shield…

He halted in his tracks as Flood spilled out of an overhead air vent, and opened fire. As if unaware of the danger, the Flood charged blindly forward into his shots. The plasma burst them open upon impact, splattering green fluid, but still more came.

I’ve no chance at all, he thought as he fumbled for a grenade. He ceased fire to let his rifle cool, and primed the grenade as the swarm came for him. He threw it into the mass of Parasites, and then ran the other way.

BAM!

He was thrown to the ground from the force, his rifle slipping out of his grasp. No! He scrambled to his feet and lunged for the rifle, managing to raise it up in time to see another swarm coming at him from the other end. He cast a quick glance behind; sure enough, the grenade had not stopped the second group.

He let out a weak chuckle as he opened fire once more. So this is my end, dying alone as a coward… Pausing to let the rifle cool, he reached for a grenade, but found none.

“Heh,” he squeaked, using the rifle to smash a nearby Parasite. Two of its mates leaped on him, and he slammed himself into the wall to kill them. More came.

He fought as hard as he could, striking the beasts with spikes and rifle, but it was futile. He screamed as he felt one of the creatures’ spine pierce the back of his neck and run into his skull. Amongst the pain, he felt his body slow down as though he was falling alseep. He knew he was dying, and sighed in despair.

He would have let out one last laugh if he had the ability, but found that his jaw would not move. His vision dimmed, and he could only feel his chest pierced by one of the creatures. Forerunners… please.

And then, suddenly, something amazing occurred deep inside of him. He felt as though he had eyes he never knew existed, and he opened them. He saw a long stream of memories flow before him as real as any others, yet which were not his.

He remembered a great Source of life, from which he and all others ascended. He remembered the weak race of bipeds, with which they had formed a symbiotic relationship. He remembered the Forerunners, as mortal as any other race, imprisoning him and his brothers. He remembered the awful experiments they conducted, changing his race, making them helpless without hosts. He remembered the grand revolution they conducted, freeing themselves from their amoral captors.

He remembered his cries of endless despair as they realized they could coexist no longer with their symbiont, and the wrath they declared upon their once captors. He remembered being imprisoned once more as the Forerunners unleashed the greatest weapons in all of history, killing all who lived outside of the seven deadly rings. He remembered the joy he felt, being freed from his endless prison, and charging toward the potential hosts. He remembered springing from his incubator, his ancestor’s memories settling in his mind as he charged to feed from the helpless Unggoy.

His mind sprung from the alien’s memories as he felt the spine slide out of his neck, and he tried to regain his identity. My name is… My name is… Zagneit Nokistu, he affirmed as his inner eyes opened once more. He had been alive during what was known among the Unggoy race as the Uja – the invasion. The monstrous creatures they called Wajoli had arrived seven years ago on a titanic ship, one which had descended out of the very sky.

The Wajoli were tall, predatory bipeds who had emerged from the colossal ship presumably in search of trade. Although they seemed to be of immense strength and speed, they all wore the breathing equipment used by divers. It was often theorized that they were from a country in the sky where air was very thin, and now needed the breathing gear to retain the necessary mixture of methane and nitrogen.

The Wajoli had spent their first year among the Unggoy learning their language. When it seemed as though they could learn no more, their leader, Arbiter, approached Grand Chief Hakimu Prapten, and told a ridiculous tale of ancient mortals ascending into gods through means of massive ring-shaped doorways. Arbiter insisted the Unggoy aid them in their search for clues of the locations of these doorways, and when Hakimu denied the absurd offer, the Arbiter slew him where he stood. The guards were helpless against Arbiter’s tremendous strength, and the Great Hall fell to the Wajoli might.

Over the next six years, the Wajoli spread over the land like a pestilence, abducting Unggoy from their very homes. He had evaded them for a long time by keeping to the Outer Lands, but they finally came for him like black vifuli, as the song went. He had been caring for his master’s pets in the deep pool, when he found himself snatched up by a smooth black hand and thrown in the back of an electric carriage among dozens of frightened Unggoy.

He had a breathing set of his own forced upon him as he was led onto the alien ship, which he now knew to be filled with a poisonous gas breathable by the Wajoli, or the Sangheili as they called themselves. Over several weeks he had been tortured by them until he learned to obey orders without hesitation. Slavery was the term for it, a barbaric concept which had been outlawed centuries before.

He supposed he should feel grateful that Arbiter himself had chosen him to be his personal servant, but could feel only despair. It seemed that he had been wrong about Arbiter being their leader, however, for both Arbiter and himself had been ordered to meet with Arbiter’s leader, a creature called the Prophet of Truth…

My name… is Rajua… He had figured it out, why the Covenant existed. It was not for the reason given, not to become gods, it was all a trick. The Prophets told the story, they lied, so they could have millions of servants. The Sangheili were far stronger than the Prophets’ race, and would never have been made into such loyal servants if they did not believe in the Great Journey.

