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Swords of Deception
Posted By: Jahan<jahanandish_sam@hotmail.com>
Date: 4 January 2003, 6:03 am
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The golden clad Elite stared through the viewport, admiring the silent backdrop of darkness, spotted by luminous, extrinsic lights throughout its entirety. Slowly the Elite swiveled around and faced the fidgeting messenger, a simple officer of Elite origins. The latter was wearing simple blue combat armor and was quite intimated by the former, whose legacy was everlasting.
"Sir, message from your uncle, Cyrus the Great, has arrived via transcomm from our battlenet. Its heavily encrypted and is of "Your Eyes Only" sealing." Reported the Elite stoically. It handed over the small data-chip to the higher-ranking Elite.
The golden clad Elite responded with a clipped, refined accent. "So it seems, and this was sent from Lord Cyrus II himself?" inquired the Warlord.
"Yes, directly from the primary fleet, direct from the Judicial Blade herself." Answered the blue-armored Elite.
"How adamantine a task indeed...Perhaps if Cyrus continues upon this path he will become the Grand Praetor again for the third term." Said the Warlord, gracefully sitting down upon his command chair.
"Sir, if otherwise I must return to my post..." replied the Elite to his commander. The former simply nodded his head and the latter exited the room back to his post. His friends quickly flew data-chip into the disk slot of his aberrant datapad, built directly into his richly oriented desk.
128,000 bits of data per millisecond flew throughout the virtual streams of information as lifeblood of the datapad while it hummed to life. Swiftly the Warlord sorted through the devilishly crafted firewalls and passports of identification and gained access to the information.
"So it has begun..." trailed off the Warlord. Just as he finished reading through the document a warning klaxon sounded. Its ringing sirens echoed throughout the ship as Covenant troops bustled throughout it.
"Beta and Delta squads, report to Gamma docking bay, repeat report to Gamma bay." Echoed a communication Elite over the inner-transcomm system in the unified Covenant language.
Hundreds of yellow and orange armored grunts as well as several dozen Elites and Jackals and some sparse groups of Hunters lined perfectly in the docking bay. A silver-clad Elite swiftly threw his hand over a holopad and the magnetic shielding of the bay was released. The cold hand of space quickly snatched away most the strike force and the few that remained were finished off with swift blast of plasma. Bodies deftly drifted through the ocean of space as several warships hurled themselves from slipstream.
***
Outside the Vigorous and her fleet, a dozen crimson-colored warships of similar analog dropped a few hundred thousand kilometers from them. They were of the same design as Warlord's fleet but their transcomm signal registered them as the Consul.
But the Consul fleet didn't open fire upon the entire fleet merely a single cruiser analog known only as the Height of Power. Hundreds of plasma bolts collided into the warship's shields and they only managed to hold back the first volley before collapsing after the second wave of blasts. Internal fires and exploding of debris from her aft and midship bows ravished her.
In a colossal display of light and fire the Height of Power exploded exalted. Bodies were strewed within the vacuum of space and black-blue blood drifted like molasses. The rest of the Covenant fleet under the Warlord's orders jettisoned remaining loyal troops and officers of the Covenant.
Aboard the Vigorous herself, a command shuttle left with two Seraph escorts. The shuttle gracefully landed into the docking bay of the Consul warship, Rights of Injunction. Several Consuls aligned Elites in their armors stood ready for the Warlord. The Elites kneeled before the shuttle as its ramp slide downward onto the metallic plating of the bay. The Warlord, in his golden-clad armor with redlining on its shoulder and helmet crest greeted the guards. Two other black armored Elites followed behind the Warlord, eyeing anything for signs of trouble.
A violet armored-clad Elite with redlining approached the Warlord as he and his throng of guards continued down the middle of the bay; both sides lined with hundreds of Elites and support staff.
"Ah, Darius. Welcome back old friend, how are you?" inquired the violet clad Elite.
"Fine Zarusthara, I haven't seen you since the training of Dal Veln IV" answered back the slightly younger and shorter Elite.
"What has it been...Only one year since we've graduated from Dal Veln's academy" replied Zarusthara.
An aide of Zarusthara, a silver-armored Elite by the name of Selijuk whispered something into the former ear. With a simple gesture, the entire battalion of crimson armored Elites descended into the lower decks of the Rights of Injunction.
Turning his attention back to his old friend the two Elites talked for a very long time. Darius and his bodyguards finally retired to their respected rooms for the night. Zarusthara sobbed silently, he did this for the people of I'lite not for the Covenant.
Darius succumb to his bed quietly, dreams of possibilities. While Zarusthara, himself was dealing with quite the opposite within his slumber. Both knew the treachery that would play their old friendship against each other.
***
Drifting through the vastness of deep space was a lone UNSC Longsword fighter with only two occupants. A Mark IV Spartan named John 117 and a smart AI known as Cortana.
The Master Chief was currently frozen with the cyrotube of the Longsword. Cryogenics were long since proven to work by Dr. Philins of Sol Core research and development for the betterment of mankind in 2457.
Cortana currently was stationed within the memory/data slot of within the command board. Thousands upon thousands of data and information constantly swept throughout fighter's onboard computer. And Cortana maintained a constant vigil for any signs of trouble since the incidence...and such had arrived.
The first fleet, a Covenant assault and strike force arrived a week earlier and were busily looking and searching through the wreckage. Looking for what only God, or in their case, Gods would know.
The second fleet arrived a few moments ago, immediately opening fire on a cruiser by the name of Power of Might.
Over two dozen cruisers and frigate firepower drained the mighty cruiser of her cuirass shielding. The next volley of molten light and plasma blasted hundreds of meters of azure colored armor into liquid slag and metal. Fiery sparks of electricity overlapped the cruiser in her death spasms. Internal flames and explosions rocketed throughout the ship like a gutted fish in her death throes.
Finally, she imploded with such a degree of force that the sheer magnitude could've ripped through any of the nearby ships had they been closer to its proximity. And as strange as that would have been, the battle was already over.
Countless bodies were strewed in space, though Cortana had no idea, those who were sent from the Covenant fleet that were still loyal to the fanatical prophets.
And as the bodies of frozen and decompressed floated in the icy chills of space, a single shuttle left the safety of a Covenant command ship christened as Vigorous toward the other fleet.
"This is defiantly something to wake up for Chief" murmured Cortana as she virtually manipulated the cyrotube offline and the defrosting process was ushered into the confused soldier.
"What is it?" asked John 117 of the UNSC world of Reach as he spoke to Cortana, still a bit blearily from the cyrotube ordeal.
"Take a look at the sensor logs yourself. You'll see that they speak for themselves...Chief" quipped Cortana giddily.
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