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Hunter Ch. 5; Gravemind's Chariot
Posted By: LordsFire<EarthMartianSpaceBob@hotmail.com>
Date: 26 January 2005, 12:03 PM
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A Sharp jolt awakened me.
"Man, he has got to be the shortest Elite I have EVER seen. And I've seen a lot of Elites."
"Yeah. None of them are quite so impressive without the armor, but him? If I didn't know better, I'd say he was as harmless as a stuffed animal."
"You'd think he might at least struggle a bit."
"You kidding? He's been doped up enough to keep a Spartan down."
"Yeah, but somehow I expect more from the grays then we got from the reds. Suppose he's just to small to be fierce."
"That Evans though man, he's something else."
"Seriously, he actually sounded like he thought he was better off with a sword!"
"Didja see the look on his face when he left the room? Cold as ice, but I bet he coulda burnt something just by staring at it!"
"Either that or frozen it."
I realized that the sounds I was hearing weren't just part of my fevered dreams, and the jostling sensation was as real as the noise. I opened my eyes, and snapped them shut again immediately light searing my eyes. I was flat on my back, laid across some sort of wheeled tray, and it jostled me about against my bonds. Cursed humans, could they not even build a decent hover gurney? Every movement pained the tracery of veins that ran through my body, especially in my lower knees. Whatever drug they had tried on me this time had had painful side effects.
Listened closely, I heard the sounds I had come to associate with my cell, and I was unceremoniously dumped into it. I groaned.
"Shouldn't we chain him up"?
"Are you kidding? The blighter can't even move, there wouldn't be any point."
I tried to move, and curse it, it was true! My strength was totally sapped, and my best efforts resulted in only feeble movements amongst my legs.
The Marines who had been transporting me laughed at me, and walked off, locking my cell shut first.. I pulled in a deep breath, preparing make an attempt at standing. A deep scent caught my nostrils.
Flood!
My eyes snapped open, and I was awake and rolling to the floor from my bunk immediately. Something had jostled me awake, and my bunk was built right into the bulkhead. I quickly surveyed the ODST quarters, seeing no one, and nothing. Closing my eyes, I heard nothing other than the faint whirring of the ships air recyclers. But what was that smell?
Watching the Master Chief fight had been interesting to say the least, unfortunately though, the knee joints on my armor had fused from protracted plasma pistol fire, and I'd had to leave before he got around to killing Regret. I opened my locker and looked at the half melted mess that was my ODST armor. I had blisters on my shoulder corresponding to the mess that was left of my left pauldron, and I could remember the heat on my chest the trio of plasma blasts had given me when they struck across my chest-plate. That Elite hadn't gotten the opportunity to pull out its sword.
Reaching into the boot next to my bunk, and pulled out the mostly cylindrical object. I'd pulled it out for him. I considered the hilt of the plasma sword. It was the whole reason I'd joined the Corps in the first place, and now I held it in my hand. I just wish I knew how to activate the blasted thing.
Pulling on a jumpsuit and my boots, I slipped the plasma sword into my pocket, left my cabin for the mess hall. When I got there, I immediately looked at the duty roster, which showed no assignments, considering we were at combat alert beta. What was the bump that woke me up then? Looking over the roster again, I saw that my entire unit was listed as off-ship.
What?
Seeing a Sergeant at mess, I walked quickly over to him.
"A question sir"? I asked him.
He turned towards me, and it was Corporal Peters. Or rather, Sergeant Peters now.
"Sure. Evans, isn't it"?
"Yes sir."
"I'm off duty, so no siring me. Anyways, what's your question."
"Well, my unit seems to be elsewhere, I'd be guessing in combat, and I'm not sure why I'm not with them."
"Hm. I'm surprised no one's told you yet."
"Told me what"?
"Well, turns out that one of those techs has some strings he can pull. They got you assigned to bodyguard them, and a promotion to Corporal. Although to be honest, after the tricks you pulled on the Cairo, Corporal was probably a given."
"So when were they gonna get around to giving me my second stripe"?
"Look at your jumpsuit."
I looked down at the shoulder of my jumpsuit, and saw that there were, in fact, two stripes there, and the name on it now read Corporal Evans, rather than PFC.
"What happened on the Cairo anyways? Rumor has it you captured a gold Elite after killing his Hunter bodyguards, and made rivers of grunt blood in the process. All, of course, without firing a shot."
"He was a spec ops elite sir, no hunters, and I used my sidearm for the first engagement."
