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8/3/2011 12:34:39 PM
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[Story] Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood (Chapter Twelve!)

Well, I figured it was about time that I upload this. I've stalled long enough. [b]Foreword[/b] [quote]To those of you who have read this before its arrival here, thank you so much. Especially Nis, you were there from the beginning, when my story was at its worse. To those who haven't, well, this has been going for about eight or nine months now. I figured it was time to finally step up and put it where it could be more critically judged. Don't get me wrong, this would be long dead if I'd had no help, but I haven't really had any criticism on this. So, why not put it here, where more people can judge it? Be warned, the prologue is pretty long. This is necessary, but I just thought I'd warn you, it's longer than any chapter I've written so far. Though, I'll be pleased if this changes. So, yeah. Please, tell me what you think.[/quote] [b]Synopsis[/b] [quote][i]The year is 2551. The Covenant war machine has trampled through world after world, driving the human race to its knees. And despite humanity's best efforts to strike as one, not every allegiance is pure. Dr. Catherine Halsey, under the watch of the UNSC's shady intelligence service ONI, has given life to the SPARTAN-II project over the course of three decades, producing some of the most elite soldiers ever seen through mechanical and biological augmentation. Even though these SPARTANs have lit a beacon of hope for the survival of the human race, there are those within ONI who do not believe they are enough. Starting their own project behind veils of secrecy and deceit, they have created their own SPARTANs, with far greater numbers and more cost-effective methods, sacrificing quality for quantity. The losses suffered to the SPARTAN-IIIs have been devastating. Learning from their mistakes, ONI have started to employ different operations throughout the project, choosing select units and issuing them with far greater equipment to use, in hopes of creating far greater weapons than Halsey ever could. One such unit is Team Theta, who were the last survivors of their last mission in an attempt to assassinate a key Covenant figure. Despite their incredible losses, they still refused any replacements of their team, catching ONI's eye in doing so. There seems to be something about them that no other unit has ever possessed, and ONI is keen to exploit this to its fullest advantage. Their effectiveness is raised considerably, with the help of advanced armour and other necessities, and soon they are considered one of the UNSC's most efficient and effective units, sent on as many missions against the Covenant as they can handle. But the hands of fate work in mysterious ways, and soon, Team Theta will be fighting for more than they ever thought possible.[/i][/quote] [b]Pact: A Tale of Brotherhood[/b] [b]Prolouge[/b] Behind their cold, lifeless visors, six SPARTANs stared at each other in numb horror. Their hopes of killing off a Prophet and severely crippling an attacking Covenant fleet had been snatched away from them as they realized what they'd gotten themselves into. Their mind's eye saw the Covenant laughing at them, their sickening and barbaric cries adding to the incoherency of the situation. Either the Prophet in question was on a smaller craft, and not the main flagship they'd just worked their way into, or wasn't even there at all. Whatever the case was, it was obvious that the Covenant had this planned all along. Which only meant one thing: "Ambush," stated Jess-198. Mark-316 sighed, knowing full-well what was about to go down. "That's affirmative. How many do you spot in there?" "Approximately 50 on first glance. Searching for sniper nests now." While Jess hunted for any hidden foes, using her thermal imaging system to look through the wall between them and the control room, the leader of the team pondered the situation, not finding everything adding up. "Guys? Do you really think this is an ambush?" suggested Rodney-257. "What do you mean, Commander?" "Well, think about it. We've encountered a lot of resistance on our way over here to this control room, furthering suspicion that there was a Prophet aboard. We've barely made to this point alive, not to mention the fact that every single member of Teams Rapier and Xiphos are dead." He paused, reliving each of the 12's brutal demises aboard the Covenant supercarrier. Although they weren't part of the team he'd grown to be so close with, he still felt a pang of guilt at their loss. "There just seems to be Covenant around every damn corner on this ship. I figured that everyone would just be lying in wait here, ready to blow our heads off the second we step foot in there and defend the Prophet that they should have had hiding in there. But 50? That doesn't exactly seem like much, does it. And to boot, I'm