Graham is awsome have him get promoted to be in charge of it all.

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If only my scarab had a shield. Wait what's this a sentinel that generates a shield around my unit you say. Hahaha

next chapter???

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This was in the Don'ts
Posting comments or links in support of illegal activities including, but not limited to, threats against the life of any living person, theft, arson, POKING SMALL ANIMALS, and piracy. If it is illegal do not post about it here.

Soon I suppose, I'll try and have it up by Saturday. I just need to get all the characters together, then I'll be fine. But until then, I keep running into writers block.

But soon.

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"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.

Whoa, where did all these words come from? I went crazy with this part, but it does what I wanted to do, and now all is in motion. Enjoy.

Part 29 - Home sweet home

"Fleetmaster, our vessel has been boarded by the parasite! I shall destroy us, and them with our ship." a shipmaster told R'tas over the fleet wide intercom, who nodded sadly.

"By your word brother. Truly you are a courageous Sangheili. May the Gods be with you." the Sangheili leader replied, focusing his eyes on the boarded ship of his fleet.

"And you, noble one." the shipmaster replied, terminating the link moments before the ship exploded in a violet cloud of plasma, destroying the boarding Flood and their potential hosts.

R'tas didn't have time to grief though, for the Flood held his attention fast. Both the Separatist and Covenant fleets had been at Sangheilios battling the Parasite fleet for over ten minutes now. The Flood were stronger in number, with well over one and twenty ships, compared to the Separatist and Covenant's 75. Still, they were making progress, and had so far destroyed many a Flood ship. Perhaps they would win after all.

Still, it was strange that the Flood had such a small fleet; Sangheilios had well over 400 ships docked when the Parasite dominated it. Perhaps the beasts did not know how to pilot them.

"Covenant Hierarchs, how is your own side of the battle faring?" R'tas questioned over the intercom, and a moment later he received an answer from Sanctity.

"The Flood are pressing hard, but we will overcome, by the grace of the Forerunners." the elderly Prophet reported, and R'tas nodded, shutting off the link momentarily. He had his own ship to command.

"Flood ships, starboard! Burn their heathen flesh warriors!" R'tas commanded, and a moment later plasma torpedoes surged out of the Intent, sailing towards the standard infected cruisers heading towards them. The plasma cut through the shields of one of the ships, and detonated the fusion heart of the Flood cruisers, shattering it. One of the largest pieces of the wrecked ship crashed into the other Flood cruiser, smashing through the middle. Another bolt of plasma finished the breaking ship off.

"Targets neutralised fleetmaster!" one of R'tas' Zealots cried out in triumph, and the Elite Fleetmaster nodded, gazing out of the observation window to the battle beyond. By his rough estimate, the Flood had lost 15 ships, whilst the Covenant and Elites had lost 10. Considering the Flood possessed more ships, it was likely the battle would be a very close one.

For the next twenty minutes, the two fleets traded fire, both suffering heavy losses. Eventually, the Flood ships had been dwindled down to 90, whilst the Covenant and Separatists had been withered down to a mere 65. Victory was still possible, but it looked slim. Still, Sangheilios was counting on them all.

Just then, there was a surge of light some way off the battle, and R'tas cried out in distress. Through slipspace, nearly 100 Flood ships had arrived; reinforcements. Daedalus evidently saw them too.

"By the Gods, 65 of our ships against 190 of theirs? Impossible. We're all doomed." the Brute Chieftain cried out, pessimistically. R'tas couldn't help but agree with the statement. Misery was clear in all the faces of his subordinates.

"We cannot flee. The Flood would destroy us before we could enter slipspace. We must make our last stand now." the High Prophet of Equanimity breathed over the intercom. He was right. The moment before a ship entered slipspace was when it was most vulnerable, the bending the fabric of space took so much energy that it rendered shields inactive.

"All cruisers, prepare to fire! We shall not go down without a fight." R'tas commanded, as the Flood ships slowly began to encompass the Elite and Covenant ones in a circle.

Suddenly, a Brute Shipmaster in the Covenant fleet barked over the intercom.

"Slipspace rupture on the port side!" the Jiralhanae growled. R'tas growled. More of the Parasite? The universe was truly doomed.

The already present Flood ships were drawing ever nearer. One infected carrier broke off from the main line, and made straight for R'tas's Assault Carrier. The Elite Fleetmaster brought up a control pad, and prepared to self destruct the Intent. He would not become one of them.

Just as the Flood ship was about to crash into the Shadow of Intent, something hit it from the port side. Something large, metallic; a human MAC shot.

R'tas slowly turned his gaze to look out of the port observation window, and gasped, his eyes turning moist with surprise.

"The humans! They've come to help!" R'tas cheered, as did the entire conjoined fleet of the Elites and Covenant.

Over 100 human ships were sailing towards the battle, their huge destroyers taking up the front.

The cheering stopped as abruptly as it had began. One of the human Destroyers, which R'tas read to be named Soul of ice, fired a MAC round. It was not aimed at the Flood. Instead, it flew past them and smashed into the side of the Prophet of Sanctity's Assault Carrier, ripping through it's shields. The other human ships followed up the attack with Archer pods, which exploded into the Covenant carrier, destroying it finitely. R'tas cried out in surprise.

"Sanctity? Sanctity!" Daedalus shouted over the intercom, lamenting over the loss of his fellow Hierarch. There was no response.

"By the Gods, what are the humans doing?" R'tas breathed, staring out at them. They were firing on both the Flood, and the conjoined fleet of the Elites and Covenant. Just then, a human voice broke out over the intercom, mocking.

