Fan Fiction Inspired by Halo

The Aftermath (Part 1)
Date: 18 May 2002, 2:35 pm

It is the 31st century, and mankind is once again at war. The Covenant have been destroyed due to several devastating campaigns, pulled off by the Master Chief, John 117. The Chief was decorated with every type of concieveable honor, including the rarest of all medals, the Medal of Valor. The Spartan has now retired, and in his steps many recruits have followed. There are now 50 Spartan squads in the UNSC. Mankind has been at peace for eleven years. But now, things are about to change...

Colony Planet Reach (Newly reconstructed)
3002
9:37 A.M.

ÝÝÝÝÝMagistrate Durumov plodded into his office. Marines saluted him on the way. He returned their salutes, albeit half-heartedly. The secretary babbled on the holophone incessantly, pausing only one second as the Magistrate walked in. Good morning, she mouthed quickly.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Yah, yah." The Magistrate was tired. The some of the colonists were getting restless. A group of radicals opened fire on his holocar the night before. He had spent that night sleepless. When he looked at all the filing work downloaded to his computer, he knew that this night would be the same. He was getting tired of the entire way the government was being run. Tired of the stupid UNSC empirialists. He wished that the people could return to the old ways. The ways of old. The ways of Russia, China, and Cuba. Communism would rise again. It was just a matter of time. And for this magistrate, the time was up. Sighing, the politician checked his mail.

>>Message From: Alexis Khradam
>>To: Akharda Durumov
>>Title: The Rise
ÝÝÝÝÝMy good Akharda, the time has come. I have contacted the leaders of Avalon, New Rome, and Venice's Pride. They are ready. You must give the word. We have begun to pound our message into the troops, and they are ready to revolt against the vile UNSC imperialist pigs. I hope you will follow suit. USSSR forever!
ÝÝÝÝÝAlexis

ÝÝÝÝÝThe message turned Durumov's mood right around. Now was his chance. He would announce his secession from the UNSC, and his troops would be Communist before they even knew it. Then they would be forced under his dictatorship. Best of all, he held five of the fifty Spartan teams. When the USSSR (United Space Soviet Socialist Republic) went on the war path, they would be unstoppable, especially when teamed up with the other fifteen Spartan teams across the USSSR. "Yes," Durumov said to himself, "It shall turn out to be a fine day indeed." Cold, hard laughter ensued as he typed out the official secession notice on the computer.

Five days later
Earth

ÝÝÝÝÝ"Oh, #@$* !" the UNSC President let a profanity as he read the message in his inbox. New Reach, New Rome, Avalon, and Venice's Pride had seceded. What was worse was the fact that all of those worlds were fortress worlds. "&$%* ! Of all the %!@# that could go wrong! The stupid @!$#&%*# must have been planning this all along!" President Thoroughgood continued to read.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"USSSR? What the heck is the... Oh, no." The Presiden tapped the line out to the secretary.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Jane?" he barked, "get all of my war time advisors and every head general you can scrounge into Briefing Room A in twenty minutes. We're in deep trouble."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Yes, sir," came the worried reply.

Three hours later...

ÝÝÝÝÝ"They what?" General Tarkad couldn't believe his ears. The stupid idiots had seceded.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"They seceded from the UNSC, Tom. We can't do a thing about it," the president said.
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Should we take the war path?" General Merdok asked, "You know Communists from history, those stinking @*$ !$ @&^*%@, they will attempt to enslave the rest of the outlying colonies, and attack us."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Now hold it a minute," the President said, "We don't have any proof. We don't want to make a hasty move."
ÝÝÝÝÝ"Why not?"
ÝÝÝÝÝThe argument continued for some time, and got very heated. All the while, a spy was listening...

The Aftermath (Part 2)
Date: 18 May 2002, 2:36 pm

     Arkarda Durumov sat back in his chair. The spy secretary that he
had in the ranks of the political leaders told him that the UNSC was
in turmoil. That was what Communists do best, he thought. We spread
turmoil. He rose from his padded leather chair and crossed to the
window of his office in the main command bunker. He inhaled deeply,
invigorated over what he was about to do. Fighters roared out of the
hangers to go onto routine patrols, tanks and jeeps rolled across the
perimeter of the base, and grunts ran exercises.     A Spartan's armor
gleamed in the sunlight.
      "Mine," he said to the room. "They are all mine. And more." He
chuckled to himself as he hit the intercom button,
     "Katka, announce that I will make a speech to the men on the hour."
It was time.
     "Yes, sir," came the garbled reply.

