RP:First Encounter

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

Current Status as of August.28.2024: Roleplaying

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

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

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

Everything and nothing.

Covenant Seperatists
Primary Commander: Councilor Shch 'Nodotee 

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

Covenant Loyalists
Primary Commander: Alpha Jiralhanae Aringal

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


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

UNSC

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


 * 1 Marathon-class Cruiser - 1192 meters
 * UNSC Nautilus - Major Terry Jones
 * 3 Magnetic Accelerator Cannons
 * 2 Shiva Nuclear Warheads
 * 75 Archer missile pods
 * 8 Pelicans
 * 36 Longswords
 * 80 50mm MLA-Auto Cannons
 * Compliment
 * Major Terry Jones (Donut)
 * Sergeant Major Ding Chavez
 * '''SPARTAN-II Petty Officer First Class Kyle-100
 * 140 ODSTs

Fleet of Particular Separation

 * 1 Reverence-class Cruiser - 3000 meters
 * Breking Bind - Heretic Leader Wery Pufumee
 * 1 CCS-class Battlecruiser - 1782 meters
 * Revolution
 * 6 Covenant Light Cruisers - 300 meters
 * Freedoom
 * Separated Justice
 * Justice Trial
 * Forgotten Justice
 * Unstopped
 * Second Ascendent

Flood

 * 1 Reverence-class Cruiser - 3000 meters
 * Breking Bind - Gravemind
 * 3 Covenant Light Cruiser - 300 meters
 * Separated Justice
 * Justice Trial
 * Second Ascendent
 * Thousands of Combat Forms
 * Tens of thousands of Carrier Forms
 * Hundreds of thousands of Infection Forms

Confirmed Active

 * 1) Councilor 'Nodotee [[Image:Donut 7.JPG|35px]] [ BattleNet ] - [ Covenant of Halopedia ] [ ASSISTANT MODERATOR ]
 * 2) Gho st I nsi de the M ach ine (Whisper through the Storm ) (My Journeys ) (Omens )  [ CHIEF MODERATOR ]
 * 3) Ares.117
 * 4) CaptainAdamGraves )
 * 5) Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV COM
 * 6) James-001
 * 7) Faraz22
 * 8) User:fork

RelentlessRecusant

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

Shch 'Nodotee

 * Role: Supreme Commander Ryse Zar 'Uasumee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Commander of Covenant forces (naval & ground)
 * Role: Ship Master Odch 'Siburee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Zealot Ship Master
 * Role: Major Terry Jones
 * Side: UNSC
 * Location: onboard UNSC Nautilus in space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: ODST Divison Commander and commander of UNSC Nautilus
 * Role: Councilor Shch 'Nodotee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: High Charity
 * Status: Active
 * Other: not actually here, but sending transmissions

Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV

 * Role: Ship Master Myca 'Hetodee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Space
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Ship Master of Aftermath
 * Role: Master Gunnery Sergeant Hank J Wimbleton IV
 * Side: Unknown
 * Location: Unknown Covenant Ship
 * Status: Confused
 * Other: Pi

Ares.117

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

CaptainAdamGraves

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

James-001

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

Faraz22

 * Role: Special Operations Commander Kyutr 'Nuihee
 * Side: Covenant Separatists
 * Location: Onboard the Subjugated Phoenix
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Operations commander on the Subjugated Phoenix.
 * Role: Brute Captain Troosus
 * Side: Covenant Loyalists
 * Location: Onboard the Blood Renewed.
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Ship Master of the Blood Renewed and second-in command of the Regional Fleet of Absolution.
 * Role: Wery Pufumee - Combat Form
 * Side: Flood
 * Location: Inside a Forerunner Installation
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Second-in-command of the Flood horde.
 * Role: Gravemind
 * Side: Flood
 * Location: Inside Forerunner Installation.
 * Status: Active
 * Other: Leader of the Flood horde.

fork

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

0
Prologue

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

i

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

know

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

all

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

fears

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

where

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

light

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

does

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

not

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

exist

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

Cheers,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He is a protector…

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then they stopped their attacks…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That had been the time he had formed his resolve.

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

There was nothing comfortable about the Longsword…

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

Needless to say, he compensated.

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

Jason Orion: The Miracle.

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

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

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

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

Strong girl, huh?

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

It also came from the heart.

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

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

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

And she was willing to do so.

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

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

2
"Have you located the target, you scums!"

