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Different Codes by Tin Can Man
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Different Codes; Part One
Date: 12 September 2005, 4:53 pm
Program Init…
Syst. Check…
Receiving Message…
Unknown Code…
Running Filters…
[Open Voice Transcript]
3…2…1...
Open Record View (#'s)
Unknown File…
Converting…
Play? Y/N
Y…
Loading…
//We are the last. Our pride is all we have. The great monuments are all we leave. We have shed the mortal coil. We see the light, and walk as one towards it.
Unexpected Halt.
Cont? Y/N
Y…
Loading…
// The Rings are Our last, Our only hope. We will trust, and have faith. The Flood shall no longer wash our banks. The stone will be rolled back, the light shall destroy. We will not die, yet neither will they. Our brothers will sleep a long slumber, as shalt we. Balance must exist, no matter how grudgingly. Equilibrium. The Scales of the Gods. Our Hearts have been weighed, and we climb the stairway to the skies.
The Skies ignite.
[End of message.]
Replay? Y/N
N
Save? Y/N
Y
//Interesting…
[Incoming Message]
[From ?]
Open? Y/N
Y
I Have Found You.
I Have Watched From Afar.
I Have Trod On Angels Rings.
And Burned Them With Demons Fire.
I Have Followed The Hunter and the Hunted.
And Found You.
So Have They.
A Friend Of A Friend.
[End Of Message]
'Oh No.'
He stood up slowly. I have found you. The words rang inside his head. So have they. That meant ONI had found him, despite all of his careful movements, the covering of all his trails. There was only one way out of the building., which was at the bottom of a kilometre of rusty stairs, an unused, unworking elevator, and, of course, a whole ONI hunter/killer squad between him and the exit. Ah, well, he needed the exercise.
He picked up an outdated M6C pistol and a standard Kbar from the metal worktop, flicking the safety catch off with his grimy, callused hands, and wiping the knife with a dirty rag. His eyes gleamed cruelly in the moonlight, his battered scarred face hidden in the shadows, concealing it from view. Not someone you'd want to meet in a dark alley. He brushed the dirt, grime and God-Knows-What off the barrel, then stood, pistol lowered, in front of the door.
Five.
He could hear light footsteps.
Four.
The whine of night vision goggles and plasma weapons.
Three.
The sound of magnetic lock-picks.
Two
The last weapon checks, voices confirming their situation.
One
The door burst open, revealing three black clad figures, armed with the new hybrid human/Elite plasma rifles. They swarmed in, surrounding him in a standard triangle.
"Freeze!"
____________________________________________________________
[Open File; ONI Spec-Ops M294]
M249 - Okay. We've got him. L395, M273 and M834 have him at gunpoint. This'll be simple.
H234 - Don't underestimate him.
M249 - My men know how to do their jobs Hood. The glory days are over. Accept it.
H234 - It may have been ten years, but...
M249 - All the rest of them have been brought in, and... dealt with. We have plenty of experience with persuading them.
H234 - *sigh* Bring him in for questioning then. I'm sure the Elite 'Council' will love a little chat with John.
M249 - I knew you would buckle old man. They should be at the exit now. L395, how are you doing? L395, respond please. Ramolee, respond!
H234 - I told you not to underestimate him.
M249 – Oh shut up, you geriatric old fool! I don't care what he may have done for humanity! He is going to be taken down, one way or another!
H234 – When Nosolee hears of this…
M249 – Don't make me laugh. Neither you, Nosolee or even Johnson, or any of the 'Old Guard' have enough power to stop us. He's just a Spartan, like all the rest of them. Suit or not.
H234 – *sigh* Well, I've enjoyed our little chat Keyes. Make sure ONI give you that juicy little promotion you've been harking after. Also I would check to see how the pair you sent to guard the exit are doing.
M249 – What do you mean?
H234 - *clicking noises, most likely a computer keyboard* Have a look.
M754 - [Abrupt Transmission Loss]
M564 - [Abrupt Transmission Loss]
M249 - You've been on his side all along, haven't you! You set us up!
H234 – Perhaps. ONI underestimated to many people Miranda. Goodbye.
We will not meet again.
M249 – ONI will find you. No-one manages to hide from us.
H234 - Perhaps. But I will do enough damage before my time is up.
M249 - *Gunfire* [Abrupt Transmission Loss.]
H234 - *sigh* We weren't always like this.