"Hope you don't mind that we're late to the party chaps." R'tas recognised it as the voice of Lord Eden. The Elite clenched his fists tightly.

"What in the Gods name do you think you are doing human? Cease your attack on my ships at once, we are not infected!" R'tas demanded, smashing his fist onto the dashboard of his ship. All he received in reply was a laugh full of mirth.

"Oh, you are an infection Elite. Just not of the Flood. Tell the Devil that humanity sent you." Eden spoke coldly, and then he terminated the line, leaving R'tas standing there on his ship as the humans cut through the Flood, shooting down his fleet as well"

"Fall back! Get around the other side of the Parasite! Put some distance between us and the humans, now!"

*********************

"Hold on..." the Didact warned, as the Dreadnought cut through the sky of the Dyson Sphere. John grasped onto a metal bar affixed to the inner hull tightly with a single hand. The two were inside the -blam!-pit of the ship. John's curiosity had overcome his restraint, he wanted to see how this ship flew.

Logically, the Dreadnought should have broken the atmosphere, and entered space. It was what John was used to, and, despite knowing what would happen in actuality, it was still half unexpected.

Rather than break the bonds of the sphere, the Dreadnought seemed to distort, and slow down. A rift appeared at the tip of the Forerunner ship; like a slipspace hole but not quite the same. The world went blurry, until a moment later, they were in slipspace. Or something like slipspace. In actuality, it seemed a lot like the version of slipspace he'd entered in the past when they had salvaged the Forerunner crystal from the burning Reach.

"How long?" John asked, walking up to the Forerunner, who looked thoughtful.

"Ten minutes. I know, it's slow, but this Dreadnought isn't in peak condition." the Forerunner said casually, grimacing in what seemed like an apology. The Master Chief let out a noise of disbelief.

"Slow? Didact, with our ships, it would take months to travel from Onyx to Earth." John told the Forerunner, who's noble brow rose, tapered ears quivering.

"Months? How extraordinary." the Didact remarked, smiling.

It seemed the Forerunner had not been exaggerating; for but a few minutes later, they emerged out of slipspace, and John could clear see Earth looming in the distance. Earth. Even though he was a colonist, born on Eridanus II (Which had been glassed by the Covenant back in 2530), every human still felt a tenuous connection to their species' planet of origin.

"Home sweet home." Johnson breathed, coming up behind John after entering the -blam!-pit. Another example of a man who's curiosity overcame restraint. The Spartan nodded as the Dreadnought sailed past the Lunar colony.

After having secured the Apex with Johnson, the rest of Blue Team had met up with them. The Didact had then fired up the Dreadnought, with everyone on board. And now, they were back at Earth.

John looked forward to having a bit of peace and quiet. The Didact would be able to convince the Elites to give up fighting; they viewed him as a God, after all, and once that had been done humanity would be easy to placate. Perhaps John would finally retire; he'd seen enough war and loss to last him a lifetime. It would be nice to have a normal life for once. Although given his size and stature, it would be difficult for him not to draw attention to himself.

There was but ship orbiting the planet, what seemed to be an ONI Prowler. How strange. As the Forerunner Dreadnought approached closer to Earth, the human ship noticed them, and swivelled towards them. With his keen eyesight, John could see the MAC cannon of the ship unfold in preparation. The Spartan tapped the Didact on the shoulder.

"I think they might think we're hostile, the last guy who flew one of these Dreadnoughts wasn't exactly a friendly guy. Can you patch us through with a communications link?" John questioned, and the Didact nodded, hitting a few keys on the terminal in front of him. A moment later, a voice answered.

"This is Commander Samuel Bairns, Office of Naval Intelligence, Section Three. Who goes there?" the voice asked, and John smiled at the human voice, even if it did belong to a spook. It had been far too long.

"I believe he's the one who blew up our Seraph at Onyx." Cortana informed the Master Chief helpfully, who's eyebrows rose. This would indeed be interesting.

"Spartan 117, and others. Mind directing that cannon elsewhere?" John questioned, and there was a large gasp on the other end of the communications link.

"Master Chief? You're alive!" Commander Bairns cried out in a half laugh, half sob. "Dark Harvest, he's alive!"

"Quite so sir. I would however, advise you to keep your MAC gun aimed at that ship until you confirm who is on board. I would be happy to send a--" an eerie voice spoke. An ONI Spectre, John thought, remembering the name for the 6th Generation ONI 'Smart' AIs.

"It's the Master Chief Dark, who're you expected to be with him? An Elite?" Samuel laughed, and John couldn't help but wince, looking through the one way glass of the -blam!-pit to see the Arbiter conversing with the two remaining Spartan IIIs outside, Tom and Lucy. Both had seemed incredibly down after Ash, Olivia, and Mark had been killed. Still, they all had the slipspace pods with Team Katana within. Perhaps in the future, they could be unsealed. The Didact had taken a look earlier, and had said that all hope was not lost.

"Even so sir, I highly recommend that you allow me to--" the ONI Spectre began to insist, before being cut off once again by the Spook.

"I recommend you shut your trap Dark. You still there Master Chief? I don't suppose you've got a smaller transport on board do you? Only I don't think that...thing of yours will dock very well on an Orbital Defence Platform." the Commander asked, and John looked questioningly at the Didact, who nodded.

"That we do, in the lower bay of the Dreadnought." the Forerunner spoke in a melodic voice. John nodded, turning back to the intercom.

"We do. Which Platform? The Cairo?" John asked, seeing as how it was the closest. Samuel affirmed his question.

"Thanks for the help Spook, be ready for a shock though, we've got quite the convoy here." Johnson advised, and there was a spluttering from the other end.

