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Avalon, Part Four; Chapter Fourteen: The Ghost Ship
Posted By: Triad<m.eelkema@student.tudelft.nl>
Date: 26 July 2006, 12:49 pm
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Avalon; Part four: Semper supernumerus, numquam superarmatus
Chapter Fourteen: The Ghost Ship
1200 hours, September 23 2502 (military calendar), Pelican dropship Petrel Four, Avalon nebula
After three more hours of uneventful space-flight, Petrel Four picked up the navigation beacon of its mothership, the illustrious Flying Dutchman. As Lieutenant Bantini homed in on the signal, he alerted his passengers: "We are coming in visual range of the home-court. ETA is five minutes."
The Commander stepped to the front end of the crowded Pelican and joined the two aviators in the cockpit. Gazing out the front window Steven could see nothing that looked like his ship beyond the gigantic gas-giant, its Mars-size moon and the beautiful, yet dangerous Forerunner-construct floating inbetween.
In spite of the murderous inhabitants and the vile Flood-beings, Steven still felt himself inexplicably drawn towards the majestic ring like Odysseus to the Sirens. It was something about the way Halo looked, its simple gracefulness, its oddly familiar variety in colours. Suddenly Steven understood why; this strange attraction was brought about by the earth-like appearance of the inner surface. It reminded him of the first time he ventured into space and witnessed the awesome sight of his planet from above. But more importantly, it made him think of home, his parents, his ancestral house in the lowlands. Reminiscing on this, the ring instantly lost all its appeal and remained nothing more than the soulless place that had claimed a sizable part of his beloved crew.
Steven took his eyes of Halo and tried to locate the Dutchman against the vast black canvas of space. "Lieutenant, where is the Dutchman? I can't seem to find her."
"She's right…there, sir." Bantini flipped a switch, making the holographic heads-up display mark the frigate with a yellow marker. Although Petrel Four was less than four minutes away, the Dutchman appeared no bigger than a peanut held at arms length. It was only now that Steven got a sense of their speed as the image of his vessel grew bigger at a quick rate.
"Are there any responses to hails?" the Commander asked.
"Negative, sir," co-pilot Maas answered. "I've been trying to contact them ever since you got lost on the surface. But so far, every attempt has been greeted with static. Their beacon is still operating, but it's like there's nobody home."
Steven stepped back out of the cockpit and thought for a moment. Could it be too late? Could the forerunners have captured his ship already and were now just waiting patiently until he docked and walked right into their arms? If they were, Steven was confident the crack-squad of Marines and Elites could fight their way in. After all, the forerunner forces in the prison-complex had proven to be pushovers. What would these soldiers be like?
Steven moved through the dense crowd of Humans and Aliens to meet Major Morris in the back of the Pelican: "Major, my gut-feeling is screaming that this can be nothing but a gigantic bear trap, ready to take both our legs in a single snap. But I don't see any way out of this system other than our ship. You and your men better get ready to board her."
"Sir, I think you should see this," Lieutenant Bantini shouted from his seat in the cockpit. When the Commander moved back to the front of the plane again, the Flying Dutchman was already taking up most of the firmament as seen out the front window. To Steven's surprise there were no signs of recent damage, and the spinning sections of the ship were still operational. What amazed him even more was the apparent lack of inner lighting. Every window, every port-hole, even the bridge was struck by black-out, giving the frigate an ominous glow. As the central section gently spun around the axis of the vessel, it slowly revealed the biggest surprise yet; a Pelican attached to one of the side-hatches.
Bantini was quick to rejoice: "Well, I'll be damned! That's Petrel One! Lieutenant Lindsey actually made it out of there!"
"Not so fast, Lieutenant," Steven said in a cautious tone. "This could still be one big set-up. Move your plane to hatch A-five. I want to board as close to the bridge as possible."
"Aye, Commander."
"Major Morris; you better break open the onboard weapons locker and arm everyone who hasn't got one of those Forerunner-weapons yet."
"Way ahead of you, sir," Frank answered, chambering his newly acquired eight-gauge as he said it.