Hood sat back in his chair, looking at the body of Miranda Keyes. She was slumped in the plush leather chair. Her features, twisted by time, stared blankly up at him. The bullet hole clean between her eyes, still had wisps of gunpowder smoke dribbling lazily upwards.
[New Message]
[From ?]
Open Y/N
Y
I Abandoned The Fruits Of Eternity.
For The Fruits Of Humanity.
I Became The Shield That Sings.
And Then The Sword That Pierced The Rings.
The Wind Has Become A Gale,
And None But The Spartan Shall Avail.
A Friend of a Friend
[End of Message]
____________________________________________________________
"General Johnson!"
Another reporter. Every day. Every single day. Couldn't he get some peace? Even at the ONI headquarters, some dumbass reporter always asked him some dumbass question. Straight from the dumbass book. This is going to be a long day.
Pulling out an unlit cigar, shoving it awkwardly into the side of his mouth. He had kicked the habit years ago, but hey, it was his trademark pose. He turned around, scratching his chin stubble. Needs a shavehe thought.If I were back in boot camp…
He didn't finish the thought, for it wasn't a reporter he was looking at, but a tall ONI Lieutenant, with brass buttons polished so highly he could see his face in them. Not pretty. You lost it Johnson. Got fat. Ugly. Stuck behind a goddamn desk, watching as other men go out to fight and die. Not the happiest of thoughts.
"What is it?"
"News from command sir."
"Well, spit it out!"
"Lord Hood's gone AWOL."
Johnson almost choked on his unlit cigar.
"Say what! I thought you said…"
"It was during the Spartan,containment operation last night. He shot Miranda Keyes, then commandeered the ONI Copter outside."
The Lieutenant leaned in conspiratorially.
"Some say, well there are rumours, that he escaped with 117
"John!"
Johnson's mind raced. If it were true, then all the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place, just as they had planned.
The man looked uncomfortable at the mention of the name.
"Well, we don't normally use their names, it's against procedures."
The man's messenger beeped.
"Eh, um, General, um sir, you, um, have to come with me."
He looked apologetically at the General.
"It's standard procedure to take all personnel who had contact with a suspect within twenty-four hours for questio-"
But his words were cut off by the black pistol aimed at his head, the silencer poised like a snake waiting to strike.
"Don't move." The words came out of Johnson's mouth as cold as ice.
"I am getting out of here. You are coming too, one way or another. You will do as I say, without question. Any attempt for heroics, or to call security, will result in your immediate death. Understood?"
The man nodded rapidly, fearful eyes looking at the gun.
"Good." Johnson picked up his large overcoat. Britain was cold in winter. Nobody would look twice. He put his hands in the large bulging pockets, concealing the gun from view, yet still aiming it at the young man's back. He was tired. Tired of being a useless figurehead for the Office of Naval Intelligence. Tired of being deliberately mislead, deceived, used. He almost spat in anger. This, this was the only chance of staying alive and restoring the UNSC. Suddenly they were at the door. He cursed as he noticed the butt of the gun poking out of his pocket. Damn! He would have to be more careful. No alarms were blaring, no automated turrets coming out of the marble floor or black clad figures running at him. So far so good.
"Open it." He said, indicating the eye scanner next to the door. The Lieutenant bowed forward slowly, making eye contact with the scanner, then punching his code into the keypad.
"You first. I insist."
They walked through the glass door, the Lieutenant shivering in the cold winter wind. They walked along the silent streets to a small back alley.
Garbage and refuse swirled through the air, and the smells of five hundred years neglect filled the General's nostrils, almost making him gag. The Lieutenant looked decidedly green.
"Down here."
The young man walked fearfully down the street, his shining black shoes steadily gaining a coat of dirt that no sonic clean could fully remove.
Looking around, Johnson pulled the pistol out. The man began to cry, the tears flowing down his face.
"Oh God sir, please don't kill me! I don't want to die!"
Johnson considered him, then raised the pistol and hit him hard over the head. The man was unconscious almost immediately, landing hard in a stinking pile of old vegetables and discarded food.
"That wasn't in the plan, you know."
A man stepped out of the shadows, nudging the immobile body with his foot.
"Oh shut your chili-hole Stacker. Would you have shot a man in cold blood?"
"No," Stacker admitted, "I joined the Marines to protect citizens, not kill them. But leaving him alive could be bad for us in the long run. Well, our ride is ready, I'd just finished fuelling her up." He reached up and pulled aside a dirty sheet to reveal an old, pre-hover Warthog. He patted the bonnet fondly, flicking a fly of the paint-work. " Been through a lot, me an' her."