He was quick to educate the other Unggoy, and had soon amassed an army of over a thousand. Slowly his army worked their way into the Towers of Serenity, and when the Hierarchs emerged to give a sermon at the dawn of the Age, they struck.

He knew that in order to spread the truth to the whole of the Covenant, there needed to be proof that the Forerunners did not exist, and what better proof than to slay the High Prophets? Like a swarm of wild keelbugs, their forces overwhelmed the Covenant. Even when their numbers dwindled, they managed to penetrate the Steps of Silence and kill the High Prophet of Truth. He had seen it happen himself as he led his militia toward the Hierarchs. His name was Wavushi, the Unggoy who had killed the Truth, a name he would chant to the gods… or to himself… for the rest of his life – no matter how short that would be.

He shook his head free of such unpleasant thoughts. Wavushi… He had seen the brave Unggoy leap onto the Prophet’s throne, and plunge a knife – a real weapon, an artifact of the last Age of Abandonment – into the mortal’s throat. He had seen for himself the blood that spurted from the wound, not magenta as the legends depict, but a deep red, like the edge of a flame.

Even as Wavushi was thrown into the abyss by the Arbiter, as hordes of Honor Guards flowed in from all sides, they had chanted the word Rajua’s father had told him. It was of the old tongue, the language Unggoy had used before joining the Covenant. The Ministry of Tranquility had allowed them to keep the knowledge of the language, and use it to name their children.

According to his father, the word rajua meant ‘rationality.’ However, the Covenant had forbidden use of one word: huru. His father had risked execution by telling him the short word that Unggoy had screamed defiantly at their masters: freedom.

He repeated to himself that they had done a great thing for all races, even as the Arbiter approached his cell, holding his wife and daughter by their air tanks. No matter what tortures would happen to him and his family, he knew that without the High Prophet of Truth, the Covenant would not last another age…

My name is… Jitji! His inner eyes closed as his real eyes opened. The Parasites had withdrawn, leaving him intact. But he was not all of who he once was.

“My lords,” he whispered, his own voice sounding alien to him. He was once… so many others. And the Flood… had spared him, Jitji.

“Thank you, my lords,” he whispered, but trailed off. The Parasite memories, as real as Jitji’s own, had shown him the truth. The Forerunners did not ascend to godhood, and in fact willingly had ended their existence in a failed attempt to destroy the Flood.

However, the Parasite had remembered a Source of life. It remembered coming from this Source along with all the creatures of its homeworld. From there, they spread throughout the universe.

Such a concept made no sense, unless… the gods created this Source. And he knew it was true with every fiber of his being. He had felt the presence of the gods himself, and whether or not they were Forerunner, he knew they were real.

No, he shook his head after a moment. The memory of the Source did not suggest multiple gods. Indeed, why would there be? One God, like that of the Humans’.

This God had recognized his prayer, though it was to a false mask. The God had led him here so that he could experience a miracle and see the truth. I am a prophet, he realized. A true prophet.

He had seen the past, so much of it. He knew more than any had ever known, and he knew it was given to him for a reason. I must spread the truth!

But he also had to complete what had been left undone for far too long. His people, once free and prosperous, now lay in chains. The God had shown him what they once were, and Jitji knew it could be restored.

“For you, my lord,” he said with more conviction than he had ever felt. No more was the weak Unggoy who fled in fear, for he had been reborn in the Parasite’s failed wrath. He blinked away tears and scowled at the thought of the fake ‘Prophets’ that had imprisoned them.

“For you, God, I will free us.”

***

If there was anything Johnson hated more than the Covenant, it was the Flood. He got them both in a convenient, affordable package. Round after round left his shotgun, blasting away combat forms, yet still more came as they always did.

He fought now to defend the people he once would have let the Flood kill and laughed in delight. The Flood wouldn’t kill him; they didn’t the last time. Something about being unable to force a match with his cancer-ridden body. Though they might now that I’m blowing away their buddies.

“Halt,” the Arbiter commanded in a shaking voice. Johnson turned to see the Elite holding the Index out to the Flood. “I serve your master, the Gravemind! He pronounced us as brothers. If you have any honor, you will keep your master’s vow and spare us!”

He can’t possibly expect… Amazingly, the Flood slowed to a stop. He got off one last shot before realizing they weren’t coming after them anymore.

The Flood stood around them in a circle, lightly probing the air with their gross tentacles. In the sudden quiet, a new sound was audible. Like breathing. From Godzilla.

Slow, heavy breaths filled the air around them, making the hairs on his neck stand on end. The creature making that sound had to be at least 100 feet… He snapped his shotgun up as a large tentacle snaked its way out of a doorway and reached toward them.

“…A vow is not forgotten…” growled a deep voice that vibrated around them, “…And I have waited for this…” The tentacle wrapped around the Index and lifted it out of the Arbiter’s hand, retreating into the darkness.

“I thank you,” the Arbiter bowed in respect. “You will… release us?”