quite willing to bet that Jess doesn't find any snipers hidden around." And with that, Jess turned around, bewildered. "You're right, there aren't any that I can detect. And the rest of them don't exactly look like they're set to kill a team of SPARTANs, with an exception to the eight high-ranking Elites I can see from here. But what are you trying to get at here, Rodney? Are you saying this isn't actually a trap set for us?" Rodney nodded, finally gaining clarity over the situation. A plan was forming in his head, much faster than before now. "I do believe we've gotten here undetected, and they have absolutely no idea we're here. That is really quite dumbfounding; you would think at least one of the squads we fought would have signaled the control room to alert them of our presence, considering the numbers we've faced. But that doesn't change a thing, if we're to get out of this alive, we're going to have to treat this with utmost precision and care." Suddenly, Baldemar-216 spoke up. "But surely this still does not feel right to you, does it? These Covenant bastards are cunning, and this is their main flagship! It should be packed to the ceiling with the vermin! Where have they all gone? I do not like this." His German accent flared as he expressed his concern to his team-mates. "To be honest, Baldemar, I can't say for sure. What I'm hoping is that their most prized warriors were aboard, to later be flown off to where the action is at its peak." Baldemar eyed his Commander, fearing the worst. "I hope you are right, my friend. For all of our sake." "Heh. Don't you worry, Baldemar. These punks won't know what hit 'em. Or at least, they won't if we initiate a plan effectively. Jess, give us some stats. How many of each?" Jess fiddled with her visor for a second before complying. "Right, there's the Shipmaster. And what looks to be a Zealot-class Field Marshall, if I remember correctly. Six Zealot-class Generals, and... 23 Ultras. 31 Elites all up, for those lacking the brain power." "Very funny. And the other 19?" "16, to be precise. I'm cou-" "I thought you counted 50?" Boris-081 interrupted, wondering how Jess could have over-counted. "That was an approximation, Boris. I do that before I take head counts, you should know seeing I told you it was only at first glance just before. You sure you SII's can keep up with us, and that you're not starting to rust away there?" Evidently unimpressed with her remark, Boris shook his head. He would've laughed, if it weren't for the gravity of the situation at hand. "Ease up, Jess," joked Rodney. "Continue, if you would, please." "Ten Jackals, six Grunts. That makes up our total, sir." "Thank you. Anyway, as I said before, we need a plan. Jess, can you take a sweep of the room and upload it to our HUDs?" "Able and willing, sir." Jess scanned the room, highlighting choke points, possible cover and positions of enemies, then fed the data to the HUDs of the rest of Team Theta. "Damn," commented Mark, "I gotta get me one of those tactical hardware kits." Rodney nodded in agreement. "To be honest, I don't why we haven't yet, we should all have them installed. That way, Jess won't have to be our pack mule for data. But that'll be later, we should focus on the situation in front of us. Gather round, Theta, I'll hopefully be able to get a floor plan of a Covenant supercarrier here on my tac-pad." Team Theta gathered around their leader, eyeing him with the respect that he had earned from them over the months of war they had fought. Rodney couldn't help but smile. Although the Covenant had nearly overrun them at every possible opportunity, they'd gotten this far alive, and it was all thanks to their skill in operating as a team. He was glad to be their leader. After a few quick button presses and a bit of searching, Rodney came across the floor plan he desired. He brought it up on the screen and held his wrist out for all to see. The screen showed an oval room with the main ship controls at the opposite end, and nine control panels directly ahead of the entrance. There was one panel in the center and four on either side, curving with the shape of the room. Directly in the middle of the room was a large hologram of the planet they were intending to invade. Between the hologram and the main controls was a large pillar that rose out of the ground, running parallel until it came out, rising at a 45 degree angle back the way it came, like a giant other-worldly crocodile's mouth attempting to engulf the entire planet before it. This, along with the hologram itself, would provide good cover for the Elites piloting the ship. "Alright, here's what we do. This control room's a fairly crowded place, so weapons with larger areas of effect will be the most effective. Boris, you're our heavy weapons specialist here, so you'll be key in securing the positions we need to take cover with. Use everything you have, don't bother reloading until we've got our cover locked down." [Edited on 05.17.2012 1:14 AM PDT]
