(Well this whole Coronavirus thing is kinda fucking crazy huh. I hope all of you are alright, and if you aren't, I hope you get better. This chapter is an absolute clusterfuck of perspectives and exposition, so I apologize if things get confusing. I couldn't figure out a way to improve the flow, so I just bit the bullet and posted it.
Thank you for the influx of readers and votes by the way, I appreciate them and I'm glad we're almost to 10K reads. I promise you that with all this free time now, I will have a chapter or two out before school comes back into effect. (if it does at all.) Feel free to scold me for anything I got wrong or explained poorly in this chapter, and that's all I got.)
But Shipmaster, there are still men aboard." A rather vocal General looked with a dumbfounded expression, not seeming to understand what Sisze was trying to accomplish.
"I fully understand that, it is you who doesn't understand what's to be gained by this." Sisze rose from his seat, standing to the absolute peak of his intimidating height, his golden armor adding to his frame. " Do you think the Prophets sent this entire fleet after a lone Spartan because they intended to take it lightly!?" The Shipmaster approached the General, looking him in the eyes. "I have experienced this threat first hand, and I will tell you now that hesitance will cost the lives of far more than those on that ship. Unless you want to take my position and lead your troops into a bloody demise yourself, I suggest you allow me to carry out my mission."
Any shuffling had now ceased, leaving complete quiet in the bridge. The General lowered his eyes, averting Sisze's gaze, clearly just as shocked as everyone else that the passive Shipmaster had finally seemed to have snapped. "Yes Shipmaster."
Sisze snorted and turned his back to his crowd of followers. Contact with the "Truth and Reconciliation" had ceased, leaving Sisze with the conclusion that his words were not heeded and the worst had come to pass.
"Prepare the beam. Target the energy signature and have our bombers move to destroy the stabilizers afterwards" A small pit of hesitation sat in the Sangheili's chest as he stared out of the viewport, staring at the cruiser in question. "We'll reduce them to cinders."
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"Large energy signature building quickly!" D.O.T. interrupted the speechless return to the Prowler, causing a few marines to jolt at her words. "It appears the Shipmaster wasn't kidding, he intends to glass the ship with us aboard. You boys might wanna pick up the pace."
An assortment of sarcastic responses rose from the marines, none reaching the Slayer at his place as the head of the group. He merely increased his speed to a faster and more natural run, setting the pace for those behind him.
To say it was appalling to him that this particular Covenant leader would kill his own men to kill them would be false. Such underhanded tactics seemed appropriate for someone who had failed so hard. The fact that the Shipmaster had contacted them just proved that he'd learned little from their last encounter, more concerned with appearances than results. It was sad really, to think that such incompetence passed as acceptable in the Covenant navy.
It wasnt surprising however, as the Covenant seemed bright enough to approach a dangerous enemy with caution, the alien coalition just no longer saw humanity as a true threat. Superior weaponry and numbers made them sure of victory, disregarding their enemy as a threat at all. In fact, the only thing the Covenant seemed to focus on were the Spartans, who were the easiest symbol to place upon the humans as a whole. Faster, stronger, and championed as unkillable warriors by those behind them, the super soldiers were romanticized by both sides of the war.
Six had told him that Spartans were almost always tasked with suicide missions, that only those who survived were brought to the public's attention. Fighting a losing war, the human citizens needed hope, and dead heroes didn't usually inspire confidence that they would push back the Covenant. There was bitterness in his voice as he spoke though, and the Slayer hoped he merely spoke out of spite. It was hard to imagine sacrificing just to be forgotten. It was something every soldier feared.
Following the path D.O.T. had set, the group had not encountered any Covenant so far. Usually this would be something to celebrate, (Or lament on if you were the only one in the mood for ripping spines out.) but the Slayer didnt need to be a calculus teacher to know that they/he hadnt killed over half of the Covenant aboard this vessel. There was a sizable chunk of the crew that seemed to have just disappeared entirely.
"D.O.T. The Slayer felt a Jackals head squish under his foot, being a previous casualty of his flashy entrance. "You have scanned our route right?"
A nervous chuckle surrounded him. "Of course I have, and they should be clear of any obstacles." Her voice was laced with uncertainty, inspiring no confidence in the Slayer. "However, the massive energy spike may be messing with my limited scanners."
"And what's that supposed to mean" The Slayer rounded another corner in the seemingly endless maze, coming to a familiar vehicle bay. Unfortunately, he shared the space with roughly thirty Covenant troops. D.O.T.'s nervous laughter returned.