"So was it twenty elites and a hundred some grunts and jackals?"
"Hardly, more like ten grunts, two jackals, and three elites, although two of the elites and grunts I had help from Marines and the techies with."
"I'm impressed Evans, I honestly thought you were going to play some prank in that armor first time I saw you." He smiled.
"So where's my unit sir"?
"Oh, they're accompanying Sergeant Johnson and Commander Keyes on some retrieval mission." He said, and shrugged, obviously thinking it would be no difficult task. What was it I had come here for in the first place?
"Oh, and sir," he raised an eyebrow, "Peters, do you know what made the ship jostle a bit ten minutes or so ago"?
"Nope. But we're parked underground right now, so it's probably just some chunk of rock hitting the upper hull." I sniffed the air.
"I also noticed a smell, you have any idea what it is"?
"Not really, probably just the kitchens latest attempt at meatloaf. Smells a bit like rotting flesh to me." Hm...
"Well, thanks for your time Peters, I think I'll go try to find the techs."
I left the mess hall, and proceeded to the engineering deck. Strangely enough, I saw Erikson as soon as I reached the deck, and he immediately strode straight up to me.
Staring intensely at me, and veins neck bulging in his neck, he leaned down and whispered in my ear.
"Ask the Elite what the smell is." He straightened up, and stared into space over my shoulder. "Your armor will be in the armory station nearest the brig, forget the ODST stuff, now that we've finished with yours, you won't need it any more." He strode off towards the workshop, leaving me somewhat confused.
I moved straight back up the ladder with some alacrity, Erikson's taught face etched into my memory. Striding quickly to the brig, I ignored the guards, thumbed the door, and strode to Ashanee's cell. Strangely, I didn't see him at first. Then I looked to the floor of the cell.
His hands grasping the bars, he was struggling to pull his hooved feet underneath him. Breath rasping in his long throat, his arms trembled, and he pulled himself up and forwards, planting his feet beneath him. His head was bowed, coming down to my eye level, he stared me straight in the face, a hard desperation in his eyes.
"Why are you standing when you need rest"? I asked him.
"I will die on my feet." He said, voice rasping in his strangely dry throat.
"What is the smell"? I asked him, my already taut nerves tightening to spun steel.
He smiled faintly, mandibles curving into a eerily familiar gesture.
"The flood come. Pray to your gods human, for you will soon wish you were dead, your body and mind enslaved."
Flood. Whatever they were, Idu expected to die, and Erikson knew and feared them. I looked at Idu's shivering form, probably held erect by sheer force of will. No hunter should die defenseless in a cage. I pulled the plasma sword from my jumpsuit pocket. Idu tensed, almost falling over from the effort.
"Take this." I handed it to him through the bars. "Fight well, and remember, it is on my honor that you do not kill those I am sworn to defend."
I left, and headed for the armory.
What was this human? I stared at the blade he had handed me. Kyntahin Arishamee, the inscription read, an honor guard of the Hierarch Regret. I would not have believed a normal human could kill an honor guard before I met this Evans. Coupled with the Demon's presence on this ship, I could only conclude that Regret was dead. Leaning heavily against the bars of the cage, I activated the blade, and swept it through the locks on the door, and then the hinges.
As the door slammed to the floor, alarms sounded, setting a splitting pain in my skull. I staggered towards the door, my parched throat rasping with my heavy breath. Beside the door rested a large canister suspended on three legs. Grabbing it for support, I heard fluid slosh inside as it was jostled. Could it be?
lifting the blade slowly, I gently poked a hole into the side of the canister. Steam hissed through. Pulling back the blade, I saw water gush forth from the hole. Lunging my neck forwards, I clamped my mandibles around the cylinder, and sucked water as quickly as I could. Life coursed through my body, purging the weakness the human drug had left, and I felt my strength rise within me. I did not stop until the water would not come anymore.
Raising myself straight up, I stretched my muscles, feeling the strength inherent to my limbs. Twisting my neck around, and flexing my mandibles, I tensed myself for combat, and turned towards the air vent, as flood tendrils protruded through the gate.
I settled my helmet over my head, and it fit my face perfectly, as it always had. Something about the rest of my armor felt somewhat different, but the helmet was the same. Or mostly so. A HUD popped up, displaying atmosphere content, nearby movement, seismic disturbances in the deck plate, atmospheric pressure, heat levels, pathogen count in the atmosphere, and G count. That was new.
