Okay,
this is growing really long and honestly, I think you've been patient
enough. I'm going to post Chapter 53 now, and afterwards will follow the
Epilogue, which I'm still writing. Nothing has been cut, and this is
Chapter 53 as it would have appeared had it been posted alongside the
Epilogue. I just feel that it's unfair to make you wait any longer.
So without further ado, here we are. The journey's end.
Part 53 - Descent into Mortality
John
smashed his hand into the strange, semi-organic metal floor of the
Gravemind's ship, which was rising at a completely vertical angle.
Immediately he came to a jarring halt, and stared down at the oxygen
barrier with dread. The barrier kept a steady level of oxygen in the
ship, but objects -- and people -- could pass through it. With his other
gauntleted hand, he held on to the flailing Arbiter. Kelly had done
likewise, and had grasped Sergeant Johnson's hand in a bone crushing
grip. Mendicant Bias was floating near them, not even looking at them.
"Do something Mendicant!" John shouted at the inactive Monitor with anger, who turned to him.
"John,
I'm currently battling the Gravemind to stop him from completely
destroying this section of the ship, whilst simultaneously fending off
attempts from Offensive Bias to hack into my systems. Even speaking to
you just now has allowed the Gravemind to bypass one of my locks. I'm
sorry, but you'll have to deal with this yourself! I'd hurry though, the
Flood are fast approaching."
Crates, vehicles and weapons flew
past the hanging group with dreadful speed, hitting the shimmering
oxygen barrier and flying out into space, impacting against the swarms
of spacecraft soaring through it. John knew that if the same thing
happened to any of them, even their armour wouldn't protect them.
John's
MJOLNIR armour had been cracked and dented, and he was certain that a
few ribs had been broken. Kelly's helmet had been completely lost,
exposing her pale, war torn face and untidy hair. If they fell, they'd
be as dead as dead can be.
"This reminds of that time I was at
Coral!" Johnson shouted, somehow managing to keep his voice level in the
midst of terror. "Except then all I risked was a few broken bones and--
ow, not so hard, Kelly!"
The Gravemind had sensed them in the
ship, and had subsequently altered the direction of the ship's
anti-gravity in an attempt to stop them, before opening the blast shield
which would usually cover the oxygen barrier.
"Cortana! Can you
adjust this ship's gravity emulator?" John shouted as his arm felt like
it was being ripped out of its socket as a result of the Arbiter's
weight.
"Not remotely, I need to have manual access to a panel
near the door to override the Gravemind's control," Cortana answered
with clipped and measured tones. John processed that information for a
few moments, before he realised what he meant.
"You need one of us to drop down and touch it," John replied with horror. It wasn't a question.
"Yes," Cortana answered, her voice full of apology. "I'm so sorry."
"So
wait a second, you're telling me that one of us has to let go and fall,
and hit the access panel before flying through an oxygen barrier and
dying of asphyxiation?" Johnson asked the AI.
"It's either one,
or all," Cortana answered, disabling many of her emotional algorithms
temporarily so that they wouldn't overwhelm her. "Again, I'm sorry."
"Transfer yourself to my Neural Interface, Cortana. I'm an old man, I'll do it," Johnson answered softly, yet resolutely.
"I
admire your courage, sergeant, but that won't work. You don't react
fast enough under pressure, not fast enough to hit that panel before
falling through the barrier. It has to be a Spartan," Cortana replied.
John felt his heart skip a beat. He closed his eyes, before nodding.
"Arbiter,
I'm going to swing you up. Catch on to this ledge," he told the
Sangheili hanging onto him. "Cortana, brace yourself. I'll make the
drop."
Kelly's head snapped to face him.
"Don't be ridiculous John, I'll do it. You need to get to the Gravemind," she told him sharply. John shook his head.
"You
can do that. Too many have died for me today, Kelly. Too many have died
for me in the past. It's time for me to give something back," he
answered.
"I don't care sir, I'm doing the drop," Kelly replied firmly.
"No,
Kelly, you're not," John told her just as stoically, swinging the
Arbiter up. The Elite flew through the air, and John watched him like a
hawk, ready to catch and try again if necessary. Luckily, his friend
managed to grasp on to the ledge.
"Spartan, allow me to perform this task," the Arbiter implored of him quietly. "I can move almost as fast as you."
"Not fast enough," John told him, glad of the fact. He didn't want anyone else to sacrifice themselves for his sake today.
Cortana, are you ready? he asked silently, and waited a moment expectably. After a few seconds of quiet, he frowned. Cortana?
No reply.
"Goodbye,
John," Kelly called, snapping him back into reality. He turned to face
her, eyes widened, coming to a silent realisation.
"Cortana's with you, isn't she?" the Master Chief demanded, heart racing. The other Spartan nodded sadly.
"Yes.
I have a higher predicted chance of success than you, John. I'm faster,
and I always have been. And you have a higher predicated chance of
stopping the Gravemind. Cortana's primary programming is to make sure
the mission succeeds, and she has initiated it. Don't blame her, she's
just doing what Halsey designed her to do," Kelly told him, her voice
constrained.
"Dammit Kelly, no! I can't lose you, not after Fred
and Linda and everyone else who has died in the god *** war!" he
shouted at her, tears springing into his eyes. Kelly shook her head,
lifting Johnson up onto her ledge.
"I'm sorry, John. It's the only way. Just promise me you'll do what you do best."
"And what's that?" John asked her through sobs.
"Win," Kelly said simply, before letting go of the ledge and falling.
"No!"
John shouted after her, nearly letting go of his own ledge in a foolish
and suicidal attempt to grab her. As he began to raise his hand from
the sturdy handhold however, he felt another hand pin it down, that of
the Arbiter's.
"Don't be a fool, my friend," the Elite told him with anguish, before turning back to watch Kelly.
The
Spartan had a long way to fall, but she was doing it with grace, as
always. Obstacles were deftly moved around, or in some cases destroyed
when she crashed through them. She outstretched her arms, and air
resistance slowed her down a tiny bit.
Kelly was just a few
dozen metres away from the oxygen barrier and the access panel now, and
time started to trickle like water through the holes in a dam,
milliseconds became minutes. The Spartan spun around so she was falling
on her back. She stared at John for the last time, her eyes were
needles, stabbing at John's heart, making him feel weak and unworthy. .
