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The Road to Zaxheoa by Nike
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The Road to Zaxheoa: Prologue: Hell Takes Its Toll
Date: 27 April 2003, 12:19 PM
Introduction
A/N: Hopefully, I followed the guidelines and did everything correctly. If I didn't...well, I screwed up, lol. Anyway...I've finally done something productive; I'm sending in a fan fiction. This story is called "The Road to Zaxheoa" (pronounced ZAX-HAY-OH-UH). This introduction will give a basic run down of the characters and a little bit of the storyline. I'm only doing this because, IMO, most stories don't do this. I hope that this intro will be informative and helpful so that the story will be more enjoyable. Without further ado, let me begin...
"The Road to Zaxheoa" takes place during and after Halo, and tells the tale of Corporal Patrick "Neo" Owens. He's just one of the 2000 ODSTs and Marines ordered to guard Alpha-Tango Base, a vital base of operations on the surface of Key Nine.
Key Nine is one of the very few Inner Colonies that has not yet been glassed by the Covenant. It is also near Earth. The planet is very rich and wealthy, both economically and politically. Alpha-Tango Base is near the world's capital, Pulo.
Corporal Owens his a very unique individual. When he has the spare time, he either listens to very old rock music from long ago, writes in his journal of the day's events, or writes poetry.
He is of average height for a Marine, and he's neither too tall or too short. Neo has jet black hair that is colored blonde on the top with streaks of red through it. It's military style, of course. He leads his squad in and out of combat, and Pat's a very trust-worthy person.
As he was in the middle of a nightmare, loud alarms start a-ringin'; the Covenant are attacking, and they're about to glass Key Nine. The corporal will have to find a way to escape, along with his men. Will he do it? (I think he will). But that's not the whole story. I can't reveal anymore of the plot at the moment, so you'll have to read it to find out.
The Road to Zaxheoa: Prologue: Hell Takes Its Toll
Corporal Patrick "Neo" Owens yawned, and stretched his arms out. He had just been on patrol duty, and a private from his squad, Private Bryan O'Neil, volunteered to take over his part of his shift for him.
"Sir, you look beat. Did Sarge push you during that night op?" O'Neil had asked.
"Yes, he did. You better be grateful that you aren't in my squad," Corporal Owens replied.
"I am, sir," he asserted. "Although it isn't my concern to worry about your health, how about I do the remainer of your shift and you go get some sleep?"
The corporal pondered the man's suggestion for several seconds. Finally, he nodded and said, "Yeah, I could use some sleep. Thanks, son."
"Always willing to help, sir," the private had said.
Now Pat was in his squad's barracks, sitting at a wooden table that was in one corner of the barracks. The desk had been carved from a beautiful oak tree, he knew that. A coffee cup sat one side of the table.
He picked it up, leaving a brown circle where the cup had sat. He took a sip, and sort of swished the liquid around in his mouth. He could feel the hot drink slightly burn his tongue.
Corporal Owens set the cup down, and twirled a pen around in his right hand, occasionally tapping it against his head. He loved to write poetry. Despite his tough-guy appearence, he liked it.
Ah, I know what I should write about, he thought.
The Human Race
The timeline of the human race
tells me something:
we all slowly die at a certain pace.
It's best to live it to the fullest...
White clouds paint the sky
The sun smiles down at me:
A perfect day to fly.
Until the darkness comes...
Screw it, Neo thought, I'm tired and I'm going to sleep.
Patrick would have more time to work on his poem. That is, when he had the time. He strode to his bed, stripped his combat boots off, and flopped on his bed, staring at the ceiling. No need for him to strip his combat armor off because the base might come under attack the next morning.
Or worse: while he was sleeping.
Five minutes later, the corporal was asleep. He had a little trouble at first because of Private Web snoring so damned loud the next bed over. Dreams swirled inside his brain; he dreamed of Earth. He dreamed of him, his wife, his 14-year-old daughter, Sarah, and their dog, Chester, going to a park. They were having a nice picnic next to a glistening pond that the warm sun reflected off.
He smiled as his daughter chased Chester, who then did the same to her. He was enjoying the crisp summer air. Like an image of heaven. All very pleasant.
