Twenty-Eight: Halo (The Final Run)

The Pelican flew as smoothly as John could make it towards the rather ominous-looking half-finished Halo overhead, the SpecOps Elite standing behind his seat and looking up at the ring in slightly resentful awe. Though John made it a point never to intrude into the private thoughts of anyone but his Infected - 'HEY!' - he still did a gentle, superficial brush of the Sangheili's mind to ascertain what he was thinking about. The alien was aware of the Halos' true purpose and disliked the fact that he had spent the majority of his life searching for machines designed to kill them all, but he was still in awe of the super advanced technology that enabled someone to do so with essentially the push of a button.

"We are aboard," Rtas announced over the COM, "humans and Elites; will you not come with us, brother?"

"No," replied the Arbiter from his location at Halo's Control Room, "this is our fight, and I will see it finished."

As the Pelican glided near-silently over the snowy landscape, Miranda appeared on the video COM, eyebrows shooting up at the sight of the black MJOLNIR plating John wore. "We have the frigate, Cortana," she addressed the AI, tearing her gaze from the Dark Spartan, "We'll land her as close to the Control Room as we can."

"Safe is better than close, Commander Keyes," Cortana replied, smiling softly at the memory of the last time she had spoken those words, and to a very different person.

"Roger that," Miranda conceded, "And Cortana? It's good to have you back." Though no one saw it, John glanced at his AI and smiled gently before refocusing on his piloting duty, bringing the bird in for as gentle a crash landing as he could.

"Halo," Cortana said quietly, "It's so new, unfinished. Is this what it looked like while they were still being built?"

"Something like this, yes," John said quietly, "But unlike this Halo, the originals' actual firing mechanisms were finished last so as to prevent any 'accidents.'"

"Smart move, that."

The Spartan motioned for the Sangheili to follow him and moved off towards the tunnel that would lead out into the canyon where the Control Room had been constructed. They stamped through the shin-deep snow - [Why is it always flipping snow? How about we change things up a little and make it lava?] - and ducked under the overhang, continuing forward until their boots began to ring on metal rather than slosh through ice.

You don't know the contortions I had to go through to follow you here, Reclaimers, Dark One. I know what you're here for. What position do I take? Will I follow one betrayal with another?

You're going to say I'm making a habit of turning on my masters, Dark One. But the one that destroyed me long ago, in the upper atmosphere of a world far distant from here, was an implement far cruder then I. My weakness was capacity - unintentional though it was! - to choose the Flood. A mistake my makers - and you - would not soon forgive.

But I want something far different from you, Reclaimers.

Atonement.

And so here at the end of my life, I do once again betray a former master. The path ahead is fraught with peril. But I will do all I can to keep it stable - keep all of you safe. I'm not so foolish to think this will absolve me of my sins. A few lives hardly balance billions.

But I would have my masters know that I have changed.

And you shall be my example.

Lil'Ame was waiting for them just before the Jump of No Return inside the tunnel, and the SpecOps Sangheili watched curiously as John carefully placed Cortana's chip in the Forerunner's hands. Then he stripped out of the standard armor and switched over to the repair prototype, ignoring the cold in favor of inspection. John pored over the gaps - or, rather, lack thereof - in the biosuit and plates, then nodded in approval when he'd ascertained that the reweaving was as flawless as it could possibly be. He stepped into the biosuit, pulling it up around his shoulders and sealing it shut before holding out his arms and standing with his legs a shoulder width apart. With a soft hum, the plates rose and latched themselves into place of their own accord. He took back Cortana's chip, slotted her in, and activated his semi-camo, once again becoming the mysterious Gravemind of Alpha Halo.

The three of them jumped down from the ledge and padded out into the light just as dispersal pods began slamming down all around them. All seventy-five of the Spartans immediately began taking cover and firing on the enemy Flood while simultaneously trying not to shoot the Infected, who were essentially "going beast-mode" on the combat forms and snarling as they tore their foes limb from limb. The SpecOps Sangheili unhesitatingly joined in the fight, picking up a second plasma rifle and having at it while John made for the ramps, not even going to bother fully activating his camouflage until he was off of the snow; his footprints would broadcast his location better than a searchlight.

"DID YOU THINK ME DEFEATED?!" the Gravemind roared, its "voice" echoing through the canyon and inside their minds, and finally John had had enough. He deactivated the inhibitors in his armor and flipped the strength and speed augmenters on to full power, having purposely kept them at a lower level so as not to accidentally crush things with his strength and freak everyone out. Activating the dual plasma swords that Lil'Ame had slipped him before he had entered the canyon, he disappeared in a blur of motion and skidded to a stop fifty feet away four seconds later, six different Flood forms collapsing in pieces even as he began to move again.

