Hello again dear readers! I apologize for my long haiatus; school has been keeping me very busy, and with all the things that have been going on, I have not been able to find inspiration for my writing. However, recently, inspiration has struck me once more, and so I have produced another chapter in the tale of R'vek Kehrim and company!
And now, we return to our feature presentation...
Innocence paced slowly on board the Jiralhanae ship, scowling. The equipment fitting for Mortis was taking too long; why couldn't the armor-smiths work faster? The hiss of pneumatic tubes sounded from behind him, and Innocence turned to face the door. Finally, he thought, irritated by the ridiculous amount of time it was taking the brutish creatures that served as his army. As Mortis entered the room, a wicked grin spread across Innocence's face; it had been worth the wait. The horrific half-Flood soldier he had created stood before him, clad in black and gold armor, lined with serrated, sweeping ridges along the pauldrons and kneecaps. Heavy gauntlets encased Mortis' fists and forearms, and its fingers ended in razor sharp claws. A sleek helmet closed around his head, with a thin slit for the eyes and face carved into the metal, a retractable visor hidden in the thick skull-plate. A large hole had been blasted in the faceplate over Mortis' empty eye socket, the edges of the metal bent and scorched, giving the face a horrific, terror inspiring appearance. On Mortis' back, a beautiful, terrifying, elegant weapon hung, it's long hilt protruding past his shoulder and its two-bladed head visible from behind him: it was a prototype, a union between the brutal gravity hammer and the deadly edge of a plasma sword. A revival of an ancient weapon not used for millennia, the War Axe was truly awe inspiring. Mortis dropped to his knee from his towering height, lowering his head in respect for the ancient San'Shyuum that was his master. Innocence approached him, nodding slightly, his eyes narrowing; Mortis was the perfect weapon.
"Tell me, Blessed One," said Innocence, invoking the oratory skills he had developed as a priest, "do you know the mission the Forerunners have bestowed upon you?" Mortis looked up at him, his black eyes blank.
"Yes, my lord."
R'vek slammed his back against a large boulder, peering out from his cover into the dense jungle. A soft breeze rustled through the thick underbrush and canopy, casting shifting, mottled shadows across the dirt floor. Large roots crisscrossed across the jungle floor, and the calls of a myriad of birds could be heard from the trees. Tentatively, R'vek stood, and finally, not seeing any danger, signaled the all clear. A number of other Guardians emerged from the brush behind him; three males, one in orange, one in red, and one in black, and one female, her armor a soft rose color. The guardian in orange stepped forward, casually holding his heavy flamethrower in one hand. Hi helmet covered his face, and a pair of tubes ran from the faceplate to a filter mounted on his back. The guardian tapped a button on the side of his helmet, and his faceplate split apart into four separate pieces, withdrawing into his helmet. Chaos stood next to R'vek, glancing about into the jungle, his scarred face twisted into a crooked smile.
"Forerunners, where are they?" he said, almost laughing. "I knew the Jiralhanae to be dishonorable scum, but cowards too?" Chaos lifted his head to the sky, letting out a primal roar. "WHERE ARE YOU?" he shouted, almost laughing as he spoke. The red clad guardian, Order, grabbed Chaos' shoulder, turning him around, and glaring him in the eyes from behind his crimson facemask.
"Quiet, Chaos," said Order in a low, slightly menacing tone. "If they are indeed here, then we need not alert them to our presence." The black armored guardian scoffed.
"Let them come," he said, his deep voice emanating from behind a black, ridged mask carved to look like a skull as he rested his plasma mini-gun against his shoulder. "I hunger for the blood of those who destroyed my home!" Order turned towards him, his expression hidden behind his expressionless mask. The two walked towards each other, pacing, each maintaining a tight grip on his weapon. Suddenly, the female spoke.
"Order, Death, stand down," she said, her tone calm and collected. "We don't need to be killing each other before we even see what we're going up against. Remember; the Jiralhanae aren't the only threat. Remorse fought some sort of creature out here before; he… Remorse?" The rose armored guardian turned towards R'vek. The purple clad Sangheili was staring out at the ruined form of the tower, his fingers dancing on the hilt of his energy sword. Chaos laughed.