But that was when the heavenly-like dream changed to a horrible gross nightmare...
At first, he hadn't realized that it had changed. That was before Chester pounced on Sarah. He thought the dog was merely playing until blood started sparying out from her chest.
Owens, in his dream, searched for any type of weapon. Even an M6D would suit his needs to subdue the rabid dog.
He found no weapon. With no other choice, he sprinted at the dog with a piece of jagged, sharp bark he had ripped off of a tree. He gored the dog in the side.
The canine flipped over on its side, and it spun side-over-side. Neo stood over Chester, and swung vicious blows at its chest and head.
The once-friendly animal lied in a bloody, mangled heap of flesh and bone.
He dropped the piece of bark, and ran over to Sarah. He had failed to save her. Her stomach and been torn open, her entrails had spilled out onto the lush, green grass. Her blood leaked out and into the pond, slowly turning it red like food coloring.
Parts of her face had been torn off, revealing brain matter, veins, blood, and bone.
Tears streamed from his eyes. His mind screamed, You ass hole! Your the d*ck-head responsible! You didn't even realize that your owned damned dog was killing your only child!
He looked around. The once cheerful, pleasant park disappeared. Now he was in some kind of dark spooky forest. At the far end of the path he stood on was an MA5B. It spun on a pedestral, and a light shone down on it.
He sprinted for it, but the path never seemed to end. Patrick then heard some odd yet chilling noises. First to his left, then his right.
A dark shadowy outline raced among the trees. He stepped on something hard; an M6D.
Yes, thank god!
It was already loaded. When the corporal spotted the thing move, he squeezed the trigger. The loud blam of the pistol echoed throughout the forest.
The sound of a feet pounding into the ground behind him made his blood run cold. He spun around slowly; behind him was a man.
He was about as tall as he was. The scary thing was that he looked like a zombie. It had its hand clamped behind its back. Owens raised his M6D.
But before he could fire, the zombie/man sprinted at him, wrapped his legs around the corporal's body, and bit and clawed at his face.
The Marine screamed shrilly for several seconds. All that remained of the Marine was a pile of bones that lied on the dirt path. The zombie carried the flesh of the corporal towards a group of bushes, and disappeared, leaving a blood trail...
Back in the real world, Neo tossed and turned. He could barely hear the voices calling out to him.
"Sir, wake up!"
Patrick turned over on his back, and eye lids half open.
"Sir, get up quickly!"
He sat up, and rubbed his eyes. The man was Private O'Neil.
"What is it, son?" Neo asked.
"Sir, we got to get the rest of the squad up, and fast!" O'Neil shouted. "The Covenant are attacking!"
TO BE CONTINUED
A/N: Did you enjoy it? Because I know I did. Chapter 1 is coming soon.
The Road to Zaxheoa: Chapter 1: The Covenant Attack
Date: 28 April 2003, 11:10 PM
A/N: I'm tossing around this idea: For future parts, instead of typing "The Road to Zaxheoa", I would use the acronym (which is TRtZ). Wait, now that I think about it, that might screw up the database thingie. So I won't worry about it. (Note to Louis: I'm NOT padding). Enjoy this chapter, and post comments when you're done reading it. This is for new readers ('yknow, just in case their is), an MA5B is an assualt rifle, the M6D is a pistol, and the S2 AM is a sniper rifle. (Hopefully, this chapter doesn't exceed the 32k limit).
The Road to Zaxheoa: Chapter 1: The Covenant Attack
0400 Hours September 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Alpha-Tango Base, Key IX, Earth star system
"O'Neil, have you gotten any reports from the Sarge?" Corporal Patrick Owens inquired hurriedly. He was trying to strap his combat boots on as fast as possible. "By the way, what time is it?"
"It is--" The private glanced at the wall-mounted clock. "--0415, sir. No reports have come in from the Sarge. He must still be asleep."
Not for long, Pat thought. Not when this base is under attack.
"Rouse the men. We need to get them--" Alarms took over the command for him. The klaxons out in the hallway screamed like a police car's siren.
Neo's squad woke up, some slower then others, some faster.
