Part II: The Rise of the Flood
Prologue
September 30, 2611
Remains of Voi, Africa
The N13 HAZMAT truck rumbled to a halt. The treaded tank like vehicle was heavily laden with materials and supplies needed for the clean up of hazardous areas. Unfortunately, the entire continent of Africa was a hazardous area. Colonel John Rymann activated the external scanning systems. The process of validating the survivability of the outside environment would take a while. He turned on the satellite radio feed, tuning it to the UNSC news channel.
“Good evening. I’m Rebecca Goddard and this is UNSC News Channel 53. In recent news, the newest SL47 MAC array is now operational. UNSC HIGHCOM General William Ashcroft had this to say on the subject.
‘Ladies and Gentlemen, it is with my greatest pleasure to introduce the newest operational MAC system. The SL47 MAC is far more versatile than the versions we had defending Earth nearly 70 years ago and it should come as no surprise that the newest version will correct the flaws of the first. A total of 75 will be in orbit and functional by this evening. We’d like to thank all those who have supporting the building of the MACs and of the G56 Orbital Defense Grid, which, like the MACs will be operational later today. I proclaim this planet safe from any attack! Thank you.’
“Certainly bold words. That was William Ashcroft speaking on the MAC and G56 defense systems. In other news yet another HAZMAT team has gone missing in Africa. Still classified as a Red-Zone, Africa has been the source of everything from radiation and conspiracy theories to Flood attacks and the massive hulks of downed star craft from the Human-Covenant War. Investigators believe that the infamous FRORR terrorists may be behind the disappearances. The Former Republic of Russia Rebels have been sighted inspiring riots, kidnapping and a host of other crimes. Officials have yet to disclose any information on the recent disappearances. Plans have now gone into action to quarantine the entire continent. The recent funding problems for the UNSC have caused the abrupt endings of several programs. Among those shut down are the Advancement for Flood Study and the Outer Galactic Travel Administration. HIGHCOM released the following statement:
‘Due to the recent budget crisis, we are unable to support many of the programs we used to be able to. This setback will delay many projects but should not hinder the overall effort of the Unified Earth Governments.’
And finally tonight, news of the ever elusive Spartan IV program. In the wake of the success of the Master Chief, UNSC has reestablished the long dead program and has once again begun to create the super soldiers so well known to the humans. The status of the Master Chief remains at MIA but several PRCs believe that with proper funding they can reopen the Forerunner Portal and find the hero of Earth. Debates rage over the fact that in one hundred years, not even a cryogenic chamber could have kept the Chief alive.”
Rymann turned the radio off as the scanners completed their analysis of the surroundings. He looked at the digital readout on the screen of the N13.
System Scan Complete:
Radiation Levels-71.1%
Plasma Residue-35.7%
Spore to air ratio-58%
Generating 3D terrain
Please Wait…
A digital 3D image of the surrounding terrain appeared over the dashboard. Using his hands, Rymann could manipulate the image and zoom in and out. Rotating it, he saw something that caught his eye. A small, random object but curious looking nonetheless.
“Computer, analyze system block 32-A”
Request received
Please wait…
Analysis Complete:
Target Matter-Organic
Lifeform-Unknown Species
Status-Dead
Rymann felt relieved. Whatever it was, it was dead. The 3D image flickered. The object had shifted places.
“Computer, block 32-A was confirmed as dead but I see that it has moved. Analysis?”
Target unconfirmed
Lifeform not in databank
The object was gone when Rymann looked back at the 3D image. He picked up his comm and set it to his squad’s frequency.
“This is Rymann. Do you read me? Over.”
“Yeah, we read you. What do you need?”
“I’m picking up some strange movement here. I advise you return to your N13.”
“Negative, we’re almost done here. Shouldn’t be much longer.”
Rymann knew arguing wouldn’t work with them. He flipped the radio back on and relaxed in his seat.
“…more than one trillion….MAC……Master Chief…..”
Rymann kicked the dashboard with his boot.
“Stupid piece of crap. Never gets a good reception.”
He toyed with the receiver knob but the static only got worse. He turned it off.
“Man, you’d think in the nearly 700 years since it was invented they’d have been able to get better reception.” he thought. “Then again, there aren’t any working comm towers in Africa, not any more.”
His comm buzzed in his era.
“Do you read me? Rymann come in.”
“I read you Valdez. What is it?”
“I’m picking up some readings on my radar. Where did you say that object was at?”
“32-A. Where are you?”
There was a slight pause on Valdez’s end.
“32-C.”
“***. How far are you from your N13?”
“Too far.”
“Don’t worry. I’m on my way.”
He put the comm down and pressed his thumb to the ignition scanner. The N13 roared to life and he threw it in reverse. The heavy treads sent up huge clouds of dust as he barreled down the remains of Highway 17.