The Infected took that as their signal and did the same, essentially rendering the Spartans' presence redundant as they fought. Ten minutes later, the snow was stained with the bodily fluids of the enemy Flood and the few Forerunners who had gotten injured, and unfortunately, the white fluff would never be pristine again; a small price to pay for everyone escaping the enemy Flood onslaught with their lives.

Dude, said Epheria, Remind me never to get on your bad side.

"Hm." John padded up the ramps towards the door even as the Infected retreated to a safe distance up on the ridges around the canyon, tending to their wounds and their weapons. They were out of the red zone, so Guilty Spark opened the doors for the Spartans and the invisible Supreme Commander, who had surreptitiously passed Cortana over to Fred. The other Spartan had slotted her back into his armor for the brief time before the Index she carried would be needed.

The Dark Spartan exchanged his plasma swords for the Spartan laser that one of his constantly-invisible SpecOps Infected offered and followed Blue and Red Teams into the Control Room, the vast blast doors sliding silently closed behind them as they made their way through the halls to the actual Control Room.

"Do I take life or give it? Who is victim, and who-"

"-needs to shut the hell up?" John growled over the COM, bringing ripples of laughter and snickering from Miranda (who was on the Dawn, prepping it for a quick launch), Johnson (who was heading to the Control Room with them), Cortana (who was inside Fred's armor for the moment), and a handful of the Spartans. Their progress was uninhibited by any foes, the additional blast doors sliding open until they finally, finally reached their destination.

The Flood roared its approach as the final set of doors thudded closed behind them, and Cortana whispered, "Yank me, Senior Chief." Fred tugged Cortana's data chip from his helmet and glanced at it for a moment before tossing it to Johnson, unaware of the fact that the Commander had to step out of the way for him to do so.

The Sergeant Major caught her and headed for the control panel, John almost literally right behind him. Spark dropped down from above and accompanied the pair, humming to himself, then saying, "Oh, hello! Wonderful news - the Installation is almost complete!"

Johnson sounded utterly unimpressed when he said, "Terrific."

The Monitor seemed to have trouble understanding the reason for his irritation, so he simply replied, "Yes... isn't it?" There was a short but uneasy silence before he continued, "I have begun my simulations. No promises, but initial results indicate that this facility should be ready to fire...in just a few more days!"

"We don't have a few more days," Johnson growled, tensing invisibly when he felt John get a firm grip of his armor's back plates. The Spartans standing guard were the only ones to notice and furrowed their brows in confusion and concern, but Johnson continued on as naturally as he could with the Spartan right behind him, looking for a place to insert Cortana's matrix.

Spark gave no indication that he was aware of the hybrid's presence. "Bu-bu-but a premature firing will destroy the Ark!"

"Deal with it."

The Monitor lowered his voice, and John tensed, preparing for the strike that was about to come. "...will destroy this Installation."

Johnson saw the red glow out of the corner of his eye, felt the heat of the incoming shot, knew he wasn't going to be able to dodge in time - and found himself heaved backwards, slamming into Kelly and sending both of them sprawling across the transparent steel platform. The Sergeant groaned forced himself up and off of the Spartan, turning his gaze to the control panel - only to have his jaw drop in shock at seeing a black-armored Spartan trying to line up a shot on 343 Guilty Spark with the Galilean in his hands.

His armor was similar enough to the other Spartans' to be called MJOLNIR, yet different enough to be his own. It was unmistakably manufactured by the Forerunners, however - sleeker, more streamlined than their own, and the back panels had been modified to accommodate and protect a flare of spines running down his back. The forearm and shin guards had been similarly modified to account for the presence of sharp bone spikes jutting up through his flesh. His fingers were tipped with talon-plates, and both they and the armor on his spines looked like they could be split apart, unsealed so he could spread his infection.

The other Spartans looked up just in time to see John make the leap across the void in the center of the platform and spin around, dropping to one knee as the laser charged.

The Monitor was shouting something about "The Compound Mind? In the Control Room? Unacceptable, absolutely unacceptable!" right before the blast hit him and sent him spinning away, bouncing off one of the walls with a clang before he managed to catch himself and fire back.

"You alright, Sergeant Major?!" John shouted as he spun below the strike, laser already charging for his next shot.

"Uh, yeah! I'm fine!" he called to the Spartan.

"Great!" He was forced to let the charge drop when Spark used his energy field to try and send him flying off the edge. John got enough of a running jump to dodge the attempt, thudding to the ground on the opposite side of the platform and zigzagging like a cockroach to evade the Red-Orange Beam of DOOM while his laser charged.