At
the last possible moment, she smacked her hand against the small access
panel to her right faster than John had ever seen her move before.
Kelly slipped through the barrier of life, her suit losing oxygen
rapidly. As the last pocket of air left her suit she began to clutch her
throat and writhe hopelessly, as if she were strangling herself, and
then... nothing. Her delicate body graceful even after death, floating
through the vast emptiness of space.
Then, she was gone.
John
felt a huge lump rise in his throat, and the strength left his arms. He
began to fall himself despite the desperate lunging of the Arbiter, but
he didn't care. Suddenly, he felt his direction change, and fell
heavily down to the ground, gravity restored to its former state.
The Spartan just lay on the ground, shaking with shock. Tears flowed freely from his eyes, and he just wanted to die.
I'm alone. Truly now, I am the last of my kind. There are no others. All my brothers and sisters are dead.
He
saw the Arbiter and Sergeant Johnson rush over to him with corner, but
batted them away. Instead, he rose to his feet, livid with rage, and
stormed over to the access panel where Cortana stood, head hung in
upset, but not shame. John raised his fist, and felt like punching the
panel. He managed to repress the urge, instead settling for an
unfortunate wall, which crumpled under the force of the fist.
"How could you--" John began to ask Cortana with choked anger. She shook her head, distress clear in her face.
"Kelly
had a projected 87% chance of succeeding," Cortana told him bluntly.
"Yours was only 56%, John. I did the calculations, and checked them
again, and again. Each scenario came up with the same answer. The
mission is the priority, Spartan. You should know that by now."
That
was one of the first things Cortana had told him when they had first
met. John closed his eyes, unable to grapple with the prospect of truly
being the last Spartan. He then knelt down to stare at Cortana with
hatred.
"I will never trust you again," he told her forcefully, and she noticeably flinched. She reached out a hand tentatively.
"John--" she began.
"Don't
speak to me!" he shouted back, smacking his hand onto the panel and
transferring her back into his MJOLNIR suit. "All that matters is the
mission. You've made that abundantly clear."
He looked around the
room, and saw the Arbiter, Johnson and Mendicant Bias staring at him as
if he'd go crazy and kill them all at any moment.
"John, you
need to calm down," Mendicant Bias told him. "This isn't Cortana's
fault, or yours. It's the Gravemind's. And you can avenge Kelly when we
reach him."
John
just stormed past the Monitor, ignoring everything except the mission.
There was nothing else to live for now. He drew out his rifle, and
walked towards the huge door on the opposite side of the room to the
oxygen barrier."Chief! You can't just storm through the corridor,
there's an army of Flood!" Johnson shouted after him with worry. The
Spartan snarled grimly.
"Good," was all he said, before smashing
the metal door open. Several Flood soldiers were smacked down to the
floor as a result of this, and were subsequently torn asunder by rounds
from an MA5C.
An energy sword sizzled past his helmet, barely
missing his visor He turned to see a Flood form mindlessly flailing its
weapon. John caught it by the neck, and dashed its head against the wall
with a satisfying snap. He tossed the limp corpse to the side, before
picking up the sword.
Two of the larger Tank forms swung around
the corner, pounding the ground ferociously. John didn't even break
stride as he threw the energy sword at one of them, which cut straight
through its chest. Before the sword hit the wall, John ran and caught
it, quickly disembowelling the other.
And so for the next ten
minutes, he indulged himself in the massacre. Waves fell beneath his
unstoppable might, and in those moments he was a god. Every time he felt
himself tire, he thought of all the Spartans that had died, and found
the strength to go on.
"Mercy," the last of the Flood forms
pleaded desperately, throwing down its weapon as it stared with horror
at the mound of corpses lining the corridors. John stared at it cruelly
for a second, before grasping it tightly around the throat.
"Say
that again," he whispered menacingly at the terrified Flood form. It
grasped futilely at his vice-like hand, attempting to relieve the
pressure.
"Mer. . . Mercy," it managed to croak out, sounding utterly pathetic. John revelled in its distress.
"One more time," he demanded, drawing out and igniting an energy sword.
"Mer--"
the Flood form's final words died as its head was separated from the
body by a single, raged slice. John let the headless corpse tumble to
the ground, and stared back at his handiwork. The invincibility that
imbued his limbs left him, and he slowly sunk to he knees, and threw his
weapons away, fully intending to never pick them up again.
The
Arbiter stepped gingerly over a Flood corpse, and knelt down next to him
whilst Johnson and Mendicant Bias made sure the area of the ship was
secure.
"You can't give up now, Spartan," the tall, golden
armoured Elite told him sincerely. John ignored him, staring down at the
ground through unshed tears.
"Oh yes I can," he answered curtly,
removing his battered MJOLNIR helmet and forcefully hurling it against
the wall, where it bounced off the soft biomass and felt softly to the
ground. Over the past few weeks, his hair had grown slightly and he'd
begun to grow a beard, which felt alien on his usually smooth skin.
"Is
that what the other Spartans would have wished?" the Arbiter demanded
of him angrily, rising to his legs. "For you to just ignore their
sacrifices and surrender? They all gave their lives so that you can stop
all of this. If you don't understand that, then maybe you're not worthy
to be a Spartan after all. Certainly not half as worthy as those who
died so that we could continue."
"You go too far!" John shouted
angrily, standing up and pinning the Arbiter to the wall, staring up at
him aggressively. Thel looked down at him with surprise, before smiling.
"Ah, so you do
still care," he told him knowingly. John stared at him blankly for a
few moments, before relaxing his grip and drawing back from his friend.
There was a long pause.
"I do," he finally conceded, picking up his helmet and rifle. "I just can't believe they're gone."
Chief? Cortana inquired tentatively.
Are you still here? he snapped angrily, causing her to wince. He subsequently felt guilty, and the icy exterior melted a little. I'm sorry.
Don't be, Cortana answered. You have every right to hate me right now.
Yes, but I don't. Programming required you did that, I understand.
You know, Cortana began slyly, evidently relieved she had been forgiven. I
was glancing through ONI files not too long ago and came across some
references to Spartans. Alive Spartans. Specifically Grey Team and the
Red Team of Omega. After this is all over, I could hack the ONI systems
properly and see what I can find. I know they're not your team, but
they're still Spartans.