"Let's move, you ladies!" Corporal Owens yelled. "Fall in behind O'Neil! Double time to the armory! The Covenant are attacking us! So let's move!"
The Marines fell in behind the corporal and private as soon as the word "Covenant" rang in their ears. The sounds of 14 pairs of metal boots clanking along the floor in perfect unison reverberated through Patrick's ears.
The armory was only a short jog from the barracks. When they reached the armory (which was about the length of a football field), the corporal's men ran to the long rack of MA5Bs.
Eleven of his grabbed MA5Bs and M6Ds, while one man grabbed a rocket launcher. He had a pistol as his back-up weapon. Two more soldiers, Private DJ Black and Private Jane Green, grabbed S2 AMs, and an MA5B for back-up.
"Why is it that the Covenant want to have their asses kicked?" Private O'Neil asked, as he loaded a round into the chamber of an M6D.
Neo chuckled. "It's beyond me, Bryan. Sometimes we kick their ass, sometimes they kick ours." He turned to the rest of his Marines. "Assemble!"
His squad fell in before him, and snapped to rigid attention. "Awright. As you all know, Alpha-Tango is under attack by the Covenant. We'll move out, find ourselves a couple of Warthogs, and try to repel the attack. Just keep your rifle pointed at those goddamned bugs, pull that trigger, and we'll all go home in one piece and I'll buy ya all a beer! AM I RIGHT MARINES?!"
"Sir, yes, sir!" they replied in unison.
"Damn straight!" Corporal Owens said. "Now let's move out!"
The squad fanned out into a rough delta formation, with Private Mike Web taking point, and O'Neil at the rear. After leaving the armory, Owens keyed a control on his HUD, which activated the CD player that was integrated into his combat helmet. He mentally sifted through dozens of songs that he had an interest in, and chose one. The CD player was also integrated into his cerebral cortex, so he could choose a song mentally. He set the thing on "Random" so he wouldn't know what song he would be listening to. He didn't why he did it, but he didn't really give a damn.
Web held his hand out, signaling for everybody to halt. He crouched and crept to a corner. He peeked around, and saw seven Grunts, four Jackals, and two Elites at the end of the corridor that Web was scanning. The man crept back to Corporal Owens.
"Sir," he said, "there are seven Grunts, four Jackals, and two Elites at the end of this corridor--" He pointed to the hallway. "--which leads to the motorpool."
"Understood. Were there any obstacles in that hallway?" Neo asked.
Web nodded. "Plenty, sir."
Owens spun around to face Private Black and Private Green. "Okay, you two. Sneak down that corridor and get as close to those Covenant bastards as you can, and fire at them with your sniper rifles."
The two soldiers nodded in unison, and they both crept down the hallway. The corporal turned to face the rest of the squad. "As for the rest of you, when Black and Green open fire, so will we. Get into position, and wait for the shooting to start."
Three seconds after a period was placed on the end of the corporal's sentence, two loud blams were heard. The noise bounced off the walls down toward the Covenant and back toward the Marines. Two Grunts fell. One lost its head, causing sky-blue blood to spray along the corridor walls and onto the aliens. The other short, stocky alien's breath mask was shattered, its precious oxygen slowly sizzling out into the rich, human air. The Grunt's head then began to blow up like a balloon. Then its head literally exploded, spattering more blood and some chunks of purple flesh. Both bodies slumped to the floor.
Both Elites ran for cover. They both crouched behind a wedge-shaped structure. The two aliens took turns, one stood to fire it's plasma rifle while the other crouched, occasionally tossing a plasma grenade into the mix.
The Marines had also opened fire by this time. Bullets pinged off the other obstacles scattered about the hallway. Some hit they're intended targets, other were clean misses.
"Down in front!" one of the Grunts screamed in its squeaky high-pitched as it hurled a plasma grenade threw air, and down the corridor.
It stuck to a Marine's helmet. "AHHHH!! Get this damned orb off of me!!!" he shouted.
Over the COM line, Corporal Owens replied, "Remove your helmet, soldier!" Static filled the line as the grenade exploded, almost right behind him. The Marine's body was sent flying backwards into a grating against the wall that covered up some steam pipes. The man, clearly a private because of his ID tag, fell to the floor face first with a cracked spine. He was dead.