"Sergeant Johnson? Is that you? But I--we held a funeral for you! The Arbiter said you were dead, that he saw you die!" Commander Bairnes cried, obviously bewildered. Avery Johnson chuckled, lighting a cigar.

"Until you see my soul float up to that place we call heaven Spook, then consider me immortal." the Sergeant Major laughed, turning to face the Didact as he left the -blam!-pit to lead them to the transport. "Meet you on the Cairo."

The link was terminated, and John looked once again down at Earth. Beautiful. But only one ship defending? Something was wrong. Perhaps retirement wouldn't come for a while yet.

********************
"...and so now the fleet has gone to Sangheilios, to wipe out the Flood. And the Elites." Samuel finished with an air of finality, collapsing into his soft chair and taking a sip of brandy. John frowned. He had finished his tale a little while ago, and the ONI Commander had decided to believe him. The Master Chief was finding the Commander's story even harder to believe.

"Why are you still here?" John asked, taking a sip of his own drink. Water, Purified.

"Eden asked me to stay and watch out in case the Flood try to come here. If they do, I'm to alert him immediately with a Slipspace COM." Samuel explained, indicating a machine in the corner of the room. John had heard of these things before; apparently very expensive, they could send messages through slipspace.

"So what do we do now?" Mendez asked, leaning forwards.

"Well, there is no other alternative. We must leave for Sangheilios at once." the Arbiter suddenly instructed, whilst being looked at suspiciously by the ONI Commander. Fred stood up, and stared the Elite in the eye.

"So you can what, join up with your Elites and command their fleet? I'm not having you imperilling humanity's chance of survival. You can stay--" the Spartan leader began to argue, before John stood up, suddenly angry that Fred would attack his friend in such a manner.

"No one is going to succeed in this war between us and the Elites; because there won't be a war. We're all going to Sangheilios, to stop the Flood, and stop this fighting. Understand?" John asked angrily, his face in the slightly nervous face of Fred. Finally, the Spartan leader pushed John away.

"I'm sorry Master Chief, but the last time I checked, I was the higher rank. And I say we lock the Elite up in a cell, maybe even kill him." Fred growled, leering at John aggressively.

"Chief..." Cortana warned.

Mendez then stood up, hands out in a soothing manner. He walked between John and Fred, who were standing faced against each other, fists clenched.

"All right Spartans, stand down." the CPO trainer instructed, looking from Fred to John. He was a brave one, to stand between two angry men who stood over seven feet each.

"Screw this, that Elite's dead." Fred breathed out, snatching Mendez's pistol from his sheath in a blink of an eye. Spartan 104 raised the small firearm at the Arbiter, who watched dumbstruck, shields deactivated.

John's body reacted before his mind did. He pushed past the startled CPO Mendez, and struck Fred in the chest with his palm. 104 lost his balance, and the shot of the pistol hit the ceiling, smashing a light bulb.

Fred was soon back up on his feet, and threw a punch towards John. It hit the Master Chief square in the face, a knock which would have killed a normal man. As it was, John merely reeled back, before diving towards Fred's legs, tackling the crazed Spartan Junior Lieutenant to the grand. John fell on top of Fred, smashing his friend, his brother in the face time and time again.

Fred then grabbed John by the shoulders, and rapidly rolled the Master Chief over, so he was the one on top. The Junior Lieutenant picked John up, and threw him against the wall. The steel dented. John's lip was bloody by now, as a result of the fight. He caught another punch Fred aimed at him, and threw 104 into a table, the legs of which instantly snapped.

The fight went no further however, for at that moment, Kelly and Linda had snapped out of their shocked state of mind, and quickly restrained the two clashing Spartans. John struggled, but found Linda's grip to be as hard as rock. The Spartan IIIs came over to assist in his restraint, and John stopped trying, collapsing to the floor, weeping -- not out of pain, but emotional upset. Fred was in a similar state of mind, eyes puffy and leaking.

John was suddenly aware of his surroundings, and of the room of spectators staring at both him and Fred. Commander Bairns was cowering behind an overturned desk, knuckles white. Johnson's hand shook as he lit a cigar. The Arbiter was still staring at Fred, as if asking 'why?' The Didact had a thoughtful look upon his face, showing no real reaction. Of course, Mendicant Bias, and the two other Monitors had gone to help Doctor Halsey with something, which was a small blessing. John would have been embarrassed beyond measure if the Doctor had been watching. Mendez stood over the two collapsed Spartans, shaking his head in disapproval.

"That's not how I brought you up to behave Spartans. I expect better. Fred, you know better than to aim a pistol at someone who's done nothing wrong. Master Chief, you shouldn't have got into a fist fight." Mendez told the two angrily, and for some reason, John felt...relief? It had been so long since Mendez had been watching over them, that even being chastised by the man felt good.

John stole a look over at Fred, who met eye contact. The Spartan Junior Lieutenant quickly scowled and looked away. John ran a bitter tongue over his bloody lips; and the blood wasn't just his.

"Right, I'm gonna let you back up sir." Linda told John, "Kelly will do the same with Fred. No more fighting, okay?"

John nodded, regretfully. Fred seemed to do it reluctantly. Linda and Tom eased their painful grip on John's arm, and the Master Chief rose, coughing in embarrassment.

"Well, that would have made for great Youtube material." Johnson chuckled, trying to make a joke out of the whole situation. No one laughed.

"Johnson, you dinosaur, Youtube's been dead for years." Mendez muttered, shaking his head in mock despair.