Thank you Cortana, that would mean a lot to me. Of course, first we need to survive.
"There
is an elevator here, it seems to be a part of an old human ship welded
into this monstrosity of a vessel. I've analysed the ship's schematics,
and with a bit of luck it should take us straight to the ship's bridge,
which is where the Gravemind will be," Mendicant Bias shouted across
wisely.
"And what's to stop that deformed piranha plant from
disabling it?" Johnson asked the monitor sceptically, who turned to him
with a hurt look.
"Please, sergeant. I'm fairly confident in my
ability to keep an elevator moving," Mendicant replied with a wounded
voice. Johnson muttered a sarcastic reply, and moved to the lift door.
Mendicant opened it nonchalantly, and Johnson stepped inside along with
the Arbiter.
"Are you feeling better, John?" Mendicant asked him as he moved to follow.
"No,"
the last Spartan answered despondently as he entered the spacious and
reassuringly human looking lift. "But I'll keep soldiering on. It's what
we Spartans do best."
Mendicant acknowledged his reply silently,
and drifted into the small box himself. In a few moments, the elevator
was sailing through the long shaft, taking the four weary saviours
closer to the end.
* * * * * * * *
The
Gravemind sat solemnly in its hallowed chamber, contemplating what he
would do next. The one thing that could destroy him forever was less
than a mile away, being ferried towards him by a seemingly unstoppable
denizen.
Not only that, but he had noticed his Flood were
starting to grow a little too independent. In order to combat the
pitiful mortals invading his domain, he had been forced to drastically
accelerate their evolution. This made his minions better warriors, but
they had begun to develop some small degree of individuality.
Wearily,
he simultaneously stared through the eyes of all his slaves, numbering
well over three billion not including the countless infection forms, and
processed the information relayed to him in a few short seconds. A few
things worried him, and not just the relentless daemon coming after him
like a dogged creature spawned in hell.
The Didact, his hated foe
of old, had assumed control of the ground forces back upon Sangheilios
and was holding his Flood at bay. The Forerunner leader unpleasantly
reminded him of the one who had sanctioned his creation all those years
ago, back when the Precursor empire had been at its height.
The
Gravemind thought their uncaring and thoughtless race eradicated, until
he had encountered them again a few short years ago. Still as
persevering and overly ambitious as ever, the limited technology they
wielded did not reduce their threat and ferocity by one bit.
"Offensive
Bias," the Gravemind summoned ominously, the Sentinels in the corner of
the room transmitting his melodic voice. Shortly, the tarnished bronze
form of the fallen monitor appeared before him. It had been corrupted so
easily, he almost needn't have said anything when attempting to sway it
to his side. He found it ironic that Offensive Bias now served him
whilst Mendicant had once again switched sides.
"Gravemind," it
greeted nervously, no doubt overpowered by his awesome presence. He
contemplated the rampant AI's miserable existence briefly, before
speaking.
"I shall be entering what you call slipspace now,
Offensive Bias. This planet has grown too perilous for me to remain.
Many of my soldiers shall remain however, and I fully expect you to
crush these petty mortals. I shall return once I deem this place safe,"
the Gravemind rumbled.
"Of course, Gravemind. We shall have our
revenge," the AI spoke eagerly, the Gravemind had to repress a mocking
laugh. The fool did not know that it would be disposed of as soon as it
had fulfilled its purpose.
"Yes, Offensive Bias. We shall," he
said aloud, staring around the hallowed chamber he sat in. His glorious
form encompassed much of it, his wondrous divinity encroaching upon much
of the piteous walls.
"What will you do about the Master Chief
and the interloper Mendicant Bias?" Offensive Bias then questioned,
prompting a volcano of anger to erupt cataclysmically.
"What do
you mean?" the Gravemind demanded icily, grasping the fallen monitor's
feeble form with his powerful, magnificent limbs in a crushing grip.
Offensive Bias began to pulsate in panic.
"Nothing! Only that, well, what if they manage to reach you?"
"Then
they shall be cowed by my imposing presence, Offensive Bias. They shall
not touch me with their mortal, unworthy hands," the Gravemind answered
icily, releasing his grip ever so slightly.
"But what if they
do? You refuse to have your minions guard you, or let me assign you
Sentinels who can defend you. They could kill you!" Offensive Bias
chirped worriedly.
"Kill me? I am a God, you pathetic creature!"
the Gravemind roared, attempting to convince himself of the fact as
much as he did of Offensive Bias. "For millions of years I have roamed
this tragic and unbecoming universe, and I shall do so for all
eternity."
Offensive Bias shrieked at his fury, retreating several metres away from him.
"Of course you will Gravemind, but I analysed the shards of Mendicant Bias myself long ago. He does have the capability to destroy and subsequently usurp you as--"
The
Gravemind lashed out suddenly, a heavy tendril crumpling a semi-organic
metal beam, causing part of the ceiling to sag. He grasped the
Forerunner AI tightly, and drew him close.
"You will not speak of
such blasphemy, Offensive Bias. I gave you purpose where you had none!
Without me you would be a lonely husk. I am immortal! Now begone,
before I do something I doubt I will regret," he commanded the ghost of
a once mighty being, and Offensive Bias nodded, subjugated. The Monitor
then vanished in a stream of bronze, spluttering light, and once again
the room was dark save for his own heavenly radiance.
The words
spoken by Offensive Bias troubled him greatly. The thought of dying had
never once in his lifetime crossed his mind. Certainly, his body had in
the past been ravaged, but his consciousness had remained within the
spores that forever remained in the universe. To be completely wiped
from existence -- it was unthinkable.
He felt one of his Flood
tacticians enter the room, and slowly roused himself. The minion knelt
before him, as was customary, and delivered its message whilst keeping
its eyes firmly fixated on the floor.
"Lord, they are in the
elevator and are fast approaching," it told him with a hint of fear in
his voice. "The Traitor is preventing us from halting its advance. Would
you have us set up an ambush?"
"You think that would work, you
fool? This daemon has cut through an entire legion of you in an attempt
to reach me. Do you really think you would make a difference?" he chided bitterly, and the Flood form faltered.