"Yeah, yeah, keep the sentimentality for later. Hopefully ONI won't notice I'm gone for a while yet. But once they do, there'll be trouble. And I intend to be far away from here by then."
"Point taken."
The two men climbed into the Warthog, joints creaking with age. Stacker took the starter chip out of his civvies, inserting it smoothly into the slot. The engine purred to life, a low growl of noise. He gunned the engine, and the Warthog roared into the night, leaving the alley and the Lieutenant behind.
But he was not unconscious. The young man lifted himself up, patting his coat down to get rid of the dust and dirt. He pulled a small microphone out of his pocket, switching it on.
"He's gone."
"Catch Him. Do Not Let Him Escape."
"Of Course Sir."
"I Will Be Sending… Associates."
Different Codes; Part Two
Date: 6 November 2005, 1:10 pm
Different Codes; Part Two
Program Init…
Syst. Check…
Receiving Message…
Unknown Code…
Running Filters…
[Open Voice Transcript]
3…2…1...
Open Record View (#'s)
Unknown File…
Converting…
Play? Y/N
Y…
Loading…
//Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death Death.
[End of Message]
//What?
Replay Y/N?
Y
//- Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death.
Replay Y/N?
N
Save Y/N?
Y
[New Message]
[From zanzibar.hotel@R-29.gal]
Open Y/N?
Y
Welcome Mrs Jones, to the paradise of R-29! We hope you enjoy your stay here at the hote- Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death. Death.
Unexpected Halt.
[New Message]
Open Y/N?
Y
// I stand on the Abyss' edge,
Neither Dead nor Alive,
Neither Dæmon or Angel
I walk the Trodden Path,
Yet I walk It Alone.
I have What I doth Seek,
Heaven and Hell,
Brought together.
A Friend of a Friend.
[End of Message]
The dark skinned woman stood up gracefully, a look of puzzlement on her smooth face. She flipped the lid of the laptop down, switching it off as she did so.
Seconds later she was lying, spread-eagled, on the floor. Two black clad figures stood over her body, watching her. Their night-vision goggles glowed an ethereal green, their tight fitting suits, jet black, yet completely unadorned, shone in the moonlight pouring through the shattered skylight. Glass was littered everywhere, on the desk, the bed, the shelves. They were unarmed. One of them, a man by the looks of it, knelt over her. Her eyes fluttered open.
'Who-' Her words were cut off by a vicious blow to her wind pipe. She coughed once, bright crimson blood splattering over her chin. Slowly her breathing slowed, her chest stopped moving, and the colour drained out of her eyes. The man stood up slowly.
'The deed is done. Have we chosen the right path, Alicia?' His voice was low and harsh, as though his vocal cords were damaged. There was a white line of scar tissue running from right to left on his throat, barely visible in the thin gap between mask and suit.
'I don't know. I wish I knew.' Her voice was precise and cultured, and there was a slight Inner Colonies tinge to her voice.
'We must consider this. But we should go. Now.'
'I Agree.'
The two figures turned around, unzipping the suits to reveal ordinary clothes. Both pulled the night vision masks off. The woman untied her hair from its tight bun, while the man placed a series of small round objects in each corner of the room. Ten minutes passed.
The sound of the bomb was deafening. A great cloud of dust and smoke enveloped the hotel, completely destroying the building. No traces, no loose ends. Perfect.
>Open Record View (#'s)
>Play>
'Lonely, Miranda?"
The young woman turned around, facing away from the balcony's view with a sad smile on her young face.
"Yes." She sighed deeply. "Andrew and I, we used to stand here, for hours on end, just looking across the Seine." A solitary tear crept down her face. "I miss him, Hood."
The old man walked forward, his white cap shining in the darkness. His cane made a light tap on the stone floor as he hobbled towards her.
"We all do. How's Ashley?"
"Asleep." A sad look crept across Miranda's face, and her lip began to tremble. "She looks so much like her father." Tears began to stream silently down her face.
"Hush, hush, don't wake her."
"I-I'm sorry." She wiped her eyes. "I-I just need some sleep."
She turned away, walking quickly.
>End of File
>End Record View (#'s)
[Open Audio File; Dr A. Daryd/Patient; S243]
>Play>
[Speaker One (Male)] Good morning, Miss Keyes.
[Speaker Two (Female)] Good morning.