"Shut up Mendez. Now are you two gonna kiss and make friends, or am I going to have to tell the Principal?" Avery asked Fred and John, who both hung their heads in shame. Fred was the first to look up.

"I'm...sorry Master Chief. I acted rashly." the Junior Lieutenant apologised, and John nodded his head. This wasn't one of those times where both were to blame. Fred had been about to do something stupid, and John had rightly stopped him.

"It's not me you should be apologising to Fred." John muttered, nodding his head over at the general direction of the Arbiter. Fred closed his eyes, drawing a deep breath, and turned towards the Elite.

"I'm sorry Arbiter, I shouldn't have done that." the Spartan leader told Thel, who nodded gravely.

"May we thank the stars that...John over there was able to prevent such an event from happening. There is no sense in holding a grudge Spartan; I forgive you." the Arbiter spoke, and the hint of a smile touched Fred's blood red lips. Fred then turned back to John, his look uneasy.

"I'm not fit to be a leader Master Chief, as I just proved. To be honest, the pressure of it has been getting to me. Would you take command of Blue Team again? Please." Spartan 104 asked John, who was slightly taken aback.

"But you're a higher rank." John protested.

"Screw rank. The universe looks to be at an end anyway, what's a few bars and insignias in the light of that?" Fred protested. John nodded, and turned to the others.

"Would everyone else be okay with this?" the Chief asked, and there was nodding and muttering around the room. It would seem the decision had been made for him. "Very well then, I'll take charge. Unless Commander Bairns is coming to Sangheilios with us?"

Samuel looked up then, a wary look still on his pale face. The ONI Spook shook his head.

"No, no. I'm staying here, like Eden ordered me. Are there any resources I can give you from the armoury?" the Commander asked, and John looked at the Didact, who nodded.

"Yes, we'll need new weapons. The ones from the Dyson Sphere will have been cooked as we left the sphere. How advanced is the fusion technology humanity uses?" the Forerunner asked, and John looked at the other humans in the room.

"Uh...pretty much non existent." the Master Chief told the Forerunner, who nodded.

"Ah, I see. You use refined Plasma then? Dark matter concentrate?" the Didact questioned, and John shook his head once again.

"We use bullets. Propelled by chemicals." John informed the Forerunner, who smiled.

"Very amusing Reclaimer. Now really, what do you use?"

"I just said; bullets."

The smile fell from the Didact's face, to be replaced by one of sheer disbelief.

"You're not joking are you? Precursors above, you still use bullets? Once this situation is dealt with, I shall have to teach you some of your lost methods." the Forerunner said casually, sighing. John frowned. Lost methods? Before he could ask the Didact to clarify though, Commander Bairns spoke up.

"Well, all I know is that if you pump enough lead into something, it dies; fusion or no fusion. Come on, I'll take you to the armoury." the Commander wheeled around, and beckoned for the group to follow.

John nodded, and looked around. Fred was still eyeing him warily. John sighed, and walked over to him.

"Listen, Fred, let's just forget about what happened. It was a moment of idiocy on both our parts. Right now we've got to focus on stopping the Flood; and not the Elites. You with me?" John asked, holding his arm out. Fred grasped it tightly in a brotherly manner.

"Aye sir, I'm with you."

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"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.

youre elite ff made me think of Lord of The rings son *inhales and almost chokes on cigar again*...

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Dont tempt me
p.s wolver is the best fan fic writer...ever

I would have preferred it if the arbiter had bisected fred for his transgressions, but your resolution was good enough. ;-)

 

Also, I lol'd at the bullets part.

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Spess mehrens

Rofl at the YouTube part!

 

Great new chapter.

Longest. Part. Ever. 25000 characters. And it's not even finished yet! Enjoy this, I slaved over it, and went through three cups of tea.

Part Thirty - Standing up to the bully

"That's it lads, give 'em hell!" Eden whooped over the intercom to his fleet as the human ships sliced through the Flood and Elite ones. Captain Graham Daniels scowled, disgusted. It seemed brutal, dishonourable to attack a weaker enemy who hadn't attacked in return.

"Sir; maybe we should leave the Elites. Focus on the Flood I mean." Daniels suggested to the cockney Fleet Admiral, who shook his head.

"No need son, we're doing fine. Stand tall, for today is a great day for humanity!" Eden replied, and Graham had to repress yet another scowl. Son? Eden was but a few years older than he was!

"But Lord Eden sir, don't you think what we're doing is...wrong?" Daniels blurted out before he could stop himself. The room fell silent. Graham was very aware of the marines standing in the room, all corrupt pals of Lord Eden, watching him. Eden turned to look at him.

"Wrong? We're carrying out God's will Captain, it's our fate to rule this Galaxy." the HIGHCOM chairman snapped back, and Graham's eyes widened.

"Our fate? Surely you don't believe in that Manifest Destiny type crap sir?" Daniels protested, and instead of being shouted at, as he had expected, Eden merely smiled and nodded.

"I do. God gave us the power to get through the war, and now he wants us to finish the job, undo the mistake he made." the man lectured, a crazed look in his eye. The common Christian belief these days was that the Covenant and all non-humans were earlier creations of the Lord; mistakes if you will. In other words, bollocks. Daniels shook his head, whipping his pistol out in the blink of an eye and aiming it at Fleet Admiral Eden's head.

The adrenalin rushed leader of the UNSC didn't even notice the cold steel pressed against his cap at first. Not until Daniels dug it in harder. Immediately, Eden spun around, and cried out in surprise when he saw the gun aimed now in his face. The corrupt marines immediately reacted, aiming MA2Bs at Graham. They didn't fire though. Neither did the rebellious Captain.