"Yes, Lord. I mean no. That is to say--" it flustered, panicking.
The
Gravemind grew weary of this snivelling creature before him, and with a
nonchalant thought quickly took its life away. The corpse tumbled to
the ground, eyes wide and shocked. Staring down at it contemptuously,
the Gravemind tapped in to the neural network connecting him to every
one of his minions. Three billion minds threatened to annoy him, and so
he narrowed the scope down to those on his ship.
"They are
approaching," he spoke telepathically. "Subdue them, and bring them
before me. I will assimilate them myself, before destroying that twice
treacherous fiend Mendicant Bias. If capture is impossible, then kill
them."
The Gravemind didn't for a single second believe that the
incompetents he commanded would even be able to phase the approaching
horsemen of the apocalypse, but knew that there was always a small
chance of success.
And if they did reach him, what of it?
After all, I am a God.
* * * * * * * * * *
Ding!
The
Flood opened fire with their rifles, the rounds penetrating and plasma
bursts melting through the soft steel. After thirty seconds of
continuous fire, they ceased. One of them tentatively approached the
heavy, smooth steel doors of the rectangular box, and contorted its limb
so that it slid in between the gap separating the two doors. Carefully,
it expanded the limb, and the metal began to buckle under the pressure.
Eventually there was enough of a gap that the doors could be completely
ripped from the elevator frame.
The Flood form who had prised
the doors away stared dumbly at the empty space inside; a completely
blank steel box aside from buttons and holes riddling the walls of it.
Curious, it entered the box along with one of its fellow soldiers, an
infected Sangheili.
The elevator creaked, and then suddenly, it
began to fall, quicker than the eye could trace. The screams of the two
Flood soldiers sounded until it hit the bottom of the shaft with a
sickening crunch. Three more Flood soldiers rushed to the ledge of the
shaft, staring down at the odd sight.
A quick green blur shifted from
above, and the three Flood forms were thrown of the ledge, shrieking
with terror as they fell. Standing in their place was the unstoppable
force, the Master Chief. He stared facing the remaining thirty Flood
soldiers defiantly, rifle held nonchalantly in hand.
"Hi," he
greeted icily, bringing his rifle up. The Flood soldiers shrank back in
fear, afraid of this mighty titan in green. John took a step towards
them, which resulted in them taking a step backwards. He smiled
maliciously.
"You are outnumbered," one of the Flood soldiers
recomposed itself, facing him defiantly. "What good can you do against
all of us?"
"Nothing, I suppose," John laughed coldly,
shouldering his rifle and kneeling down on the floor submissively. The
Flood soldiers exchanged looks between themselves, hardly believing
their luck. Five of them approached him, keeping their rifles trained
upon his person at all times.
"Then you surrender?" the leader of them demanded with its grotesque mouth. John shrugged.
"I
suppose so," he admitted, before pointing at a point behind the group
of relieved Flood soldiers. "I don't think he does though."
The
Flood soldiers turned around in unison, in time to see the Arbiter's
active camouflage disengage, revealing the tall and imposing Elite
holding two energy swords. Thel swooped in to the group, swinging the
two blades with powerful precision. The group of Flood panicked, many of
them dropping their weapons as they attempted to flee. John plunged his
hand deep into the chest of one attempting to run, and found the
infection form. He squeezed, once. Dropping the corpse, he reached down
and picked up his weapon, firing upon the other Flood forms with his
MA5C.
A few of them had recovered from the shock, and were now
beginning to fight back. A large hulking Flood form, taller than a
Spartan and as limber as a willow tree approached him wielding a long
energy stave. The last Spartan backed away slowly from its advance,
dodging its arcing swings uneasily. One of them was heading straight
towards him, and desperately he held up his assault rifle. The stave hit
the solid stock of the gun, shearing the metal in two.
"Spartan!"
the wizened tones of the Arbiter called over to him, diverting his
attention for a second. His friend drew a small baton out from his
armour, throwing it over to him. John caught the small glowing cylinder,
staring at it with perplexity whilst simultaneously evading blows from
the Flood's energy stave.
"What is it?" he demanded frantically,
dealing the Flood form a solid punch after avoiding a swing from the
stave. His fist merely passed through the gelatinous biomass.
"Touch
the glyph on the underside!" Thel shouted back to him, plunging his two
swords into a particularly eager Tank form. John checked the bottom of
the baton, and saw a Forerunner glyph indented into it. It seemed
strangely familiar, like a half forgotten memory. He touched the glyph,
and suddenly the baton expanded into a large double ended stave to rival
that of the Flood form's. His foe paused for a second, uncertain,
before resolve settled into its eyes and it lashed out.
John
blocked the attack with his own stave, and energy crackled around the
point where the two met. Suddenly the battle had become a contest of
strength, as the Flood form loomed over him, pushing down upon his stave
with all its might. John felt his knees begin to buckle under its shear
ferocity.
Unbidden, images of his now dead Spartan brothers and
sisters suddenly overwhelmed him in a cascading tidal wave of emotion.
Seeing their faces imbued vigour into his tiring limbs, and he began to
push back at the Flood form. His knees locked, and with one final effort
he pushed out, sending the Flood form flying several metres in the air.
It landed heavily on the ground, its stave sent cascading across the
floor.
With one final strike, he plunged the barbed tip of his
stave into the Flood form's heart, ending it's life. He looked around
the room and saw the Arbiter being heavily taxed by four persistent
soldiers, and decided to intervene. He crept up behind two, and deftly
snapped their necks with a sickening crunch. His stave impaled the other
two, and after a few struggling seconds they relaxed, being held up by
the strong rod.
"My thanks, Spartan," the Arbiter gasped,
glancing around the room to make sure that none still survived. John
disengaged the stave, the two ends of the long energy rod sliding back
inside the cylinder he held grasped in his hand. He then passed it back
to the Elite.
Johnson swung into the room from the high ledge in the elevator shaft with Mendicant Bias in tow, looking a little disappointed.
"Why wasn't I allowed to fight?" he complained, consoling himself by shooting a half-dead Flood form in the head. John smiled.
"You wouldn't have been able to move fast enough, no offence intended. Mendicant, how far away are we from the Gravemind?"
