Here's
the latest part of Insurrection, I hope the few who read it enjoy, and
comment. If you have any questions about what's going on, just ask, and
I'll answer ASAP. Thanks.
Part 25 - Challenged
The
air around John shimmered, as he re-materialised after the
teleportation. Something about the room that seemed to be around him
seemed strange though...
Uh oh, he was standing on the
ceiling...where had that happened before? The re-materialisation
completed, and gravity took hold. John fell sprawling to the floor some
metres below, with a grunt. A similar noise from beside him told him
the same thing had happened to the Didact.
"Oh dear. I apologise
Reclaimer, creator of mine, I am unfamiliar with this installation's
grid system, and your construct's aid, Reclaimer, slightly confused the
process. Are you hurt?" Guilty Spark apologised, floating up to John's
face as he rose off the floor. The Spartan staggered back a little as a
result of the close contact , and fell onto a table behind. He cursed
for the second time.
"No, I'm fine. Didact?" John asked of the
Forerunner beside him, whose helmet had been left behind in the stasis
room. Oh well, they weren't going back for it.
"I am well. So,
343 Guilty Spark, how are you?" the Didact replied, then proceeding to
direct a question at the Monitor, who looked taken aback.
"Me?
I'm running at peak capacity, creator of mine. And I finally have an
answer for the question you poised to me long ago." Spark chirped back,
zooming around the room.
"Do you now? Just how long has it been since I asked that question?" the Forerunner questioned, dusting himself off.
"Some
101, 218 local years, creator of mine. I am surprised to see you
survived all this time, to be frank." the monitor replied.
"Over 100,000 years? Incredible. So much must have changed." the Didact whispered to himself. Spark mistook it as a question.
"You
could say that," the monitor chirped, "but all in all, organic
behaviour is still very much the same. They build empires, wage war,
and then fall. Although, on the bright side, I managed to discover the
Reclaimers!"
"More like we discovered you..." John muttered bitterly, remembering the atrocity back on Alpha Halo.
"Quite
so Reclaimer. I am pleased to see you have finally taken my advice and
upgraded to a Class Twelve combat skin. All the more efficient, for
fighting the Flood. I do hope there are no hard feelings between us
after the last time we parted. I've always thought we had a certain bond, don't you agree?"
John
ignored the Monitor's comment for the moment, looking around the room
he was in. He was definitely still in the sphere, the aesthetics were
definitely Forerunner.
"Speaking of that event, Spark, how the hell are you still alive?" John questioned, and the monitor laughed.
"Technically
Reclaimer, I am not alive. Machines, after all, can never truly become
like organic life," Spark lectured infuriatingly. As he said this, John
felt a slight pang of envy radiate from Cortana,"but yes, I am once
again fully functional, despite the high powered energy blasts you
destroyed me with on Halo; rightly so, may I add. I was well beyond
rampancy."
"Answer the man's question Tinkerbell," a familiar
voice at the doorway called out. Sergeant Johnson walked up, and rapped
the monitor on the lens reproachingly, "or you'll have me to answer
for. I'm still pretty pissed that you shot me with a laser."
"Johnson?
I'd be wondering where you'd got to." John commented dryly, trying to
mask his surprise. It seemed all that happened to him these days was
surprise after surprise.
"It ain't our fault we were blasted on the other side of this god-***...thing." the Sergeant replied, lighting a cigar.
"Where
did you get the cigar?" John asked curiously, remembering that before
they had been sent into this strange world, Johnson had practically
been out.
"CPO Mendez had a stash of Sweet Williams. I knew him
back from Project ORION, we were good friends. It was a big surprise to
learn he'd trained ya' Chief."
"Whoa, slow down. Mendez was in Project Orion too? Is he a Spartan I?" the Spartan questioned.
"Hell
yeah. You didn't think they'd let any old soldier train you and the
other IIs did you Chief? I knew one of the survivors of the first
Spartan project was training you, they actually had asked me to do it
first. But I said no, so it looks like they picked Mendez."
Revelation after revelation...