"Yes Captain!

"Good, because if you wouldn't, I would be force to cut the stinking things you have between your shoulders!"

Trossus had been scouting a while over the planet, and had finally found it: The human base!

"Then what are you waiting for? Move the ship into the atmosphere quickly! And contact the Great Revival and the Guilty Wind. They're needed in the assault. Assistant, how far away are we from the atmosphere?"

Cackling, the old, intelligent Jackal named Pof answers: "In less than two units, we should be there."

"Good, I don't like to wait. Give me a scanning of the base, and let it be fast."

He could seem to be to hard on his subordinates, but it was actually like this all Jiralhanae commanders acted. Among some, it was normal to whip the subordinates, so Trossus were "kind" to be one of his race.

Trossus battlegroup entered the atmosphere of Coral, and they found the place of the human base. Trossus's turns to his crew once again.

"We seems to need the Scarab walker. Drop it, or I'll kill you!

"Yes, Captain, of course!

Faraz22 --18:24-- 15 March 2007 (UTC)

3
"Prepare to exit slipspace!" ordered Aringal holding tightly onto his Spiker. They were coming out of slipspace over a hostile world. Any mistake and the punishment was death. At least for his crew. A Minor Jiralhanae walked onto the bridge without completing the proper proceedure. He didn`t kneel in the might of the Prophets. Aringal snarled and drew his Spiker. "MINOR!" he yelled as he emptied his clip into the Jiralhanae`s face. The corpse of the now dead Brute fell to the floor that was stained with blood. "That will teach you to dihonour the Prophets" the Alpha Jiralhanae said to himself.

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

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

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

4
"Are you sure that heading our ships to this world Coral is neccessary?"

"Yes, to devise this rebellion we need a strong base, and this planet seems perfect. How far away are we from the planet? The new Heretic Leader, Wery Pufumee answeres."

"Just a few units...? Whooa?"

"What is it?"

"Other Covenant and Human ships are at the planet!

"Then prepare for combat!"

Wery Pufumee liked mostly action. He would not back out of this battle. Besides, he would not give up the rebellion when he had come so far. It was now time to show that he would lead the new Heretic movement created while the Covenant Civil War occurred.

Wery Pufumee turned out to be a even better speaker than the Heretic Leader of the first Heretic movement were. Even several ships joined Pufumee, and more ships are preparing to come to his aid. So, he was more succesfull, by now at least, than the previous Heretic Leader.

Back to the ships control, Pufumee turns to the command crew, and begins to command:

"Where's the best place to set up a base?"

"At that spot, but it seems that the humans posesses it!"

"Not for long! Get ready the troops, I'll personally lead the assault on the base."

"As you wish, Leader!"

The ships moved closer the atmosphere, but suddenly the Unstopped is destroyed.

"Report!"

"The Unstopped was destroyed by an Energy Projector coming from.....the Battleship over there!"

"If the Covenant want war, we'll give them war!"

Faraz22 --20:21-- 15 March 2007 (UTC)

5
Time Unknown, Date Unknown, Location Unknown

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

Be still! Came an outraged voice in his head.

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

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

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

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

What then?

In good time.

Good time? How long have I been here?

Perhaps eighty hours or so.

Three days then? How did I get here?

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

Converting?

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

What holds me here? I feel no bindings?

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

We shall see. We shall see.

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


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

6
Heretics! Traitors of the Covenant! Trossus had come into fight with the Heretics.

"Raze those traitors from from this world, or I'll do it to you, you're pathetic crewmen!"

"Yes, sir, but shouldn't we contact Aringal for support?"

"Support? Huh, only weaklings need help, and on the other side, their ships are falling back, so it's not neccessary!"

"Leader, why are we evacuating?"

"I've got a scan on the planet and found a more ideal place for a base. Then we don't need to fight with the Covenant to then fight with the humans for a base."

"Yes Sir."

"Captain, should we prepare the Sigma-Pack?"

"Can't anyone think on their own? Of course I want the pack to be present!"

"Yes Captain!"

Trossus's forces closed in on the base, and some minutes later, the humans found them and began to take post.

"Leader, you should come and see this!"

"What have you found?"

It's some sort of Forerunner chamber. Do you want to open the door to the next room?"

"Well, let's go!"

