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The Harvest Colony…
2525 A.D……
February 3rd……
3:15 am……
The Colony was silent. Darkness overshadowed everything, blotting out the stars completely. The grounds surrounding the Main Barracks were deathly cold, the chill breeze rushing through the morning air. The Night Patrolmen paced sluggishly upon the sandy earth, leaving behind profound footprints from their thick, weighty boots. Clad in the same uniform as the other UNSC Marines, their broad, metallic body armour clanking across their chests, they surveyed the night sky like hawks, ever watchful. Their Assault Rifles fully loaded and cradled in their arms, they often began to get bored. There had never been any major action since, well, they couldn't remember. Their technologically advanced viewfinders, shimmering a bright emerald, were situated in front of their left eye. They allowed them to see as clearly as if it were daytime, and also allowed them to automatically zoom in on anything that looked suspicious. These men had been trained to do their job well, and they had, but with nothing to keep them occupied or 'on-edge', they had grown complacent, almost lazy.
The Patrol on duty at the North side of the Colony had just begun to check his standby Pistol. He lethargically pulled a fresh clip of rounds from his belt, and pushed it into the Pistol. He stowed it back in his utility belt with a groan. He silently thought to himself. He had to get some rest. His eyes were bloodshot, and had almost begun to turn pink. Moving his arm just to scratch his head had started to feel as if he was trying to heave a ten ton weight. All of a sudden, everything turned black. The stars disappeared; everything went quiet; he could hardly see his own hand when he held it in front of his face. For a split second, he realised that something was wrong. But in that split second, he failed to hear the gently padding footsteps slowly approaching from behind. A tall, shimmering figure, transparent against the shadowy background of space, swiftly stalked towards him, grasping a large curved weapon in its fist. The last thing the Guard saw and felt as he turned was a large arc of bright light, sweeping towards him through the darkness, effortlessly cleaving through his fleshy throat. As he fell to his knees, his hands desperately clutching at his seared neck, gasping for breath, the shimmering figure in front of him moved on, proudly knowing it had claimed its first kill of the day.
* * * * *
The Covenant Elite hurried towards the Control Room, the elegant, curved Energy Sword gripped firmly in his hand. He knew the Colony's Control Room would be located close to the Colony's centre, and would be heavily guarded.
Hmmph, he thought, if that human is anything like the rest, this is going to be easy. As he sprinted between the stone cabins and barracks that were dotted about the Colony, he promptly dispatched a number of Marines scanning the streets, the Energy Sword amputating limbs like a knife through butter. As he tugged the Sword from the torso of one of the least formidable Marines he had so far encountered, he glanced further up the street. A large, roughly square structure, surrounded by Marines and Turrets planted on the ground, lay ahead. He knew he had to be extremely fast about this, lest someone discover his unusually shaped footprints he had recently created.
Concealing the Energy Sword and tucking it into his, now invisible, belt, he darted up the street, just managing to avoid most of the overhead artificial lighting. He dodged between the Barracks and alleyways to the east, trying to flank the Marines up ahead, and to approach the Control Room from the right. The Elite paused in the pitch-darkness of the alley he had just entered, flanked on either side by yet more barracks, knowing that his Covenant brothers would soon arrive to annihilate the remnant of these pathetic, powerless humans. Even so, he realised there were enough buildings in this 'colony' to house a small army. Banishing the thought from his mind, he glanced upwards and to the right. The building was low enough. He bent his powerful legs and leapt high into the air, pirouetting midway to land upright upon the roof, his feet firmly planted on the rough stone. He pivoted his head rapidly to the right. He could probably jump the distance between this roof and that of the Control Room's. Wasting no time, he dashed forwards, and when the edges of his feet touched the edge of the rooftop, he hurled himself through the air. As he glimpsed the rooftop in front of him, he knew he wouldn't make it. Extending his arms to their full length, his claws held wide, he snatched at the rooftop's rim. His claws scraped the edge, leaving jagged scratches as he hauled himself up. All of a sudden, a soft, almost peaceful rumble sounded throughout the colony. No! They are already here! The Elite scrambled to the edge of the roof and peered out. Brightly lit windows extended along the length of the building, casting a dazzling glow across the colony's streets. The Elite knew he had to end this, now, meaning stealth was no longer an option. He leaned out over the edge of the roof, and withdrew his Plasma Rifle from his belt. He checked once to ensure it was fully charged, and fired. The windows shattered into a thousand pieces, razor-sharp shards of glass exploding outwards, tumbling towards the dusty earth below. The Elite steadily but carefully manoeuvred himself into the Control Room. Banks of computer equipment, monitors and other electronic gear were spread out across the whole floor. No time for subtleties. The Elite grabbed two deep blue Plasma Grenades from his belt, armed them, lobbed them towards the computers and flung himself back out the window. As he landed, face-down, the building erupted, bluebell flames cascading through the windows, sparks and rocky debris hurled through the air as the sturdy, well-dug foundations trembled violently.
* * * * *
At the same time, the Colony's perimeter guns, gates, shields, communications, sensors and many of its vital internal systems either shut down or exploded. Men raced to and fro, puzzling over what had just happened. Harvest was defenceless.
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