"Looks like our new recruit's busy thinking, Passion," he cackled, hoisting his weapon with both hands. "Maybe he knows something we don't?" Passion placed her hand on R'vek's shoulder, taking a combat ready stance next to him, her free hand resting gently on the needler she wore at her waist. R'vek snapped out of his daze, and turned to regard the other guardians.
"… I'm sorry," he said, "I was lost in thought…." Order walked up to him.
"Do you have something to tell us, Remorse?" said the red-clad guardian, his tone crisp and military. R'vek nodded.
"The Jiralhanae set up a base, take prisoners, and when attacked, show no true signs of resistance?" R'vek said, half to himself. "This doesn't make any sense; what's really going on here?"
Innocence sat aboard his flagship, gazing out upon the enormous, distant ring, and the Alliance ships that swarmed about it like hornets in the endless void of space. A small grin creased his blank face; they were so tiny from where he sat, many miles from them; they were so fragile. Innocence reclined in his seat, tapping his fingers together almost casually, yet coldly. He was safe inside the flagship; it was too far for his enemies to see him, and an advanced cloaking device shielded the ship from detection. Even if it was found, it was unlikely that any enemy ships would make it past the massive Jiralhanae armada that sat stationary behind him, deceptively silent in the void of space. To his right stood a monstrous abomination; Mortis.
"Shall I order the attack, Lord Prophet?" spoke the flood-corrupted Jiralhanae, his deep voice tainted by something… else. Innocence smiled.
"You may fire when ready."
R'tas Vadum stared out into open space. Merely a day prior, he had received report from the Grand Arbiter that the tower on the surface had been overtaken and destroyed by a joint effort on the part of the Demon and a single Sangheili warrior; according to the report, the tower had been extremely understaffed; merely a minor outpost. What bothered R'tas was that they hadn't seen any more enemy activity since their attack. The lack of activity unsettled him; strategically it made no sense, and R'tas remembered the Prophets as being smarter than this. Suddenly, one of the Kig-Yar manning a communications console spoke.
"Shipmaster," he said, nervously scanning the screen, "I'm picking up an unknown signature headed this way". The Kig-Yar hesitated, rechecking his instruments. "It's huge; I don't know how we missed it at first. It's… it's the size of a dreadnaught." R'tas stood from his seat, jumping down to the place where the Kig-Yar officer was entering information frantically into the console. The shipmaster crouched over the small alien's shoulder, peering intently into the screen. Suddenly, realization hit him. R'tas jumped up onto the center aisle that ran down the bridge, shouting.
"Battle stations! To your posts!" barked the veteran shipmaster as the bridge came alive with activity and shouted commands, the control crew recalibrating the shields, thrusters, and weapons for the threat of assault, and Sangheili minors took their places at the numerous turrets that lined the ship. Radio chatter echoed from all speakers as across the ship, hundreds of soldiers prepared for battle.
"Sir!" shouted the Kig-Yar officer, "Multiple signatures detected! They're numbering in the hundreds!"
"Alert the fleet!" R'tas Vadum picked up the comm. link. "ALL SHIPS PREPARE FOR ASSAULT!" R'tas moved towards the starboard viewport, gazing out into the void. "Why don't we have visual, yet?" he muttered under his breath. Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the ship, flinging R'tas ten feet across the floor and killing several lower officers. Coughing and clutching his side, R'tas stood, looking out the window, his mandibles spread in a pant, and his eyes widened. A massive forerunner vessel was approaching from the void of space, and behind it, hundreds of Jiralhanae ships dropped their cloaking and followed in perfect formation. From the massive vessels spewed thousands of fighters, and the huge armada fell upon the Alliance fleet without mercy.
Zek stared up at the night sky, his arms crossed behind his head. Billions of stars twinkled in the distance, countless worlds, countless beings scattered across the universe. He reached out, his single gloved hand blotting out dozens of stars, reaching across the void of space towards the vast unknown reaches of the galaxy. He sighed, letting his arm relax against the soft grass of the immense halo on which he lay. Not long after landing, they had learned that in order to simulate natural night and day cycles, the halo would twist upon itself, with the inner section of the massive ring replacing the outer once approximately every 30 hours. The vast expanse of undiscovered worlds, exotic goods and creatures lay just before him… and just out of reach.
"Where did I go wrong?" Zek sighed, pulling his hand back under his skull. Jyn turned towards him from where she lay on the hill; their recon duty had ended several hours ago, but with the intense pace of recent events, neither had felt they could rest, and so together they hid from sleep on a nearby hill, gazing into the stars as their people had done for millennia.