"Captain...what are you doing?" Eden questioned nervously, his voice breaking a little. Daniels took a deep breath.

"Stopping a madman. Command the fleet to stop firing. Now." the Captain ordered, thrusting his own radio at the Fleet Admiral. Graham didn't want Eden's hand going anywhere near his belt. Eden glared at him, before gingerly accepting the radio. Beads of sweat were forming on his forehead, where the gun was pointed.

"You'll regret this." Eden threatened, before bringing the radio to his mouth. "Cease fire! Wait for further orders."

Daniels was breathing heavily, but his hand kept steady somehow. He felt a slight warm sensation on his back, and realised dozens of laser sights were being aimed at him. He wasn't distracted, not even for a second.

"You try anything, I put a bullet between his eyes." the Captain threatened. His back cooled. Eden was smiling now, although it was a nervous smile.

"What now Captain? Now that the fleet has stopped firing, it won't be long before the Flood decides to hit back. You kill me, then you'll get killed, and everything will go as planned. You keep that gun aimed at me, the Flood infects us all. And so, you see, the only logical choice here is to release me, and hope I'll be forgiving." Eden persuaded in a honey laden voice. God it was tempting to do what he said. But Daniels didn't waver, and kept the gun aimed at Eden. At least for now, he'd stopped the slaughter.

"Not gonna work ***­hole." Graham retorted, never taking his eyes of Eden. He could not help wonder what he was going to do. Perhaps the Elites would be able to destroy the Flood and capture the UNSC fleet non-violently.

Suddenly, the huge door to the room burst open, and a man's voice yelped in shock.

"Hey, Eden, what's the big deal? It's great we're not killing the Elites, but the Flood will...ah, hell." the newly arrived Fleet Admiral Harper broke off as he saw the scene before him. Daniels wasn't idiotic enough to turn his head, but he shifted his eyes in the direction of his friend. It was then Eden struck. The Fleet Admiral brought up an arm, knocking Graham's hand holding the gun into the air. It fired, bouncing off the ceiling. Before the Captain could level it back down at Lord Eden, the man kneed him down below. Graham's eyes went wide with pain, and he collapsed to the floor, feeling sick. When he looked up again through his tears, Eden had levelled the gun at him.

"Sanchez! Niles! Tie up this treacherous piece of scum." the UNSC leader ordered, and two corrupt marines grabbed Daniels by the arms, sneers on their faces. They bound his hand and legs behind his back with rope, and threw him on the floor. Graham struggled, and couldn't get up.

"All right Philip, stop right there." Admiral Harper protested, holding up a hand. The group of corrupt soldiers spun around, and a dozen laser sights appeared on his chest. Eden smirked.

"No thanks Will. I'm fine as I am. Tie him up too."

Harper's face fell, and he frowned at the marines approaching him.

"If you dare lay one finger on me, I swear to God you'll be on death row by tomorrow!" Harper promised, and for a moment, the three marines halted. Eden, sat down on his chair once again, waved a lazy hand.

"Overruled."

A few moments later, Harper was tied up and thrown next to Daniels, who offered a weak smile as they both lay on the ground, cheek pressed against the cold floor. The smile wasn't returned.

"Eden! You won't get away with this!" Harper threatened, despite facing in the complete opposite direction of the corrupted Fleet Admiral. Daniels saw Eden walk up behind him.

"Oh, but I will. It would be the simplest thing in the world to make it seem like you were caught in friendly fire. No one would question your deaths. No one will." Eden whispered in Harper's ear as he bent down. Graham felt his mouth go dry -- Eden was going to kill them both!

"As it is," Eden continued, "first I will let you watch humanity's triumph, and you shall die knowing you are traitors."

Graham sighed as a marine grabbed him, and thrust him into a chair before the observation window of the room. Harper was thrown next to him.

"What the hell were you playing at lad?" Harper demanded, with no real anger in his voice, more of a regretful tone really.

"I couldn't just stand by and do nothing. I couldn't let genocide happen when it was within my power to try and stop it." Daniels protested, and there was a great exhalation from Harper.

"Yeah, I know. Well, let's hope God was watching eh? Maybe we'll be bumped up the queue and get straight into heaven."

There was a noise from behind them, as Lord Eden wedged his own chair in between Daniels and Harper. There was a great grin on the corrupt Fleet Admiral's face, and he put his arms mockingly around the shoulders of his two foes, taunting them.

"All right mates, ready to watch the fireworks?" Eden asked jovially, and Harper attempted, to no avail, to shrug Eden off.

"Come on Eden, think for a second. What if we kill the Elites, and the Flood turn out to have even more ships? We'll have pretty much screwed ourselves. We need allies." Graham argued, and the UNSC leader shook his head happily.

"We didn't have allies before the Great War, we certainly don't need them now. Humanity is on a roll, young traitor, and nothing will stop us." Eden replied, smiling. He then brought up the radio Daniels had passed over but minutes before to his mouth.

"Resume fire. Kick their ***."

Graham could only look on helplessly as the UNSC ships began to fire again. The Flood, battered on both sides, had had their numbers reduced drastically. The battle was turning into less of a bid to defeat the Flood, and more of a war between the UNSC and Elites.

"Sir, new contacts slipping in!" an officer called over the intercom of the Fleet, and Daniels looked left to see Eden scowl. Graham contemplated on shouting back, for help, but knew Eden would kill him before he could finish the first word.