     >One hour later<
     Spartan Adam 387 stood at attention in the ranks of all the other
men gathered for the Magistrate's speech. Something in his gut told
him that something was wrong. Call it a Captain's instinct. He looked
at his teammates, Steven 645, Emily 792, Daniel 321, and Chesley 511.
He was proud of them all. They had done the best in training, in case
another alien threat came to the attention of mankind. He hoped that
this would be a short speech, congratulating them all on their good
work.
     "My good men of New Reach," Durumov began, "I have startling news."
Immediately, Adam could tell that something was amiss. The Magistrate
looked stricken, but something registered his shocked appearance as
false. "The UNSC has deserted us. They are afraid of our military
power here. They have decided to leave you all and to make us an
independent colony. They have done the same to New Rome, Avalon, and
the Vienna's Pride colony. This is a shock to you as much as it is to
me. But it could not have come at a more inopportune time. When it
set us free, to make our own government, it declared war uppon us."
     Everyone stood even straighter than usual at this news. Adam
especially. He had studied human emotion and intellect for some time.
He knew that the Magistrate was lying. However, he couldn't reveal
this at his speech. Even as he thought these things, the Magistrate
continued on his sob story. "No telling who will fall for this crap,"
he whispered to himself.
     "...However, my comrades, we will rise to defeat our oppressors,
who are at this very hour coming to kill us. We and the other
colonies have made our govornment. We are the USSSR. We will continue
the grand tradition of serving our government. All shall be equal. We
shall rise to destroy these dogs. However, we have solved the work
problem. If a man does not work, he will be shot. None are to be
disloyal to the USSSR.     Now, comrades, go and prepare yourselves for
the battles to come. To his horror, all but a few began to cheer, and
scurried to get to their posts. Adam looked over at his teammates.
The had not cheered. Adam signaled his team to follow him. They
nodded as they headed for a private sniper bunker. No one ever
monitored the snipers. No one ever dared to.

     When the magistrate entered his office, his secretary stood at
attention. "Sir," she said, "You have a holoconference on line 3. The
callers are our comrades from the New Rome, Avalon, and Vienna's
Pride colonies."
      "Thank you, Katka." It was a glorious day in history. Finally, he
had found a way to make Communism work. If a man did not work,
neither did he live.     Inside his office, the room was dark. Only
three holograms lit the room. Durumov took his usual seat. "My dear
commrades."

     Inside the sniper bunker, some very uncommunistic talking was going
on. "There's something wrong with this," Adam mused, "The UNSC
wouldn't say, you're free, now we're gonna kick your butt."
     "You're right. The President and his board of advisors would never
commit such an act," Emily said as she stared into the scope. Steven
took a long draw from his coffin nail.
     "Durumov's crappin'. He and those other colonies were probably
planning this. They just waited till they had the resources and the
men to do this," he said as the smouldering butt fell from his
fingers.
     "I'm not so sure," Chesley said, "What he said sounded pretty
convincing."
     "Duh, he sounded convincing. He wouldn't be able to gain all those
soldier's trust without sounding like he meant it," Daniel spat.
     "Look," Adam said before Chesley could find a rebuttal, "Whether he
meant it or not is irrelevant. He's wrong. He's gonna get his war
machine cranked up, and take out the UNSC with all the power he and
the other colonies have.     We need to stop him, somehow."
     "Yeah," Steven croaked, "We should tell the other Spartans and go
kick his..."
     "NO!" Adam yelled. Quickly lowering his voice and looking around,
he said, "The other Spartans might have bought into his story. We
can't risk that and get caught before an all out war breaks out
across the galaxy. We have to do this ourselves. We'll fight a
guerilla     war the way John 117 did on Halo. It's the only chance. We
need to wear them down." He looked at the floor. "Much as I hate to
kill men that were once my own."
     "Then that's settled," Daniel said as he rose from his seat,
"What's the plan, Capt.?"
     "Well, it's relatively simple..."