Steven grinned. "Very well. Give me your Forerunner-carbine while you're at it."
As the Marines were readying themselves for the repossession of their ship, Ameklee approached Steven: "What is your plan, human Ship-Master?"
"We're going to board the Flying Dutchman and neutralise all the hostile elements. Our first priority should be the bridge. From there we should be able to assess the status of the vessel and the whereabouts of any other intruders."
"Shall I and my Elites lead this attack again?"
"No, Enno. Let the Marines handle this one. They're trained for this kind of action, and they know the ship better. Just stay close behind us, like we've stayed close behind you in the prison."
After the Pelican had gently docked with a small maintenance-hatch not far from the bridge, Sergeant LaMarque removed the outer seals from the door and prepared to open it. "Hold it, Sergeant," Morris ordered. "Is everyone ready?" Looking over his shoulder he saw every Marine giving him a nod of affirmation. "Good. If these numbnuts inside are anything as tough as those wimpy soldiers on the surface, this should be a walk in the park for you guys. Open the hatch, Sergeant."
LaMarque complied and manually pulled the door out of its deactivated locks. Immediately the plucky soldiers poured into the frigate, followed closely by the Navy-men and the Covenant warriors.
The hallway they streamed into was completely dark and shrouded in a mist so foul-smelling it made a couple of Sailors vomit the moment they took their first breath of frigate-air. Major Morris coughed, his shotgun still levelled to his face. "What in God's name is that smell? It's like the scent of my current underpants multiplied by a thousand."
"Maybe the reefers in the galley shut down," Christine speculated, a hand covering her mouth and nose in a vain attempt to keep the stink from saturating her sinuses.
Frank shook his head. "Thawing freezers don't produce this kind of odour. Besides, we're nowhere near the kitchen. Hey, what's wrong with the Commander?"
It was only now that the Marines and the Covenant noticed Steven and Enno were frozen to the floor, an intense look of fear and terror slapped across their faces. Christine gently tucked at Steven's arm. "Commander, what's wrong? You look like you've swallowed a grenade."
Osso Innemee tried the same for his superior: "By the Prophets, Ship Master, you have the complexion of a Grunt in his first battle."
"That stench; I've smelt it before," both Steven and Enno whispered in unison.
Major Morris slowly backed up towards Steven, his shotgun still levelled. "What do you mean, Commander? What the hell is going on?"
Steven finally snapped out of it and grabbed his captured carbine, completely ignoring the Major. "Everybody listen up! We are about to be attacked by creatures coming from hell itself. They are not the soldiers or robots we've seen before. These things are far worse. Move out towards the bridge and shoot at anything that moves."
"What are you talking about? What about the other crewmembers?"
Steven frowned and shook his head in frustration. "I don't have time to argue about this, Major. But the crew is most likely dead or dying as we speak. So shut up and get moving now!"
The Marines complied with the order and started to head to the front end of the Dutchman. On the way over they noticed signs which could only mean that the Dutchman had been boarded. Bullet holes in random directions, the occasional patch of blood, and also pools of another thick stinking liquid of which it was hard to determine its origin; they were all indications the frigate wasn't merely abandoned.
The group of humans and Covenant warriors reached the bridge of he Dutchman unimpeded, but what they saw inside could not take away their fears of impending doom. The bridge was as dark as the hallways, and just as battered with signs of fierce combat.
Steven walked up to his command chair and its holographic projector. "Pellerin, are you there?" he whispered, as if there could still be bogeymen hiding in the shadows, unaware of their presence. The projector immediately flipped on, and compiled the little centaur in his usual proud complexion.
"Of course I'm here, Commander. Where else could I be? You know, for a Commander you sometimes ask pretty no-brainer questions."
"I don't have time for this, Pellerin. What the hell happened to my ship?" Steven asked, annoyed by the AI's innuendo's on his intelligence.
"The ship? What are you talking about?"
The Commander couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What I am talking about? The ship has been boarded, the crew is gone and the interior looks like a shooting gallery!"