"Dammit, more Elites? Or perhaps Commander Kiara finally decided to comply with my order and bring her fleet here. It better be her, or when this is over she's ending up like you Captain." Eden muttered, almost to himself. Graham sighed. Half of him hoped it was more Elites, but he knew deep down that it was most likely, as Eden had thought, Kiara's fleet.

It turned out it was neither. From the great rift in space around 100 miles to the left poured out a strange ship. It looked like the Prophet of Truth's old Dreadnought, although with subtle differences. Graham felt his mouth go dry, and looked sidewise at Eden, whose knuckles had turned white, his face ashen.

"Sir? What do we do?" the officer cried, unsure. Eden snarled.

"Open fire! Destroy it!" the UNSC leader commanded, shouting. There was a feeble 'aye sir' from the officer, and the link cut off.

Many MAC rounds were fired at the Dreadnought, which was heading towards the centre fray. Captain Daniels could see plasma torpedoes from the Elites on the other side of the Flood ships surge forward too. Evidently, they presumed it to be hostile. And this also showed that they'd managed to regroup together.

The shots completely missed the ship though, one moment it was there, the next, after a faint shimmer, it was gone. Graham looked at the scene in bemusement. There was nothing to be seen. He held his breath.

A few moments later, there was a loud rumble below the battlefield. Eden seemed to gasp. Suddenly, out of nowhere, the same Dreadnought flew upwards, less than a mile away from the Soul of Ice. Shock-waves glistened, and the human flagship was shaken, before being plunged into complete darkness as the electronic systems were shut off.

"My God..." Eden breathed, staring at the wondrous sight before him. He then frowned, regathering his thoughts, before barking over the still working radio. "Someone hit the emergency generator!"

There was a pause, before a voice echoed over the small hand-held radio.

"It's fried too sir! The Dreadnought's sending a transport, it's heading towards this ship? What do we do?" the panicking officer cried, and Eden scowled.

"Pull yourself together man! Grab a rifle and shoot anything that comes out of that transport. I don't care what it is, shoot it!" the Fleet Admiral commanded, his usually calm complexion replaced by one of anxiety and fear.

"Oh my God, it's right outside the booth! With all due respect Lord Eden, screw you! We're out of here!" the officer cried back. Eden cursed at the man, threatening all sorts of things. The only response was a wave of static, followed by the sound of heavy boots pounding a few moments later. And those weren't the leather boots of an officer, they were something else.

"Well well, what now Phil?" Harper jested, still facing the observation window. The Forerunner Dreadnought had placed itself between the Soul of Ice and the rest of the skirmish. It was gargantuan, easily four times the size of the Soul of Ice..

"Shut up!" Eden screamed back, jumping up. Graham tried to crane his head backwards, but couldn't see over the tall head board of the chair. Eden then gave orders to the corrupt marines. "Form a defensive barrier, in front of me! Shoot anything that enters!"

The marines looked a little disgruntled that they were acting as a shield for the UNSC Fleet Admiral, but complied with the order, setting up behind any and all cover. Flash lights were activated, cutting through the darkness.

After a long four minutes, there was a bang at the reinforced door. Followed by another. Graham's heart was racing a mile a second, and Harper looked like he felt. After a few tries, the banging stopped, replaced by an eerie silence.

Then a hissing noise began, emerging from the other side of the door. A red glow began to appear.

"They're cutting through! Ready yourselves!" Eden screeched, a Battle Rifle in his own hand. Daniels doubted he could even fire it.

Regardless, the marines snapped to attention, aiming rifles at the spot where the red glow was moving upwards, cutting a hole in the door. After a minute of dreadful waiting, the metal chunk fell to the floor, and a figure stepped through the smoke.

The marines fired immediately, rifles ringing out shot after shot. Graham saw golden shields flare, before the owner of them stepped to the side, out of the smoke. He had his hands held up. The marines, shocked, stop firing.

"Whoa, hold fire." the Master Chief instructed, standing alone near the broken door. The marines immediately looked amongst each other. Eden had said to shoot anything, but, well this was the Master Chief. They turned to look at a stricken Lord Eden.

"Master Chief." the UNSC leader stated bluntly. The Spartan nodded.

"Yes, it's me. Long story. Why are you firing on the Elites? Stop it, now. The Flood are the greater threat." the Chief ordered, and Graham, watching for a sign, saw Eden's eyes narrow slightly. With that speech, the Spartan had just shown he was on the same 'side' as Graham and Fleet Admiral Harper. The Master Chief looked around the room, and, eyes resting on the bound up Harper, tilted his head in surprise.

"Admiral Harper? What are you doing tied up?" the Spartan asked, and Graham resisted the urge to groan. The answer was so obvious, how could the Chief not see it?

"Chief! Behind you!" the Fleet Admiral cried, and quick as lightning, the fabled Spartan spun around, only to see a marine with a sneaking look upon his face, which quickly turned to one of fear. The Master Chief looked down at the marine's hand, to see a plasma knife, given by the Elites back in the alliance.

"What are you--?" the Spartan began to ask, taking out an Assault rifle nervously. He then looked at the room as if seeing it for the first time, the marines with their aggressive eyes, and Eden with a sneer on his face.

"You couldn't stay dead could you? I'm not having you ruin everything Master Chief; marines, kill him!" Eden ordered. Before the corrupted soldiers who suddenly had a purpose could even release the safety on their weapons though, the Master Chief had already thrown the marine beside him into a group of others. The Spartan dodged the first wave of bullets, the few that got through bouncing to the floor with a hiss, reflected by his shields.