“Computer, locate ‘A’ Company.”
‘A’ Company Located at 32-C
*Pvt Wilkins
*Lt Valdez
*Cp Neil
Company Status-100%
“Computer, connect me to HIGHCOM.”
HIGHCOM unavailable
Satellite feeds disrupted
Please try again later
The N13 rolled over the charred chassis of a compact car and continued down the highway.
“Computer. Current location?”
34-F
Rymann picked up his comm.
“Valdez!? Do you read me?”
“…I….hear…..reinforce….” Valdez could barely be heard over the static.
“I can’t hear you. Repeat. Over.”
He cut the N13 tight around a corner and squinted ahead. Another N13 lay at the end of the street. As he went by it, he saw “‘A’ Company” written on the side. He floored it. The readout said he was at 32-C. He saw the radiation imaging system set up where ‘A’ Company had been working. He jumped out of the N13 and ran to where they had been. They were gone. Rymann did a quick search of the area. Nothing. He looked up to see something floating down toward him. It was a piece of a HAZMAT suit. Rymann caught it in his hand. All his hair went up on end as he read the word on the fabric: “Valdez”. It was stained red with blood. Getting back in the N13, he spoke to the computer.
“Computer. Locate ‘A’ Company.”
‘A’ Company Located at 32-C
*Pvt Wilkins
*Lt Valdez
*Cp Neil
Company Status-0%
“That’s impossible. I’m at 32-C and there nobody…”
Rymann jumped back as something smashed through the windshield.
Chapter I
November 7, 2611
Undisclosed Location
“492? Come in 492.”
“492 here.”
“Target, five clicks west of your location. Over.”
“Affirmative. In my sights. Patching through to HIGHCOM.”
“UNSC HIGHCOM, we read you. What’s your status 492?”
“In position. Ready to take the shot and waiting for authorization. IRP. Over.”
“Roger that 492, you are cleared to take the shot. Barrels free.”
“Affirmative. Taking the shot.”
“492. We confirm target destruction. Well done. Proceed to rendezvous point 39.2”
“Heading there now. Over and out.”
“492, this is 862. I’m at the RVP. Awaiting your arrival. Over”
“Affirmative. ETA one minute and counting. Over”
“492? HIGHCOM here. Slight change of plans. New target at point 57.9. Destruction required for mission success.”
“Changing course now. Target status?”
“You’ll know when you get there.”
492 pushed the dense foliage out of his way as he makes his way to point 57.9. He brings up the holographic readout of the immediate area on his HUD. Point 57.9 shows up on the map as bright white. 492 moves more to the west, his trajectory represented on the HUD with a thin black line. It intersects perfectly with point 57.9. Running out of the jungle, he finds him self at the target sooner than he’d expected. 492 makes a mental note that his speed has improved and looks at the target. A small nondescript concrete bunker. He glances at his Mark74 LAR. He’ll need something heavier. Holstering the weapon on the magnet strips on the back of his armor, 492 raises his arm toward the bunker and flicks his wrist. A small blue laser dot darts along side the bunker’s wall. The dot progressively becomes brighter and then fades to nothing. A split second later, the bunker is demolished by a tremendous explosion. Blue electricity crackles along the ground as the remains of the structure tumble down to Earth after being blasted nearly 300 feet into the air. 492 smiled. He loved the Orbital Anti-material Cannon.
“Good work 492. Today’s exercises will have to be cut short I’m afraid. Head back to the nearest transit station.”
“Understood. 492 out.
Turning from the smoldering crater, 492 darts back into the jungle.
Spartan 492 is just one of the Spartan IV program’s elite super soldiers and today’s training exercise was just a small example of his abilities. Drafted into the UNSC Marine Corps at age 19 on August 17, 2604, 492 was a loner from the start but was never hindered by his lack of companions. During boot camp, his physical prowess qualified him to leave a week early to start ODST training in the footsteps of his father and his grandfather before him. But there was something else in store for him. Now, at only 23, he is the most promising of all the Spartans and the pride of the UNSC. Since the apparent demise of Spartan 117, public support had fallen for the Spartan project. Dr. Emily Hasley, Katherine’s granddaughter, inspired HIGHCOM in 2602 to bring the program back and allow her to head it. Based on her mother, Denise and her grandmother’s experience, HIGHCOM gave her the green light. This time, the Spartans were not chosen but discovered. Resolving not to make the same mistakes as her grandmother did, Emily never went to any extreme lengths to get her candidates. Instead she found them as they joined up with UNSC. Spartan 492 was a key example of that process. As well as a new recruitment style, the weapons and armor of the IV’s had changed substantially. The MJOLNIR Mark XIV was the latest in personal protection. In the Mark XIV, nanoparticles in the suit become rigid as soon as the kinetic threshold was surpassed. The nanocomposite helmet is, however the most advanced part of the suit. The helmet’s HUD screen is composed of millions of nanites that have the ability to contract and expand at the users will. Being like a two way mirror, the user can see out but others cannot see in, thus preserving the identity that many Spartans wish to keep to themselves. The nanites can contract on a certain Sector of the screen and create a binocular vision effect for the users, increasing their sight range to around three miles. Likewise, the nanites can expand to zoom in on a close object for better inspection. The result is similar to having binoculars and a microscope at the same time. In addition to that, the HUD is outfitted with state of the art holographic generators capable of displaying the most complex tactical information.