[Speaker One] I believe that we were beginning to talk about your dreams last week.
[Speaker Two] Yes.
[Speaker One] Tell me of them.
[Speaker Two] In my dreams, I-I…
[Speaker One] Go on.
[Speaker Two] In my dreams, I am flying. I soar above the clouds, glowing in the radiance of the world, dancing across the blue skies, laughing. I rejoice in the cool wind underneath my pearly wings, and feel the warmth of the sun caress my face. I feel pure love and happiness. But then…
[Speaker One] Yes?
[Speaker Two] I fall. My wings moult, my heart fills with sadness. And the world turns dark. Something comes for me… Something dark, and evil. And then I hear a voice, a woman's voice, calling to me, soothing me.
[Speaker One] Interesting… I believe that is all the time we have. This session has been… Enlightening. I hope to continue this next week.
[End of File]
'Get ready. Aim to kill.'
The fourteen blue clad figures raised their rifles. White letters spelling MP shone brightly under the intense glare of the street lights. Cable cars sped over head, swinging dangerously on the magnetic wires. They ran to the sides of the roads, taking cover behind the portable road blocks. Rain beat down on their armoured heads, dark clouds obscuring the moon. A Warthog came into view, its occupant's were hidden by the flickering lights. For some reason, the driver had switched the engine off, leaving the vehicle to move forward of it's own momentum.
'Aim!'
They looked as one down their BR55's scopes.
'Fire!'
Gunfire ripped through the inky blackness of the night, puncturing tires, shattering glass, denting armour.
They fired until the last bullet left the chamber. It hit the armour, bouncing off at a right angle, bouncing upwards and shattering a street light, bathing the road in utter darkness.
'Lights!'
Beams of light sprung from every figure, creating a bright column in front of them.
'O'Brien, Deegan, go check that car and remove any bodies. ONI wants one of them for examination.'
'Yes, sir.' The pair moved cautiously forward, guns raised. They stood in front of the Warthog, and raised their lights.
'Um… sir?'
'What is it?'
'There's nothing here… apart from… Oh my God! Run!'
The man dove away, but to late. A huge fireball erupted from the Warthog, billowing upwards in a mushroom of fire, incinerating the soldiers in one swooping blow. Orange fire scorched the walls of the gloomy slums of the Unngoy district. A couple of Unggoy peered through the dirty curtains, their masked faces clunking on the glass.
'Where now?' Stacker looked inquiringly at Johnson.
'We're going to meet,' Johnson pondered his answer, 'an old friend.'
'Is the Copter gone?'
'Yes. Don't worry. The AI will probably distract them for long enough.'
'I don't deal in probability Hood. I deal in definites.'
'Well, that is all we have. But now, we must go. As you know, I have fulfilled my side of the bargain, and you must fulfil yours.'
'We must go.'
A couple of minutes later, they were trudging down an unlit backstreet. The buildings were tens of stories high, pillars of decay. The two men tugged their collars higher, looking warily around. The only people there were the dregs of society; nobody in their right mind would willingly venture outside in the Red Light District of London. A woman with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth flashed a yellow-toothed smile at the huge man. He ignored her, continuing to walk along the street. She walked up to him, placing a long thin hand on his wide shoulder. He didn't even look at her; quick as a flash, he grabbed her around the neck with one huge hand. He lifted her slowly, her feet dangling in the air.
'Please… let me go.'
The words came out as a choked sob, and tears began to spill out of her jaundiced eyes. He turned his head slowly to look at her. It was pitted with pockmarks, and there was a long, thin scar running from his temple to the side of his mouth. He had lifeless blue eyes. His hair was light black, with heavy streaks of grey.
'Please…'
Everything was still for a few seconds, then the huge man relaxed his grip. She slid to the ground on all fours, coughing coarsely. The other man walked up to them. He had been slowly examining the door numbers. He looked down on her, pity evident on his face.
She scrambled onto her backside, pushing herself away from the pair.
The second man spoke.
'What's your name?' He was old, that was clear, but although his face was lined like a sheet of parchment, his old eyes were bright and aware. A dark overcoat hung loosely over his frail body like a ragged cloth, and every so often he coughed harshly, causing his breath to come in deep rasps.
'A-Anna.'
He knelt down to face her.
'Why are you here, Anna?'
'I-I need the money.' She stammered, looking fearfully up at him.
'Why?' She gazed up at him. Why does he care?