I rolled my head around, working my neck, and set myself for combat. Entering into the Hunters balance, I tensed my muscles lightly, lowered my center of balance, mentally filtered what I heard, and clasped the hilt of my sword. The door to the armory opened as I strode towards it, and living dead confronted me.
Instantly I drew my sword into a high horizontal guard, and sized up what confronted me. It had definetly been a Covenant elite at one point, but now more resembled a fleshy balloon, filled with entrails, and partially punctured at several points around the torso. What should have been the neck was now mostly spinal column coated with yellowish brown gobs of flesh, and strange tendrils emerged from the torso. It's legs seemed mostly unaffected by whatever cruel transformation had overtaken it, but one of its arms had sprouted whip-like tentacles, which looked anything but harmless.
It swung the tentacles at me, and I blocked with my sword, cleaving the tentacles from the mutated arm. Spinning, I sliced it in half across the waist, the halves meatily dropping to the floor. Torso still thrashing, it did not die, and indeed still tried to strike me with its tentacle-stubs. I impaled the torso at the base of the tendrils protruding from it's chest, and something popped.
The monstrosity fell still.
I punctured the last of the parasites, and growled in satisfaction. Strands of exploded flood-flesh were strewn about the brig, but not a single tendril had penetrated me. Turning to the doorway, I hacked a suitable hole into it, and jumped through. A pair of corpses lay outside what I had left of the door, parasites worming their way into the dead humans torsos. I punctured the parasites first, and then severed the spinal columns of the would-be hosts.
A strange rasping sounded behind me, and I whirled to face it, blade out. A long tendril of flood-flesh had extended towards me, coming from beyond sight down the corridor. I charged forwards, and hacked it off mid-length of what I could see of it. It quickly retracted from sight, but did not seem to be dead, or even seriously injured. I looked down at the segment I had rent from what had gone, and saw it was over three times my body length! Only one flood form could have enough mass to survive such a wounding. A command form.
Four tentacles lashed into sight, coming from all three corridors that I could see, and thrashed around, searching for me. I could cut any one of them, but if they were all grounded in the same command form, the others would immediately know where I was. Surveying the area, I quickly came to a decision. Dropping to a crouch, I cut through the deck-plates, and dropped through the hole.
I fell into a hangar bay, and the fall was much farther than I expected. However, I had trained on Sangheil, and the gravity here was considerably lower. I absorbed the impact in my legs, relishing my returned strength anew. I rose from my crouch, blade at the ready, and quickly surveyed the hangar. A Banshee stood near the hangar doors, but swarms of flood parasites roamed the bay floor, and several double-fists of combat forms were facing me directly. Perhaps my journey would begin today.
Suddenly, a huge explosion tore one of the large doorways into the hangar open, shrapnel cutting down several combat forms, and human weapons spat hatred at the cursed flood.
I lead the close assault squad into the Hangar, dancing amongst the grotesque flood creatures, severing the bases of their spines, or hewing the parasites from their captured hosts. The seven men following me used their SMG's and Shotguns to deadly effect on the parasites and ambulatory corpses, clearing a wide swath through them towards the Pelicans docked at the far end of the bay. The techs, pilots, and engineers we had with us ran in right behind us, spraying pistol fire wildly at the parasites that tried to flank us, and Peters squad followed.
Fifteen marines moved with Peters, about half equipped with battle-rifles, the rest packing sniper rifles or rocket launchers. Under their escort came twenty some crewers, loaded down with ammunition and rations, six carrying three wounded men between them, and one helping another marine limp along, SMG still in his left hand, most the fingers on his right hand missing.
"SMG's on the little buggers, Shotguns on the walkers." I yelled, and my men realigned their fire as the walkers charged.
"Snipers, hold your fire and ready grenades. BR's coordinate fire on the Walkers, Rockets, watch the doors." Yelled Peters.
I ran ahead of my men, confident in their accuracy to clear the foes around me, and not strike me. A hail of bullets tore into the parasites, quickly exterminating any within accurate range. Volleys of shotgun fire cleared the walkers charging the center and right flank of my improvised battle line. As for the left flank...
I sliced the already decayed midsection from what had once been a marine, ducked under a tentacle blow, and skewered a parasite in its fleshy nest. Tearing my blade from the former elites falling torso, I spun, hacking a headless human walkers torso in half diagonally, and twisted the blow into an uppercut that opened an ex-elites chest up. I could see the parasite imbedded in the poor creatures chest, it's tentacles wrapped around the elites spinal column. One of the tentacles twitched, and a tentacled arm swung towards my head. Reflex kicked in, and I hewed the limb off, and it flew away through the air. I violently stabbed the parasite, hopefully ending the elites tortured remnant of a life.