"Well. It means the readings may not be accurate." The cry of an Elite signalled that they had noticed his arrival, which became apparent by the subsequent wave of heated plasma that followed. The Slayer spun on his heels, feeling the marine behind him slam into his bulky chest before pushing against the row of soldiers, forcing them back the way they came. The soldiers recoiled once the volley of plasma bolts hit the walls all around the elevated doorway and the Slayers back. The marines quickly began to panic, turning around and funneling back down the hallway to take cover on either side of the connecting corridors. This proved to be the right move, as half a dozen plasma grenades arced up towards where they had just been, two actually making into the mouth of the hall.
The Slayer weathered the explosion, the grenades leaving him without a scratch. How much longer until the beam hits?
You have less than a minute at the most. D.O.T.s
The only way to the Prowler was down the ramps and through a door just before the column of enemy troops, then it was just two more rooms until they were at the bay that D.O.T. had hacked her way into. With little time to debate, the Slayer spoke firmly but swiftly to the frightened marines.
"Continue on the path and stop for nothing, I'll cover you." Not waiting for a reply, the Slayer sauntered back out onto the platform, withdrawing his Super Shotgun. He may have limited ammo, but there were more important things at hand than his supply of bullets. Vaulting the short railing, he hit the ground hard, his impact compensation allowing him to recover almost instantly. Bolts and needles spiraled towards him from every alien who could hold a firearm, proving that he held their undivided attention.
In a few quick strides he stood just ahead of a cluster of Grunts, slamming his knee into the first one he saw, and sending its corpse flying across the room. A few quick blows left the rest dead, and left room to deal with the more troublesome foes. A pair of Skirmishers had flanked him as he had killed their underlings, firing a rifle configuration of the needle guns the Grunts had been using.
Meanwhile, Sergeant Johnson was running straight past the firefight with his men right behind him, offering a salute to the Slayer as he passed through the passage they were trying to get to. The marines took little time in following him through, with the Captain only staring for a brief moment before Chief hurried him through.With a hurried tone D.O.T made sure this didn't go unnoticed.
"They're through." The Slayer grunted, grabbing a Skirmisher by its scrawny leg and throwing its screeching form into the Sangheili Major who was heading the small group. He turned to take his own leave, but he didnt make it more than five steps before his whole world turned upside down. What was once forward motion had become a futile attempt to scale the slanted hill that had become the hangers floor. Accompanying his new sense of disorientation was an unimaginably intense light and heat, and the screaming of the ships hull as it was torn asunder by the plasma beam.
The beam had impaled the stationary ship, causing a great, but not fatal, wound to its hull. The power surged and momentarily cut out, leaving anyone aboard in total darkness. The Truth and Reconciliation pitched in agony, before the power returned and the stabilizers slowly steadied the ship, keeping it from cascading down towards the cliffs below.
The Slayer had been at the epicenter of the super-weapon, being exposed to enough energy to have literally vaporized just about anything else. He was not anything else however, but that didnt mean he was necessarily okay. The sudden transition from running to falling had him fighting his greatest foe yet, gravity. Slamming into an inactive wraith, he tumbled towards what had once been the outer wall of the bay. He hit the shielding hard, landing on his stomach. Rolling over onto his back, he was greeted by the bulk of the wraith he had bounced off sliding down to meet him once again. Quickly rolling out of the way, the Covenant tank slammed into the shield next to him with considerable force.
It was then that the Slayer felt the wall slowly rising back to its original position, becoming more upright every second.
"S-yer are you -ere?" His comms crackled with a very distorted version of D.O.T.'s voice. Being his only ticket out of here, he was glad to hear her voice. He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a series of explosions that brought it to his attention, that he had just begun falling.
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Impossible! A roar echoed throughout those who had been called to oversee Siszes latest operation. The collective pride of every ranking Sangheili in the room took a direct blow as their unwillingness to believe their Shipmasters stories blew up in their faces.
Sisze could not say he was shocked that the beam had not eradicated the Spartan, he actually felt a slight pang of relief if anything, but he had a reputation to save and he quickly took back control of the room.
"There is not the time for surprise, have the bombers move in and take out the stabilizers and the engines. If firepower will not pierce its carapace we shall crush it under the weight of an entire cruiser.
Sisze made sure to speak in the most commanding tone he could summon, hiding any trace of emotion behind his glassy eyes. The fear and uncertainty that had been brewing was quickly quashed, as those under him sought comfort in the certainty of his voice and orders. A few traces of doubt remained painted upon a few of the higher ranking Sangheili, but none spoke their feelings aloud.
"Once the Cruiser has fallen I want search parties to scour the wreckage. I will not accept anything less than the body of the Demon itself, even if it's in pieces. Am I understood?" The words felt out of place in his mouth, as if he was speaking someone else's words. They were the words of a greater leader, one who valued his position of power more than anything else. Sisze was not that man.
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The sensation of falling was one of the few times the Slayer ever felt vulnerable inside his impregnable armor. It wasnt the height, or the fact he had been hit with every kind of debris imaginable on the way down, but it was the fact that no amount of strength or brains could help him. With the shields having cut out, he had tumbled from the ship entirely, the ground rushing to meet him.