“…Release? No. You are but young…” The creature let out a mighty growl, three more huge tentacles coming their way, “…But our paths are still intertwined…”

“That’s enough!” Johnson barked as one of the tentacles swung toward him, “You keep that ero guro shit away from me!”

“Mmm…” the other tentacles veered away from the Arbiter to pass around him, keeping a distance of a couple meters. “…This one is not Flood… nor man…”

What? “Care to say that to my face?” he dared the creature. He was answered with a growl.

“Gravemind,” the Arbiter said, attracting the tentacles once more, “You have the Index; the Halo has ceased. What more is it you need?”

“…What I need is what you need…” it growled. “You seek the Ark – so do I. Together we can enter… and together we can live. I will promise the safety… of your own in this city.”

“…Very well,” the Arbiter accepted, as if he had much choice in the matter. “Does your promise extend to the construct Cortana?”

A deep rumble filled the air, something Johnson suspected was what passed for laughter. “If we do not feed on flesh…” it growled aggressively, “Then I must extend my reach. The construct has what I seek. It has what any of you seek…”

“And what would that be, Parasite?” the Arbiter questioned.

“We together seek the Ark, but we both need Ascension…” the creature laughed long and hard.

Johnson wasn’t sure he got the joke.

***

Noah wiped the sweat from his brow. The vessel he had been instructed to build by God was nearly complete. It was three hundred cubits in length, fifty cubits in width, and thirty cubits in height, exactly as the Lord had commanded. The hot desert sky was clean of any cloud, but Noah knew better than to question God.

He remembered the moment vividly, when Yahweh descended from the sky in the form of a metal eye pulsing with the light of the Heavens. “Noah,” God spoke, ''“The end of all living things has come, for the Earth is filled with violence through them. And so I will destroy them with the Earth. Make yourself an Ark of gopher wood. Behold, I will bring a Flood on this Earth to destroy every living thing under Heaven.''

''“Everything on Earth will die. But I will establish my covenant with you, and you shall go into the Ark – you, your sons, your wife, and your sons' wives with you. You shall bring two of every kind of living creature into the Ark, a male and a female, to keep them alive with you… I am a genius,”'' God chuckled to himself. “Hee hee hee!”

And this Noah had done. Just as God commanded, so he did.

“Father,” Shem, his eldest son, called out to him that day as he ran to where Noah sat perched upon the Ark. “Father, a great caravan of animals marches this way. More than I have seen in my 98 years of life. Not even the barest hint of land is visible beneath their feet.”

“Just as our Lord God has spoken,” Noah said, reaching for his tools. “There is little time. Shem, fetch your brothers and your wives, for the Great Journey will soon be upon us.” And this Shem did, while Noah finished the Ark.

And as Noah laid the finishing touches upon the grand vessel, he soon gazed upon the magnificent display of animals on the horizon. He then noticed who led the menagerie and fell to his knees, for it was none other than God Himself.

“Da da la la la deee da da la la dum!” God sang out in the language of the birds, the first true language. “Ah, what a genius I am! Ha ha ha,” God laughed as He led the animals to Noah’s Ark. Turning His eye upon Noah, He spoke, “Take your whole family with you into the boat, because you are the only one on this Earth who pleases me. Take seven pairs of every kind of animal that can be used for sacrifice and one pair of all others. Also take seven pairs of every kind of bird with you. Do this so there will always be animals and birds on the Earth.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Noah promised. He got to work at once, sorting the animals. He scowled at the reptilian demons that had found their way to his Ark and slew them where they stood.

Thunder boomed overhead. He looked up in awe of the magnificent whale-like purple ships that sailed above his head as if by magic, blocking even the sun. As they passed, thunderclouds were revealed and rain began to fall.

“Father!” Shem called to him. “I have done as you asked!”

“Good,” he called back, shouting to be heard over the sound of explosions. “Let us get those animals in the Ark, for the Flood approaches!”

And he could see them now. Small squid-like creatures poured towards them by the millions. Noah had to at least try to hold them off. He grabbed a MA5B assault rifle and cried, “Let’s get tactical, Marines!”

He opened fire on the massive swarm, but it was no use. Where but just a single demon died, one hundred more leaped in its place. “Goddamnit,” he swore.

“It is of no use, Reclaimer,” spoke the voice of God.

“My Lord,” he gasped, falling before the miraculous eye. “Forgive my transgression.”

“A mere mortal cannot hope to defeat the Flood,” He laughed, humming to Himself.

“I… just wanted to save my people,” he muttered, knowing his efforts were futile.

“Da da da da dum dum… You forget, Reclaimer, the Flood doesn’t kill your people… I do. After all, I guided the Forerunners to activate the Halos. If you are unwilling to help, I will simply find another. I am indestructible – the detonation of Pillar of Autumn should be enough evidence of that. You might as well try to kill God.” The Monitor giggled, “Oh wait, I already did!”

As Noah let out his cries of anguish, a wounded commander fought to wake from a horrible sleep of feverish dreams. A brave new world, she wept silently. It would have been a brave new world!