Neo took aim at the Grunt that had thrown the grenade and squeezed the trigger. The three-round burst journeyed down the hallway. The titainium rounds smacked into the animal-like alien's chest, splashing the same blue blood onto the floor and walls.
(One minute you're on top! [The next you're not, watch it drop]. Making you're heart stop! [Just before you hit the floor]. One minute you're on top! [The next you're not, missed your shot]. Making your heart stop! [You think you won. . .and then it's all gone]!)
"Fire in the hole!" O'Neil roared over the barrage of gun fire and plasma streaks as he tossed a frag grenade down the other end. The thing exploded, tossing shrapnel into the air. Several bits of metal rained down on the Covenant attackers. The blast killed one of the Elites, one Jackal, and three Grunts.
"Look at 'em fly!" another Marine commented cooly as he moved up a little closer to get a better angle.
After about ten more minutes, the fight was over. Patrick glanced around at his squad. Only two soldiers had been killed. "Well, what the hell you standin' around for? The motorpool's at the end of this corridor. Let's move out."
The Marines sprinted down the corridor, checking their flanks when they passed by side passages and covering their six, as well. When the squad of 12 reached the blast door that led to the motorpool (which was also the hangar bay for Pelicans and a few Scorpion tanks), it asked them for security clearence.
The corporal frowned. He then said over the squad line channel, "Mark! Bring up a few blocks of C-12 and blow this door!"
"Yes, sir!" he replied. Mark ran up the line of Marines, and set the timer for five seconds. "Take cover!" he shouted. The squad ran to a corner that led to a side passage, and hid behind it. Five seconds later, the blocks of C-12 detonated, throwing the blast doors into the wall. They clattered to the ground.
"Okay, people! The doors are open! Let's go!" The squad sprinted to the door. They gazed in awe before them.
A huge firefight had broken out in the hangar, which was pretty tall and pretty wide. Elites, Grunts, Jackals, and Hunters were firing their deadly plasma weapons. ODSTs and Marines fired their sniper rifles, pistols, and every other weapon that the Humans possessed.
"Well, boys, let's add our fire to this fight, shall we?" Corporal Owens asked his squad.
"Sir, yes, sir!" they replied.
"Then let's go!" Owens said, as he and the rest of his 12-man squad charged into the hangar.
TO BE CONTINUED
PNFTA: Did you all enjoy it? I think you did. Chapter 2 is coming soon. Stay tuned because you don't want to miss out.
The Road to Zaxheoa: Chapter 2: Extraction
Date: 5 May 2003, 9:03 PM
A/N: Well, Chapter 2 is here. I hope that you will enjoy the action sequences and the plot. More importantly, let's get on with this story, shall we not? *looks around for the latest issue of Victoria's Secret* Ah damn! Where did I put that issue? It was right here, too. . .ahhhh, never mind I'll look for it later. . . (Note: Web and Webb are the same person).
The Road to Zaxheoa: Chapter 2: Extraction
0423 Hours September 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Hangar, Alpha-Tango Base, Key IX, Earth star system
Corporal Owens glanced around. A huge fire-fight had broken out inside the bay. Smaller fights were being battle from within the large fight.
"Sir!" Private O'Neil said. "There's a cluster of Marines pinned down by a pair of Hunters approximately half a klick northwest of our current position. They require our help." They were a half klick away because the hangar bay was so tall and so wide.
"Understood," Neo replied. "Tell Webb that he's to take two other Marines with him to help those men." He scratched the back of his neck.
"Yes sir." Bryan contacted Webb via the COM line. Pat heard Webb ackenowledge the order, and he stared at Private Jason Webb, Private Mark O'Connor, and Private Jane Green as the trio sprinted toward the area in which O'Neil had indicated.
Private Webb had one of the Hunters in his line of sight. He fired two bursts in rapid succesion, six armor-piercing rounds speeding toward the lumbering monstrosity. The first three bullets pinged off the Hunter's strange blue armor, but, however, two bullets from the second burst slammed into the Hunter's gut. Spotches of orange blood squirted out from the Covenant bastard. He remained unfazed though. No wounds or any damage was visible. It didn't do a thing.