Even inside his helmet, all he could hear was the air rushing all around him mixed with his accelerated breathing. His heart beat faster as the hint of fear crept into his mind.
Falling with him, albeit slower, the cruiser groaned as it's emergency measures attempted to halt its sudden descent, ultimately failing. The only solice the Slayer could take from the situation, was that he could see the Prowler hovering where the cruiser had just been, meaning that everyone had made it aboard. He could also still hear D.O.T. trying to establish contact, but he couldn't get any words out to respond.
Then he suddenly wasn't falling anymore, his body slamming into the ground with significant force, driving the air from his lungs and causing pain to radiate outward until his whole body felt like it was on fire. The words impact compensation mocked him on his visor, as his sight became narrow and darkness masked the periphery of his vision.
Sucking in a breath, he felt pain flare in his chest. His body was screaming in ways he had not felt in the longest of times. Organs felt bruised, his limbs felt stiff, and his thoughts were hard to collect. Drawing a few more pained breaths, his vision began to clear of colorful dots and the encroaching darkness. Clearing up, his vision brought him back the present, to his predicament. He was far from being able to run, and there was tens of thousands of tons of alien starship that was about to greet him head on.
Still, he hadnt conceded quite yet, forcing unresponsive limbs to ambulate. Ungracefully he strained himself into a standing position, shaking like a sapling in a hurricane. Strength slowly seeped back into his body, but it was far too late. Taking his first step, the Slayer could hear the roar of the crashing Cruiser bearing down on him. Debris crashed all around him, a prelude to what would be a spectacular final act. The Slayer refused to acknowledge how futile the idea of escape was though, and pushed his screaming body to move somewhere, anywhere. Then, all of a sudden, the whole world came crashing down on him, unimaginable weight burying him. Then there was black.
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The ship was silent as the Covenant forces fired upon the Cruiser's wreckage, further cementing to the crew that the Slayer was no more. D.O.T piloted the ship away from the scene, flying low to avoid detection, but she spoke not a word, until she finally broke the silence herself.
"I'm sure you have questions Captain." Her voice sounded hollow, and far more devoid of emotion than it usually did. Captain Keyes clearly acknowledged this, but he had far greater responsibilities than politeness.
D.O.T. right?" D.O.T hummed in confirmation. "Who was that Spartan back there? I've never seen or heard of any like him."
Her holographic body appeared, reflecting the voice that was attached to it. Her face was expressionless, but her eyes were scarily human and filled with emotion.
"Your men refer to him as 'Shipbreaker' and to uncomplicate things you should too. D.O.T. exhaled slowly, despite not needing to. He also wasn't a Spartan, more of an unconventional ally that rescued B-312 and helped rescue your men and you. Both his suit and biology far surpass any that come from the Spartan program. It should be known that he utilized a special form of energy, altering both me and B312 in his time here.
Keyes nodded, looking around the room. "And Noble six is?"
"Here." The Spartan in question could be heard shambling down the hall that connected to the med bay. He stepped into view, his skin glistened with perspiration and his eyes looked hazy. A wet cloth remained draped around his head, and his too small pants were soaked with sweat. "What have I missed?"
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Sisze remembered the idle banter of his days as a Major while descending in a Phantom, yet his craft was completely devoid of such vocalizations. Every Minor and Unggoy stood erect and unmoving, occasionally casting glances towards him, or fidgeting with their weapons. He supposed that the presence of a Shipmaster must be daunting enough on it's own, but the two members of the Silent Shadow standing beside him probably upped the pressure.
It wasn't that Sisze didn't trust his men to handle a simple search and retrieve mission, but some part of him wanted to at least collect a trophy to remind him of this Spartan's valiant effort to protect what was important to him. He had expended a significant chunk of resources to take down after all, being just one Spartan. It seemed a necessary penance for Sisze to have to journey out from heading his ship and claim the proof of his actions himself. Just as the Spartan had been fighting for what he wanted to protect, Sisze was doing quite the same. Having come into contact with the Spartan awakened a clarity within him, allowing him to see the similarities in their goals.
Truth is, Sisze had been against being adopted into the Covenant to begin with. It was only the promise of winning glory for his keep that kept him from trying to desert like a few others who hadn't agreed with the idea of being forced into military service. The 'Drazumee keep was not powerful, nor was it held in high regards by anyone on Sanghelios. 'Drazumee blood was considered cursed after a long string of stillbirths, and Sisze had been the first to be born successfully in many cycles.