I am waiting for you, John 117, the Gravemind rumbled. No more of my minions shall block the path. Let us end this once and for all.
The
voice ended as quickly as it had come, and John turned to look down a
hallway at a large, ornate Forerunner door. He concluded that it must be
the Gravemind's lair.
"Because that's not at all a trap," Johnson answered sarcastically. The Arbiter nodded.
"I agree, I do not like this. He sounds overly confident."
"When
isn't he?" Cortana answered dryly. "What else would you have us do? He
believes himself a God. Arrogance will be his downfall."
John
stared grimly at the large door leading to the Gravemind's lair. He knew
Cortana was right. They couldn't turn back now. No matter how dreadful
the prospect seemed, they had to face the Gravemind.
"Mendicant,
are you ready to do what needs to be done?" he coolly asked the AI
hovering beside him. He heard a synthetic sigh emanate from him.
"Die,
you mean? Yes John, I am ready. Do not hesitate for a single second.
This is my purpose," Mendicant Bias told him. John patted its chassis
reassuringly. He turned to face the three dear beings who had made it
this far with him. And then he bent his head solemnly as he remembered
all those who had died so this could be possible.
"This is it.
Today we finish what was started millions of years ago. Despite all
their technological might the Precursors couldn't stop the Flood, and
neither could the Forerunners. But we can. We will. Failure is not an option. Am I understood?"
"It
is a sad thing, to kill something so old and wise, no matter how evil
it is," Mendicant Bias remarked with a hint of regret. "But the
Gravemind is an abomination and it must be stopped. We're all with you,
John."
"Then let's end this."
* * * * * * *
Three of Offensive Bias' vessels had boxed in the UNSC Hastings,
Admiral Cole's new flagship. The rest of his fleet was engaged and
could not provide assistance; the rampant AI had set up a blockade of
sorts. Panic had ensued on his bridge, as Ensigns scurried around
frantically. Cole remained stoic, staring at the three pronged trident
facing him defiantly.
"That's enough!" he barked at his scurrying
crew, who immediately froze. He activated the intercom, broadcasting
his voice to the rest of the ship. "All non-essential personnel should
immediately head to the nearest lifeboat."
"What about us,
sir?" his first Lieutenant demanded, eyes watering. He'd already given
up all hope of survival. Couldn't have that, Cole was his Admiral after
all.
"You're all essential. You'll remain here and help me fight
these bastards off," Cole informed them. A groan swept through the
bridge crew, provoking a stern look from the Admiral that could have
halted a charging Brute. They immediately backed down, and sat back in
their seats, subservient.
"Incoming transmission sir," Hall called over uncertainly. "It's Offensive Bias again."
"For
a machine, that *** sure loves to run his nonexistent mouth," Cole
muttered darkly, clasping his hands tightly behind his back. "All right,
patch him through. Anubis, make sure to keep the firewalls up at all
times. Everyone; stay silent. Trust me."
A tarnished bronze
spherical Forerunner monitor appeared on his screen, and although it had
no facial expressions which could be read Cole could tell it was
contemptuous.
"Admiral Cole. Surrender your systems to me, and I
shall not destroy you," it told him forcefully. Cole sighed
despondently, sticking the moist of his pipe into his mouth.
"Very
well, Offensive Bias. You have us beat. We'll turn our systems over to
you. I'm afraid we can't give remote access though, the systems have
been damaged."
At his words, the crew exchanged worried looks,
looking at him as if he'd gone traitor. Cole ignored them, staring at
the screen. Offensive Bias seemed taken aback by his submission, before
pulsating gleefully.
"No worry Admiral, we can establish direct
access. You are making a good decision here. Perhaps your race isn't as
worthless as I first thought, I may try and persuade the Gravemind to
spare you. He respects me greatly," the monitor boasted smugly. Cole
nodded slowly, allowing fake tears to trickle down his wrinkled, old
cheeks.
"I'm sure," Cole answered sincerely, before
melodramatically bracing his worn arms on the railing, looking very much
like the old man he was was. Whispers were coursing through his bridge
crew, and Cole knew some of them were thinking he was betraying
humanity. He just hoped enough of them remembered that he wasn't an
idiot.
"Power down your systems Cole, and prepare to be boarded,"
Offensive Bias commanded. Cole relayed the order to his weapons team,
who after a moment of hesitation complied reluctantly. The ship went
dark as weapons were shut down, along with diagnostic stations and many
lights also, leaving the bridge bathed in a stream of evanescent violet
light from Helios, the system's curious sun.
"It's done," he told the Forerunner AI, who made a satisfied noise.
"Yes,
I can see. I'll be sending over one of my ships now, Admiral. They'll
board you, take over your systems, and then you and your crew will be
taken to my flagship. And we'll have a little chat, and maybe you can
convince me that humanity truly is worthy. If my Sentinels see anyone
holding weapons when they come aboard, they'll kill anyone. Am I
understood?"
"Yes," Cole told the monitor bitterly, fighting to suppress a wry smile that always graced him when his plans began to work.
"Then
I will see you shortly Admiral," Offensive Bias told him, before
cutting communications. Cole stared at the blank screen for a minute,
always thinking, before heading to the observation window. Sure enough,
one of Mendicant Bias' ships broke off from the blockade and began to
soar towards them.
"With all due respect sir, what the hell was
that?" one of his Ensigns demanded, her voice accompanied by numerous
other shouts. "You're just going to give up? What the hell's wrong
with--"
"Be quiet!" the Admiral rebuked, frowning. "We haven't
got much time before that AI's bucket of bolts arrives, so I want you to
hurry. Send orders for every Shiva, ARCHER, and HAVOK to be loaded into
the docking hatches, on the double."
Grins began to break out
across the crew, as they realised what he was planning. Ensign Hall
looked a little uncertain, thin lips pursed and her pale slight brow
furrowed.
"You're going to try and pull of a Las Vegas?" she demanded shrilly. Cole grunted noncommittally.
"Is
that what the kids in naval school call it these days? Strategies don't
need names, Ensign. They just need ship commanders crazy enough to pull
them off," he answered dryly as orders were relayed across the ship on a
closed communication channel.
"And you think Offensive Bias will fall for it, sir?" Hall continued, staring at him like he was insane. Cole adjusted his cap.
