A Spartan Named James- Part 4
Posted By: ZePHyR wRaiTH<email@example.com>
Date: 31 October 2003, 4:55 AM
Sorry for the screw up in the title of Part 3,if you need an excuse, go to the comments page of that section. If you need to find it, look for- A Spartan Names James
1001 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar) /
Epsilon Eridani System, Covenant Frigate above
Reach Naval Yard
James was screwed. He knew it, the Elite knew it, and nothing could change his fate.
But instead of coldly accept his demise like any normal person would, James rejected it. The armored warrior knew that he was not destined to die here, not above the skies of his adoptive home, and not without a fight, even to the death at the hands of a savage alien. Yes, he would fight, but not for him, not for Reach. He would fight only for his first planet, the sprawling metropolis, the mix of city and ecology, the domain of human architectural marvel and natural wonders- wonders spanning the ages from Ancient Sumeria to the time of the first United Nations.
He would fight for Earth, and no alien monstrosity would keep him from his goal.
James lowered him dry rifle and knelt to the ground, gathering his courage as he slid his combat knife from the sheath on his shoulder and let the gathering adrenaline flow from his enhanced lymph nodes to course through him. He was filled with a great calm and knew with a certainty that had not been there before that he would be killed by this Elite.
A second earsplitting cry filled the cavernous interior of the bridge. James pivoted his head up just in time to see the glowing sword of the seemingly intangible abomination leap from the control platform and crash to the metal floor with the force of a Heavy MAC round. As the corrugated floor cracked the Elite's Active Camouflage shimmered and died. The impact with the ground had jarred it loose from the interface in the back of his armor.
Almost before he landed James pushed off of the ground with all of the strength he could coax out of his enhanced quad, and calf muscles. James soared over the head of the creature, an olive green blur, and as the creature swiveled its head around in confusion James was already stealthily stripping a reserve plasma sword from the transparent wall of the Control Station.
James held the gel like purple handle in his hand, and with a soft squeeze sent tendrils of light flaring around his left hand; securing the deadly blue flame to his wrist. With his combat knife held in his mechanical hand and the sword sticking out into space like a continuation of himself, he was ready for battle.
"Hey ugly, are you ready for this shit?" He cried. His stone cold exterior finally cracked as he looked at the freak below him, "Because I'm sure as hell ready for you."
And with that, James charged the unsuspecting alien before it could even turn around. It looked to James like a sure kill, but just as he prepared to plunge his steel knife up to the hilt into the animal's skull the Elite ducked and sidestepped away from him. The armored soldier spun in less than a heartbeat and blocked a potentially lethal strike from his enemy.
"You want to play dirty? Then lets get ready for some pain bitch!" shrieked James.
The gargantuan Elite was beginning to feel the inklings of fear wrap their icy tendrils around his heart as he stared at the faceless screaming alien. NO matter what he did, the primate would always be one step ahead of him. He swung a vicious blow at the head of the human, but missed as the man rolled out from under him. When the human stopped in a crouch he lashed out at the Elite's legs, the Elite caught the movement out of the corner of his eye and jumped into the air in the nick of time, pulling his legs up with him. He swung his light sword right and left, vertically and horizontally, but to no avail. Though he was one of the most respected members of his caste due to his skill with the sword, his honor could by no means win out against pure tenacity coupled with the lust for blood that had possessed the Spartan.
The Elite threw one last blow at James, but couldn't keep his balance and stumbled. That was all the opening James required, he swung his sword and knife simultaneously, jabbing seven inches of steel into the Elite's faceplate as he plunged his five foot blade of fire into the chest of his opponent. The Elite made a pitiful gurgling noise as he slumped to the floor, twitching uncontrollably in violent spasms.
James looked down over his fallen foe and unclenched his hand. The tendrils of azure fire disappeared almost instantly, and as his visor brightened to compensate for the shift in light he felt the thrill of triumph. He rejoiced over the body of the shark-like creature he had slain, searching his mind for the perfect snappy one liner to whisper as a disrespectful eulogy for his adversary. He was answered with one that he had heard during training on Reach years earlier, on one of the few instances Chief Mendez had let the recruits listen to music.
James smiled and said, "Hell yeah bitch, now go make me a sandwich."
* * * * * * *
Twenty minutes later, James had hacked into the Covenant battle net and reconfigured the Covenant flight controls to his personal taste. After locking and sealing all doors and blast doors leading into the bridge, James opened all of the other doors in the ship and, with a sadistic grin locked firmly in place vented all oxygen out of the ship. Even though the Grunts left on the ship carried their own Methane rigs he had even planned their deaths for them as well. James would leave the Grunts to their own devices as the ship vented oxygen, but soon after that, he would depressurize the entire floating hulk. This would leave all of the Grunts to die a horribly painful and extremely messy death.
As James prepared to send a message out to the remaining fragments of the fleet, a small piece of data caught his eye. As though placed there by a higher being, a single word shone out at him from a computer screen. In perfect English a word hung on the monitor-
"It looks like my mission ended before it even began," James muttered as he frantically typed commands into the ship's database, again tapping into the map system. Where is the ship's Prophet, he thought. Just as before, a small glowing light representing him shone out of the hologram, then a second one flashed about halfway through the ship in a small room, James guessed it was the Prophet's living quarters.
"You're mine," he whispered quietly, remembering the other Spartans who were meant to help him complete his task. Brothers and sisters he had grown up with who were probably all dead now. "You're mine," he repeated, even quieter than before.
James sealed the Prophet's cabin and contacted FleetCOM over the Covenant transmissions network. He was answered almost immediately by Admiral Stanforth's Chief Aide.
"This is a priority Alpha channel, please respect the significance of the COM channel code names and sign off unless this is an emergency."
James ignored the informal order and replied, "This is Spartan James-003 reporting in to Admiral Stanforth, I have taken a Covenant Flagship hostage and may have captured a Prophet in the process, request Slipstream coordinates directing me to a safe harbor to deliver the cargo."
After a short pause Admiral Stanforth spoke, "It's good to hear your voice Spartan, we are all amazed at your great feat you have accomplished, but before you leave would you mind helping us cover the escape of the other ships?"
"Escape? Sir, I...I don't understand?"
"All ships have been ordered to proceed with out system jumps." At saying this Stanforth sighed. "Reach has fallen, son."
"Acknowledged, Sir. Proceeding out system once all other forces have evacuated the area, Spartan James-003 over and out."
James sighed and went to begin the sequencing and launch coordinates of the ship's plasma torpedoes when his eyes raked over something odd.
On the map of the ship, the dot of light representing the Prophet was no longer sitting in its sealed quarters. It was standing right behind him.