With the ready availability of Forerunner and Covenant technology, ONI researchers were able to make the armor lighter, weighing it in at only 36lbs, and stronger as well, able to protect the user from 87% harm when direct energy weapons and kinetic/chemical weapons are used. While not invincible, the XIV is further protected via a H27A energy shield. The shield deflects and/or destroys incoming projectiles before they can impact on the suit. Even without the shield, the armor can still sustain the users in nearly any situation, whether 0G, underwater or nearly 6,000 degree environments. Containing an oxygen filter plus an extra supply for three days, XIV users can operate in no or little oxygen areas for far longer than their past brethren. The standard physical strength enhancements are still operational in the XIV and allow Spartans to crush skulls with a single punch. Popular features from previous versions are combined and improved upon in the XIV. Hydrostatic gel, pressure seals, liquid crystal layers and medi gel inserts round out the complement along side other more recent additions.
492 pressed his palm against the scanner on the access panel. The hiss of steam reaches his ears as the door slides up. He walks into the center of the small circular room. Three pylons rise from the ground as an energy grid activates between each one, trapping 492 in the room. The pylons glow red and the energy field turns blue. 492 feels weightlessness as he is lifted a few inches above the floor. The air around him turns icy cold and a flash of blinding white light is absorbed by the nanites on his HUD screen. 492’s feet touch the floor. He is 71 miles away from the training grounds, back in the Spartan IV main facility. The triad of pylons around him retract to the floor.
“Welcome back Spartan 492.” a female voice says over his comm. “You are logged. Please report to your designated station.”
492 opens the access hatch to be greeted by a familiar face.
Chapter II
November 7, 2611
Spartan IV Project Headquarters, Istanbul, Turkey
“Good afternoon, ma’am.”
“Hello 492. Glad to see you’re back.’ Dr Emily Hasley’s soft blue eyes looked up at 492. “There’s a meeting going on. They want you there ASAP. Room 17.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to you later.” he said.
Moving past her, he took the nearby stairs three at a time and jogged down to room 17. He quietly opened the door entered.
“Chief Petty Officer 492, glad you could make it.” said General James Reiken from the front of the meeting room. “Please have a seat and we’ll get started.”
492 took a seat and the lights dimmed.
“Gentlemen” Reiken started. “This is a top priority mission and one of the most important since the end of the war.”
The general pressed a button on the monitor remote control and an image was displayed on the wall. The picture was of a man in his late forties, unshaven and scarred.
“This is the former Rear Admiral Michael Kane. We suspected him of embezzling funds from the ONI department but had no proof. We sent in an investigator but we must have spooked him. Kane disappeared along with a transport from a convoy transporting supplies for the Spartan IV program and several ONI high priority projects. Unfortunately he didn’t do this alone. Apparently he has been conspiring with former Commander Ian Tanner. Tanner was head of the LSAT or the Logistics, Scanners and Advanced Technologies department. Tanner had been, unbeknownst to us, recruiting applicants for his secret Aries project. Like the Spartan program, Aries was designed to create superhumans. The two had been working on this for years and as they had access to ONI databanks, there’s almost no limit as to how much they know. How he went about doing this remains a mystery but we managed to recover a small portion of data from his heavily encrypted harddrive.”
An email appears on the screen.
From: MKane@UNSC.gov
Date: 07/12/2606 Saturday 10:33 P.M
To: ITanner@UNSC.gov
Subject: Aries
Ian,
The project is right on schedule but we’re beginning to run into some problems. I think Reiken has had someone snooping around my office. I didn’t have anything in there that would jeopardize the project but still, it isn’t good. We need to either shut it down or take it to the Omega 12. It’s your choice. Respond ASAP.
Michael
The image fades.
“I’ve dug into every databank we have and there’s still no trace of this “Omega 12”. I don’t know what it is but I assure you, we will find out. As for you Chief, we’ve come across a lead and want you to follow it. I know Spartans aren’t exactly trained to be private eyes but this will be an excellent test for your first mission. Kane had a secluded emergency bunker in Siberia. These two and the supersoldiers they’ve created cannot be allowed to exist to threaten the UNSC. Find the bunker and retrieve any data you can from it. We don’t know how many soldiers Kane and Tanner have, so be on guard.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Lieutenant Miller will get you prepped. She’s waiting outside. Dismissed Chief.”