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  • A sudden urge to run headlong into the joys that awaited him wrapped its arms around his heart, and he almost toppled as he grappled with his surging glee. Bringing his foot back down in front of him, Sheldon continued blindly forward, losing perception and trusting only in the hope that the room he had gained access to would find him worthy and not seek to misguide him. Step by step, he stumbled further into the mystery of it all as his mind overflowed with wild, ecstatic thoughts. Here, in a distant land beyond human understanding, his imagination met no limit against its constant spread, taking position at his helm and driving him forward. As his foot met ground once more, his speculation met its first anchor. Lights seemed to pass through from another realm, spreading a mystical blue haze throughout the room and revealing what Sheldon had been unable to perceive when he'd first entered. At its other end lay a massive panel, draping over most of the wall it floated over. Sheldon found that he no longer desired to take in his surroundings, magnificent as they were, for his focus now rested on the panel. [i]This has to be some sort of command centre,[/i] he thought, his mind turning back once more to the wars of humans and Covenant. [i]Perhaps I can be of use here and now, and not later, if this place has any sort of war capabilities to its credit.[/i] But, as he approached the looming panel, second guesses and alternatives began to spool out. Grey walls infused with blue light and channels stood guardian around him, impassive in their watch. War seemed irrelevant and pointless to such long-standing might. [i]No, it couldn't. Not a place like this.[/i] Sheldon was lost, once again, in the spectacle of such an alien world, lodged deep below the surface of their human world. [i]Or perhaps, it isn't ours? What if there are still other beings here? Will they come if I activate this place?[/i] The prospect of intruding upon another race of life suddenly felt unaccomplishable to him. [i]Such a thing isn't for the likes of me. But who else will later if I don't now?[/i] The thought of the Covenant defiling such a place sickened Sheldon to his stomach, and without another obstructing thought of peril or his colleagues, he strode over to the panel, his heart hammering within his chest and threatening to burst out at the possibilities of what could happen next. Sheldon approached the panel as if he was a fearful subject to a cruel and ill-tempered god, and stopped dead in his tracks before it, his hands clammy and cold with sweat. Nausea dissuaded his sense of wonder as a lone glyph formed before him. With his heart in his throat, he held up a shaky, dripping hand; the weight of so much history and ancestry that seemed to live and thrive in the very air around him falling upon him and compressing the air out of his lungs. Gears seemed to click in his head as he felt fate bind him to some extravagant destiny, pleading to be set in motion by the activation of whatever stood before him. As if it would be his dying action, he touched the glyph. Momentarily, the panel before him faded as if he had not been worthy of its activation, and the lone glyph still hung in the air, accusing him of failure. A massive space hid behind the panel; a tunnel over fifty metres wide seemed to stretch from the very heavens above into the core of the planet below. But the panel soon returned, cutting short Sheldon's view of the immense structure. Now, instead of a solid blue wall, the panel returned as if it had gathered its weapons in its absence and meant to serve until its dying breath. Charts and graphs streamed and spiralled their way around the screen as the dominant blue faded from opacity to a translucent, colourless vessel. Once the chaotic eruption of information and awakening lost its fire, Sheldon stood face to face with a wealth of technological might, the depths of which he was not yet ready to grasp. Wisdom of ages past stood at attention, ready to share any resource it possessed. As he stood bewildered, he almost thought that something within him had awoken, and that the glyphs and patterns before him somehow seemed familiar. It was as if his ancestors had stepped into his mind, humbling him with their accumulative learnings and stirring potentials that served a purpose here and now. [i]But that can't be,[/i] Sheldon pondered, at a loss to explain how such a thing was possible. [i]Only a few seconds ago, I was using an AI to cheat this system, simply because I didn't have the faintest idea of how to translate these things![/i] But, the feeling that he recognized the language from deep within his memory grew harder and harder to shake with every passing second. Confusion swirled about him like the rapids of a river, and his inability to retain a grip on his situation threatened to pull him under. For a time, he did not see that the screen before him