HALO 2: An exchange of hats

The Elites are done for. Regret’s murder has propelled us to the heights we have craved.

Soon, the Holy Ones will give us the word and we will rise up against the Elites, but for now, we take their place.

Heretics, every one of them. Pah! Religious words for a necessary eradication. If only the Prophets knew what Tartarus was planning.

Us Brutes are lining up, preparing to march out to the Prophets’ inner sanctum entryway and relieve the current guard. My belly aches for this moment.

“Brutes, advance.” The call is out. We march forward onto the skyway. The Elite Honour Guards turn their heads as we approach them. They know what is coming.

They remove their helmets, drop their spears, remove armour, and off they slink to their quarters.

Brute brothers are fighting each other for the discarded relics, brutal punches are swung, the air is thick with betrayal. It’s glorious. The Brutes are in ascendance.

The scrabbling for Honour Guard positions isn’t even interrupted by the Arbiter’s arrival. He stares us down disapprovingly. Arrogant beast. Your armour won’t save you from the fires.

I stand next to my brothers lining the skyway to the Prophets. We are the protectors now. The Elites will soon be cast out, and nothing will stand in our way.

They will heading on their Great Journey earlier than they ever could have planned. Fools. 

HALO 2: Not even me

It all happened so quickly, I’m not even sure how they missed it coming towards me. Those vile Brutes, always be mindful of those so quick to betray another species.

I was assured the Elites would merely be cast out, not murdered in their droves. But for power, I lusted for power. For the final end of all others, of the Ark’s salvations from the Flood and the destruction we wrought.

I yearned for Halo’s cleansing flames to absolve me of my sins. But there is no salvation here. A regretful being am I. Mercy was my name, I gave none even though I craved it the most. Ironies of a wasted life.

All of the most careful planning and faith in the Path has led me to this point, clutching my neck as a Parasite digs its tendrils deeper. I will not yield to it. I will not give it the satisfaction.

Truth, Regret and I. We plotted and preyed, twisted and betrayed, and for what?

Regret is dead. Truth has betrayed me, the Elites. It’s all gone, dust to the winds. Tartarus was called from my side as he reached to save me. I am alone on this landing pad, suffering the failures of my grand designs.

The Great Journey waits for no one, not even me.

The Demon strides to my side, staring in the direction of the departing ships.

“Your pal, where’s he going?” His faceless visor stares down at me.

My last gasps of clean air, choked only by the Parasite’s tendrils allow me a parting shot: “Earth...to finish what started. And this time...none of you will be left behind.”

He pulls the Parasite from my neck, but the damage is already done. A scream is all I can manage before the end.

Truth’s last words ring in my head: “The Great Journey waits for no one, brother. Not even you.”

Not even me, and for once Truth wasn’t lying. 

HALO 2: Threatening stars

Clouds of dirt and brick fragments fill the air, ricocheting off of armour plates and shattering visors. Pvt. Dodgshon is running full speed towards what he hopes will be good cover from the advancing horde.

He slams into the brick work of the wall, rolling back slightly as he realises he’s landed on a fallen trooper’s dead body. He pulls himself onto his knees and edges close to the wall, trying to pull his head into his body as he does so.

Plasma scoring marks the entire top of his piece of cover, and it’s as if a hail of blue fire is erupting from the sky above him. He lifts his rifle over his head and fires blindly into the horde on the other side of the wall. He hits nothing, but there’s a lull in the fire.

He looks back towards his own lines and sees several troopers screaming at each other and pointing at something beyond the wall. Dodgshon fires blindly over the wall again, and once more receives no return fire. He edges himself closer to the wall, and moves up to look over the top.

Wraiths, their iridescent armour reflecting the sun’s light, are advancing as the Covenant forces pull back. There’s hundreds of them, gliding forward towards the troopers desperately trying to hold Reach. Their barrels raise into the air and they fire their parabolic plasma projectiles as one. Dodgshon stares into the sky as the plasma slowly arcs towards his comrades, blue fire shining in a fully-lit sky. Their impact on the ground is deafening and awesomely destructive.

Dodgshon barely makes it to the ground to shield his face from the blasts. He hears the whirring chaos of approaching Wraiths and screams in pain as the wall he’s hiding behind begins to crumble on top of him. The last things he sees are tiny stars of daylight shining through the collapsed rubble above him. 