It was his father's biggest aspiration to be renowned for something, anything. When he approached Sisze on his opposition, Sisze couldn't deny him the chance to have the one thing he'd always wanted. So he began his slow march to the top, not stopping till he had made it to the top. It was by no means an easy journey, and he stumbled frequently, but here he stood at the helm. Sitting at the top meant you had great power, but it also allowed the vantage point to see what imperfections lay on the path below you, and Sisze had seen many.
When the Phantom touched down, the men aboard quickly exited in an attempt to escape the pressure that had built in the cramped quarters of the ship. Sisze took his time stepping off the ship, being in no rush to have to go and report his victory to the Prophets, or Kex. "Fan out, leave no corner unchecked." The Minors and Unggoy fanned out, unhappy to be doing menial labor, but in no position to argue. Their tasks were twofold, with a single team sent to track the faded signal to the Spartan, and the rest sent out to retrieve anything of value from the wreckage, including the corpses of those who had fallen.
As the infantry fanned out to tackle their absurd job, Sisze stood and grimaced at his grim handiwork. The wreck before them was barely recognizable as a cruiser, having been mulched by a volley of last minute plasma fire, very little of the structural integrity remained. It was necessary to ensure the completion of his mission, but there were visible reminders of the life sacrificed in order to do so. With his eyes wandering, he found more than a few broken limbs sticking out from between the scraps of metal, but he quickly averted his eyes. The wreckage felt more like a graveyard than anything, and the longer Sisze stood amongst the crumpled metal skeleton of the cruiser, the more uneasy he felt. At a certain point he could no longer just stand there, so he forced himself to do something he really was not in the mood to do. Heading back into the Phantom, he found himself in front of the comms unit, and establishing contact with the last person he wanted to contact.
"I assume this is a cry for help 'Drazumee, because I would have no problem showing the Prophets why you are a waste of their efforts." Thel Vadamee's hologram shifted impatiently with an arrogant assuredness that Sisze was here to grovel before him like a mutt. He would get no such satisfaction today, and Sisze mirrored his cocky tone to make sure he understood that the 'Vadamee keep was nothing special.
"Sorry to disappoint you Thel, but I am actually here to tell you that the Demon has been eliminated without any losses from my fleet." Thel's head tilted slightly to the side in confusion and his eyes seemed unsure, but his expression never changed.
"So you've come to gloat? That's highly unlike you Sisze. It must feel good to succeed after so many failures." Sisze gave up the guise of being friendly after that. A sneer filled out his face instead, as rationality left the Sangheili's mind.
"I have no need to gloat to one so great as you Thel, I'm merely here to deliver news. The Truth and Reconciliation was destroyed by the Demons, without any survivors." Sisze felt a pang of guilt pulse through him, but he kept going. "It would seem your men were not up to the task. I shall put in a word with the Prophets when I make my report that you require better soldiers. Or perhaps a change of management is in order."
Thel's eyes were wild with anger, and he had forgone the pretense of being hospitable as well. Seething, Thel roared over the comms channel. "You dare question my capabilities 'Drazumee?! You'd do well to remember that you are making a powerful enemy this day. Any word from the Prophet's is as good as law, and I-" Sisze closed the channel and exhaled. He really did it this time. Before he had a chance to reflect on the consequences of what he had just done, Sisze heard a call from just outside of the Phantom. The search party that was sent after the Spartan had returned, but without even a helmet in tow. The Spec Ops Sangheili in charge had his plasma rifle out, and most of his unit did not appear to be behind him.
"The Demon, we think it's still alive Shipmaster." Sisze felt a permeating cold grip his stomach.
"Show me.
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(I think I may start a new trend of teasing a little bit of the next chapter for you guys, to allow you to maybe influence what will happen next or have your minds wander on what could happen. Feel free to tell me your thoughts on this.)
The Slayer heard the door open again, followed by the clacking of clawed feet on the metal grating of his cell. He tilted his head to see what it was. Before him was one of the shield-bearing Covenant, it's sharp triangular teeth sticking out from it's strong jaw, and it's quills half-raised in hesitance. The creature wore a strange grey-brown cloth that hung from it's muscular frame. It's predatory eyes seemed to study him, and it's legs carried it in a circle around him before it stopped again. The creature then open it's mouth and whispered softly in a slightly raspy voice.
"You are most certainly unique." The Slayer felt a small current run through him as he heard the creature speak in a language he could understand. The creature then addressed him directly. "I doubt you have a high opinion of me or my kind after what you just went through, but I assure you, I mean no harm. My name is Kex, and I am here to ask you a few questions."
The Slayer erupted into violent coughing, pain shooting throughout his body with each bone-shaking expulsion of air. Spots filled his vision, and he needed roughly a minute before he could respond. "You dress different than the others."
The alien seemed surprised that she had actually gotten a response. "Well yes, I am a non-combatant aboard this ship. I am the Shipmaster's aide. He actually wishes to speak with you later."
"You mean Goldie? Yeah, we've met. Not a fan."