      Mike Thurmond hated having to stand guard at the supply depot.
Nothing ever happened. Suddenly, Five figures, gleaming in the
moonlight, strode towards him. He raised his assault rifle and
barked, "Halt! Identify yourselves!"
     A calm voice said, "At ease, Private. We're just doing a routine
inspection of the place. You can lower your weapon. I'm     Captain Adam
387." He handed the private his id card. "This is my squad. They're
assisting me. Should be out of your way soon."
     "Ok," Mike said, "Here's your id, sir. Thank you."     Adam nodded a
"you're welcome," then entered the room. Weaponry and ammunition
lined the walls, along with survival gear and food.
     "Put all you can into these bags," he whispered as he dropped eight
duffel bags on the floor. They loaded assault rifles, sniper rifles,
rocket launchers, pistols, grenades, ammunition, survival equipment
and all the food that they could into the bags. When the bags were
bulging, Adam said, "Alright, let's blow this joint."

     Ten minutes later, that was exactly whay they did. Steve fired a
quick rocket into the supply depot, dropped the rocket launcher, and
ran off base. Adam put his binoculars down and and talked into his
communicator. "7-11 is up in flames. Guys, let's snag some vehichles."
Three red lights blinked in acknowledgement. They ran across base
with the other shocked troopers, but while the others ran to the
wreckage, they ran to the hanger. Chesley jumped into a tank, while
emily leapt into the passenger side of the jeep, sniper rifle at the
ready. Daniel jumped in back, and Adam drove. When both vehichles
were far out, Chesley turned the tank and fired repeatedly on the
hanger, which collapsed after two well placed shots.
     "Let's high tail it!" Adam called into his communicator. Three
klics out, with enemies on their tails, they picked up Steven, now
hefting a shotgun. Bullets pinged everywhere as Daniel, Steve, and
once in a while Chesley, returned fire. Men flew, bullets torn
through their flesh, or charred from the tank's main cannon. Finally,
the Colonel in command of the Charge ordered the men to retreat. All
of the team members cheered, victorious, but not unscathed. Once,
Steven's shield had been decimated by enemies, and he had a bullet
graze his side. It didn't bleed, but it stung. After two more hours
of travel, they made camp for the night. "Good job, guys," Adam said,
"We gave them something to think about. Now, let the United Spartan
Guerilla Front prevail!" They all held up their water packets to
toast their vow. They knew that the batlles to come would be vicious,
and that victories such as this one would be sweet. Twenty minutes
later, all five Spartans were fast asleep under a star and moonlit
sky.

The Aftermath (Part 3)
Date: 6 July 2002, 3:23 am

ÝÝÝÝÝÝDurumov swore softly as he typed. He was filing a report to the other colonies to be careful about traitors in their ranks, and how much damage they had sustained. Sleep pulled at his eyes, and he feebly batted it back, determined to finish his work. Ten minutes later, he hit the send button, and the message was off. He sighed deeply, then hit the intercom button to his secretary. "Katka," he croaked, "Get Lieutenant Jareth 430 in my office immediately. I need to brief him."
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Yes, sir," came the reply. Katka sounded as weary as he.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"And Katka,"
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Sir?"
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Enjoy the rest of your day off," Akhardy yawned.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Than...Than...Thank you, sir." There was a brief period of silence, then, "Chancellor, Jareth will be in in five minutes."
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Thank you, Katka." Five minutes. Five minutes of quiet, when he didn't have to do a thing. Those moments were rare, and he always enjoyed them.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ Jareth 430 lept up the stairs towards the Chancellor's office. If he requested him personnally, it must be urgent. Deeper and deeper he went into the bright hall, his heavy boots thumping on the red carpet. When he got to the Minister's office, he knocked as softly as possible, but the door still rattled.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Enter," came a voice from inside the office. Jareth turned the knob slowly, then entered the pentagonally shaped room. The light was dim, sunbeams peeking in through the curtains, and just barely outlining the minister behind his grand oaken desk.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"You wished to see me, sir?" the Spartan querried. There was a slight sigh, then the minister leaned forwards and replied, "Yes, khomrad. I did. As you know, last night a team of Spartans went renegade and destroyed two vital installations. After wreaking havoc and destroying good men, they fled into the desert, and we retreated because of the number of wounded. Today is our chance to strike back. A probe returned this telementery this morning at 0200 hours." Durumov hit a switch on his console, and a hologram appeared on his desk out of a projector. On it were a warthog, a scorpion tank, and five spartans. All were resting peacefully.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"They forgot to have someone stand watch, khomrade," the minister continued, "and it is time to strike them for that fatal error. I want you to take your second in command and go snipe them off. They are about 10 klicks off of our eastern perimeter. Good luck."
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Sir, thank you, sir!" And with that, Jareth 430 exited the room. He had a mission. A purpose. To kill the traitorous pigs. It would take them roughly half an hour to get out to the objective in a jeep, so he had to move quickly. Speed was of the essence. Speed killed.