The sudden burst of automatic weapons fire only pissed the big guy off. The Hunter Webb had fired at turned to where the enemy fire had come from. Inside the beast's fuel rod gun, a green glow pulsed from within.
"Aww sh*t!" Jason screamed. "Mark, Jane, get down!" Webb and Green dived for cover behind a stack of crates where the pinned-down Marines were hiding and firing. Mark wasn't so lucky.
The sphereical green blob discharged from the barrel of the fuel rod gun, and traveled at a slightly curved trajectory toward its intended target.
The green bolt of hot melting plasma smashed into the demo man's chest, hurling his body backwards end-over-end. The blast also set off a chain-reaction, detonating all the grenades and remaining blocks of C-12 that had been strapped to O'Connor's belt and combat armor.
When the thick smoke cleared, half of Mark's entire body had been eaten off by the explosion. It had literally been vaporized by the shrapnel and fire from the grenades and C-12. The remaining half of Mark's mutilated corpse was lying in a huge pool of his own blood. Some of his organs spilled out of him too.
Green had looked over her shoulder, watching this event unfold before her eyes. When it was over, she whispered, "Damn it!"
To her right, an African American by the name of Corporal Miguel Drert tossed a frag grenade toward the remaining Hunter. "Try this on!" he screamed.
The frag was just short of the Covenant bastard. It exploded, sending shrapnel in a column into the air, directly in front of the monstrosity. No damage done.
Private Green hefted her S2 AM sniper rifle to her shoulder, and took aim at the Hunter's soft fleshy stomach.
(Let the bodies hit the floor! Let the bodies hit the floor! Let the bodies hit the floor)!
Jane pulled the trigger, the rifle's blam reverberating through her ears. The Hunter groaned as it slumped forward to the ground face first. Orange blood slowly leaked out of the bullet hole, and formed a pool.
The Marine lowered the sniper rifle, and admired her handy work. One more notch to carve into my rifle once we get off this godforsaken planet! she thought joyfully.
A horn honked behind her. "Hey," Corporal Owens called from the driver seat of a Warthog, "hop in. Let's find the RV zone so we can get the hell off of this planet."
Private Green grinned. "Sir, yes, sir!" she said cheerfully. She walked to the chain-gunner's place, strapped her S2 AM to her back, and gripped the handles that fired the chain-gun. Owens was driving, O'Neil was riding shotgun, and she was manning the chain-gun. Combined with her ability to take out targets from long-range, she was practically a crack shot.
Corporal Patrick "Neo" Owens slammed down on the accelerator. The Warthog fishtailed, and shot forth, out of the hangar and into a lush green forest. He stopped the vehicle to make an announcement. "RV zone is about 7-10 klicks north of our current position," he said.
O'Neil and Green nodded. Then Owens pushed the accelerator again, and the Warthog zoomed forward, bumping over fallen tree banches and dead wildlife.
Suddenly, a distant whir caught the attention of Private Bryan O'Neil. He crooked his head, and saw what it was: a Covenant Banshee.
"Aw crap!" he shouted. "Covenant Banshee sighted to my right!"
"Firing!" Jane immediately spun the chain gun to face this new threat, and fired madly. A moment later, the Covenant sky vehicle exploded into plumes of fire and smoke as it lost control and spun sideways to the dirt.
"Yeah, are we bad or what?" Green said.
"Uh-huh!" Owens replied. He glanced ahead of him, and abruptly slammed on the brake. Everyone went flying forward. Steph almost fell off.
"What? Why did we stop?" Bryan asked.
"Covenant mine-field," he asserted slowly. Sweat started dripping from his brow. He wiped it away with his sleeve.
"Ah hell no!" Private Green cursed. "Is there another way around?"
"I'm afraid not," he replied, looking around him. "But that clearing at the far end will dump us out at the RV zone. I think it's worth it. Should we take the risk, Marines?!"
The two hesitated briefly, then nodded, and said, "Yes sir!"
"That's what I want to hear! Now let's go!" He put the Warthog in reverse until he thought he would have enough speed. He said a quick prayer, and hoped for the best.
