|The Great Journey
Author: wutang PM
The titanic clash between two alliances, and the bravery, honor, and commitment of those involved, will determine the fate of all – and reveal the truth, along with darker secrets and corruption at the highest levels of leadership.Rated: Fiction T - English - Adventure - Chapters: 12 - Words: 73,372 - Reviews: 273 - Favs: 93 - Follows: 46 - Updated: 08-18-06 - Published: 12-01-04 - id: 2154459
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The Great Journey
the Author's Note first! If you don't and flame me because of
a reason that I mention in there, then you really are an idiot.
Only doing this once…the legal disclaimer: I don't own Halo or any parts of its characters, plot, books, etc. No matter how much I wish I did.
A/N: This will be the longest Author's Note of this fic. Here goes…well, I am using the date/location system of the Halo books. If you find this annoying and unoriginal please tell me. Since backslashes, for some mysterious reason, do not work on FFN, I have to use a different symbol (»). Also, there may be times where elements of this story are pure fiction and from my (insane) imagination, but you can't curse at me for that because the entire Halo storyline is like that as well (those crazy Bungie fanatics, bless 'em). There also will be no explanation of the "Dr. Halsey/Kelly" incident, because that would just make it too confusing and complicated. And yes, I HAVE read all three books extensively. So don't flame me for those reasons, find some others. Then I can just laugh, remember those days when I was a crack-loving fool just like you, and throw your review into the "crap" pile (which is quite large, by the way). Finally, this is just a short Prologue, most other chapters will range from 2,500 to 4,000 words (these are not set limits, just general guidelines). Just for your information.
Title Note: Get used to the boring, stupid chapter names and crappy, unoriginal title; I never was one for spending hours thinking of a good chapter/fic name.
General Note: If you haven't played through Halo 2, this may contain plot spoilers. Worse yet, you won't understand anything about the story, so don't read it.
Review Note: All reviews will be addressed at the top of the chapter (right here, dumbass) in italics.
2303 hours, February 20, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar) ♦ Unidentified Covenant-controlled Forerunner vessel, holding position behind Covenant staging point around Mars.
Spartan-117, or John, the Master Chief, crouched in the bowels of the strange Forerunner ship that contained the last remaining High Prophet of the Covenant, Truth. He had just finished making contact with Fleet Admiral Sir Terrence Hood on board Cairo orbital MAC station. Cairo, nearly three hundred other of her sister orbital MAC stations, and the remains of the UNSC fleet were desperately trying to hold off an overwhelming Covenant attack. Nearly a thousand Covenant warships were making an attempt to wipe out Earth. The Master Chief's unofficial mission was to do what he could do to prevent this from happening, as well as put a stop to whatever twisted plan Truth had cooked up. Naturally, it would be easier going head-to-head with a Covenant cruiser with a Longsword fighter, but the Master Chief had just survived fighting on yet another Halo, and had to gone through experiences with the Flood again, so just getting away from the parasitic monstrosities would be a relief.
The Master Chief hefted a clip of 9.5mm ammunition and was about to slap it into his Battle Rifle when he noticed a splotch of green blood on it. He had scrounged the rifle, ammo, four frag grenades in his grenade bandolier, and the SMGs in his armor's two side holsters from a few dead Combat Forms he killed inside High Charity. It wasn't surprising that all of his equipment was splattered with the drab green blood of the Flood. He suppressed a flicker of revulsion at the memory of his second encounter with the creatures. Still, having the human equipment was worth it, considering he had fought through most of the Covenant Holy City using Covenant merchandise. It felt good to have his hands back on some human weaponry. He slipped the clip of armor-piercing bullets into the receiver and snapped back the weapon's charging handle. The ammo counter on the rifle read full, as did the display on his HUD. Satisfied, the Chief set down his Battle Rifle, loaded up both SMGs and slipped them back into their holsters, then crept towards the door that led to the rest of the ship.
Before he could reach it, though, the door slid open without a sound. Expecting a Brute to come leaping through the opening, the Chief snapped his rifle up to his shoulder and steadied it. The doorway was clear, as was his motion tracker. Even so, the Master Chief's muscles were still tensed; the encounter with the Flood at Delta Halo had rattled him and put him on edge. After Halo Installation 04 had been destroyed, he thought he would never have to deal with the Flood again. He willed himself to calm down, because nervousness when being alone and outnumbered would probably lead to death. The Master Chief mentally chastised himself for not remembering that all Forerunner doors sensed when life-forms were nearby and opened automatically.