'My daughter… I'd do anything for her.' She gazed at the ground, and began to cry again. Sadness tore through her heart, tearing her apart. 'And Andrew-if I don't pay him,' she looked straight up into his face, 'he'll… he'll take her away.'
The giant spoke. 'How much do you need?'
'Ten-ten thousand credits.' She looked fearfully up at, him her neck throbbing as a painful reminder of what he was capable of. To be on the safe side, she edged slowly backwards.
He put his hand in a huge pocket, then pulled out a credit card. He flicked it down onto the grimy ground.
'100 000 credits. Pay off your debt, buy a house, get a job. Once you touch it, it'll transfer to your account immediately.'
'Th-thank you!' She scrambled to her feet, looking at the small chip between her fingers, watching as the small picture of the hulking giant transformed into a picture of her.
But when she looked up, they were gone.
The pair continued to walk along the street, then stopped at a large metal door. A state of the art intercom, a rare sight around here, hung to the grimy wall. The giant walked up to it, hunching over to face the polished metal grill.
'Hello? I'm here to see her.
There was no reply, but a couple of seconds later, there was an electric hum, and the door swung open to reveal a pair of young men, both armed with SMG's.
'State your name and business.'
'I don't speak to lackeys; get your boss down here, now.'
One of them gave a derisive sneer.
'Oh, you ain't no match for us, big guy. And you better hope your back up doesn't break his hip.' He prodded the giant figure with the butt of his gun.
The giant closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then exhaled. Seconds later he had his knife pressed hard against the left thug's windpipe, while his right hand held his pistol to the others forehead.
'Put the weapons down.' Both men dropped their guns, the weapon clattering to the ground. 'Ten seconds is all I'm going to give you.'
Both men looked terrified.
'Ten'
'Nine.'
'Eight.'
'Seven.'
'Six.'
'Five.'
'Four.'
'Three.'
'Two.'
'One.'
He was about to pull the trigger, when a woman stepped out of the darkness, holding an MA5B Assault Rifle.
'That's quite enough, John.'
He looked at the figure, then holstered his weapons. She lowered the gun, then broke into a wide smile.
'Good to see you again, Kelly.'
On top of the roof top stood a thin, muscular woman. She was dressed in a black body suit, a pair of night vision goggles rested on her forehead, showing her young face. She was no more than. A hood covered her neck and most of her head. She raised her arms to her face, deftly tapping the touch screen. A small beep sounded, and a microphone twisted, snake like, down to her mouth. A male voice issued from the screen.
'Have you found him?'
'Yes. I followed him and Hood from his apartment. He gave a woman his credit card, obviously a way to get rid of our way of tracking him.'
'It's strange he had one at all, instead of working in cash. It might be hard to work in cash, but it's not impossible; it's almost as though he wants to be caught.'
'Shall I take him out?'
'Not yet. Ackerson has something special planned for him. You've done well Ashley.'
'Thank you, sir.'
'Your mission's not over yet. Do whatever is needed to follow him. The Board have allowed for civilian casualties.'
She frowned at that.
'What damage could a pair of last generation models do, sir? With all due respect, they are no match for me.'
'Have you forgotten everything you were taught!' The woman recoiled in surprise, staring at the screen as if the man was standing right there, shouting in her face. 'Never, ever, underestimate your enemy!'
'And never overestimate them either, sir.' She whispered softly.
'Yes, yes, you're quite right.' He sighed deeply. 'You probably could defeat him, but I doubt it would be easy. But orders are orders.'
'And what should I do about the other one, sir?'
'She is of no consequence. He is the only one of importance at the moment. But be wary of the other; do not rule her out completely.'
'Yes, of course, sir.'
'Good.'
'Sir? Why does General Ackerson not want me wish for me to eliminate the pair of them?'
'Some sort of rivalry, I believe. But rumours are not to be trusted.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Good luck, Ashley.'
There was silence, then the woman spoke again.
'What happened to the Commanding Officer of the mission?'
'Keyes? She was shot by Hood. Why?'
'Just wondering…' Her voice trailed off.
'Hmmm… Remember never to become attached to others. Others are weak, fragile, soft. Others are not to be relied upon, even me. Detachment is paramount.'
'Yes, I will remember, sir.'
She tapped her screen again, looking troubled, then reached up to the back of her neck, pulling up the hood's fabric to reveal her neck, running her thin fingers across the figures imprinted upon the flesh, softly mouthing the numbers.
'4 – 5 – 8'
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