ÝÝÝÝÝÝAdam slowly drifted into consciousness. He cracked his eyelids, and light flooded them. "Owwwwwww," he croaked. He put on his helmate, then rose, slowly, caked sand rushing off his body. He looked at the time. 5:00. They had overslept an hour. And they all forgot to have someone stand watch. It had been very shoddy.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝAdam woke the other spartans, and they breakfasted quickly to make up for lost time. They started a light conversation, when suddenly, a bullet struck Daniel square in the chest. Blood poured from the wound, and stained the white sand brown. There was no time to try to save him. They all knew he was dead. They just had to make sure that they didn't end up the same way. The four remaining warrior dove behind the tank for cover, as a bullet ricocheted the armor behind them.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Ellen, you got your best friend ready?" Steve asked.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"As always." The female spartan reached into her pack and retrieved the sniper rifle, and assembled it in five seconds.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"I'll draw them out," Adam said.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Like heck you will," Chesley said, "Let me go. You're too important to lose."
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"We're all too important to lose," Adam said.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Oh, cut the crap," Chesley said, "I've been the major downfall of the team since day one. I barely passed. Let me do this one thing, so I'll go out a hero than a failure." Before Adam or Steve could do a thing, Chesley got up and ran, bent over so that the tank would cover him until he got out in the open. Ellen was ready. She barely edged around the tread, to the point where she could see where she thought the sniper was. She heared a WHAM, heard a TUMP, and knew Chesley was dead. But he didn't die in vain. She saw the tracer, and fired twice. One for the sniper, one for the spotter.

ÝÝÝÝÝÝBlood oozed from fresh wounds in Jareth's shoulder. He got two of them, but that was it for today. He wouldn't be able to fire with a bum shoulder. Top that off, and his right hand man was dead. He looked long and hard at his teammate, his brains now oozing out a hole in his head. "Rest well, my fiend," he said, "Rest well." Jareth slid down the sand dune that he had perched on, and crawled to the warthog. He jumped in, and punched the accelerator. If they still had that tank up and running, Jareth didn't want to be at the business end of its main cannon.

ÝÝÝÝÝÝThe spartan team grieved for their comrades. After they had buried them side by side, the remaining three saluted.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"So, what now?" Steve asked, "What do we do from here?" Adam turned to face him, and said,
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"We head for the mountains. They have some good caves there. It's less dangerous. We're too exposed out here."
ÝÝÝÝÝÝThe other two spartans nodded in agreement. "Besides," Adam continued, "The mountains will give us enough time to recover ourselves and plan our next attack." He plodded over to the warthog.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"Steve, you take the scorpion. Ellen, you get the back."
ÝÝÝÝÝÝWhen they were all in, they drove to the north, as the sun beat down upon them. Adam was reminded of a song in a book he read once. He began to sing it.
ÝÝÝÝÝÝ"And to the misty mountains cold
ÝÝÝÝÝÝThrough dungeouns deep
ÝÝÝÝÝÝAnd caverns old
ÝÝÝÝÝÝWe must away
ÝÝÝÝÝÝEre break of day
ÝÝÝÝÝÝTo win our harps and gold from him."

The Aftermath (Part 4)
Date: 14 July 2002, 2:37 am

      Durumov sipped his vodka slowly, savoring every drop. Two enemy Spartans dead, and the morale of the remaining spartans shattered. Perfect. The magistrate had read the files on the renegades over and over, exploring every facet of their being. Strengths, weaknesses, hobbies, he knew it all. Especially on Adam. He had looked in on Adam every day to see how he was doing. He always did well in his studies and in training. There was something that he needed to tell him, but never could. He never found words for it. "How could I have told the boy that his parents died before he ever knew them, and that I..." he stopped thinking out loud. He didn't want anyone else to know, and the room might be bugged. He drained the last of his booze, then set his foamy glass down on his oaken table. He glanced at the clock, and was astounded by what it said. "11:36? I'd better get to bed. Another big day of leading radicals and killing renegades awaits me." His slowly rose from his desk, and walked to the elevator. He pressed the button marked "12," and he zipped to his private suite. It was quite luxurious, Persian rugs lay on the floor, leading people one way or the other. In the middle of the hall was a fern on a mahogany end table, with listening devices inside it. He took a right, down the hall towards his bedroom. Once inside, he took of his coat and tie, and that was a far as he got. He felt a little prod in the back of his head, and a cold voice saying, "Boo."