Neo jammed his foot on the accelerator, and the LRV blasted forward. The front tires snapped the first trip wire. The trip wires were placed at even intervals. When one was snapped, blue and green plasma cannons and grenades mixed together would fire from one side of the path and also on the other side in perfect unison.
Plasma that glowed a deadly blue and green detonated and shot out on the Warthog's flanks. But the nimble vehicle was too fast. Pretty soon, all the trip wires had been snapped, and the trio had dodged all the explosions.
However, when they emerged at the RV zone, an Elite officer hurled a plasma grenade at the LRV's engine hood. It stuck.
"Bail!" O'Neil screamed as he jumped from the passenger seat and forward towards the Pelican dropship awaiting them.
"Ditto!" Jane replied. She hopped off the back, and Pat jumped out of the driver's seat. They all slammed into the ground as the plasma grenade detonated and sent the Warthog flying over the lip of a cliff. The Pelican was hovering above the cliff's lip.
"Lieutenant, how much longer are you going to be waiting for us?" he asked the Pelican pilot.
"Not too much longer, Corporal," the man replied. "There are too many Covies firing at us. Get inside quickly!"
"Let's go Marines! Triple time!" Corporal Owens yelled to O'Neil and Green. They all sprinted to the Pelican, and jumped because the Pelican was pulling away. All three Marines gripped the ramp of the Pelican as the dropship banked hard left and right, threatning to shake Owensa, O'Neil, and Green off.
Eavise manuevers, Private O'Neil thought. Three other Marines helped to pull up the trio and into the passenger area.
"Welcome back, Corporal!" Private Webb shouted happily.
"Yeah, thanks," he replied. He wasn't in the mood for celebrating right now; he was just glad to have escaped another hellhole.
"Good thing you got aboard," the junior lieutenant asserted over the COM line as he closed the hatch doors, "because if you hadn't jumped, you would've been left behind, doomed to be glassed by the Covenant."
"Those bastards were going to glass Key IX?!" O'Neil asked angirly.
"Yes, they were. Hopefully, our battle fleet up in space can take down their ships before they bombard the planet."
"The fleet's here? Oh lord yes! A better meal! A comfortable bed!" one Marine shouted joyfully. Then he sighed.
A couple Marines gave him strange looks. A few laughed or chuckled.
Thank god the fleet's here, Neo thought. I hope that we will be able to blow up some of their ships before they can glass the planet. But there might not be enough time to stop them. He sighed. Let's hope for the best.
The Pelican quickly pulled into the atmosphere, did a few more evasive manuevers, and escaped into Key IX's atmosphere.
TO BE CONTINUED
A/N: *finds the latest issue of Victoria's Secret* Yay! I found the issue! Yay! *pauses* Oh, sorry. Did you enjoy this chapter? I know there was more talking than action, but was it still enjoyable? Chapter 3 is coming soon, I swear.
The Road to Zaxheoa: Chapter 3:
Date: 11 May 2003, 10:31 PM
A/N: *looks around nervously* *hides an issue of Playboy* Uh. . . *whispers* . . .ya didn't see nothin', awright?! Nice and goodly then. *returns to normal* Anyway. . .here is Chapter 3. Sorry that I haven't been on. AOL wasn't working, therefore I couldn't get online. As I type this, it's May 11 and the internet is working. I must warn you that there is absolutlely no action, but a crap-load of plot. Also, don't flame me about the song choice (wether you've heard it or not). When I read that part while playing the song, it fit perfectly. The lyrics are from Blue Man Group's "Sing Along" on their new CD "The Complex." Now, onto this chapter. . . (Note: Anything in bold and in parentheses are song lyrics, and during that part, you should listen to that particular song)
The Road to Zaxheoa: Chapter 3: Two Surprises
0448 Hours September 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Pelican Dropship Bravo 067, en route to UNSC cruiser Faux Pas, Earth star system
Corporal Patrick Owens stared out of one of the portholes of the Pelican. He stared out into the black void of outer space, into the nightmarish unknown.
What else lies out there? he wondered. Maybe I don't want to know. But could there be something. . .else out there? Like a whole new frightening enemy?