492 gave a quick salute and exited.
“Chief Petty Officer 492?”
He turned to the young woman in military fatigues and nodded.
“Excellent. Follow me sir and I’ll have you ready to go.”
492 followed Miller to the armory two floors up. Once inside she picked up a Mark74 LAR.
“I’m sure you’re familiar with this.”
“I’ve used it a few times.” he said as he cocked the rifle.
“Here’s something we just got in from ONI R&D.”
Miller picked up a small pistol.
“This is the HMWP Striker. Like you’d expect it’s accurate but doesn’t have a big punch. Typical sidearm.”
She perused the shelf of weapons as 492 waited.
“Ah, here it is. The Avenger PFH-9. Reiken wants you to use this to destroy the bunker once you’re done.”
492 took the grenade sized explosive from Miller.
“Press the button on the top and then set the time delay here. Press again to set or hold for three seconds to reset and disarm. Be at least 500 feet from the bunker when this goes off. Think mini-nuke.”
He nodded and clipped it to his armor, sheathed the Striker and slung the LAR over his back.
“One last thing Chief. Take this.”
The Lieutenant handed him a combat knife.
“Mark X titanium tipped combat knife. It’s nothing special but always comes in handy.”
Taking the knife, he followed her out of the armory and into a service elevator. It began to ascend toward the flight deck on top of the facility. The ride only took a few seconds due to magnetic accelerators on the side of the elevator shaft. Stepping out, a crewman showed him to his ship, a Phoenix class VTOL. Based on the design of the Hornet, the Phoenix Vertical Take Off and Landing fighter is a one man attack platform. Using integrated anti-gravity systems reverse engineered from Sentinels and a Gauss Cannon mainframe munitions system, the Phoenix is for more than just recon and hit and run it boasts numerous features not available in older UNSC aircraft and can take down aircraft twice its size. 492 climbed into the cockpit. Lieutenant Miller came around from the side.
“The bunker coordinates are set in the navicomputer. Good luck and come back in one piece.”
He nodded and closed the cockpit. The platform the Phoenix rested on extended out of the base and rotated, facing the ship away from the facility.
“Initiate thrusters.”
Blue flames shot out of the back of the Phoenix as it shot off into the sky.
“System check.”
Systems at 100%.
Speed: 436 MPH
Heading: 81.4 degrees northwest.
Armament: Full
Pulling up, 492 brought the Phoenix to cruising altitude and leveled off.
“ETA?”
Estimated Time of Arrival: 3.8 minutes
492 set it to auto pilot and sat back in the seat.
“This’ll be an easy first mission, in and out.” he thought.
The Phoenix shuddered as it began to drop out of Mach 5. He looked at the GPS system. They were getting close.
“This thing is fast.” he thought as alarms began to go off in the cockpit.
Warning! Warning!
Missile Lock!
Missile Lock!
Chapter III
November 7, 2611
1,400 feet above Southern Siberia
492 pitched the Phoenix into a barrel roll and avoided an Anaconda class tactical missile. The missile looped around and came back at him. He activated the flare system sending out miniature rockets to distract the missile. The Anaconda was foiled by the flares and exploded behind the Phoenix. The blast jarred the craft forward but 492 brought it back under control.
“Computer, locate SAM site.”
SAM site located
Type 52-A mobile SAM launcher
Service Tag: 36-J
Point: 78.3
492 pitched down and went into a nose dive. The g-forces exerted on his body nearly made him pass out as he streaked down toward the SAM launcher. The treaded tank like SAM was attempting to gain a lock on the rapidly approaching fighter but the systems couldn’t track it. 492 pulled up at 60 feet and fired the Gauss Cannons. The Type-52 exploded in a ball of heat and vapor. Returning to his course, he activated the Phoenix’s stealth systems. The hull of the craft flickered in the sun light and disappeared.
Alert.
Stealth System Damaged
Nanofiliments at 78%
“It’ll last till I get there” he thought.
Increasing the speed, he watched the GPS system. The red dot representing the bunker and the green one representing the Phoenix slowly closed on each others position. 492 activated the reverse thrusters and brought the fighter to a hover. Descending into the trees he checked his gear. The Phoenix set down on the forest floor. A light powder of snow was falling. It was serene and peaceful, something that wouldn’t last for long. Spartan 492 exited the cockpit and armed his Striker. The built in silencer, scope and laser sight would make the pistol good for the infiltration of the bunker. Holding it at the ready stance with the pistol pointed upwards he moved through the pine forest. He noticed two sets of footprints in the snow. He followed the tracks with his gaze and saw two men up ahead. He made his way silently through the underbrush till he was only a few feet away from them. He eavesdropped on their conversation.
“Вы слышите о Kane?”