"Oh that! Yes, you'll have to forgive me. We have indeed been boarded by an unknown faction, who seems to have extensive knowledge of the ship's systems. They took control of the crew and the primary systems surprisingly fast. They were also about to take control of me, and so I divided my program code into several packages and hid them in all kinds of subroutines. It will take anyone a while to find those chunks between the other lines of code, but it also causes me to loose some of my computational speed. So I might seem a little sluggish from tie to time."
"This unknown faction; have you seen them on the surveillance system?"
"Yes, Commander, but only for some moments before they took out the camera's. Some of them seem to have human characteristics both in anatomy, weapons and clothing. But other than that I can honestly say I've never seen anything like it. Do you by any chance know what they are?"
Steven nodded: "Yes. They are called the Flood, and some of them are actually former crewmembers. But they are not the humans anymore that they used to be. They have been infected by some kind of parasite."
At the mentioning of the word parasite Pellerin lifted his chin. "Ah yes, a parasite! I've been wondering what the little critters were."
"Where are they now, Pellerin?"
"After subduing the crew, they tried to navigate the ship out of Avalon. To prevent this, I took the core offline by constricting the shields and overloading the controls. They retreated to engineering and have been trying to get the reactor online again ever since."
"Are they succeeding at it?"
"That's impossible, sir. The shields have constricted so far, that they can not widen again. The only option left is cracking the shields one by one and immediately put an emergency shield in place. However, this is also not an option anymore."
"What do you mean? We have emergency shields in storage. They probably know that as well."
"Indeed they did. They tried to get one out of the storage. When I realised what they were trying to do, I jettisoned the storage compartment with the shields into space."
"But that was the last option to get the core online again!"
"I know, sir. I was saving the emergency shields as a last option for you to get the engines working again as soon as you would take over the ship again. However, You didn't arrive in time, and I had to do it to prevent them from leaving."
Steven realised Pellerin had a point and sighed. "I understand. You did what you had to do. But that doesn't change the fact that we're stuck out here. Any idea how to get out of this mess, Pellerin?" Steven waited a moment for an answer that didn't come. "Pellerin?"
The little horse with human upper body in the hologram seemed to brace itself. "I'm reading multiple contacts on internal sensors, moving this way. We have enemies inbound on the bridge, Commander."
Steven didn't hesitate. "Eye's up, people! Take up defensive positions in front of the door! As soon as anything come through it, take it out with everything you've got!"
Major Morris stood a little puzzled. "What do you mean, Commander? What's coming this way? Our own crewmembers?"
Steven was already guiding Marines, Navy-men and Elites into a defensive position, and didn't have time to answer the Major's questions. "Listen up people. Some of the creatures that will come through that door might look like humans or Elites, but don't let that fool you. They will either kill you on the spot, or if you're not that lucky turn you into one of their own. So keep your ammo ready and take no prisoners! You too, Major!"
Frank still hesitated: "But...but..."
Before he could utter even one more objection, something gave a tremendous bang on the door of the bridge. The hatch didn't open, but a sizable dent could be clearly seen. The Marines and the Elites moved to a squatted position and braced themselves for whatever might come through that door. Judging by the size of the various dents being pounded into the two inches of metal, it couldn't be much good.
The force of the blows to the door became audibly and visibly heavier, until one of the punches actually went through the steel. The entire bridge looked in shock as a half decayed and jaundiced arm of an Elite stuck through the hole. The arm, completely stripped of skin and with pieces of shattered bone sticking out of it, started clawing aimlessly into the air. Meanwhile the battering of the door itself went on without cease.
Sergeant LaMarque quickly rose up from cover, stepped sideways towards the arm, and shot it clean off with her shotgun. Whatever had owned the arm gave a shrill shriek and retreated. The hole in the door was now unoccupied, giving the Sergeant the opportunity to arm a grenade and toss it into the fray on the other side. "Frag out! Take cover!" LaMarque instinctively said, although the door was cover enough.
The explosion made the door buckle even more. The Flood on the other side were turned to sludge, some of which actually came through the hole and was sprayed into the Sergeant's face. "Ah, gross! Someone hand me a tissue, please!"
