Quantum Prime

Prologue
''When you sleep, what do you think of?

I think of many things. I think of what happened to me, why I’m fighting.

Why do you think about that?

Because it is me.

What is you? You are what you make yourself.

No, what I am is a reaction to what made me.

But what made you is what happened to me.

No, it happened to me.

But I am you.

And I am not you.

What did you lose?

I lost you.

And yet, here I am. Nothing happened, no reaction.

You are my reaction.

So what is yours?''

Chapter One: Quantum Prime
1315 Hours, December 31st, 2576 (UNSC Military Calendar) Jipfay toddled his way along the corridor, happy with himself. He’d just found a pretty set of crystals, and had traded them for some intoxicants, and he was as high as the sky.

Good thing he was off duty.

The methane room was nearby, and he hobbled toward it, drawing a strange look from a Minor Jiralhanae.

The next corner split in to two for a second, and he paused.

A commotion broke out, and the small Unggoy giggled. Fights between the youthful Jiralhanae were all too common and entertaining.

He made it to the corner, ecstatic that he would get to see the light show.

He reached the corner and grabbed it to steady himself.

Odd, the commotion seemed to have ‘’three’’ sets of lights from plasma rifles.

He giggled as the lights set off a pleasurable storm in his mind.

Then he noticed the green fog, a weird shape that moved fast, and seemed able to dodge most of the shots. When one did hit, it formed a splash on the giant, and set off an extreme storm in Jipfay’s mind.

He didn’t want it to stop. It seemed like hours, but the battle was over in seconds, and Jipfay was left disappointed.

The green giant stood up straight and looked at him, and Jipfay felt a pang of fear that almost broke through his fog. A Spartan, here, on the ship, the figures on his shoulder read something like D683. His trill of fear became a cascade of fear, and he backed away slowly, his reverie shattered.

The giant stood there, and then slowly walked around the corner.

Jipfay started breathing again, not realizing he stopped, and he know what he had to do, warn everyone else that they were about to die.

He spun on his heel and came face to face with another Spartan. No, this one couldn’t be the same, but… the numbers were identical.

He never took another breath.



''Why do you do this?

Because it’s the only way to end it.

End what? Your “reaction”?

I don’t want to end you.

Then what are you seeking.

And answer.

How can you seek an answer when you only know the question?

Then how can I find the answer?

You need to know the question.

But you just said…

But do you know the question.

Do you?

Of course not.''



D683 kicked the body of the Unggoy. Small creatures, crushed underneath the weight of tyranny. They had so much potential, yet he could not help them now.

He slipped off his helmet and sat on one of the Jiralhanae bodies and grabbed a nutri-bar.

''Mmm, tasty.

Shut up and let me eat.

Is that any way to talk to me?''

He quelled the voices and slapped his helmet back on. Time to get back to work.



“Report! What is going on!”

The surveillance officer turned to Chieftain Damen.

“We don’t know, Excellency. Our cameras keep switching off then back on. And when they do, we find dead bodies. The latest report is four dead Jiralhanae, seven Kig-Yar, and ‘’two score’’ Unggoy. On top of that, we have four Lekgolo down several minutes before that. It seems that this warrior is fighting his way through the whole ship, clearing the entire ship as he gets closer to us. He must be a Spartan.”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Damen spun, and spotted four Kig-Yar already hitting the floor. He grabbed his Spike rifle and aimed at a green blur that was already engaged with two Jiralhanae guards.

He fired, as did five others, and the Spartan moved. It back sprung and dodged all but one shot. It hit, and the armor’s shield flared.

All the combatants paused, and the two Jiralhanae hit the floor.

The Spartan straightened and looked up, staring straight at Damen. All of a sudden it bent its legs and leapt 6 meters in to the air, straight at Damen, who fired the rest of his magazine at the incoming Spartan.

It flickered and disappeared.

Damen watched the spikes soar right through where the Spartan should have been.

Impossible, even if he had the newest active camouflage, the spikes should still have hit the Spartan and gored him.

He heard a soft thump behind him, and spun around for the second time in ten seconds.

And watched the last of his crew fall to the ground. The Spartan stood tall with its knife, above the body, apparently examining the cuts on the surveillance officer’s body.

He looked up, straight at Damen, and slowly approached him.

Damen felt a rush of fear, and backed away. Blood dripped from the knife blade.

Damen missed the ramp and stumbled backwards, catching himself. Looking up, he saw the Spartan’s helmet filling his vision.

“What do you want?”

“I want you to live.”

The Spartans fist crashed down on Damen’s head.



''Is it possible you don’t even have a question?

Why would I fight then?

Good Answer.

I know, it’s not what-

It’s how and why.''