“тот шальной получил некоторые ядерная боеголовка.”
“Этот весь полет привинчен. Я замерзаю, препятствую для того чтобы пойти back to дзот.”
492 could barely understand Russian and got little from their chat. He watched as they walked away.
“Ожидание, я забыл мои сигареты.”
One of the men had left something behind. 492 waited until they were out of visual of each other. Coming up behind the guard he kicked the mans left ankle, breaking it instantly, as he stabbed him in the neck with his Mark X combat knife. Dragging the body into the bushes, he waited for the other man.
“Grigori! Ад принимает вам настолько длиной?”
The second guard came back looking for his friend. 492 tossed the pack of cigarettes behind the man. Hearing the noise, the guard turned as 492 leapt from the bushes and stabbed the man in the spine. Hiding the body next to the other one, he proceeded toward the bunker. The bunker was not at all how he had expected it. A circular building about 35 feet across and made entirely out of concrete lay hidden in the woods. The roof was covered with fake foliage to disguise from the air. Splotches of green and brown paint covered the walls. The entrance was an indent into the wall which was sealed off by a heavy blast door. 492 studied his surroundings. No more guards. He left his cover and sprinted to the entrance. He peered into the indent. A security camera sat in the corner with access panels on either side of the door. Taking out the Striker, he shot the camera out and walked over to the panel.
Please Enter Your Password
Пожалуйста Впишите Ваш Пароль
492 took a flash drive sized device out from his helmet. Plugging it into the panel he began to hack into the system.
Finding last used password
Please wait…
Password recovered: ******
Entering Password
******
Access Granted
The blast door retracted and he entered the base. Finding himself in a dimly lit concrete corridor, 492 found the only door led to a small one person elevator. After looking for any more cameras, he got on and started the elevator. From what he could discern from the panel in the elevator, there were only three levels. The top level which he’d just come from, the main level, and the basement level for the generator, power or something along those lines. The door opened at he got off onto level 2. The entire level was a single control room. Computer monitors and control panels covered the walls. On the monitors 492 saw pictures of Earth, camera feeds from around the bunker and Spartans among other things.
“Looks like nobodies home” he thought.
He took a seat at the primary control panel. The last person to use it was still logged on to the system.
Access email system
Accessing system…
Inbox: 1 email
Open
From: MKane@UNSC.gov
Date: 04/6/2608 Sunday 7:30 A.M
To: Facility16@8403.992
Subject: Package secured
I’ve managed to secure the package from the convoy. UNSC will never know what hit them. Set the rendezvous for the exchange just south of Minsk. Get back to me when you have a definite location. I’ll have Tanner do the trade. I can’t spare any time. Let Omega 12 know I’ll be headed there soon and have Delta Team ready to escort Tanner. We can’t afford to lose him at this stage of the project.
Kane
Outbox: 1 email
From: Facility16@8403.992
Date: 04/8/2608 Monday 4:54 P.M
To: MKane@UNSC.gov
Subject: Location for RV
Kane,
We’re good to go. 45LAT 67LONG south of Minsk. Omega 12 is ready to receive you and Delta Team is already with Tanner. I’m assuming he has the package. I just hope the Koreans don’t try and screw us again this time. The package is worth twice what they’re giving us. The rendezvous will be on November 13. Tell Tanner not to mess this one up. One more incident and I don’t have to tell you what will happen. I’m leaving Facility 16 for 17 today. Redirect your messages there.
Facility 16
492 sat baffled by the information he’d just read. Some trade between the Koreans and Kane’s people was not something that could be good for the UNSC. He accessed the secure channel to HIGHCOM.
“We read you 492. Over.”
“I need to know what was in the convoy the Kane highjacked.”
“That information is level 5 clearance. We can’t disclose that.”
“Kane’s people are making a trade with the Koreans. Something he took from the convoy is worth something to the Koreans. Tell me what it is or will all might die.”
“That convoy was a nuclear arms convoy. It was transporting HAVOKs to be decommissioned. If the Koreans get a hold of those…”
“I know where there’re meeting and when. Send in a strike team or an air strike.”
“An air strike risks detonating the explosives. A strike team is our only option. Destroy the bunker and get back here. We’ll assemble a team.”
“Affirmative. I’m sending you the coordinates and date now.”
“Data packet received. HIGHCOM out.”
Spartan 492 pulled the small Avenger PFH-9 and armed it for two minutes.
Explosive armed:
2:00
1:59
1:58
Running to the elevator he activated it and headed back to the surface. As it neared the first floor, the power suddenly cut. The elevator screeched to a halt. Activating his night vision, 492 shot off the elevator roof with his LAR and climbed out. Pulling himself up the shaft, he glanced at the detonator time on his HUD.