An explosion sounded behind me, and I saw smoke issuing both from the corridor we had entered the bay through and one of the rocket launchers tubes. I quickly surveyed the hangar bay, floor, walls, and ceiling were clear of Flood. A group of walkers rushed the door we had entered through, and the same rocket launcher fired again. The explosion tore the walkers apart, but I saw the shadows of more around the corner.
"SMG's, secure the Pelicans, Shotguns, cover their backs. Erikson, get your group into those Pelicans!" I yelled.
"BR's, move with Evans people, keep your eyes on the doors, even the ones that are locked., Snipers, get the crewers and wounded to the Pelicans. Rockets, keep that corridor covered." Peters shouted, staying with the rocket wielders, his eyes jumping between all the possible entry points to the bay.
Small SMG bursts sounded from the Four pelicans my men had entered, and four "clear" shouts sounded. The pilots ran to their cockpits, and the engines on the pelicans began to thrum. Just as the first group of crewers entered one of the pelicans, two things happened. First, a trio of tentacles burst from the single open corridor in the bay, and secondly, heavy ringing thumps sounded against the two closed doors. Rockets shredded the tentacles, before they could reach the men who launched them. Secondly, one of the captured Banshee's in the bay powered up, and took off. None of our men had been close enough to activate it.
Suddenly, a tentacle shot down from a hole in the roof of the hangar bay, and grabbed one of the rocket wielders. Yelling at the other rocketeers to keep firing at the open door, Peters smoothly spun into a crouch, and fired a burst into the tentacle. It severed the thick tentacle, and man and limb fell ten feet to the floor. A sickening crunch announced the marine's leg breaking, but the man screwed his face up instead of crying out.
A second door beside me buckled, beginning to bend inwards, and I turned to the emerging threat. Ordering my squad to get the rest of the crewers into the Pelicans, I saw Erikson haul the wounded marine, who still had a death grip on his rocket launcher, over his shoulder, and cart him off to the Pelicans. Then the door completely caved, and the Flood were upon me. A sudden thump spun me around, and I realized a pistol shell had dinged off my shoulder plate. These flood had guns. I drew a throwing knife.
I hurled it violently into the parasite controlling a former marine that had fired at me, and bisected another walker with a backhand blow from my sword. Twisting my blade through a circle for momentum, I hacked the top half of a walkers torso off, and ducked a tentacle slash. A trio of grenades detonated nearby, and Flood detritus splattered my armor. Not pausing, I pulled a long blow through one walkers legs, another's torso, and a thirds head, swinging through a full three sixty degree turn, but as quickly as I had cut them down, more had taken their place. I unsheathed my second blade.
I twisted the Banshee around to watch Evans last stand. Or what I thought would be. The other humans had almost all boarded their landing craft, and it looked like the last were staying just to watch him die. Somehow Evans had a second blade in his right hand, and I could hardly see him through the maelstrom of gore he was creating. Pieces of Flood combat forms littered the hangar deck, and parasites swarmed the corpses. Only grenade and weapon volleys from the marines kept the parasites from Evans, but the combat forms closed the distance to quickly for the marines to put down. The tail gunners for the human craft were trying to keep back the flood charging the small ships, but Flood were gradually closing with them, over their own ravaged bodies.
For a moment, the cloud of flood entrails and gas dispersed enough for me to see the faceplate of Evans closed helmet briefly sweep past my way, and suddenly the ranking marine was shouting orders. Almost a dozen grenades landed in a tight formation three lengths from the fray that marked Evans position, and erupted in smoke, fire and shrapnel. The drop ships lifted off with the last of the marines, and I saw Evans leap from a crouch into the cloud of smoke the grenades had left. I did not seem him leave it.
The bay doors opened to allow the human craft exit, and my craft was jostled abruptly by a harsh impact. Rising quickly from the deck of the human ship, I made my exit. I looked back on the human ship as I left, and saw a huge mass slowly writhing into the other hanger bay. As I was jostled by another impact on the Banshee, I boosted my speed and activated the Banshee's navigational computer.
High charity was here! Forerunner be praised! I quickly set a course for the capital, and boosted the Banshee to the best speed it offered.
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