"So
everyone's here then? My-- Fred's Spartans, the Arbiter, Halsey,
Mendicant Bias, everyone?" John queried. The Sergeant puffed out a
cloud of smoke, and nodded.
"Yep. Oh, and that Mendicant Bias
and those Engineers built a new body for that chirping whistle in the
corner, unfortunately," Johnson informed him, pointing at Spark, and
then looking at John and the Didact. "Still, he found you and your
uh...friend, finally, so I guess he ain't all that bad. I'm still gonna
make him pay for nearly killing me though. When we're out of this place
and back home safe and sound, I'll use him as a paperweight or
something."
"I beg your pardon?" Spark exclaimed indignantly, "I am 343 Guilty Spark, --"
"--Monitor of Installation 04, yeah yeah, I've heard it all before."
"Hold on a sec? What do you mean they made you a new body?" John directed at Spark.
"Ah,
I'd be happy to edify you in this matter Reclaimer. You see, I am
constantly broadcasting information to a data centre upon this
construct, I have recently learned. My personality, memory, emotions,
all are stored within a backup file here. Thus, 032 Mendicant Bias
extracted these files, and, with the help of the Huragok, assembled a
new chassis for me."
"So...you're not the same Guilty Spark?" John questioned.
"Why
must you organics always complicate what need not be complicated? I am,
down to every last fibre of my mechanical being, 343 Guilty Spark,
Monitor of Installation 04. Do not try and attribute human boundaries
to me Reclaimer, it shall not yield any progress."
"Where is
Mendicant Bias? I wish to have a talk with him." the Didact whispered
in a deadly tone, which confused Sergeant Johnson.
"Just who is this character? He looks like an Elf with attitude."
"Elf?
Is that the name your ancestors gave us? How quaint. I am the Didact,
dear Reclaimer. I am the last of the Forerunner race." the Didact
replied to the Sergeant's question, with a completely normal tone.
"Is
this guy serious?" Johnson asked of the Master Chief, who nodded
mutely, "well I'll be damned. You've got a lot to answer for Elf boy,
that Halo system you built has caused me, and the rest of humanity a
helluva lot of trouble."
"I
apologise for that, Reclaimer. But we can deal with this matter later.
Right now I must speak to Mendicant," the Forerunner replied softly.
"All right then, follow me. You better come too Chief, everyone will be glad to know you've finally arrived."
"Finally? Just how long have we been gone?" John asked, puzzled.
"I'd say around a week. Mendicant Bias has had Spark and that crazy 2401 Pendant Tangerine--"
"Penitent Tangent, Reclaimer." the Monitor corrected absently.
"--
that Tangerine guy looking zooming around slip space like crazy looking
for you." the Sergeant replied. Penitent Tangent? John remembered the
slightly eccentric Monitor of Installation 05 well. He'd assumed he'd
been destroyed with the Gravemind.
"Did you say a week? That's impossible, I can't have been gone for more than an hour, if that."
"Time
passes strangely when encased in slip space. That specific area you
were in was chosen for just that reason Reclaimer, it runs slower than
most, aiding the way the Stasis Pods function." the Didact explained as
the small group walked, Guilty Spark humming alongside them.
"So how come you weren't surprised to see me pop out of the blue if I was gone for a whole week?" the Spartan questioned.
"Oh, that. Spark sent a message to Mendicant Bias a few days ago saying he had found you." Johnson replied jovially.
"A few days? Spark turned up around five minutes ago--ah, that whole slip space thing. I get it. So, where exactly are we?"
"We're
in an outpost on the far western side of the Micro Dyson Sphere's north
equator." the Didact suddenly chipped in, "I remember designing it. If
I remember correctly, there is an Apex nearby."
"An Apex?" John questioned.
"It's
essentially a shipyard, Reclaimer. Sadly, the Apex in this installation
contains but one Dreadnought. It, however, is the only way to leave
once you are inside." the Forerunner clarified.
"Then we should get to it straight away, and leave."
"Alas,
I fear that shall not be possible currently. Offensive Bias has
complete control of this Installation's technological systems, and will
do his best to prevent us from reaching the Dreadnought. The energy
shielding around it is too powerful for him to destroy, but he can
prevent us from reaching it." spoke the Didact.