1:25
Reaching the top, he pried open the doors using brute strength. Running like he’d never before, 492 sprinted out of the hallway out into the woods. He didn’t stop running till he was back at the Phoenix, nearly half a mile away.
0:17
The Phoenix’s engines warmed up.
0:08
The fighter lifted up and accelerated into the sky.
0:03
0:02
0:01
0:00
Chapter IV
November 13, 2611
V57 APC south of Minsk
Spartan 492 checked his LAR as he sat in the back of the V57. The six wheeled APC bumped over the dirt path as it carried the strike team to the site of Tanner’s rendezvous with the Koreans. Around him were the other members of the team. He was the only Spartan there. Five Black-Ops soldiers waited silently in the back of the V57. The Black-Ops program was nearly as rigorous and secretive as the Spartan one. Trained from the age of 17, these men were the UNSC’s unknown enforcers. Like the Spartans, they went where no one else dared. Assassinations, bombings, espionage, all of these fell into a Black-Ops dossier. They’d seen combat their whole life and their emotional tolerance had suffered. Those who fought for the UNSC had seen the horrors of war and the Spartans and Black-Ops got the worst of it.
Southern Minsk was a place no one should be forced to go. Russian nuclear testing had gone off the scales here when there were no restrictions and the area was devastated. The Geiger counters measured radiation off the charts. 492 heard the driver talk over their comm.
“We’ll send a bird to pick you up when the job is done.”
The team exited the APC out into the poisoned wilderness. The six moved through the dead pines toward an abandoned apartment building. They were silent. The building had seen better times and was on the verge of complete collapse. Bones and debris littered the inside. The testing had been done on live, un-expecting people. Climbing the crumbling concrete stairs, the team got to the roof. Rappel cords were let down the side. Sniper rifles were set up and they waited. 492 peered through the scope off the rifle. Once the convoy arrived they were to wait until both the Koreans and Tanner were in the open. Four of the Black-Ops would take position near the convoy in case a shot was missed. 492 and the other Sniper would proceed to kill Tanner and the Korean while the Black-Op’s dealt with the rest and took the package. The three designated ground support Black-Op’s descended to the ground and headed to their position.
“Ground support in position.”
“Affirmative.”
“I see dust on the east end of the highway. Must be the Koreans.”
“Affirmative. We see them.”
492 watched them approach. Three tanks and an APC rounded out the Koreans vehicular arsenal.
“492, Kane’s people are approaching. Only one APC. Odd. I figured they’d bring more.”
“I see them. They’re up to something. Keep an eye on that APC.”
“Tanner has left his APC. He’s got three others with him. They have Anti-material rifles and some sort of Spartan-like armor.”
“That must be the Delta Team I read about. Keep your distance.”
“Roger.”
The Korean general exited his APC. He stood in front of the tanks.
“Can you hear them?”
“Negative.”
492 watched as Tanner gestured angrily. The Korean smiled and walked back to his APC as several soldiers walked up behind him and shot Tanner in the chest. He went down as Delta team disappeared.
“They’ve got active camo!”
492 watched as Korean soldiers got shot out of thin air. The tanks exploded in a ball of blue flames. A Korean soldier ran toward where the Black-Ops were hid. His body shook as a Delta team member de-cloaked and shot him in the back. The three men pried open the APC’s door and pulled the general out. Dragging the scared man to the meeting spot, they threw him on the ground. One of the men pulled out a pistol and aimed it at the general.
“No! We need him alive. Kill Delta Team!”
492 fired a shot through the mans head dropping him instantly. The other sniper got the second man in the arm as the ground team opened fire on the last one.
“Tangos down. We’ll secure the area.”
A few minutes later the Spartan walked out into the clearing. 492 observed the dead bodies and smoldering tank husks. Two Black-Ops members stood over the cowering general, their guns drawn and pressed to his head.
“Why did you betray Tanner?”
The man answered in near perfect English. “He was asking for much more than what it was worth.”
“What was worth more?”
“Our….package.”
“Tell me what Tanner was giving you.”
“Launch codes….to several HAVOK’s in underground silos.”
A Black-Ops handed 492 the metal suitcase. He opened it finding the code and the satellite uplink for the silos. He handed it back to the soldier.
“Call HIGHCOM, get us air transport. I want dust off in 10 minutes.”
“Yes sir.”
He turned back to the general.
“What were you trading to them?”
“Look for yourself.”
492 picked up the black briefcase. It was locked.
“What’s the code?”
The man was silent.
492 removed his Striker.
“I’m going to count to five. If you don’t tell me the codes I’ll kill you and then get lab technician to open the case later. It’s your choice. Either way, I’m getting in this case.”
The general didn’t say a word.
“1”
Nothing.
“2…3…4”
“Okay! Okay! Its 8571.”
492 punched in the digits and the case opened. Lifting the lid up, he saw what was inside.
“Jesus Christ. These can’t be real.”
