From the Ashes, Gamer and Kaldravv

[Kaldravv]

<<Installation 06, Gamma Halo>>
<<April 17th - Year 2553 - 1100 Hours.>>
<<The Enemy of My Enemy . . . Is Still My Enemy.>>

A soft hiss mingled with the rough drag of stone-on-stone mildly washed over the room. Paying the noise only a mild mind, the Jackal present glanced to his side, blackened combat armor of Human make rasping faintly with his motion. To his mild pleasure, a familiar face greeted his from the threshold of shadow at the door. “Kir’Rith.” The present Jackal spoke with a nod, regarding Kir’Rith -another Jackal- with a quaint, but toothy smile.

“Reck’ro!” Kir’Rith walked in, emphasizing her greeting with a high hand gesture. “ODST swept the facility clean, the Covenant were here alright, but they left in a hurry quite awhile ago.”

Reck’ro motioned for Kir’Rith to take a seat. “How long, do you think?”


“Ohh.” The Jackal pondered her response a moment. “Maybe a few months.”

“That makes sense.” Reck’ro trailed off in thought as he moved over to a laptop computer set upon one of the stonework tables in the room. “The only thing that doesn’t is why. Why did they leave so quickly? Radio transmitters are still active, weapons containers still here and there. They left a lot of equipment in a hurry, without even shutting it all down.”

“Maybe they caught wind that we won? The Covenant is no more , and all they believed in failed them?” Kir’Rith carried on the questions rhetorically, stating what she thought was obvious.

“True.” Reck’ro let the reply linger between his teeth a moment. “But what doesn’t make sense is the age of the machinery. I mean, this was back when the Covenant posted tactical information over un-encrypted wavelengths. But look here!” Reck’ro moved quickly to one of the Covenant transmitters he had been studying. “Right here.” poking inside the precarious, dark confines of an open panel on the device, he pointed to some hardware that Kir’Rith soon realized looked out of place. “Right here. Someone went through a lot of trouble to rig this piece up with a makeshift encrypter, you can see cells from a plasma rifle here, a Charge Restrain from a plasma pistol, and some Particle Beam Accelerator here- Wait . . .” Reck’ro paused a moment, something akin to a grave realization lined his voice.

Kir’Rith took a closer look herself and spoke up. “You’ve got to be kidding me. You can’t be thinking of-“

“Exactly what I’m thinking of. I’ve seen this rig before. He’s still alive I’d wager.”

Kir’Rith hissed lightly in response. “He was always stubborn, too stubborn to die you think?”

“Stubborn, mean, and smart. Just smarts got me a lot of places, I’d kinda wondered what happened to Cy’Thet.” The he mused a moment. “After all, I had worse odds then he did.”

“So we’ve established that crazy Jackal was here. But who was he with?”

“Who else?” The male stated simply. “Who else do you think stands the chances he did of cheating death . . . ?”

Before Kir’Rith could give an answer, a strange humming was heard. Though perhaps one might suspect it to be one of their human companions, this voice sounded... Metallic. “Oh! Visitors!?!” The voice reverberated from someplace obscure. Both Jackals looked in confusion to where the voice originated. The construct then made itself visible in the doorway. “Fabulous! It has been positively ages! Or- more positively two-point-three millennia. Pardon, there may be an error in that estimation, local chronological records are currently offline. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Seven-One-Two Guilty Spark, Monitor of installation O’ Six. Pardon me for asking, but your consanguinity conflicts with current estimated affiliation with sample seven-three -Logged one-thousand-two-hundred and seven days from present time- --Pardon, local chronological records are currently offline –“

Reck’ro and Kir’Rith remained silent many long moments, the flood of words and information still sinking through the shock of the ‘Monitor’s’ entrance. Reck’ro was however the first to speak. “We’re currently affiliated with the United Nations Space Command, or UNSC.”

“Interesting!” The Monitor wasted no time to start his reply, seeming almost ‘over-excited’ by their presence. “So your with the Reclaimers then? This is positively wonderful! I can’t possibly wait! - - Uploading visual profile to Matrix Prime - - So, I have to wonder, are you here about the reported outbreak? I would love to explain the Installation’s operation!”

Reck’ro could only pause, recalling what he knew about Halo. “That won’t be necessary at this time. Do you know when the other species left here and why?”