The Spartan peered around the door frame cautiously. There was not a soul in sight, and the hallway was aesthetically empty. It was just a standard Forerunner hallway, lined with a brown rock-like substance that was carved with intricate designs. The Chief stepped into the hallway and moved down it, barely making a sound despite his half-ton of armor and flesh. His books clinked against the floor panels as he neared the next door. The control panel near the door glowed red; most likely it was locked. He briefly wished Cortana was with him, then shoved aside the thought and looked for an alternate entryway. Seeing none, the Master Chief gathered himself for a charge and rammed the door with his shoulder. The two metal doors bent inwards under the force of the impact. A kick from the Chief's armored boot was sufficient to kick the doors out and send them skittering along the floor. He stepped into the room.
Immediately, a wave of plasma washed across the Master Chief's shields, setting off its audible charge indicator. Quickly, he dived down, picked up one of the bent doors and held it up in front as a shield. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of three Brutes spreading out in a wide formation at the far end of the room. The Chief brought the impromptu shield up, which quickly began to melt away from the high-powered plasma bolts. Within a few seconds, he was forced to throw the molten door away, but his shields were back up. Taking cover behind a purple Covenant crate, he aimed for the nearest Brute's head, and opened fire.
A burst of three armor-piercing Battle Rifle rounds slashed through the Brute's helmet, puncturing the crude metal almost immediately. Three more bursts to the head were enough to put the beast down, as well as splatter the remaining two Brutes with blood and gore. Return fire pelted the exposed part of the Master Chief's body, dropping his shields to half. Ignoring the damage, he fired another set of bursts from his rifle. Another Brute toppled and fell, staining the floor with blood. The plasma rifle it had been carrying flew through the air and came to rest not far from the Chief.
Not wanting to waste any Battle Rifle ammunition, the Chief picked it up and hosed the final Brute with red plasma. This seemed to aggravate the creature more than damage it. The infuriated Brute went berserk with the rage at the death of its comrades and the plasma fire. Ignoring the plasma that continued to fly through the air, the Brute threw down its weapon and charged the Chief with blinding speed. It smashed headlong into the Chief, draining the last of his shields, which had not had a chance to recharge.
The Master Chief had the wind knocked out of him with the force of the blow. Even as he staggered back, he discarded his plasma rifle and drew out his twin SMGs. The Spartan sprayed the Brute with 5mm rounds, his armor's dampening system and his enormous strength easily controlling the large amount of recoil.
The Brute absorbed the bullets like cloth to water and continued to advance. It smacked one of the SMGs out of the Master Chief's hand. He punched the Covenant soldier square in the face; stunning it for a brief moment. The Chief was backing up, still firing, when the magazine clicked dry. He quickly reloaded the one remaining SMG, then began firing again. The Brute was starting up after him when it gave a howl and crashed to the ground, its furry hide riddled full of bullet holes.
If the Mjolnir battle armor suit didn't have a cooling climate-control layer, the Master Chief was sure he would've been perspiring. More importantly, though, the Chief had burned up two and a half clips of SMG ammo and about half a clip of Battle Rifle ammunition. Checking his ammunition pockets, the Chief realized he only had four Battle Rifle clips and six SMG magazines remaining. If he didn't want to go traipsing around with Covenant-made weapons again, he would have to save ammo-not an easy thing to do under the circumstances.
The Spartan knew he had made a mistake. He should've been expecting Covenant forces on the other side of the door. If he'd thought about that in advance, the Chief probably would've had a frag grenade in hand, and could've killed or badly wounded those Brutes without using any ammo at all.
Never think about what you should have done-think about what you plan to do.
The words rang clear in the Chief's mind as if he had just heard them yesterday. It was one of the many things Chief Mendez, the primary instructor of the Spartan project, had drilled into the minds of the young Spartans.
The Master Chief let out a long, slow breath and cleared his mind again. It doesn't matter what I have to use, he thought. I'm going to stop the Covenant on board this ship, no matter what it takes.