“They are.”
“And you were going to sell them? You son of a ***!”
492 shot the general once in the head and twice in the chest. The body slumped to the ground.
“What was he trading?”
“Nothing. It’s not important.”
492 closed the case. Inside were three glass vials, each one full of small Flood spores.
“Sir, Tanners still alive.”
492 walked over to Tanners bloody corpse. The man coughed up blood and phlegm. 492 placed his foot on the mans chest.
“I have some questions for you.”
Tanner was barely able to speak with the blood in his throat. “..Shoot..”
“What is Omega 12?”
“I’m….not…telling….you. That...dies with...me.”
“So be it.”
492 shot Tanner in the leg.
“Now, I’ll ask again. And next time I shoot, I won’t ‘miss’ your groin.”
Tanner looked defeated, his smugness gone.
“Omega 12…is…Kane’s….base of….operations….Flood study…”
“Where is it?”
“I’ll die first.”
“I don’t have time for your games Tanner. I will find out eventually.”
“No….you won’t…”
492 presses his boot down harder against the mans chest. Blood pours out of the bullet wounds.
“Now, where is it?”
“The…..Mariana Trench…7 miles….below the surface.”
“That’s better. Where exactly?”
“I….can’t…say…never…been there.”
“Than your usefulness has expired.”
He shot Tanner again in the head as a shadow fell over the meeting zone. A class-C VTOL Pelican hovers above them. The team climbs aboard, 492 carries both cases. The dropship ascends from the bodies below into the morning air.
Chapter V
September 28, 2611
UNSC J19 ATR, 76 miles from Guam
The Aquatic Transport and Recovery vessel floated above the deepest point on Earth. The small boat was ideal for the point insertion mission about to unfold. Spartan 492 replaced his helmet and locked it in place. The small hiss told him it was air tight. He helped the crew pull the small submersible they had been towing up to the port side of the ATR.
“She’s all ready for you” a crewman said
“Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”
He unlatched the sub from the tow cable and climbed down. The small one man sub was derived from the eloquent design of the shark. The vessel mimicked the fins and body shape of the Great White giving it unparalleled maneuverability and speed. Known as the RSDS, or Rapid Solo Deployment Submersible, it could pull 36 knots underwater and 45 on the surface. 492 opened the hatch and entered the cramped sub. Closing the hatch behind him, he activated the generator.
Systems Online
Power at 100%
Hull at 100%
492 descended into the dark depths of the Pacific Ocean, the RSDS’s highbeams cutting through the blackness.
500 feet
The twin nuclear thrusters propelled it further, the pressure rising steadily.
1,500 feet
492 thought back to the briefing for the mission. From what they knew, Kane had the resources and money to construct something on the ocean floor. Some sort of lab to research Flood. The destruction of the Flood was of top priority. Kane came second. All data was to be retrieved and transferred to HIGHCOM. He checked the depth.
30,000 feet
Magnetic sensors above showed a concentration of metal in the vicinity. He was close.
35, 800 feet
He was only 10 feet from the ocean floor on the lowest point on the globe. The pressure outside would crush a man into the size of a can. One mistake and he would be screwed. Dimming the lights, 492 advanced through the briny depths toward the location of the apparent base. The RSDS hovered over the sandy bottom as 492 peered into the dark. A flickered of light caught his eye. Coming closer, the sight that befell his eyes was one unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Stretching out before him sat Kane’s Mariana Trench base, Omega 12. The base wrapped around a massive rock outcropping. Various platforms and spires extending from the stone. The base was defended by several heavy laser turrets but 492 noticed that these appeared to be disabled. He guided the sub toward a landing dock. For a huge base, 492 also noted that there were few lights on.
“An elaborate trap or something worse?” he thought.
The sub glided into the dock and the blast doors began to automatically seal. The large steel plated room began to drain of water. 492 shut the subs systems down and exited as the water was released into the ocean. The dripping echoed in the docking bay and the eeriness of the base began to get to Spartan 492. He unsheathed his Avenger and walked toward the access hatch to the rest of the base.
“What, no welcome party?” he thought.
The door slowly opened, the squeal of metal on metal ringing throughout the room. The hallway on the other side was just as empty. Pools of water formed from leaking pipes along the wall. Cracks in the concrete snaked up to the ceiling. 492 paused. Gunfire could be heard far off in the base. An inhuman shriek reached his ears and chilled him to the bone. An overwhelming silence filled the base leaving it as soundless as before. 492 proceeded through the dim corridors; the doors around him were locked remotely. He had no choice but to continue through until he found what he was looking for. Turing the corner he saw that the corridor went nowhere.
“***, dead end.”