      Capt. Seydersen leaned back in his chair. He was head of security at Liberty Base on New Reach, and the job was good. Nothing to do but watch, listen, and relax. No more heavy ground pounding for this marine. He was nearly asleep when a light came on his com unit. He leaned forwards on his metal desk, and tapped the button. "Yeah, I'm listening."
      A mousey voice came from the other end. "Uh, sir? We've picked up four life signs on level twelve. All four human. And our metal detectors have picked up pistols, a sniper rifle, a rocket launcher, and three assault rifles, sir. None of them are in the magistrate's hands. Sir, three of the life forms are spartans, and one has his pistol aimed straight for the magistrate's noggin!"
      "Sound the alarm! We've got a situation!" The captain hit another com button. "Security teams, head to the magistrate's suite. He's being held hostage! Expect heavy resistance."

      A red warning light flashed inside of the bedroom. Adam expected this. "Steve," he said, "get the spanker and guard the elevator. Emily, you take the window with your sniper rifle. I've got this trash covered." The other spartans did as they were bid. Shots rang out from Emily's sniper rifle, and four Spartans lay dead. Adam caressed the trigger lightly, and pressed the barrel of the pistol harder against Durumov's head. "Please, do...don't kill me. I can give you anything you want. Anything at all. You name it. Just let me live. Please, let's do business."
      Adam's reply was cold and direct. "Death is my business, and business is good." He was about to pull the trigger, when Durumov spoke again, this time sounding more urgent. "You wouldn't kill your god-father, would you?" Adam straightened. This news was a shock. He had never thought about having relations before. No, he thought, it's a trick. "You're no relation of mine."
      "Oh, yes, yes I am! I was a friend of your parents. They said that if anything happened to them, they wanted me to take care of you. Please believe me." There was a moment of silence, then Adam spoke, in a low, menacing growl. "You tried to take care of me, all right. You tried to take care of my friends too, with that sniper." A rocket blast outside told Adam that Steven was taking care of the security squads. The only way up was through the elevator, so they would have plenty of time to get rid of Durumov. "This is for Daniel and Chesley, who you condemned to die. This is your reward." Adam finally pulled the trigger, and Durumov's face exploded, blood and brains staining the Persian rug and polar bear fleece blanket. "Thus die all traitors," he whispered. He picked up his assault rifle, and put his pistol in its holster. "Ok, team, let's leave. We have to get to that computer." There were two blinks of acknowledgement, and Steve ran back into the room. "I got the line right here," he said as he punched the glass out of the window and shot a drill grapple into the frame. "Let's go!" Adam yelled.

      In their frenzy to get to the suite, no one noticed the three
Spartans slip slowly and silently down the wall. No one noticed when
they slid the window to Durumov's office, either. And no one noticed
the missing files from Durumov's computer until it was too late.

      Five days later.
      Everyone who checked their inbox five days later found large files. Many opened them, but some trashed them. Those who opened them found out the truth about Durumov and the other colonies that rebelled, and that three large battleships were headed towards small colonies. There was a surge of emotion, as the marines realized that they had been tricked. There was another message that came at 5:02 p.m. A message entitled, "Join us." Many opened it. This is what it read.

      From: Adam 387
      To: All USSSR personnel
      Message:
          Fellow soldiers, I call upon you to join us. We are the Spartans who resisted you. Now you know the truth, we ask you to side with us, members of the UNSC, and help us destroy the USSSR here on New Reach. It will be hard, and it will be tough, but we can do it. We will strike the leaders at Fort Dartmouth, Fort Strom, and Fort Duroth. We will prevail. All those who are interested,be on the parade ground in twenty minutes.
      End message

      Everyone rose from their seats. Those who chunked the message were told its contents, and then they begrudgingly said yes. In twenty minutes, all personnel were on the parade ground. Three Spartans stood by the flagpole. They raised the flag of the UNSC, and in unison, all troops saluted. "So," Emily whispered to Adam, "Is this the beginning of the end?"
      "No, Em. This is merely the end of the beginning."