"I don't think
he will, Ensign. I know," he replied, before moving back to the
observation window to watch the ship as it continued to fly towards him.
Suddenly, a new wave of chatter broke out on his communications unit.
He drew it out, pressing it to his ear. The voice which spoke to him
sounded Russian.
"Admiral Cole sir, this is Lieutenant Commander Tarasov of the UNSC Alamo. I've managed to destroy the *** who was badgering us sir, we're heading over to assist you now sir."
Cole
pressed the button on the side of the small device, gaze averting to
watch the friendly ship in question. A medium sized frigate, no match
for three of the Sentinel ships.
"That's a negative Commander,
not on your own. Hold back for now and assist other ships if you can.
When you see our signal, then you may proceed with your helping of us,"
Cole spoke back, and he could hear the noises of disapproval from the
other end of the line.
"But Admiral, you're completely surrounded. I'm coming over--" Tarasov began to reply impudently.
"I said no, Commander!" Cole roared fiercely. "Wait for the signal."
"What's the signal?"
"Oh
believe me, you'll know it when you see it," Cole chuckled, killing the
communications link before Offensive Bias picked up on it. He then
looked expectantly back at his bridge crew, who were sitting quietly in
the dark, some praying, others just crossing their fingers.
"Every
nuclear weapon we have on board has been loaded into the docking
hatches, sir," Hall reported with a smart salute that Cole could hardly
see in the dim light given off by Helios. He nodded curtly, and now
waited himself.
Minutes passed as Offensive Bias' boarding ship drew closer, and then suddenly--
[i]Clang!
Metal met metal as the AI's ship latched onto the UNSC Hastings. Cole leapt into action, a fierce grin on his face.
"Anubis,"
he told the small AI next to him, holographic jackal face grinning
ferally. "Power up all systems, and fire all nuclear ornaments into that
ship as it opens up to board us. Then get us the hell away from it."
"Aye sir." The AI was taking the form of the Egyptian god of death and judgement. Cole found that rather fitting.
The Hastings shook as nuclear weapons were ejected forcefully into the opening hatches of Offensive Bias' boarding ship.
"Disengage!" Cole shouted, bringing the systems fully back online. The Hastings pushed away from the boarding ship, drifting away some distance until--
Boom!
a muffled explosion carried by vibrations reverberated, and Cole looked
out of the port-side window to see Offensive Bias' boarding ship begin
to explode from within as simultaneously, every nuclear weapon the
Admiral possessed was detonated. Fire coursed out of all the ship's
hatches, the shields of the ship could do nothing but work in Cole's
favour as they contained the blast. Finally, the ship tore in two.
"Move around, unleash a MAC payload towards the bow of the target I'm painting," Cole roared, and the UNSC Hastings
spun around, the underside Mass Accelerator Cannon charging up. The
ship Cole had highlighted was turning around to face them now, and did
so just in time to receive multiple MAC blasts hit it in the nose,
tearing through the unlinked shields and coursing through the middle of
the unprepared ship, eventually smashing through the core. It
drastically altered course, and begin to fly down to Sangheilios like a
falling star.
"That's two targets eliminated, Admiral!" Hall
enthused, drawing a small smirk from him. He drew out the communications
device at his belt, and contacted the UNSC Alamo.
"All
right, Commander Tarasov. Move your ship up and engage, on the double
mister!" Cole barked, grabbing onto a railing as a shot from the last
intact enemy ship smashed against the Hastings' shields and shook the ship.
"Open
fire on that ship dammit, let Tarasov sneak up on it!" Cole ordered
irritably, noting that his coffee had spilt all over the floor. He
sighed as he looked down at the smashed porcelain cup. The Hastings
rumbled as missiles and smaller MAC rounds were fired from it,
impacting against Offensive Bias' ship. Tarasov's ship was creeping up
behind it like a hunting tiger.
"Incoming transmission from
Offensive Bias again, sir," a second Lieutenant reported smartly from
his seat, sounding amused. Cole composed himself, and nodded.
"Patch him through."
There
was a pause, and then suddenly the UNSC symbol spinning on the video
monitor was replaced by an image of a fuming Offensive Bias, pulsating
with dangerous red light.
"What is this Cole? We had a deal!" the
rampant Forerunner AI shrieked in its low, grinding voice. Cole folded
his arms, wearing a highly contemptuous smirk.
"Offensive Bias,
there is something that every person in the galaxy should know. No
matter the circumstance, no matter how sure of victory you are; if you
want to live to see tomorrow, there is one thing you never, ever do. Don't try to board Admiral Preston J. Cole."
"*** you!" Offensive Bias cried in anger. "How dare you speak to me so. I am--"
Cole
clicked his fingers, signalling Anubis to cut the link. The AI was cut
off mid-sentence, and the image reverted back to the UNSC logo on the
pleasant blue background. He went back to watching the small skirmish
between his ship and the last of the three that had tried to subdue him.
The battle was fierece, and Cole's shields were close to total
depletion. He didn't think his hull was tough enough to withstand the
advanced blows Offensive Bias' ships could deal.
Suddenly, the UNSC Alamo
was there, soaring towards the enemy ship from its underside. Fully
armed, it let off a volley of MAC rounds, which crashed into the already
weakened weakened shield of the vessel. They sheared through it, and
soon the scow was in ruins. Sentinels floated out, and were quickly
dispatched by point-defence turrets on the Alamo and Hastings.
"Thanks Alamo," Cole said finally, catching his breath and picking up the smashed cup. "You saved us there."
"***,
Admiral, you took out two of them by yourself when they had you
trapped. I doubt you needed our help at all. Will you be rejoining the
battle?"
"Of course."
* * * * * * * *
The
door slid open with a weary groan, and they slowly walked inside,
weapons held poised and ready. The room they stepped into bore the
stench of rotting corpses and other such horrors. Putrid organic mass
lined the walls and hung from the ceiling, a stagnated pool sat in the
corner of the room.