"What do you mean?" she said, raising a brow.
"Do you remember?" replied Zek, nearly lost in thought. "Before the war? Before the killing, and the chaos the Prophets led us into? Before the fighting and the loss?" Jyn nodded; they had both lost many friends to combat, and this philosophizing led to thoughts of before the violence began. "We were merchants," continued Zek, "explorers, pirates, traders, living for the sake of living. Our home was our ship, our family our crewmates, our destination anywhere our dreams propelled us towards." Zek smiled, a melancholy smile, full of irony and sadness. "The humans say that our people are like birds, and I can't say I disagree; true, we bear some superficial resemblance, but we long for the sky, for adventure in a world beyond our own. Well, the war's over now…" Zek's smile faded, his eyes gazing into the black oblivion, and a single tear forming in the corner of his eye. "But not for us. We're soldiers, pressed into service; now, we deal in death, and nothing else. We have had our wings clipped, forever denied the opportunity to discover the great beyond, to indulge in the flights of our ancestors." Jyn propped herself up on her elbows, looking at her mate intently. Normally, he was calm, collected, while at the same time cynical and sarcastic. However, that wasn't him; it was a mask forged by years of fighting, and on rare occasion, Zek opened himself for the world to see. Suddenly, Zek's body shuddered, and a tear ran down his face as his spines faded to a soft, deep blue in sorrow. "And at the time…" he choked out, "we wanted it." Jyn pulled herself over to where Zek lay and wrapped her arms around his body, enclosing him in a warm embrace. Before the war, Zek had been on the forefront of Kig-Yar mercantilism, striking out into the stars, uncovering new worlds and new goods, going where none had ventured before; but the war had made him a soldier, had taken his flight and replaced it with death. Suddenly, a bright light flared in the sky, and went dim. The two looked up, and Zek propped himself on his elbows, looking at the sky, puzzled. Another bright flash illuminated the sky, only this time, it was not alone. The small flash was followed by a massive burst of plasma, the crackling purple energy billowing and pluming in massive spheres before dissipating into the void. Zek's eyes widened in realization as the sky burst to life in brilliant flashes of orange, azure, and violet: the fleet was under attack.
Q'tari stared at the sky in abject terror as the brilliant colored flashes of light flew across the night sky.
"No… stop it… STOP IT!" she screamed, clamping her hands over her ears , half collapsed to the ground, crying hysterically as the soldiers in the camp rushed out to see what was going on. "Stop stop stop!" Q'tari began panting, her mandibles flaring with each hysterical breath. Suddenly, she felt an arm around her back. It was Tira Kehrim, the woman that R'vek had recently retrieved from the Tower. Q'tari looked up into her face, slightly bewildered. Tira looked back into her eyes, her face comforting.
"It's alright, it's alright," whispered the older woman even as soldiers rushed to their posts, humans and Sangheili milling frantically about the encampment. Tira stood, keeping Q'tari tucked under her arm, and guided the bewildered girl into a bunker, safe from the chaos outside. Suddenly, a scream was heard from outside. Tira looked through the window of the bunker… and a massive explosion burst from outside. The shockwave shattered the window, sending Tira flying back and smashing into a wall. Her head made a sickening crack as it impacted the steel wall, and she slid to the ground, her head hanging loosely on her long neck. Q'tari rushed towards her, shaking her frantically.
"Tira! Tira!" she shouted, almost like a child calling for her mother. Tira didn't respond. Q'tari rushed to the window, and her eyes widened as she saw heavy pairs of boots milling about the encampment; the Jiralhanae had arrived, and slowly, their leader emerged from the center of the crowd, shouting commands in his race's brutish, guttural language. He was clad in ebon armor, and carried a massive hammer in his hand as easily as if it were a doll, and Q'tari's hearts nearly stopped as she saw his face. Of all his features it was most recognizable, and it's scarred, burned surface brought a name rushing to Q'tari's mind, a name that, for her, was synonymous with fear.
"Mortis".
So, a bit of character development for Zek, and the shattering of the eerie peace our heroes have experienced thus far! What will happen to the fleet? Is Tira dead? Find out in the next installment of... The Ring!
The winds of time blow on, shifting the sands of reality into ever changing patterns.
- Baeowulf