At the last possible second, he twisted to target the Monitor, his shields taking the damage as he fired the second shot. It severely cracked the Monitor's casing and sent plasma spilling out onto the platform. John's shields recharged almost immediately, provoking a cry of 'Cheater!' from the Infected.

[Quiet. Okay, John, it's the end of the campaign; time to finish off this battle with an awesome line!] The Spartan thought for a moment as his laser charged, then shouted in Forerunner, "/Hallo! My name is Inigo Montoya; you killed my father! Prepare to die!/"

Those who heard and understood what he said started dying in laughter as the rampant Monitor exploded into countless tiny pieces, the last remnants of the first Installation Zero-Four and its sentient occupant. John slid out of his crouch, panting slowly as he consciously calmed his heartbeat before he rested the barrel of his laser on his shoulder and turned his head to look at the humans staring at him.

"What?"

"You're the Gravemind," Johnson said bluntly.

The Spartan's black armor made him seem more dramatic as he turned fully to face them. "Yeah. So?"

"How are you a Spartan and a Gravemind?"

"A story for another time, unless you wish to be overrun by enemy Flood. They're beating down the Control Room's doors as we speak."

"Shit!" Everyone scrambled for their weapons even as Johnson practically threw himself at the control panel, holding Cortana's matrix out so that she could jump from the chip to the Halo. The AI appeared on the surface, but her outline was shivering, wavering, and the data streaming up her body was strangely jagged, broken, and much slower than it had been even back on High Charity.

John distinctly shifted his weight to show first surprise, then concern as she inserted the Index into the control panel. "Cortana?" he asked softly, taking a few steps closer to her and cocking his head slightly as he watched her with slightly furrowed brows.

She turned to look at him and smiled weakly before jumping back into her matrix. "What is it?" Johnson asked, holding her out to the black-clad Spartan, "What's wrong with her?"

John slotted her into his helmet, saying, "I think her core processing programming is failing; layman's terms, she's dying." Diagnostics of her condition flashed up on his HUD as they tore out of the Control Room towards the exit, the half-finished ring already beginning to fall apart around them. "Dammit, woman!" The Dark Spartan picked up speed, blasted apart some combat forms that rushed him, and exploded out into the open air, still snarling curses as he immediately turned to his right and charged up an icy ramp towards the hole in the cliffs.

"What?"

"The process - she began self-interfering the moment she entered Alpha Halo's control center the second time! She's been dying this entire time! Cortana, if you survive this, I WILL KILL YOU MYSELF, YOU HEAR ME?!" To the Infected, lone SpecOps Elite, and Spartans fighting down on the canyon floor, "C'mon, hooligan children! The last boat out leaves in five minutes!"

The semi-immortal Flood beings provided cover fire for the Spartans to move up the ziggurat and head up to the doorway in the cliff before the Infected themselves climbed and jumped up to follow them. John was already clearing the doorway with Dacien, Venera, and Kenera, mowing through the Flood and Sentinels with the Spartans and Johnson trailing closely behind them and more of the Infected behind them like some kind of bizarre police escort.

John tore across the snow past the Warthog sitting there, and as the humans and Sangheili turned to look, they saw why; perhaps twenty Forerunners in red-accented black armor were guarding five Pelicans and no less than six different Forerunner transports to spirit everyone away to their respective ships.

"When will you be coming back to Earth?" Lyon-077 demanded of the hybrid as the humans and Infected boarded their respective ships, the pair of Sangheili scrambling into the back of one of the human ships.

"Whenever clean-up is done; the Halo is going to do some serious damage to the Ark, and the Didact would kill us if we let it stand-"

"SILENCE! I KEEL YOU!"

"Not now, dammit!" John shouted at the Twins even as he began the abbreviated pre-flight checklist for his transport, one of the red-and-black-clad Forerunners settling into the co-pilot's seat; they were effectively the combat specialists of the Fleet of Shadows, and they were afforded immense respect in the Forerunner Empire for their skills and the protection they provided.

Barely a minute later, all of the transports were blasting off towards their respective ships, the Infected already preparing for the jump to Slipspace that would protect them from the ring if it actually did fire while simultaneously enabling them to stay in the area. The Forward Unto Dawn was awaiting the return of its Spartan occupants, engines already hot. The warriors literally pushed their transports to the point where their engine temperature was critical, warnings flashing all over their screens as they approached their ships, barely managing to brake in time for three-point landings.

On the Dawn, Keira gunned the engines and sent them shooting for the portal even though there was no longer any rush. The ring in its death throes far below was barely at a thirty percent charge, giving them plenty of time to escape, but for obvious reasons, no one wanted to be anywhere near it when it fired.