And in the centre, atop a large and tall
pedestal sat the Gravemind himself, staring down at them with suppressed
malice. His thick tentacle like limbs swayed hypnotically in the air,
casting complicated and intricate shadows on the wall. Dead flesh
collected between his decaying jaws, the inside of his mouth lined with
the crushed skulls of hundreds of different creatures. The Gravemind
bathed in a pool of bone and flesh, and the tormented screams of those
unfortunate enough to be melded into it could clearly be heard, turning
John's legs to jelly. And yet he also possessed a calming serenity about
it, an imposing god-like presence.
He was both monstrous and magnificent at the same time.
"So,
you have finally reached me," he rumbled with the voice of a thousand
hellish beasts and heavenly angels. "I believe congratulations are in
order. John, Avery, Thel. Yes, I know you. Better than you know
yourselves."
"Then you must know that we're about to put an end
to your miserable existence," John answered sharply, stepping forward.
Every step was a battle as he strove to confront this awesome creation.
The Gravemind laughed, his dead form convulsing and rippling as he
shifted.
Suddenly, he lashed out with his tendrils and grasped
Johnson and the Arbiter in a bone crushing grip, before slamming them
into the ground. They slumped, unconscious.
"I could quite easily do the same to you, John. But I won't. Let us talk awhile, child of my enemy."
John narrowed his eyes at the great creature before him, before sheathing his weapon and nodding. What other choice did he have?
"If
you want," he told it, still keeping a firm grasp on Mendicant Bias,
calculating how best he could reach the Gravemind. All he needed to do
was plunge the Forerunner AI into it, and the virus would be unleashed.
"You
think my existence miserable, do you? Look at me, John. I do not age, I
possess more knowledge than any other being in this petulant universe.
My might is matched by none, and I command a species far greater than
your own."
"But are you happy?" John demanded softly, and that question caught the Gravemind by surprise. "You are hated by everything.
Your own kind only serve you out of fear. From the moment of your
creation to now, nothing has ever loved you, or even liked you."
"I
care not for those petty mortal emotions!" the Gravemind roared with
the grainy voice of a thousand dead. "The universe treated me with
contempt from the moment your ancestors created me, and I see no reason
to treat it any differently."
"My ancestors?" John questioned,
utterly perplexed. The Gravemind scrutinised him closely as if he were
searching his soul, and then drew back with a sly grin.
"You don't know? Did you not tell the humans of their legacy, Mendicant?"
"It
would have served no purpose," the Forerunner AI spoke back stiffly, as
if ashamed. The Gravemind laughed capriciously, tendrils making ever
more complex and ornate movements.
"Then I shall enlighten them
myself. You see, John 117, the race that created me is not extinct. The
species lives on, and two survivors are in this room before me at this
very moment in time. You are Precursor, John. Every 'human' is a
descendant of the Precursors that fled to their hidden colony world
Earth as I crushed their mighty empire. Over time they lost their
technology, and recessed into what is now known as humanity. I searched
for you for years, but to no avail. Earth was a closely guarded secret
it seems, and the galaxy is wide, and vast. Eventually I concluded that
you were no threat, and gave up. Then suddenly like a bad omen you come
to me. You may have changed the name of your species, but you are still
the same. Persevering, adaptive, survivalists. I am your child, creator
of mine. All the destruction you see is a result of your pathetic race's
attempt to cheat death."
"Is this true?" the Master Chief
demanded of Mendicant Bias, his voice unwavering, a stoic and
emotionless being on the exterior.
The AI seemed to hesitate.
"Yes,
John. It is true. Humanity are the last remnants Precursors. Your
people created the Gravemind," Mendicant Bias told him gravely. John
struggled with the ramifications of this. The acts had been wrought
millions of years ago, but the effects were still present even now. And
although it was completely ludicrous, John felt guilty. He turned to the
Gravemind, who was staring at them with glee.
"So what happens
now, John? Would you kill the next step of evolution, one that your own
people created? What right do you have to undo the acts of the past?
Your time has long since passed; the universe belongs to us now."
John
stared at the majestic being before him, and considered his options.
Was the Gravemind truly such a bad thing? Did it take life, or give it?
It was creating a unified universe; there would be no more sadness, no
more hate, no more anger, no more envy.
Don't listen to it John, it's playing with your emotions, Cortana cautioned him, but her voice was soon drowned out by the Gravemind's.
"I
have forgiven your people for the wrongs they did to me John, for I am
all things, including omni-benevolent. Humanity has much potential.
There is an entire galaxy that together, we could consume. With our
might and your ingenuity, nothing would be able to stop us. I could give
your people immortality, John. Power beyond anything you've ever
imagined. Finally you shall come to possess the gifts your forefathers
intended you to have, and more."
"And together we'd destroy the universe?" John demanded sceptically. The Gravemind's tentacles began to sway faster.
"No!
Combined, we would unify it in a single empire. The Flood has grown
enough now, we could adapt to eat and drink and reproduce like you do.
We would no longer consume. Just rule, humanity and we, together. A
glorious universal empire, ever lasting. A chance for your people to
become something more, even as I am. Gods, John. You would be as gods."
"Don't do it," Mendicant Bias spoke weakly.
"Silence!"
the Gravemind roared. "This is not your decision, construct of a
piteous and extinct race. Would you be wiped out like your forefathers,
the Forerunners and so many others, John? I am offering your great
people a chance."
John struggled with the choice. It was a chance
for humanity to become something more. And if the Gravemind's Flood no
longer infected, then would they be so different from them?
Yes,
John. He's evil, can't you see? Look at him, now. Really look at him.
See how he stares down at you with anticipated malice. He enjoys
corrupting people who are so much better than him, John. Don't let it
happen to you. Resist him, Cortana spoke softly, her voice jarring
him back into reality. And immediately John stared up at the Gravemind,
and saw it for what it really was. An abomination, a mistake. The
personification of evil.
"I refuse," he told the Gravemind, who looked dumbstruck. The swirling tentacles halted, and time seemed to freeze.
"What?" the hellish creature before him demanded in a blood chilling whisper.
"You
heard me, Gravemind. I refuse. Humanity refuses. You're finished," the
last Spartan shouted defiantly, before starting his assault. He
tightened his grasp on Mendicant Bias, and sprinted towards the
Gravemind, who roared with shock. Narrowly he avoided a lashing tendril,
and leaped up onto the pedestal where the Gravemind sat perched. He
drew back a hand, intending to plunge Mendicant Bias straight inside
it's putrid body--
Thwack!