“Well- I’m sorry, local chronological records are currently offline - Why they departed? They apparently received a highly encoded message, one which they quickly tried to erase from their local data-stores before leaving. I believe it to be another one of they’re-your- religious propaganda.” Leaving it at that, Guilty Spark decided to allow them to speak next before saying any more.
“They’re.” Kir’Rith corrected, obviously disgruntled by the mistake.

“Thank you.” The monitor replied in it’s usual cheerful tone.

Reck’ro then spoke up next. “Do you have a copy of the message, encoded or otherwise?”

“Of course. This installation’s receivers have the most efficient transmission records ever conceived. With numbers of messages stored far above sensible numbering individually, so I will refer to them in relation to detected Reclaimer wireless network drive storage. I believe the correct number and wording would be roughly fifteen-billion seven-hundred-million sixteen-thousand three-hundred and four ‘terabytes’ in magnetic storage. Please wait while I attempt to access Matrix Prime Archives ‘Gamma’ . . . . . Authentication needed by Alpha Prime, Matrix Prime Gamma denied clearance to authenticate Monitor Seven-One-Two by default, Alpha Prime not responding. Oh dear, it seems I am unable to assist you, Alpha Prime is currently not responding. I will check the uplink, Nescecam will be defaulted as primary responder until I return, as after the message we received as to Reclaimer mental stability, I was quite speechless as to the action of Reclaimer Sample twenty-seven-thousand -etcetera during it’s encounter with installation zero-four. Forgive me, but I must be going.” And before the last sentence even had time to hand in the air, the Monitor vanished.

“Nescecam?” Reck’ro paused a moment.

“I guess they’ve been having a lot of technical problems around here lately.” Kir’Rith shrugged.

“Kir’Rith, get everyone from thirty-seven together, we’re going to have a look around, in the hurry the Covenant left in, I wouldn’t be surprised if something was missed, or someone.”

- - -


<<Covenant Secret Military Outpost “Tah’zu’s Sheath”>>
<<April 21st - Year 2553 - 1300 Hours>>
<<Through the Ashes>>

” . . . According to our station, all without exception. We will uphold the Covenant, even to our dying breath. Those who would break this oath are heretics, worthy of neither pity, nor remorse . . . To abandon our Covenant now, in it’s time of most dire need would be worse then heresy- damnation even. The Grand Design cannot fail, even to my dying breath . . .

“Grand Zealot, Kal’johk.” A silver-clad Elite entered. “The representatives gather, we’ve convinced them to meet with you, the Grand Design may yet hold strong.”

“Indeed Kah’lii, but far be it the Covenant break beyond use, lest my soul shatter with it. I ‘will’ return the races to the Covenant, and we will ‘not’ be defeated by the humans, regardless of what sins the Prophets had borne, the grand design cannot fail.” Kal’johk fitted his draping cape soundly, focusing his mind on the task ahead. It seemed impossible, the damage that was done to the Covenant while he was away, let alone the task it left him. “Truth and Mercy guide me, Regret remind me of the mistakes of my predecessors, that I might not befall the same. Wisdom with me, fluent waters as my words. A smooth stone my forbearance, and glory to the Covenant, now and forever.” Pausing, the Zealot took one long look at his reflection in a mirrored wall panel before following his escort to the meeting room.

“I do believe things will go well.” Kah’lii spoke up suddenly. “From the reports I have, the Covenant is in a state of economic crisis, and they’ll likely be willing to listen so long as we’re not suggesting another attack deep into human space.”

Kal’johk nodded thoughtfully a moment. “Indeed.”

“Our largest military concern is the flood, who’ve decimated entire systems. Kig-yar and Unggoy representatives are distressed by the proximity of the flood to species-key planets, most notably Eayn. They’ve threatened already to deny any aid if this was not controlled.” The escort continued.

Kal’johk only nodded in reply.

“Any plans, Grand Zealot?” Kah’lii pressed lightly, finding the situation difficult to swallow himself.

“I do think the remaining representatives will need to see positive results of leadership before they will consent to returning.” The Zealot nodded to himself once again. “With many of our Sanghili brothers, more then ever, deeply drown in heresy, we need any of the species we can scrape back together. Even the Jeralhanae, if we can manage it. I doubt them more than any to follow, but the spirit of Mercy grants a new chance to all. As without Mercy my brother, would the Covenant have any way to stand again?”

“Nay.” The escort said quietly.