"Why is he doing this?" Johnson asked, joining in the conversation.
"He is rampant, Reclaimer," explained the Forerunner, "and rampant machines do many illogical things."
"Such as when I attempted to kill you all!" Spark chipped in a little too happily.
"Yeah, good times." the Sergeant growled back, munching on his cigar.
The
outpost looked completely natural, unlike the usual Forerunner
aesthetics, the buildings seemed to be carved straight from the trunks
of trees, it was a peaceful glade.
"However, we must find a way
to overcome Offensive Bias, and quickly. No doubt he has lowered the
barrier around the stasis room, and even as we speak, Flood may be
exiting into the Citadel. He draws most of his power from a data centre
nearby, if we destroy it, then we can weaken him." the Didact urged.
The
long conversation was cut off as Johnson reached a tall building, which
looked to be carved out of the purest oak. It was beautiful. The went
to a nearby door, which was, unlike the rest of the residence,
electronic. It opened at his approach. John felt Deja Vu, hadn't he
done this thing a few days before hand when first entering the sphere?
"Party's in here Chief. Come on, let's go inside."
******************************
"The
Parasite you say? Upon Sangheilios? How has this come to pass?"
Equanimity questioned, leaning forward ever so slightly in his chair.
"I
know not, Prophets, Chieftain," R'tas replied, in his most humble tone.
It was extremely hard for him to resist the urge to bow down to the
Prophets: old habits die slow. The presence of the Brute made it easier
to resist, however. He would never bow down to a Brute, "save that when
I returned, the system of Helios, was infected."
Daedalus made a thoughtful growl deep within his throat, then spoke.
"And what of the mighty fleet of the Sangheili? Did it escape unscathed?"
R'tas
hesitated. If he confessed that the ships he had brought with him were
all that remained, the Covenant might just decide to have the Elites
wiped out. Of course, there were the colonies in other systems, full to
the brim with citizens, but that's all they were: citizens; most
religious zealots who refused to fight, whatever the need. R'tas would
perhaps be able to gather up a dozen or so ships from the colonies, but
precious little else.
The Elite could just lie, and tell the
Chieftain of the Brutes that he still possessed his fleet of hundreds.
Yet, later on, when they learned of the false promise, they may back
out. Nay, honesty was the best policy.
"Alas, nay. The ships I
have brought with me, and those precious few of the colonies, are all
that remains." R'tas admitted, and the Covenant Hierarchs exchanged a
quick glance.
"And
what of the humans? Why come to us when you have their considerable
might upon your side?" Sanctity questioned of R'tas, who looked
startled. The Covenant really were ignorant of current events.
"Did you not know? The Sangheili have been engaged in a fresh, bloody war with the humans for nearly three months now."
"And
in light of the current events, have the humans not cast aside their
anger to unite against a greater threat?" Equanimity asked with
disbelief.
"No, no, they have not." R'tas whispered sadly, a single tear running down his left cheek, before splashing to the floor.
"Snivelling
cowards." Daedalus rumbled angrily, his voice like thunder. R'tas
snapped out of his emotional lapse as the Brute spoke, not wanting to
show any distress in front of the...barbarian.
"And so, Fleet
master of the Sangheili," Sanctity cut in, holding up his frail hands
for silence and moving his chair forward, "what exactly is it you are
asking of the Covenant?"
"We wish to form an alliance with you
once again, in order to halt the Flood in it's tracks, before the
infection spreads throughout the Galaxy. They hold Sangheilios; the
control everything. All the latest of our technology, Prophet. All our
ships...everything. We cannot let them grow in power, even now they are
probably forming a Gravemind." R'tas intoned, his voice resolute. The
two Prophets nodded solemnly, but Daedalus merely growled angrily.
"You
expect us to just join up with you Elite? I do not think you worthy to
work alongside us." the Chieftain of the Brutes barked, throwing R'tas
off stride.
"Not worthy? What is it you would have us do then, Jiralhanae?" the Elite challenged, anger rising unbidden.