At the end of the hallway however, a small service panel sat. Approaching the panel, he found it was covered in blood. Wiping it off with his hand he viewed the last used document. It was a blueprint of the base. With little trouble he found where he had docked and traced his path to where he currently stood. The base was divided into three Sectors, each one able to survive temporarily without the others in case of an emergency. Sector 1 was storage and docking. Sector 2 seemed to be the lab section while Sector 3 acted as the control and power area. He rerouted power from a backup generator in Sector 1 to a service elevator nearby. Leaving the panel, he took the elevator up to Sector 2. The ride was slow, the generator was barely able to keep the elevator moving. Grinding to a halt, the doors slid open.
Tanner hadn’t been lying. Rows of Flood containment units stretched in front of him. The room was as big as a sports arena. Each one was numbered and labeled like rows in a library. The small lit panel indicated his was at Row 5 Section 2. A pool of water near the middle of the row drew his attention. He walked towards it. In the tanks to his left and right were Infection, Combat and Carrier forms. Some were in more advanced forms of infection than others. Some metal tables inside the containments units held strapped down humans, Infection Forms half buried in their chests. He reached the mid section. A containment unit’s glass observation panel was smashed out, shards of glass covering the floor. The small panel next to it indicated that it had once held infection forms. This confirmed his fears.
“Why can’t people learn” he thought.
A body lay on the ground before him. The man was dressed in a lab coat and appeared to have fallen to his death. 492 looked up to whence the man had come. Above the containment area, the command deck loomed. Nearly 100 feet above him, the command deck most likely oversaw all the containment procedures from the safety of the sky. Why Omega 12 wasn’t in a higher state of lockdown was beyond 492. Far away he heard the noise of glass shattering followed by the same shriek he’d heard earlier. It was followed by more shattering noises. The Flood were breaking free, Kane hadn’t made the glass thick enough. A Combat Form charged him from the end of the row. He dropped it with a burst from his Striker. The Flood were crawling all over the area by now. Stalkers crawled along the ceiling, Infection Forms swarmed along the floor. He fired into a Pure Form, striking its head and killing it. Switching to his LAR, Spartan 492 opened fire on the hordes of parasites before him. Bullets tore through rotted flesh but the Flood continued to advance on him. Swarming all around him, they closed in.
Reloading, 492 poured a full clip into a Tank form and dropped his ammoless weapon, again drawing his Striker. He shot an infected human in the chest and the creature stumbled forward. Hitting it again in the head the Flood dropped to the ground. Sheathing the pistol, he looked up toward the towering command deck. Raising his arm, he fired a grappling cord from his wrist. Latching onto the spire, he ascended as the Flood reached where he had been seconds earlier. A Combat Form leapt up and grabbed him. Kicking the creature in the face, it fell to the ground, disintegrating upon impact. Reaching the top, 492 pulled himself through a broken window. On the bloody control panel, 492 found a red lockdown button. Pressing the button, the sector began to seal. The blast doors in the command platform began to close. 492 ducked under the slowly closing doors. A Stalker Form scurried along the command deck and smashed through the glass. He pulled out his pistol and pulled the trigger. A faint clicking noise reached his ears. It was out of ammo. The creature struggled to get to him from under the rapidly closing door. As the metal plates crushed the creature, 492 stabbed it in the head with his combat knife. Pulling the knife out, he took a breather and continued into Sector 3 to find Kane and put and end to Omega 12.
Chapter VI
September 28, 2611
35,800 feet below sea level, Omega 12
Sector 3 seemed to have seen better times. The halls were flooded with several feet of water, concrete foundations were ridden with webs of cracks and metal ballast doors were on the verge of imploding. Spartan 492 ventured further into Sector 3. Bodies floated silently in the dark waters and the occasional Infection Form scurried across the wall. Other than his combat knife, 492 had no weapons. His LAR and Striker had run out of ammo and his extra clips were lost in the scuffle with the Flood. He’d need to find a new weapon if he planned on finishing the mission. Opening a doorway, he found himself in a glass corridor, each side exposed to the open waters. He walked slowly through, marveling at his surroundings. Bioluminescent fish, eels, squid and all manner of ocean life swam by him, their white hides briefly illuminated by the glow of the corridors lights. He saw that this hall connected too many others in a maze of networks leading around the base. Taking the “scenic route”, 492 strode through the glass labyrinth intent on finding access to the central section of the sector.
Shapes bent around the glass, someone was coming. A lone guard patrolled the catwalks just a few feet away. 492 lowered himself to the floor. The guard walked right by, never seeing the Spartan. 492 stood up and silently came up behind the guard. Putting his hand over his mouth, he stabbed him three times in the chest. Dropping the body, he took the rifle and access keycard from the man, leaving the body strewn in a corner. The lights flickered on and off, the power cutting sporadically. The entrance to Kane’s private quarters was just up ahead. Swiping the key card, the blast doors opened, revealing two armed guards pointing their weapons at 492’s head.
“Drop your