Wery Pufumee opened the door, but suddenly his body was overwhelmed by hundreds of infection forms, and when his guard watched into the room, they sees hundreds of thousands of Infection Forms, who overwhelms them too. The Infection Forms moves further in the base, and infects any Heretic in their path.

"My servants, it's time to create a hive within this creation! a deep, deriving voice says. Deeper into the room, it's seen, the Gravemind form!

--Faraz22-- 19:55, 16 March 2007 (UTC)

7
Adrian looked over at the wall of empty blue cargo boxes like they were an impenetrable blockade impeding his advance to a destination worth traveling to. He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath full of life and energy, which flowed down his throat and began to clean his lungs of all impurities which remained from the last breath he had taken. Each was the same though; filtered by his Mjolnir armor to perfection. But when he took the time to fully embrace the crispness of the air which flowed into his helmet and savor it, he was able to appreciate much more than breathing.

Life.

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

Ignorance in bliss...

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

But the fact remained, they could have been saved.

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

No more death... No more crying.

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

Try being the key word in that statement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

But we had already gone over this.

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

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

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

Enough power to stop anything...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

8
"Major, the Covenant forces have doubled in numbers. Although, it appears that they're fighting each other, several ships have already been destroyed."

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

9
Aringal walked back into the bridge clad in his gold battle armour with his Plasma Cannon on his back and his Gravity Hammer in his hands. As he walked onto the bridge he heard a voice. "Sir, a Seperatist force is coming around the moon! orders?" asked the Jiralhanae. "Get the fleet in battle formation and prepare the ground troops for Combat, any remaining troops onboard are going to board their ships !" ordered Aringal as his crew suddenly felt the stress of battle on them. "Good. More kills for me" he muttered to himself.

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

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

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

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

10
Sergeant Major Ding Chavez stood in the cargo bay, of the UNSC ship Nautilus in normal space. Ding was about 45 years old, but he barely looked half that. He has jet black hair and a face and body chiseled of stone. But, there was one secret he managed to keep from even from the Captain. He stared out into the blank void of space, behind a moon size rock, whistling quietly to himself. He walked down the hall, passing cryotubes, noting that most of the personnel were just waking up. He also noticed that noticed Spartan-II Kyle-100 was out of his tube.

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

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

"At ease Kyle," he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Well..., yes sir"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Officer on the deck," Ding barked.

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

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

"Get ready for what sir," Kyle said.

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

"You two ready?" the Major said.

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

11
Covenant Slipspace Transmission

Diviner, Coral

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheers,

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

12
D + 00:19:46 (Master Gunnery Sergeant Wimbleton Mission Clock), Aboard unknown ship, unknown location

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

13
'Nuihee turned around. It was quiet: too quiet. Suddenly the Sub-Commander appeared through the door, his sword drawn. Nuihee saw into his eyes: He was going to attack, probably with the Pt'yin fighter mode. Thus, it would be best to hold ground and defend with the Ra'loi mode.

The Sub-Commander moves further against the target, and as the Special Ops Commander expected, he prepares to use the Pt'yin mode, but then another Elite arrives, stopping the simulation.

"Sorry to interrupt the duel, SpecOps Commander and Sub-Commander, but the Supreme Commander has ordered your team to prepare for boarding action."

"We're coming!"

The Gravemind watched as his servants raised in numbers for every minute. The structure belonged to him. His servants had taken over four of the Heretic's seven ships. Soon his force would be strong enough to spread over the planet. He would only need time.

Kyutr 'Nuihee and the Sub-Commander headed to the ship's armory bay, where they found the team preparing weapons and equipment. Two minutes later, all in the team stood on line turned to Kyutr 'Nuihee.

"Team, we have been ordered to join other Boarding Crafts to board the loyalist ships, and I expect you to give me 100 percent!"

"Yes, commander!"

"Then what are you waiting for? Head for the Boarding Crafts!"

And they did, with 'Nuihee behind them. In the hanger bays, the Boarding Crafts stood ready. 'Nuihee jumped onboard the commanding Boarding Craft, taking seat in the fron of the Craft.

"Ok, pilots, everyone is onboard, you can take off."

"Yes, commander!"

The Boarding Crafts left the ship, and headed forward. 'Nuihee didn't knew what was awaiting him, but he felt bad about this operation. He didn't knew what, but he felt that he were going to pay for his life.

Faraz22 13:42, 17 March 2007 (UTC)

14
Diviner

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

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

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

<TBC...>