It's like he's doing an elegant dance that only he can perform. Graham thought with wonder. The Captain watched as the Spartan jumped into a small cluster of marines, limbs moving around manically. After a few moments, they were all crouching on the ground in pain; some unconscious. Daniels noted that the Chief wasn't using a weapon, but instead, head had ripped a bar of metal from the wall, which he was carrying easily in one hand. It must have weighed a ton.

As the one sided battle waged on, very few shots actually hitting the Master Chief, a marine was flung over to where Harper sat. He looked up at the bound Fleet Admiral with a small titter of apprehension. Harper snorted in disgust, before brining his feet off the ground and smashing the marine's face with his boots. The soldier quivered, out cold. As he did so, the power of the ship came back on, and the room was flooded with light.

Graham then spotted the unconscious marine's knife at his belt. He turned to Harper.

"Sir, can you get that knife?" the Captain asked, and the older naval officer's eyes brightened considerably.

"I can try. And for the last time, stop calling me sir." Harper said, toppling of his chair onto the unconscious man's body. It was an incredibly odd spectacle. Graham could only fidgit anxiously as the Fleet Admiral contorted his body in an effort to reach the knife. From what the Captain could hear, it sounded as if behind him, the Master Chief was winning. On his own. Against nearly fifty people. Incredible.

Eventually, Harper managed the wrestle the leather bound hilt of the small knife out with his teeth, and rose to his knees, grunting at Daniels to take the knife from him. The Captain leaned forward, and managed to grasp the hilt with three fingers. Soon, he had a good grasp of it. Harper shuffled towards him and held out his bound wrists. With no small difficulty, Graham managed the rest the the keen edge of the knife on the already frayed rope binding Harper. He then moved his body back and forwards, the dagger along with it. After a few seconds, the Fleet Admiral's hands were free. Captain Daniels then tossed the dagger to Harper, who caught it deftly with his free hands. From there on, freeing himself and Graham was a breeze, and in less than a minute, the two friends were stood on their feet.

The Captain turned around, and saw the carnage. Nearly every marine was lying on the ground, unconscious. It seemed a few were dead, necks snapped or twisted at awkward angles. The last few had fallen back to the pedestal where Lord Eden cowered, backed against the wall. Graham and Harper, picking up Battle Rifles, strode towards the group confidently, weapons aimed at the marines. The beaten soldiers looked at each other, and as if they were on some psychic link, simultaneously threw their weapons on the ground, putting their hands up. Eden growled.

"Cowards!" the Chairman of HIGHCOM ordered, but he got no response. The Master Chief then strode forwards, and grasped Eden with one huge, armoured hand. The Spartan lifted him as if he weighed no more than a bag of sugar, and threw him on the floor. Eden gasped in surprise, stumbling to his feet.

"Now, what's going on here?" the Chief asked Harper, keeping a pistol levelled at Eden at all times. The Spartan tracked Eden's every slight movement with the hand holding the gun, as if he could sense the small tremors in the ground.

"Lord Eden over there got a little too power hungry I think. He wants to wipe out the Elites." Fleet Admiral Harper informed the Master Chief, a smile on his face. "It's good to see you John."

"You too William." the Master Chief nodded. Graham's eyebrows rose, his friend was on first name terms with the Chief?

"You can't stop it now. The fleet is already attacking." Eden spat out from the floor, between bloodied gums. Harper sneered at the disgraced leader.

"A simple order from me will put a stop to that you ***. I'll just tell the fleet you fainted when you saw the Dreadnought." he mocked, kicking Eden in the side, who doubled over in pain. The Master Chief glanced down briefly, before looking up at Graham.

"Sir. How are you? I've got bio-foam if you need it." the Spartan told the Captain, who felt the corners of his mouth tug upwards. The Master Chief had just called him 'sir'!

"Erm--no, no I'm fine...Master Chief. Thanks for helping us." Graham muttered, angry at himself afterwards for being so nervous. He was just a man for God's sake. A man who was over seven feet tall, had the blood of legions of Covenant on his hand, and who had single handedly saved the human race on multiple occasions. On reflection, maybe the Captain should have been nervous.

"That's my job. Now, we've got to stop fighting against the Elites, and wipe out the Flood." the Spartan seemed very linear minded, although Graham knew that the Chief was actually many times smarter than he himself was. The Captain had had the honour to meet Lieutenant Commander Fhjad 084 years ago, one of the Spartans who apparently had been mutilated in a plasma explosion, or at least that was what ONI said. He then, unfortunately, developed Parkinson's disease. Whilst the crippled Spartan had been confined to a chair, his mind was sharper than the spikes on a nettle leaf.

"Of course, of course. Just give me a few moments, I'll try to contact the fleet. Do you suppose you could move that...ship out of the way?" Harper asked the Master Chief, who nodded.

"Of course." the Spartan replied, bringing an arm up to his helmet. "Didact, can you move the Dreadnought? The situation here is over."

Didact? Graham wondered, bemused. His curiosity was abruptly ended, however, when the huge Dreadnought outside the ship vanished once again, in the blink of an eye. The battle was once again revealed; and it was still pretty much a stale mate. The Flood, however, had managed to move out of the middle, and so were now a much more serious threat. It was like a triangle of conflict.

"Right, there we go!" Harper crowed in success as he managed to open a communications line with the UNSC fleet. "All ships, cease firing on the Elites, and concentrate on the Flood!"

There was a pause, before a voice called back.

"Fleet Admiral Harper? What happened to Eden?" Lieutenant Commander Daryl.

"He fainted when he saw that huge ship. Anyway, I'm in charge now. Understand?"

"Aye sir, I do. Everyone stop firing on the Elites! Focus on the Flood!" Daryl roared at his crew, and there was a murmur of confusion from his end. However, soon enough, the UNSC ships, one by one, diverted their attention to the Flood. Graham laughed, giddy with success. Now they only had to contact the Elites...