Neo shook his head. It's nothing I should worry about right now. Maybe when I retire I could come back here and explore the uncharted unknown. Who knows? I might die at the hands of those bloody Covenant.
"Docking in the bay of Faux Pas," the junior lieutenant, Lieutenant Daniel Powell, announced. "Brace yourselves." The dropship flew into the hangar bay and, upon landing, a slight rumble shook Bravo 067. A moment later, the hatch doors parted, and the ramp lowered. The corporal's squad all ran down the ramp, sprinting straight ahead through a doorway to get squared away in their places. An announcement blared over the Faux Pas' loudspeakers.
"Corporal Patrick Owens, come to my office ASAP," the voice said.
The corporal ran down through labyrinths of corridors and side passages before he reached the platoon leader's, Lieutenant Jamie Nuguyen, office. He finally reached the door that led to her office. Owens tapped on the door.
"Enter." He did, and shut the door. "Hello, Corporal Owens." Lieutenant Nuguyen leaned back in her chair.
"Ma'am!" the man said. He then snapped to rigid attention.
"At ease," Jamie said. "Please take a seat." She gestured to a chair on the corner of her desk.
Neo relaxed slightly, and sat in the chair. "What did you require of me, ma'am?"
"I wanted to congratulate you on your successive escape from Key IX. Down on Alpha-Tango Base, during that big firefight in the hangar bay, I had never seen so much effective coordination with your fellow comrades. It was simply amazing."
"Thank you, ma'am," he replied.
"I also heard of your damn good success on getting through that Covenant minefield. Must've taken a lot of courage, huh?"
"Yes, it did." He eased back slightly in the smoothly padded chair.
"How about I give you a reward?" the lieutenant asked, leaning forward in her chair, looking Neo in the eye.
"Ma'am, I couldn't--"
"It's the least I could do." She scrounged around in her uniform pocket, and pulled out a wooden box. She slid it across the top of the desk to him. "Open it, and take a look."
Corporal Owens nodded. He flipped open the lid off, and his mouth slightly dropped open. Inside the box were three arrow-shaped stripes; a sergeant's insignia.
"The paper work will catch up sooner or later," Nuguyen said. "Now--" She stood. "--dismissed."
Sergeant Owens pinned the insignia to his right shoulder, stood up, snapped to attention, and saluted Lieutenant Jamie Nuguyen. "Thank you, ma'am!"
"You're welcome. Now go and join up with the rest of the squad."
The sarge nodded, spun on his heel, and briskly strode to the door. He turned the knob, and left.
As he walked down the corridor to the elevator, he passed Private Green. She saluted him. "Hey, Corporal--"
He held up his finger, then pointed to the insignia on his shoulder. "That's Sergeant to you, Green."
She smiled. "Sir, yes, sir!" Before she could say anything else, an announcement came on.
"All Marines are to report to the hangar bay, pronto! We have a visitor to greet!"
Green and Pat looked at each other, then sprinted to the elevator. The lift went down to the lowest floor that led to the hangar bay. The doors parted, and they ran down some corridors before reaching the bay, going through the doors, and joining up with the rest of the squad.
Steph took her place amongst the squad, and Sergeant Neo Owens stood in front of them. Bryan O'Neil, now a corporal, stood next to him.
"Sir, do you know what the hell's going on?" Corporal O'Neil asked.
"Not one clue, Corporal. Not one," he replied, shaking his head. Whatever is coming in had better be good, Neo thought.
A minute later, a Longsword interceptor came into view. It sped at a quick yet steady pace toward Faux Pas' open hangar doors. Its nose entered the open hangar doors.
(If I sing a song, will you sing along? If I sing a song, will you sing along? If I sing a song, will you sing along. . .or should I just keep singing right here by myself)?
The hangar doors quickly closed as the Longsword touched down on the landing pad. One door on the side facing all the surviving Marines from Key IX and ones already on board the cruiser opened, casting a glowing harsh light from with the small bomber. A figure clad in forest-green armor stepped into the light, gripping an M90 shotgun.