"I
challenge thee, R'tas Vadum'ee of the House Dum, to a public display of
unarmed mortal combat, one day from now." Daedalus puffed proudly,
drawing himself up to full height, "if you defeat and kill me, then my
Brutes shall gladly accept your leadership, you shall become the new
Chieftain of the Jirahanae, per say. If not, however, your Elites must
leave, and solve their own problems."
R'tas was dumbstruck, and
stood with his remaining jaw agape in shock. The Elite leader looked to
the Prophets with a pleading expression.
"This is foolishness,
Sanctity, Equanimity. Tell this Brute that what he suggests is
impossible." R'tas demanded of the Prophets, who squirmed.
"We
hold no jurisdiction over Daedalus, Vadum'ee," Equanimity intoned, "if
he wishes to fight in order for you to win the Brute's allegiance, then
you must comply with his wishes." Sanctity nodded along gravely.
"Nonsense!
Do not be absurd, the Flood threatens to consume all, and you wish to
duel to the death?" R'tas spluttered in disbelief. The Elite Honour
Guards at his side tensed, anticipating combat.
"What is the
matter Sangheili? Afraid you shall be bested, you pathetic worm?"
Daedalus smirked. He may be intelligent for a Brute, but deep down,
each and every one of the beasts possessed a primitive essence about
them.
"Fleet-master, would you have us put down this filth for
you?" the lead of the Elite Honour Guard, F'edri, questioned loud
enough for the Chieftain of the Brute and his own Honour Guard to hear.
The golden ordained Brutes growled warily, drawing out hammers and
Brute shots whilst the Elites brought out Energy swords. Things were
falling to pieces very quickly.
"Don't be absurd F'edri, we're
trying to form an alliance here. Sheath your blade, and that goes for
the rest of you." R'tas snapped, and the Honour Guards reluctantly
holstered their weapons, as did the Brutes. Tension was still high in
the room however.
"Do you accept the terms and conditions of the
challenge Elite, or are you a coward?" Daedalus asked, oblivious to the
atmosphere around him. The Prophets had drawn back from the near
conflict, and were looking uneasy.
"I accept. Where shall we meet?"
A hushed silence filled the room, and all eyes turned to Daedalus.
"Where
do you think? The combatant's arena of course. When this system's sun
is highest in the sky over Placid Enrichment. Would you have me send a
guide to show you where it is?"
"I know where it is Brute. I was
an Honour Guard here whilst you were still a young ling. Do not presume
to lecture me." R'tas replied in annoyance, and the Chieftain of the
Brutes huffed in respect.
"Very well then. My Brutes shall show
you to your allocated quarters, do not speak to anyone. I, and the
other Hierarchs have enough trouble managing the Covenant as it is,
without rumours flying around. I shall see you tomorrow, and for
perhaps the final time." Daedalus spoke softly, instantly becoming warm
again. Then again, R'tas reminded himself, challenge for leadership of
the Brute packs were common, to die in mortal combat was considered a
great honour for them. Fools.
The Brute Honour Guards grunted
wearily, marching past the Elite convoy, beckoning them to follow. The
Elite Honour Guard looked amongst each other, nodding, and formed a box
around R'tas as they walked. F'edri fell in beside R'tas.
"Noble
one, this is absurd. You are far too valuable to be killed in some
petty brawl," the Honour Guard leader began, with anger in his voice,
"allow me to take your place, my life is insignificant compared to
yours."
"No, my dear F'edri, never think that. Your life is just
as important to the Sangheili as mine. This is my chance to prove
myself, to fight for my brethren. Indeed, it is a great honour." R'tas
spoke back sharply, as much to convince himself as the Honour Guard.
"Would it be so easy, but that Daedalus is physically stronger than you Fleet-master, if I may say. How shall you kill such a foe?"
"Kill? I shan't kill him, he will be a great asset. Nay, brother, I shall merely best him, and force him to yield."
"This one has forgotten whether it's heatsink is over capacity. It wonders whether the criminal scum considers itself fortunate" ~ Blasto, the only Hanar Spectre.