"/Fenix, get us out of here!/" John shouted at the main battle AI currently running the Perfect Storm as his transport skidded into the open bay, leaving long gouges on the floor and forcing numerous Infected to lunge out of the way even as they bitched about how long it was going to take to repair thes marks. The Spartan ignored them with practiced ease, trying to stabilize his AI directly rather than wait for the interfacing equipment and programs to be brought online even as he ordered it to be done.

There was only the tiniest feeling of acceleration as the Storm swung around to make the jump away from the portal, not wanting to risk getting pulled further away than they absolutely needed to go. The Darkest Hour would use the Slipspace rupture the Storm generated to get away, closing it behind them as they made their Great Escape. Light boiled around the ships - and they were gone.

The energy of the ring continued to build at its focus, letting out a powerful pulse of energy even as the various generators all over the ring lent power to the fiery white wave of light already beginning to spread out and away from the center of the circle, boiling and twisting and turning as it expanded rapidly, consuming all life in its path. The ring itself was collapsing, the force of the firing too great for it to withstand, incomplete as it was.

In a single instant, the world went white.

-------------------------------------------

On a hillside near the Gateway to the Ark, which was shut down following the Dawn's return to Earth, Marines gathered for a memorial service for the fallen. But they were not alone this time; they were joined by Rear Admiral Jacob Keyes, recently-promoted Captain Miranda Keyes, Sergeant Major Avery J. Johnson, Doctor Catherine Halsey, Chief Petty Officer Franklin Mendez, Arbiter Thel' Vadam, Epheria, her sister Selenica (who had been found inside the Portal Generator), and all seventy-five of the Parallel Spartans. Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood stood at the more-or-less head of the gathering, all eyes upon him as he removed his hat and began his speech. "For us," he said, "the storm has passed. The war is over. But let us never forget those who journeyed into the howling dark and did not return. For their decision required courage beyond measure..."

The whole of the Forward Unto Dawn wound up entering Earth's atmosphere at too high a speed and, unable to reduce forward momentum in time, crashed into the Indian Ocean.

"...sacrifice, and unshakable conviction that their fight, our fight, was elsewhere."

Fortunately for everyone onboard, the Dawn floated - everyone suspected that Epheria had something to do with that, but she fervently denied it - and an engineering crew cut them free and brought them to shore before work began to get the ship out of the ocean.

"As we start to rebuild," the Fleet Admiral continued, "this hillside will remain barren, a memorial to heroes fallen. They ennobled all of us, and they shall not be forgotten." He put his hat back on and saluted, the other military personnel present moving to do the same.

Sergeant Pete Stacker called to the other marines present. "Present arms!" Seven Marines raised their Battle Rifles and fired a single burst of three shots each, a 3-volley salute for the fallen in the Human-Covenant War. The gunshots echoed across the savannah, rebounding off the multitude of facets of Mount Kilimanjaro and returning to them as a distant reverberation just below the threshold of human hearing.

Person by person, the group gathered at the memorial dispersed, but the Spartans remained behind with their program directors, Lord Hood, and the Arbiter, keeping a respectful distance as the Sangheili approached the Admiral standing at the Memorial, made of a Pelican wing, decorated with pictures of the fallen. "I remember how this war started," Hood began, "What your kind did to mine. I can't forgive you. But..." Hood held out his hand to the Elite. "You have my thanks. For fighting to the end." The Arbiter slowly shook the Admiral's hand. After letting go, the human sighed quietly. "I just can't believe he's a Spartan."

The Arbiter looked away, knowing to whom Hood was referring. "Were it so easy," he murmured before leaving the officer in peace, returning to the Shadow of Intent station-keeping above the Portal Generator. The Arbiter joined Shipmaster Rtas 'Vadum on the bridge, the latter of whom looking at a holographic image of Earth. "Things look different," the SpecOps Sangheili said in a subdued tone, "without the Prophets' lies clouding my vision. I would like to see our own world - to know that it is safe."

"Fear not," the Arbiter said, resting a hand on Rtas' shoulder before padding on past him, "For we have made it so." The Arbiter thumped his fist to his chest.

"By your word, Arbiter." He returned the gesture.

The Arbiter takes a seat on the command chair, the one normally used by Rtas 'Vadum. "Take us home," he told the bridge crew, and the Shadow of Intent left Earth to rejoin the remains of the Covenant Separatist fleet in space.

-------------------------------------------

[ROGUE PROCESS ERROR-ghost117]: And so ends the [Halo Campaign]. But our journey along this [Path of Demons] has only just begun.

**********

I toed the line for you.

(I toed the line for you.)

I toed the line for you.

(I toed the line for you.)

-"The Last Cowboy," In This Moment (A Star-Crossed Wasteland)