***

This week's blog was inspired by Halo rather than based on anything particular. I missed this Saturday's update due to a bad soft-shell crab (seriously!). Normal service will resume on Wednesday morning. Thanks. 

HALO 3: Forward unto wondering what the fuck

Five years. Five. Long. Years.

Seen more people die along the way that I’d care to relive.

Five years I been fighting, and the Covies found Earth anyway. What the hell are we going to do?

I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. We’re going to hoist ourselves aboard the Dawn and head through the big portal in the sky.

You accepting this? You hearing this? A portal in the sky. Turns out there was a massive, ancient machine under New Mombassa capable of making a portal. In the sky. Yep, I’m not kidding.

And now I’m sitting here in the back of a Pelican, just across from that SPARTAN while he eyes up the sand dunes below us.

Dunes? Where on Earth are we? No, we’re not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy. We’re through the portal flying around a massive floating installation called the Ark.

And you know what? All the other soldiers are just getting on with shit or making excited comments.

Am I the only one who’s worried about how we get home? I don’t see another massive portal open on our side. Apparently I am the only one worried about it.

Everyone else is dangling out the back of the Pelican and whooping, while that SPARTAN just stands there holding a gun looking all moody.

And now we’re landing and getting out. Seriously? Am I really the only one worried about any of this? These other guys have some serious poker faces.

Maybe I should ask if that galaxy in the sky is our galaxy...or not, someone else just did. 

HALO 2: Whispers near Io

Signalman Willis is nervous, and with good reason. With all the heightened tension, the ships coming and going, and Command not saying a word about anything, nervousness is to be expected.

Willis checks over his screens again. There have been reports coming from probes out near Jupiter of slipspace activity, but so far nothing has actually been seen.

Cortana’s holographic form springs from one of the many projection pedestals dotted around the monitoring hall. “Willis, we had another one?” She says in her usual calm tone.

“Yes, ma’am. Another whisper logged near Jupiter. I’ve sent some more probes but they’re coming back with nothing.” Willis watches as Cortana places her hand to her head.

“Upload to the Control Deck’s computers. Lord Hood will need to see this.” Says Cortana.

“Uploading, ma’am.” Willis’ fingers are a blur as he uploads the reports, but his eye is caught by one of the screens. “Ma’am, I’ve got something else.”

The screen shows another whisper in the darkness, but there’s a cluster of them around Io, one of the moons of Jupiter. “Ma’am, something big is happening there.”

“Roger that, Signalman. Punch it up on the Control Deck’s screens.” Cortana’s form stayed where it was and she turned her back to Willis to address Lord Hood on the Control Deck. “Another whisper, sir, near Io.  We have probes enroute.”

She turns back to Willis. “They’re coming. Get to your evac point, Signalman.”




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HALO 2: The beating heart

“A man who enjoys his work is always going to feel better at the end of the day.”

It’s these words that Dr Shen has lived by his entire life, tempered though they are against the backdrop of the on-going war against The Covenant.

Positivity is hard to hold on to, especially in dark times such as these, but there is a glimmer of hope. Folks need heroes, and we have one now. Our hero’s return from the destruction of Reach was reported in the news a thousand times over, and he’s now seen as a beacon of humanity’s brave stand against the unstoppable purple tide.

Since being posted to the weapons facility in Seongnam, Dr Shen has had one important task: miniaturising and increasing the output of the fusion reactor to be built into the next iteration of the MJOLNIR armour system. Dr Shen believes that it is the essential part of the platform, the beating heart of the system.

Fusion packs carried by regular UNSC soldiers are not exactly bulky to begin with, but Dr Shen’s task was to cut the size of them in half for integration into MJOLNIR. It was a tall order, but SPARTANS aren’t exactly regular soldiers, and their gear is far from regular.

Word around the labs are that the UNSC is pushing for early delivery of the Mark VI armour system to the Cairo Orbital MAC Platform, and Dr Shen is putting the final touches to his prototype assembly. A quick test run is all it needs and he allows himself a moment of relief. He asks his AI to find the next available slot in his supervisor’s schedule and begins to write up his notes.

He almost submits his notes to the supervisor’s AI, but he stops, pondering for a moment. He’s just built the beating heart so, with a smile, Dr Shen adds the suffix "BH" to the fusion reactor’s serial number then presses ‘Send’.