One of the Gravemind's
long, thick oak tree tentacles had met its target, and sent John flying
backwards through the air. Another two of them constricted him in a bone
crushing grasp, and the Gravemind removed his helmet with a deft
movement. It lifted him into the air in a similar way to how it had
nearly a year ago on Delta Halo, and began to laugh. Mendicant Bias was
similarly restrained.
"Very well, John. If you refuse to be my
equal, then you shall be my slave. As will the rest of your race," the
Gravemind taunted him. John struggled for a few moments, and then
suddenly felt something icy and cold plunge into the back of his neck.
No!
Cortana screamed as John felt a mixture of ice and fire surge down his
body. He began to convulse as he had the feeling of something being
injected into his body. He's infecting you John! Fight it!
The
Master Chief felt all the strength drain from his body, and the
Gravemind dropped him down to the floor. John tried to rise, but ended
up falling down again. He could feel the flood cells inside him, seeping
into his cells and battering at his immune system.
"You see,
John," the Gravemind said sadly. "Although you may be a powerful
soldier, at the end of the day you are just another petty mortal like
all the rest. And soon you shall be mine."
John shrieked in pain
and rolled over onto his back, breathing heavily. His back arced and he
pounded the ground with agony as his body was overcome by this alien
parasite.
Don't submit, John! Remember who you are!
John
nodded weakly, and struggled to remember. To his horror he found that
his memories were being submerged in a murky, unreachable substance.
"Win,"
a voice echoed in his mind. Kelly's. Remembering her brought back
memories of all the Spartans. Powerful warriors, standing against the
malicious might of the galaxy. Both the first line of defence and the
last. All that stood between humanity and annihilation.
And I'm the last. John 117, Master Chief Petty Officer of the UNSC Spartan II program. The 'saviour of humanity.' The Demon,
John recalled, and began to unsteadily rise to his feet. His memories
were flooding back to him now -- Eridanus II, training on Reach,
augmentation, Harvest, Halo, High Charity, the Ark, Sangheilios, the
Shield World.
"Impossible," the Gravemind breathed as John
reoriented himself, and opened his eyes. "Enough of the infector
pathogen is flowing through your body to turn anyone. Your immune system
should be in pieces by now. This is impossible!"
"You know what they say about that word," John chided, smiling. "I guess your Flood cells have never met a real Spartan before."
The Gravemind roared in frustration, and sent a heavy tendril soaring towards him like a speeding bullet.
"Spartan!"
a voice cried from the ground, and suddenly a burning sword was chucked
through the air, spiralling and creating swirling violet patterns. John
deftly caught the energy sword tossed by the beaten yet awakened
Arbiter, and thrust it upwards to meet the limb aimed at his head. The
shaped plasma bit into the pulsating, misshapen mass of the elongated
tendril, and sheared clean through the tip.
The Gravemind reared
back with pain, uttering a cry that no human could emit. John dived
over another spearing tendril, aiming for the large stoic limb
restraining Mendicant Bias. His boots trampled the biological mass
lining the floor, quashing its attempts to trip him up.
The
Spartan leapt through the air, sword held tightly in hand. He used the
swinging tendrils of the Gravemind as aerial stepping stones, each one
propelling him higher and higher. Finally, he reached the thick one
binding Mendicant Bias, and dove onto it, digging the sword in to keep
him firmly anchored as it thrashed around. Arduously, he began to pull
himself up, eventually reaching the small, tight cavity Mendicant Bias
was trapped in.
"You ready?" John asked the monitor as he cut him free, prompting the Gravemind to scream in pain yet again.
"We've
been through this before John. Just hurry," the AI snapped as he was
nestled under the Spartan's free arm. John stood on the thick, diagonal
tendril, and began to run down it. He avoided arcing swings from the
Gravemind, and blocked out the painful screams of pain and frustration
it emitted. Limbs flew through the air as he cut, blood drenched him,
some flying into his eyes. It burnt, but he kept them open anyway.
Finally,
he reached the foot of the tendril, and found himself standing before
the Gravemind, who was staring at him with horror. It desperately sent
two more of its dagger sharp appendages speeding towards him, but they
were easily avoided and subsequently dismembered.
"What happens now?" the Gravemind demanded, and for the first time in its life, it felt fear. Sheer, unquenchable fear.
"Now you die," John told him calmly, brandishing Mendicant Bias high above his head.
"You've lived long enough, Gravemind," the Forerunner AI told the cowering deity before it. "It's time to end it."
"No!
I am a God! You cannot kill me!" the Gravemind screamed, setting John's
teeth on edge. He stuck his energy sword into its body, and the screams
promptly stopped, replaced by even worse shrieks.
"You are not a
God, Gravemind," he told the wretched being before him forcefully.
"You're a mistake. A terrible, terrible thing that should never have
been created. Not many things are truly, completely evil, but you are. And it stops now."
The Gravemind writhed pathetically, spouting weak protests.
"My children will come, and they will kill you," the leader of the Flood told him spitefully. John shrugged.
"Even if they do, you'll still be dead -- forever. And I'll go happily knowing that."
"You
can't kill me. Please. I don't want to die," the Gravemind pleaded with
him, and for a moment the Spartan felt pity for the creation of his
people that had never been loved. It was fleeting though, as he
remembered all the suffering and grief this manipulating and uncaring
abomination had caused.
"Neither did the trillions you
destroyed," he answered hatefully, before drawing back Mendicant Bias
and jamming it into the flesh of the Gravemind, before leaping off the
pedestal and standing back.
The virus Mendicant Bias carried initiated.
The
Gravemind screamed; a terrible, piteous scream. It writhed and thrashed
as it began to decay, its flesh simmered and burned. It cursed in a
million different tongues, and pleaded with John to make it stop. The
last Spartan just stood watching it, not happy, but knowing that it had
to be done.
Johnson and Thel came up behind him, watching the
sight before them with wonder. The Gravemind's raging cries and pleas
for mercy carried on for several minutes as it continued to flail, the
flesh it comprised of melting away.
"No, you can't! I am a God! You will
submit to my--" the Gravemind shrieked out horribly, and those would be
his final words. A bright white light began to fill the room, and
then--
Silence.
"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.