...the line was set up a few moments later, and an image of a rather stressed R'tas Vadum' appeared on screen. The Elite wore a scowl on his face.

"By the Gods, you've finally stopped firing? How long will that last I wonder, before you--"

"R'tas, all is well, fear not brother." a wizened voice rumbled from the doorway, and Graham's gazed in wonder as an Elite who must have been at least eight feet tall walked in the room. He wore ornate, silver armour.

"Arbiter! You're alive!" R'tas cried out in joy, his face brightening. So this is the legendary Arbiter... Graham thought, mouth opening.

"That I am my friend. I'm sorry we parted on such bad terms the last time we met. Do you forgive me?" the Arbiter asked, moving past an indignant Admiral Harper and moving up close to the screen. R'tas uttered a sharp laugh.

"I forgive you? Nay Arbiter, it is I who must beg for your forgiveness. I was a fool, I should never have killed Hood as I did. It's all my fault." the Elite Fleetmaster confessed, hanging his head in shame. The Arbiter shook his head.

"We all made mistakes my friend. However, now is not the time to regret them. Can you have the fleets join up with ours? And that is indeed a mighty fleet you have there R'tas, how on Sangheilios did you recover Placid Enrichment?" the Arbiter replied. Graham blinked in confusion. How on Sangheilios? then it dawned that it must be the Elite equivalent of 'how on Earth?' It made sense, he supposed.

"We didn't Arbiter; we have allied with the Covenant." R'tas told his friend proudly, puffing out his chest. There was a collective gasp.

"Truly? That is indeed an impressive feat; can they be trusted?" the Arbiter questioned, frowning.

"More so than the humans, currently." R'tas said a little spitefully. Harper couldn't help but protest.

"Hey, that was because Eden was in charge. He's tied up and gagged right now, don't worry." the Fleet Admiral insisted, and R'tas chuckled.

"Indeed, that is good news. Amongst the best. Very well, Arbiter, we shall link up. And together we shall smash the parasite, and retake Sangheilios!" the Elite Fleetmaster cried, clenching his fist. Graham heard the roar of several other Elites in the background.

"I, and my Spartans will help however we can." the Master Chief pledged, moving into the field of view of the camera. He has other Spartans with him? Graham thought with a sense of awe.

"Spartan! It is good to see you, truly. I must apologise for your treatment upon Sangheilios when you were held captive there. Rest assured that those responsible will be--oh, never mind." R'tas broke off as he realised those responsible were already dead. The Elite looked glum.

As they spoke, the two fleets began to converge together. Graham felt a surge of pride; he was the one who had started off this, by challenging Eden! Now the conjoined fleets of both the UNSC and the Elites and Covenant were together, there was no way the Flood could prevail.

That was, until a voice suddenly blared out of the speaker in the Master Chief's helmet. It was that mysterious Didact again.

"The Dreadnought's monitors are picking up slipspace activity, Reclaimer. Hundreds of the Flood ships, approaching." the voice said, and as one, everyone swore.

"Didact, how long have we got?" the Master Chief asked, his voice urgent. There was a pause, and then a reply.

"I'm afraid just over five minutes. You haven't got enough fire-power to wipe them out, flustered as you are. And the Dreadnought's weapon systems were disabled by Offensive Bias long ago. I believe that for now, a tactical retreat is in order." the Didact suggested, and Harper and R'tas, the leaders of the two fleets, glanced at each other.

"It's your call Elite. If we retreat to Earth, then we can join up a real plan, scrounge up the last of our ships, and tend to the wounded. However, I also will tell you that every moment we spend there will allow the Flood to fortify Sangheilios more." Harper informed R'tas. The Elite rubbed his chin.

"I shall not let our blood run freely for no purpose. Even as the old proverbs say "he who fights and runs away lives to fight another day." R'tas replied.

"Hey, we have a similar saying!" Harper cried out, before sobering. "So we retreat then, for now?"

There was a pause, and R'tas glanced to the left. Even though he was watching through a monitor, Graham could tell he was staring sadly at Sangheilios.

"Indeed human, for now."

---

"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.

Wolverfrog49:

...

"Spartan!It is good to see you, truly. I must apologise for your treatment uponSangheilios when you were held captive there. Rest assured that thoseresponsible will be--oh, never mind." R'tas broke off as he realisedthose responsible were already dead. The Elite looked glum.

...

I loled a bit at that.  oh I know! R'tas should have them T-bagged! 

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Whenever a thread was hijacked and there were big quote boxes and lots of flame, I was there!

Rank:Master Hijacker

GT: I DFang I

http://averagejoesgames.com

Bravo my friend, good job

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Design a Faction

http://www.halowars.com/forums/thread/795978.aspx

Perfect, absolutely just perfect

Yayyyy!!! 1st Post

Please write more as soon as possible.

 - Thank You 

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Using numerology to count
the people I sent to Heaven
Produces more digits than
22 divided by 7
- Immortal Technique

Sooooo...

Does Eden get executed?

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Spess mehrens

woops wrong thread

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The Eayn Tribute: Read about the life of a jackal, who fights back during a rebellion against the covenant, and must struggle to remain alive as the Covenant fight the small group of rebels.

http://www.halowars.com/forums/thread/804296.aspx

belac:

Restraint is a playa.  Lol, if you dont understand, go wiki it, like wolver suggested.

LOL

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Design a Faction

http://www.halowars.com/forums/thread/795978.aspx

Take that, Eden!

Sweet.