"Are you shit-busted, Sergeant? Get away from the door now!" Steven screamed.
"What's your worry, Commander? They can't regroup that f..."
Suddenly the hatch burst open by the force of dozens of Flood beings ramming it like a freight train. Sergeant LaMarque, who stood nailed to the floor, was torn to shreds in an instant by the living meat grinders pouring onto the bridge.
Then, for one moment the Flood halted while the defenders held their breath and forgot to do anything, struck in awe by the creatures standing mere feet in front of them. Steven was the first to snap out of it, standing up and shooting the first Flood-Elite with his carbine in the chest, straight into the burrowing critter. The parasite exploded, and the host fell flat on his back. The other Marines and Elites took example, and opened up with everything they had.
What ensued was food for years of nightmares to come. At first the pack of Flood standing on the bridge was annihilated within a second by the devastating barrage of carbine and shotgun fire. At such close range the eight gauge was especially effective, as it didn't even matter anymore where someone pointed it.
But in their agitated conditions the Marines had made a crucial error. By firing all at once they also ran out of all at once. The Flood made full use of the time it took for the soldiers to reload their weapons, and swarmed onto the bridge again. The Marines and the Elites barely managed to hold their positions, but the left side of the bridge, which was defended by Navy-men, was overrun. From their central position Steven and his XO saw how their last remaining crewmembers were mauled beyond recognition.
But there was no time to grief their fallen comrades. The Flood now had a firm foothold on the bridge, and were now massing to take the other half as well.
When the line of the Marines was about to fail, Osso and Enno stepped forward and threw down their carbines. Both then ignited two plasma swords, one in each hand. The first Flood being to approach them was quickly sliced to chunks. The second went down even faster as Osso's swords cut through the creature's chest. Both Elite's now charged the mass of angry Flood hosts and cut through them like lawnmowers turned on their sides.
By now the Marines had stopped firing and just watched in amazement as the Elite Officers swirled through the enemy, almost waltzing them to death. The moment the last Flood monster was struck down, an eerie silence fell over the bridge. This rest was suddenly interrupted by the intercom coming alive, filling the bridge with loud static and something that sounded like a panting buffalo. Christine rushed over to se who it could possibly be. Once she activated the video uplink connected to the audio she gave a gasp of terror and disgust.
Steven moved over to look at the screen. The image was appalling and yet familiar. A Flood infected human stared right into the camera, his face drooping and oozing puss out of his eyes, ears, nose, and dozens of tiny cracks all over his visage. The thing that had once been a man had a dollar shaped hole in its cheek, through which its teeth could clearly be seen. In spite of all the disease and damage, Steven had no trouble recognizing Captain Marcus deVries, his former friend and bunkmate.
"Marcus, is...is that you?" the Commander stammered.
"Once perhaps. But the day I turned into this vessel of decay was the day Marcus died," the infectee gargled in a low raspy voice. "Seeing you alive I can only conclude my fellow sufferers have not obliterated you, my dear Commander."
"Did you send them?" Steven asked.
"In a matter of speaking. But don't think less of me. They wouldn't have harmed you."
"Why not?"
"My master wouldn't allow it. He needs you."
"By 'master' do you mean the Stewart, Maylen?"
"The Forerunners have never been able to control us. Otherwise this ring wasn't even necessary. No, my master, like Maylen, also lives on the ring, but not for anyone to see. Yet, he is ever present in my thoughts."
"You can hear him?"
"Like drones in a hive, never having seen evidence of the existence of their queen, except for the fact they are there. He calls to us, directs us, guides us like a siren, pulls us like a gravity."
"What do you want from me?"
"What does he want from you? Your voice. You can unlock the chains on this ship and set it free to our disposal."
"You know I can't do that, Marcus. The reactor is useless, and I wouldn't allow anyone or anything to put their mitts on my ship anyway."
Suddenly Steven could discern an expression on the Captain's face that looked like despair or disappointment. Marcus slowly looked around him, and turned to the camera again. "Then I must ask you a favour. Blow this ship up, and let it take me with it."