“I do believe we have the strength of spirit, but our loyal followers to help us bring this proof are few. What is called for is a blade.”

Kah’lii paused in his steps. “A blade?”

“Yes.” Kaljohk stopped but a few paces ahead of his comrade and looked back at him. “A weapon of light, a tool to which we may strike our foes down.” Pausing, he turned to face Kah’lii, and approached him. “Assemble the best loyal we have. For the sword we need the enemy holds, but little do I believe they expect us to return for it.”

“And what weapon is this you speak of, Grand Zealot?”

Kal’johk offered only a slight smile. “Sajahari; Lance of Light . . .”

[Darkness_Unknown]

<<Installation 06, Gamma Halo>>
<<April 17th - Year 2553 - 1100 Hours>>

Someone else was on 06. He could tell. The familiar hum of power running to automatic lights hadn't been heard for months; that it was present now was not a good sign.

Ghooj'lit padded lightly down the small tunnel. He had long since discarded the unnecessary and entirely cumbersome armoring, and now wore no more than his underweave for warmth and flexibility. He balanced on his pads of his feet, as hard as that was for a grunt, aided by the improvised breathing apparatus he sported lightly. He was grateful to be rid of the bulky methane tanks that so often proved less than safe in combat. He had had many chances to look it over in the past weeks, and it was, simply put, a brilliant combination of fuel cells and matter conversion apparatuses. As long as he kept the energy topped off--provided free of charge by Installation 06--it would last five times longer than conventional methane tanks, and didn't dry up with an increased intake rate.

He'd been surprised to find something so creative that he'd not had a role in designing. Most grunt-oriented tech was simple, at best, and only became high-tech when one with his aptitude undertook the attempt. Still, though he knew most of his species were fairly dim, he did not claim to be the smartest of them. He'd been most surprised, though, that they had left without it, especially since they knew they were leaving him behind, as well.

He'd functioned for six months with this group, getting closer and closer to the top, and they'd got the better of him. He still wondered when they'd figured it out. They must not have cherished the idea of bringing a traitor back with them when they decided to head back to the crippled forces of the Covenant. He'd managed to survive, though. The look in that damned Jackal's eye had made it all too obvious he was about to do something he would enjoy immensely, and Ghooj'lit harbored no illusions about the creature's tastes in entertainment. He'd escaped into the ventilation, but not without yet another scar to remind him the dangers of his role in today's galaxy. He'd only regained full use of the leg in the last month, and it was still somewhat difficult to flex, at times. Never let them outsmart you, he chastised himself, one mistake is the last mistake. You should've seen it.

They'd left in a hurry, thereafter. Within hours, before he'd even woken from the shocked stupor his wound had pushed him into, they had vacated the installation. They'd left so much behind that he'd easily stockpiled a personal cache without seeming to make a dent in the equipment. At his side swung what looked to be a simple plasma pistol, but any who'd fought Ghooj'lit would know no weapon he carried was ever as simple as it looked. He'd been preparing himself ever since. He couldn't risk sending out a rescue beacon--if the Covenant returned, it would be a dead giveaway, and they would hunt him ruthlessly. He'd considered making this his plan, but though he was clever, he could not hold off hordes of believers, no matter how many traps he set up, nor how clever. Not against some of the characters he'd seen. He had decided to wait, and wait he did.

He followed the trail of dim lights that indicated activated power conduits. He'd spliced the system to them a while back, so he'd have a trail to follow when someone showed up. Long before he arrived, he could hear noises above his quiet padding. At one point, a single voice made him stumble, and nearly fall on his face. He regained his balance, and listened intently.

He heard it again, and nearly fell again. That couldn't be possible. And yet, his ears continued to deceive him. He shook his head, and sneaked forward slower and quieter. He turned down a smaller tunnel, and shuffled silently, painfully slowly, along. Finally, he came to a stop, staring down from a small, square vent, careful to keep in the shadows.

Two jackals.

The one shrugged.

“Kir’Rith, get everyone from thirty-seven together, we’re going to have a look around, in the hurry the Covenant left in, I wouldn’t be surprised if something was missed, or someone.”

There was no doubt. He knew that name, he knew the look of these two. The female jackal left, leaving Ghooj'lit to look down on his best ally, whose path he had managed to cross many times in all its unlikeliness in the vast galaxy. For a moment, he could only watch. And then, he decided to act.

"So," he stated sharply, "It seems we have some traitors on our Installation." He grinned.