had undertaken some new task, but his thoughts soon parted and allowed him to see. Sheldon couldn't exactly interpret the exchanges of information that danced before his eyes, but some inner instinct that he did not recognize told him that something was being released. As if in response to Sheldon's intuition, the screen pulsed, new glyphs found their place among the intricate display. And faintly, subtly, a small hatch opened above, hiding in plain sight until Sheldon finally spotted an object emerging. It couldn't have been any longer than his hand, and it seemed to be about as wide as two of his fingers held together. But there was no mistaking the aura of command that seemed to rip his gaze away from the screed and fixate it upon the object. Whatever it was, it was obviously important, playing some vital part in what grand role this place stood in. Sheldon held his gaze upon the small rod as glyphs frantically vied for his attention; their increasing growth and change foreboding some great change. But his fixation did not relent, and his mind turned to the task of discovering the object's purpose. Ideas came and went, shot down as they presented themselves. [i]Hmm... perhaps it's some sort of motion sensor?[/i] Although he presumed none of his colleagues would find him where he was, the thought of jumping around to trigger the sensor made him grimace and moan in embarrassment. But the idea lingered, sustaining against the battering of his mind. [i]Alright then.[/i] Awkwardly, as if he were afraid that he would be ridiculed by a watcher in the shadows, he raised a hand above his head and waved. "Hello?" A flat expression spread across his face as his actions provoked no further action. Dropping in momentary defeat, his gaze moved back down to the screen; alive and mad with activity. Commands and protocols passed him by in flashes, and yet, his instincts no longer could guess as to their meaning, as if the arrival of the rod had barred him of any capability to understand. But for a time, he lost himself in the maddening crescendo of information, and he almost failed to realise that the screen stood still a moment later. But a quaint, metallic voice suddenly brought him back to the very tip of readiness. "I have been awoken? For what purpose? For what purpose have I been awoken?" Despite the lack of emotion present in the voice, its choice of wording seemed to imply that it panicked; that it feared its own awakening. "Do we face another outbreak? Should I summon a defence? Wher-" The voice cut off for a second, like it had been a captive silenced by its watcher. And although the pause was only brief, Sheldon felt the voice learn of his presence, the very air around him seeming to come alive with haste and point him out. Words caught in his throat, held back by a fear of what he may have unleashed. The room started to spin as he found himself trying to think too many things over at once, and he ground his running mind to a standstill for a moment in time. "A... a Reclaimer? Now?" The voice paused again, but this time, its reasoning was deductible. [i]It recognizes me. I think. Am I a Reclaimer?[/i] While Sheldon now had a piece of information to focus his thoughts at a point towards, he still found himself unable to speak, his mouth refusing to open until it had the right things to say. "Oh my," it gasped. "Perhaps I have locked myself away for far longer than I originally thought. A system check should verify my query." As it paused again, a small portion of the screen started to buzz once more, fetching the voice's requested information. "It is as I feared, Reclaimer. Time has well and truly left me in its wake." Without warning, the voice's train of thought veered into another route entirely. "And yet, it pleases me to discover that my actions did not rend my maker's plans entirely asunder. You have come back to take the Mantle upon yourselves, as was intended. Perhaps through this knowledge, I will be-" At the second mention of the designation "Reclaimer", Sheldon found himself finally talking."Listen, I think you've got the wrong idea here. As far as I know, I doubt I'm part of whatever a... Reclaimer is supposed to be doing here. I-" "Folly," the voice retorted. "There were no other species ultimately chosen to bear the Mantle. In the absence of my makers, I answer to your kind and your kind alone." While it was obvious that the voice somehow knew him as a species, the implications of the notion staggered him. He couldn't comprehend the concept of him not only being recognized by some other species, but also regarded as someone of title. All his previous excitement and anticipation of discovery had been unable to endure the magnitude of what he had uncovered, dwarfed by its sheer scale and potential. Words retreated further and further from his mouth, and he was forced to eclipse his mind and belt out his underlying question: "Look, who are you?"

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