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Reality/Control
Posted By: kerrhalla<pmm0024@unt.edu>
Date: 8 July 2005, 3:28 pm
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The commander was growing tired of war, searching every space in the galaxy for artifacts, enemies, and things he didn't understand. After many years as an Elite Guard, the floor was ripped from beneath him. He was confused as ever and intent on following the leader until he got a solitary ship.
"The Councel Is expected to deliver the address tomorrow. Have we sufficient information for our journey, Taardran?"
Taardran had delved deep for weeks, picking out every peice of stray code only to find a few small important peices of information. But nothing that would reinforce an independence bid. There would be war, and everyone knew it. The information was far too unbelievable. Even Taardran had trouble swallowing the fact that the relationship between the covenant, the humans, the forunner, and the Demon predated all of the annals and writings ever recorded. There are indeed many other secrets and functions on these rings.
"It hasn't been easy, but I have found the Ark coordinate," Taardran spoke. "The descriptions of it are incredible, Commander. Cryptic, but amazing."
"Very well, assemble your men and give Cortana some roaming room. She has proven, after all, to be very cooperative." The old commander walked slowly through the rusting coridors. He hesitated and looked back at Taardran. "I would have never thought we would be delivering the 'banner of peace' to these humans. And I'm sure they'll be waiting with open arms.."
Taardran had noticed some time ago that the commander no longer walked with his head high. Song since gone was his sense of honor, great battles seemed to be fading as nothing but trickery and illusion filled thier place. It was rumored that the Commander had fought the Demon hand to hand when the humans invaded a reconosance ship. The Demon survived unfortunately, and the crew isolated itself to a tear-pod, leaving the ship in orbit. He commanded so much respect without saying a word, yet now was simply tired.
"They need all the help they can get, Commander," Cortanas voice pulsed and skipped.
"Sure they do. Deliver the datafiles to the Councel, Taardran. There are many elites who wish to quell this change of guard, to pick up the peices and beg thier way back into their old positions. We must convince them that such a betrayal can not be overlooked, especially in light of these new findings." The Commander quickened his pace and left the chamber.
"The Eve of Change, The Eve of the blindfold being removed from your eyes. This is the Eve of you returning to your far, far former masters.. The people you've fought for years. Strange, Taardran?" Cortana was looking faint and corrupted, flickering around the electronic podium.
"Very strange indeed," Taardran responded. "It was much easier before we found these rings, when it was just beliefs and a way of life driving us. Nothing concrete, nothing real. Only training, the Great Journey, and the Tablets mattered. But i supposed things change faster than we could ever keep up with."
"I've always wondered. Do Elites have families? Are there children, mothers, any sort of sentamentality?" Cortana seemed for quisitive than usual.
He paused. His race did know love. It did have families and society. Families are required to have 3 offspring if any, and keep only one male. The excess are taken from birth to train their entire lives. "I'd say it's much easier to take children away from thier mothers or take fathers from thier families when you have no grasp on the subject."
"So.. No?"
Taardran stood up, "Aren't I the one probing you, no more questions." He started pacing around the interrogation chamber, noticing the deterioration of the ship, the exposure of the wires, rust overcoming the once pristine covenant ship. Thoughts started to trouble him. They began to eat at him like an infection. There are a great many who still believe in the great journey, yet feel they've only been excluded, his findings would seem like heresy, like the seperatists they'd destroyed on Halo. What was his proof.. a human construct? The air was very heavy indeed.
The Elites would be truly free the next day, to do what they'd lost focus on for many millenia, or whatever they wanted really. A warrior race may not survive on its own, just as mmany years before, a slave race couldn't. Taardran was afraid. Knowing as much as he did, he'd have to lead. He'd have to interact with many people that the Covenant had long since burned bridges from. An Elite in politics. Stomach churning.
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