      To be continued in "New Reach Campaigns"

The Aftermath: Call to arms
Date: 25 July 2008, 11:49 am

4/23/2553
Fleet Comm. Headquarters, Voi, South Africa

The African air was hot and dry, the blowing dust was chocking and blinding, Lord Hood was already sweating under his white class-A Naval dress uniform, after dismounting the pelican's cabin he removed his cap and fanned himself for a brief moment before being greeted by two other uniformed men. Like Hood himself they were both high ranking naval officers, and they were both here for the same reason as he, they were going on the offensive, and they needed a plan.

The 3 of them met on the landing pad, the duo snapped a crisp snap in unison and Lord Hood returned it.

The 2 were Admiral Donovan, and Rear Admiral Gordon, they were roughly the all the same age of late 50's to early 6o's and were all well on there way to retirement when this whole mess with the Covenant started, and they needed to finish what the they started.

"Gentleman, have the rest of our guests arrived?" asked Hood with a rasp scratchy voice from all of the dust still being swirled about by the pelican's now dying engines.

"Yes sir, they just landed about a minute ago." Responded Donovan with a weak smile.

"It's kind of crazy," Gordon said, "if you asked me if we would be discussing battle plans with the very aliens we were fighting 3 years ago, I would've said hell no, but here we are…"

"Well, we wouldn't want to keep 'em waiting now would we?" Hood said in a half sarcastic tone.

The complex was built into the side of Mt. Kilimanjaro and was home to the U.N.S.C's largest foundries and production lines. 1/12th of the U.N.S.C's armament stemmed from this facility alone. The facility had been deactivated for a short period of time while the Covenant made themselves at home, but after the actions of the brave men and women under the command of Commander Keys a year ago, and that of course of the lone Spartan, John 177. Since then, there has been large serge of arms and equipment build up, which called for the reactivation of the dormant facilities.

The trio of white clad old men jumped into a stripped down warthog repurposed for comfortable transit, rather than the standard combat model with a mounted turret, this transport hog had a large steel cage where its turret normally is with seats in the back.
Lord Hood sat in the back with Gordon, while Donovan road shotgun with the driver, a nervous corporal in olive drab fatigues drove them. They made a few turns on a road around the perimeter of the facility and entered a large garage where they dismounted and navigated the complex's corridors when they came upon a thick double door guarded by 2 fully armed and equipped marines, the both snapped a salute, and the officers returned it, the one of the guards turned to a small keypad on the wall and punched the OPEN switch. A small his sounded from the hydraulic gears in the door as it slowly opened. Inside was a fluorescently lit room with a long black conference table. Already seated were a dozen more Admirals, Commanders, and Generals, as well as the Elite ship master, a gold Arbiter, accompanied by an honor guard security detail.

All heads turned to witness their dramatic; almost movie like entry into the room, Hood took his seat at the head of the table, while his present company took their respective seats as well.

Lord Hood cleared his throat and began to speak,

"Thank you ship master, for meeting with us."

The shipmaster acknowledges him with a curt nod.

"We, for the first time in this whole war, have a chance to go on the offensive, and the odds are in our favor, the Covenant is in complete disarray, and for the moment, completely leaderless. Our new allies here today, (he gestures to the Elites) have offered their help, Gentlemen; this new alliance can do wondrous things for both our peoples. But while the Elites will help us, we will help them free their worlds, and the worlds of the others in the grip of the Covenant. As I've said, we need a plan, we will coordinate the Ship master and the Arbiter…"

"Excuse me, but I am no longer the Arbiter of a false religion, I am a commander now, please, continue…"

"I beg your pardon commander. Now, as I was saying, we will coordinate with the shipmaster and the commander on 3 fronts, while we liberate our colonies, the commander will drive the Covenant forces from the other "faction" home worlds, and the shipmaster will drive the remaining Covenant from his home world. And to assist each other with our operations we will commit 2 garrisons to each other's front, the same will go for them"

Everyone's glances around the room at each other with the sort of "did I hear that right" look on their faces. Then their gazes shifted back to Lord Hood,

"We will win this war."

There was total silence in the conference room.

The Aftermath by Gasmask