[Kaldravv]

Reck’ro stopped a moment as Kir’Rith left the room. His tongue tasted lightly at the air, the scent of injury, a grunt injury. “Someone.” He whispered barely above a breath.

“So.” A voice called from metal confines from behind the Jackal.

The male whipped about on his talons, his ears not serving his memory as best as he would have liked. Raising his rifle, he took aim at the vent and paused, his eyes serving him far better then any other Jackal’s. No weapon drawn by the grunt, no combat armor, and some form of light breathing apparatus were all he could make out in the mixed light of the room. Had it of been total darkness, at equal to the vent, he could have very well made out his friend’s features to go with the rest.

“It seems we have some traitors on our installation.” The voice continued, already at ease that the Jackal held his fire. If the grunt had been any other, he would have been dead long before he started his full sentence, Ghooj’lit could rest assured he was safe from this one’s rifle now.

The door opened behind Reck’ro, and Kir’Rith stepped in, speaking a partial sentence before her eyes caught onto Reck’ro’s ridged posture and drawn weapon. “Reck’ro, I think there’s a grunt somewhere around-“ Pausing, she looked to Reck’ro, then up to the vent. “Here?” She whispered the last uncertainly, the shadows as apposed to the bright lights of the room making Ghooj’lit impossible for her to identify.

“Ghooj’lit?” Reck’ro said in surprise. “I almost burned a hole through your stupid skull! Don’t do that!” The Jackal started to laugh as he lowered his weapon, every piece making sense. The breathing device, the fact he spoke in the human language, his having made himself known so confidently, it all made sense.

“That’s Ghooj up there?” Kir’Rith strained her eyes looking at the vent. “Ghooj, get your half-naked butt down here and tell us what your doing here!” She then yelled out at the grunt, lightly laughing herself.

The comment only inspired further laughing in the male Jackal, until they heard the familiar hum of hydraulics from the door behind them. “Notice: Enemy movement detected.” The monotone voice of the familiar Talon thrummed as various noises were heard from within it’s weapons. “Authentication: Use of lethal force authorized! System targeting catch initialized, logging target ‘Grunt seven-seven-four-three-nine as armed military personnel -lightly armed guerilla- cycling weapons . . .”

Reck’ro turned about in shock. “Talon STAND DOWN!” He shouted and jumped in front of the machine in a rather desperate yet comical display.

“Affirmation: Standing down.” Talon reported back, it’s metallic body visibly settling down.

“Ghooj’lit.” Reck’ro nearly hissed through a sigh. “Get down here and let’s get you cleared through security . . .”

[Darkness_Unknown]

Ghooj'lit, grinning, tapped an unarmored foot to the panel controls. Clambering down awkwardly, he dropped the three meters to the ground and landed primarily on his good leg. Without the additional armor he was used to toting around, he took the fall with a surprising amount of grace, and straightened with only slight difficulty, making sure his mask was situated properly. He turned around to face Reck'ro, Kir'Rith, and Talon.

"I've known you far too long to believe you'd shoot anyone before you knew they were planning to do the same to you, Reck'ro." He grinned again. "I also know that you happen to have something in your head that makes it much easier to trust your reflexes." He stepped forward. "Kir'Rith, looking fine, as ever. And, Talon, I'm insulted that you do not remember me."

"Affirmation: Friendly unit memory accessed, physical features matched, updating. . . Salutation: Greetings, Ghooj'lit. Hostile area protocol dictates offensive action before enemy identification."

Ghooj'lit grunted. "Harrumph, well, I can tell you, the Covenant forces have been gone for. . ." He looked upwards to scan his memory, "Seventy-nine days, now. I've had a few months to make sure of that." He flexed his lower limb. "And a fair bit of constraint to ruminate their departure."

Before Reck'ro could speak again, the grunt nearly picked the jackal up in a the biggest embrace he could muster. It was an awkward hug, being that Ghooj'lit was only slightly above average height for grunts, and when Reck'ro straightened to his most upward posture, he could easily see over his head. Ghooj'lit let go, and sized the lizard-like creature up.

"You haven't changed a bit. I'd ask you what you're doing, here, but if it's a Halo, the answer's far too obvious." He stepped back. "Kir'Rith, what was that you said about having a grunt around here? I could've sworn I covered my tracks as much as possible. . .nevermind, tell me later. Reck'ro! Any other old friends around here?"