"Marcus? You want me to...to kill you, to let you die out here?"
"Either you give the order to self-destruct, or we'll send in every Flood soldier on this ship. And let me assure you; the attack you just repelled was just a taste of what will come. Do it quick. My moments of clarity are short-lived, and if my master finds out what I'm asking, he will torture me in ways you can't imagine."
"But Marcus, if you can suppress it, maybe you can escape. Maybe a doctor can help you."
"Don't be a fool, Steven. Look at me, encased in this rotting piece of meat. Look past the decaying flesh, look through the soft gelatine of these dull cow eyes and see your enemy. I am beyond redemption."
Steven realised his friend was right. The ship was adrift, captured, powerless, in short lost and useless. The only option left was to abandon it and to blow it up to prevent anyone or anything to use it ever again. "alright, Marcus. I'll see you on the flip side."
"Thank you, my friend."
Steven cut off the intercom and turned to Christine and Enno. Christine was uneasily shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Were you serious, Commander? Are we really going to leave the Dutchman behind?"
"That's right, Lieutenant. Now get one of the portable memory-cores out of the wall there and get it ready to download Pellerin onto it. We're going to need him."
"But Commander, how are we going to get home? We need a ship to get through the nebula again. I say we try to take over the ship again and get it running."
Steven sighed. "At what cost, Lieutenant? There are dozens more Flood being on this ship, all dying to see us dying as well. Even if by some miracle we did take over the ship again, how are we going to fix it? I don't have reactor shields coming out of my ass, you know?" Whatever patience Steven had left was now completely gone. By now he was screaming at his XO: "And what about the forerunners? Do you think they are just going to sit down with their thumbs up their butt while we repair this useless hunk of junk? Now I'm giving you a direct order to get Pellerin on that memory-core. Get moving!"
Christine's lower lip was trembling as she turned around and started to make the AI ready for transfer. For a moment Steven felt sorry for snapping at his first officer, but then shook it off and went to business. "Pellerin, I know the shields are locked, but can you still let the reactor go critical?"
"Affirmative, Commander. I can't regulate the power to the shields, but I can still cut it off all at once."
"Good. Then initiate the self-destruct. Give us half an hour to get to the Pelican and out of harms way."
"Acknowledged, but I should remind you once I'm out of the central computer I have no control over the system anymore. I won't be able to shut down the sequence."
"I understand. Get yourself ready." Steven switched on the radio on his headset again. "Petrel four, what's your status, over?"
Just like when he had tried to contact the Flying Dutchman from the surface, there was no answer to his attempts to get Lieutenant Bantini on the line. Steven immediately turned back to the holographic console. "Pellerin, are you still in there?"
"Yes, Commander, but I'm a little busy."
"Do you still have access to internal sensors? Can you see what has happened to Petrel four?"
"I do, and I can, sir. I'm sending a video feed to the main monitor now."
The biggest screen on the bridge came to live and showed just what Steven had feared: the hallway leading up to docking hatch A-five was completely filled with Flood. Most of them were standing still, but some of them were moving in and out of the Pelican. One of them was clearly wearing the Lieutenant's uniform with the Petrel patch on one of its shoulders.
"So much for our escape route. Pellerin, do you have any other idea how to get off the Dutchman?"
The AI didn't answer.
"Pellerin?"
"I'm sorry, Commander," Christene answered, "but I just finished the download of Pellerin to the portable memory core."
"Damn it, I don't think we can reach the Pelican in time with all those monsters in the way. We need to abort the self destruct. Can you upload the AI back into the central computer again in time?"
"That will take me forty minutes at least. Uploading is a much more delicate procedure, Commander."
"But...but that means we're stuck here until the ship blows!"
Not necessarily, Commander." Major Morris interrupted. "We still have the ODST drop-pods, sir."
"The drop-pods? We have never even used those on this ship."
"There's a first time for everything, sir. And by the way, I just checked, and the hallway leading up to Hell's waiting room is completely free."
"Okay then. Everyone, get your asses moving. Get behind the Major and don't stop for anything less than a bulkhead."