(If I tell you I'm strong, will you play along? If I tell you I'm strong, will you play along? If I tell you I'm strong, will you play along. . .or will you see I'm as insecure as anybody else)?
"Hey, a Mark V!" one Marine in another squad shouted. Every Marine looked at each other, then at the armored figure. A loud course of cheers and happy shouts followed immediately afterwards.
(If I follow along, does it mean I belong? If I follow along, does it mean I belong? If I follow along, does it mean I belong. . .or will I keep on feeling different from everybody else)?
The green figure walked down the ramp, metal boots clanking in unison. Two men, with the insignia of a colonel, briskly walked over to greet him. The armored man snapped to rigid attention.
"Spartan-117 reporting, sir!" the Master Chief said. He saluted to the two colonels. The two returned it.
"Ah, okay. So you're the Master Chief," the older colonel said, scanning the Chief's imposing figure. "Where have you been?"
"It's a long story, Colonel Hughes," Cortana suddenly chimed in. "If the captain, you two, and any other important personnel would set up a conference, and I'll be able to explain everything."
"Understood Cortana. I'll notify the captain, and we'll have the meeting. Now, Master Chief, if you would follow me, please?" Colonel Hughes replied. He gestured for the Chief to follow, who nodded.
John slung his M90 over his shoulder, and followed the colonel to a terminal next to the door that entered the ship. Colonel Hughes linked up with Captain Johnson, told him what Cortana had said, and cut the transmission. "A briefing room is this way," the younger colonel, Colonel Mario Swift, asserted.
Sergeant Patrick "Neo" Owens stared at the figure following his regiment's commander. What are those things called again? He paused mentally. Ah, I remember. Spartans. And he's the last of his kind? Damn. . .he's one lucky guy. . .
The Chief followed close behind, his mind clear and alert, the M90 pointed in front of him; it was instinctive. That act came natural to him. After spending two days on Halo, he could no longer trust anyone. But that trust would slowly return to him.
The Chief inserted Cortana's processing chip into a slot in a pedestal. John took a seat, as did Colonel Hughes and Colonel Swift. Captain Johnson entered a moment later.
"Cortana, you may begin," he said and took a seat next to the Chief.
Cortana explained of their jump from Reach, their crash landing onto Halo, the Control Room, about the Flood, and the Monitor. It took nearly an hour and a half to explain.
When she was finished Swift, Hughes, and Johnson had stunned looks on their faces. "So hacked into the Truth and Reconciliation's battle net and obtained the location of the Covenant's homeworld?" Colonel Hughes inquired.
Cortana's hologram did an equivalent of a human nod. "That seems to be the case. The name of their homeworld is. . .hold on a second." She paused to search her lexicon for the answer. "The name of their world is. . .Zaxheoa."
"Hmm. . .well, it looks like we'll need to tell the brass about your findings, Cortana, before we can take any immediate action. But great job on obtaining this vital piece of information for us. As goes for the rest of the data about Halo," Captain Johnson replied.
A message squawked over the PA. "Captain, your presence is requested on the bridge!"
"What is it?"
"Covenant boarding parties have just been deployed! Your orders are required sir!"
"Damn it!" The man slammed his face down on the conference table. "How many, son?"
"The number is unknown, Cap'n," the voice on the other end replied.
"I'm coming now." Johnson was walking out of the briefing room, to the elevator, and back to the bridge. "This is the captain! To all Marines; prepare to repel any Covenant boarding parties that have been deployed. Fall back to Decks 2-5. Triple time!"
The Master Chief stood, his massive weight pushing the chair he was sitting in all the way back to the wall. He checked his M90 to see if it was fully loaded; it was. He pumped the grip to load a round. Next, he checked his M6D to make sure it also was fully loaded; it was. John pulled the slide back, and put it back in its holster.
Gripping his shotgun, he spun on his heel, and proceeded to repel the Covenant bastards who were attempting to board the Faux Pas. They weren't going to do that, if he had anything to do about it.
Time to get back to work, John thought. Time to kill some Covenant.
TO BE CONTINUED
A/N: Chapter 4 is coming soon. . .and it's going to have action. And some space action too! See, don't you hate it when I have to make you wait? Because I really love doing that to you guys. . .
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