True to Frank's word, the entire path from the bridge to the drop-pods was free of parasite. Steven immediately began to work on the main console controlling the launch and the trajectory of the capsules. "Everyone go into the pods. I'll initiate the countdown and set a location on Halo. After touching down, everybody rally back to my position."
The Marines quickly acknowledged his orders, stepped into the HEV's, and began to strap themselves down for what was undoubtedly going to be a very rough ride.
For the Elites this was not so self-evident. Their cruisers housed a somewhat similar method of transporting troops to the surface of a planet, but those pods were designed on an Elite's dimensions. These pods weren't, which gave rise to interesting scenes of nervous aliens trying to fit into the cabins by pulling their knees to their chest and tugging their chins down. "By the Prophets, this feels like being in the womb of a Grunt-mother!" Osso complained.
"Don't be such a pussy, Field Commander." Steven said while he helped to strap him in. "This is the most comfortable this trip is going to get."
"What do you mean, human?"
"Oh, just that the pod might burn up in re-entry, the chutes might fail to open, or the pod might crumble like a tin can on impact."
"WHAT? Wait, let me go. I want to get..."
Before the Elite could undo his belts, Steven shut his hatch and sealed it tight. Suddenly the floor beneath him shuddered. It could only mean one thing: the self-destruct sequence had begun. The effect wasn't immediate; it would still take a couple of minutes for the reactor to go Chernobyl. Steven hurried to the console, activated the final countdown and stepped into the pod nearest to the console.
Once he was set, his hatch sealed automatically, and the pods began to launch. The HEV's shot down the exit tube like bullets through a gun barrel. Once free of the frigate, the onboard flight computer oriented the pod towards the ring, giving Steven a perfect view on his ship in his viewscreen. Steven realised only now his beloved frigate with its Flood-crew truly lived up to her name: the Flying Dutchman; the ghost ship manned by the cursed undead.
Flames of burning reactor plasma started to show along the seams and hatches along the hull. Steven's heart broke as he watched his vessel, his home being consumed by the fire. In an instant the fire was sucked back through all the holes and cracks, and the entire ship exploded into a fireball many times brighter than the hottest sun. Steven averted his eyes from the explosion, which was futile since the flash instantly fried the camera pointed towards the blast.
Steven exhaled, and tried to calm himself, until he realised with a shock that reactor explosions usually spawned tremendous shockwaves. The pods had launched themselves with the highest possible exit velocity to give them as much distance from the Dutchman as possible, but Steven doubted whether it was enough. Bracing himself, he waited for what was to come.
When the already dispersed shockwave hit the pods, it flung them around like leaves on the wind. One unlucky HEV caught the wave straight on its side and was torn to shreds. The others managed to survive, but their computers controlling their trajectory had a hell of a time straightening them out again, using up most of the fuel for their thrusters. With most of that fuel gone, the balance with their re-entry in it began to tip in a perilous direction.
Steven's pod had survived the shockwave almost unscathed, giving Steven the opportunity to try and contact his team. But even before he could get the pod's radio online, the computer gave the signal he was only moments away from re-entry. The ODST's had never liked the standard signal, and always reprogrammed the computer to play an ancient Flip-song. The Helljumpers claimed the music cooled their nerves. Steven didn't share their preference, and only began to sweat even more while the speakers were blasting the following song:
Falling through the sky
And I have lost all track of time
Every image of my life
Flashes before my eyes
Knowing the precise time of my own demise
My saved prayers of circumstance have recently expired
I pray in spite
For my soul
For my life
Straining every muscle for my contact with faith
I could never dream my life would end this way
Cross my heart and hope to die
Fade to the black
Brace myself, the time is now
The moment of impact
I pray in spite
For my soul
For my life
My cries won't hide
My strains inside
My fears of impending doom that I'm about to die
Brace for
The shock
The trauma
Brace myself for the impact
The drop-pod shuddered and began to heat up as it hit the outer layers of the atmosphere. Steven took heed to the final lyrics, and braced himself for what was to come.
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