About This Site
Daily Musings
News
News Archive
Site Resources
Concept Art
Halo Bulletins
Interviews
Movies
Music
Miscellaneous
Mailbag
HBO PAL
Game Fun
The Halo Story
Tips and Tricks
Fan Creations
Wallpaper
Misc. Art
Fan Fiction
Comics
Logos
Banners
Press Coverage
Halo Reviews
Halo 2 Previews
Press Scans
Community
HBO Forum

Clan HBO Forum
ARG Forum
Links
Admin
Submissions
Uploads
Contact

The Siege of Palatine: Part 1
Date: 30 September 2005, 9:27 pm

0000 Hours, October 15, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Alpha Sierra System, Palatine II
In Orbit on board UNSC Frigate Indefatigable

       Word had just come. Earth was under attack. Everyone knew it was inevitable but it hardly dulled the shock they all had at the orders commanding almost all ships in the fleet to abandon their posts and come to defend the Home World at full speed. This was true most of all to the defenders of the Alpha Sierra System; many called the beautiful world of Palatine II their home. Yet all had strong ties to Earth as well, and all were aware of the Home World's strategic and symbolic significance. None had hesitated in obeying their orders.

       FleetCom had not completely neglected the rest of the surviving Inner Colonies, however. Two C class frigates remained behind at Palatine II: the Moskva and the Indefatigable. Both had a meager complement of eight archer missile pods and twelve 25mm chain gun turrets. Even together they doubtless could not even take down the shields of a single Covenant frigate. They might as well have left a letter in orbit politely asking the Covenant not to glass their planet.

       Commander Harris of the Indefatigable knew the situation well. He had been left to be a presence in the system, to maintain that a human force still existed in the Alpha Sierra System, to give the 350 million people on the planet below some small sense of security. It was all smoke and mirrors, however. The two frigates could do little more than waste the plasma of a Covenant vessel. They had been given strict orders to surrender Palatine II to its fate and assist in the defense of Earth if even a single alien ship entered the system. And so would end the people, culture, and history of an entire planet.

       Palatine II deserved better, Harris thought angrily. It had been the second planet to be colonized after Reach, being nearly the same distance from Earth. Unlike Reach, however, it had taken no terraforming to make it hospitable, and it would prove the only such case so far in the galaxy. Its position in the system made it ideal for habitation as well. It was a mere 125 million kilometers from the Alpha Sierra star, creating a wonderful environment to live in. The poles were expansive fields of lush green grass and the equator was all tropics. The majority of the planet's population lived in the upper Northern hemisphere where temperatures ranged seasonally from twenty to about thirty-five degrees Celsius. Indeed the planetary capital Tarentum, Harris's home, was located in this region. It truly was a gem, Harris pondered romantically. He prayed the Covenant would not come here.

       Harris glanced at the command screen. The clock turned midnight. Harris waited a few moments, his foot tapping violently on the hard metal floor of the bridge, before speaking. "Lieutenant Clarkson?" he asked of his navigations officer impatiently. With the danger at Earth so near it was protocol to receive reports hourly from the Alpha Sierra's relay station to monitor any ships passing within billions of kilometers of the system. Ostensibly it was for the protection of Palatine II but in reality the scans were being used to monitor any Covenant reinforcements on their way to Earth. Given their proximity and angle to the Home World, it was possible they could pick up a trace of an inbound fleet. Unlikely, but possible.

       "Lieutenant Clarkson!" Harris barked once more. Usually Clarkson was very good, but she was trained at navigation, not communications. Because C class frigates were designed to be support craft they tended not to have a communications officer since its need for it was usually limited to receiving orders. The role was delegated to a simple AI program to relay messages to the command screen but the delicacy of this operation called for a human touch.

       "Receiving probe scans now, sir," Clarkson said, her voice tinged with annoyance. Harris knew his temper was unwarranted but he could hardly help it. He found it more and more difficult to keep the feeling of hopelessness from overwhelming him. The Covenant had passed near enough to Palatine on their way to Earth to know there was a human presence here. Once they had glassed the Home World and ended the hopes of humanity, they would come here and destroy his planet, his home. What if this was all for nothing…

       "What did they find, Lieutenant?" Harris asked, quietly this time. She tapped a few commands on her console and looked at her screen. There was a pause as she stared for a few moments at the findings. This can't be good, Harris thought.

       "Sir, the probe picked up slipspace signatures of approximately fifteen Covenant ships passing on the outer edge of this system," she announced in a strained voice. "Analysis indicates they are all carriers."

       Harris closed his eyes. Fifteen ships would double the invasion force that currently threatened Earth. "Get Lord Hood on the horn, Clarkson. Appraise him of the situation."

       "That won't be necessary sir," she said, still staring at her screen as if she could not take her eyes from it. "They are not heading to Earth. They're coming here. They'll enter normal space in about five minutes."

       Silence filled the bridge like something tangible, something oppressive. It is over, Harris thought, misery drowning him. He thought of his apartment in Tarentum overlooking the bay, of his beautiful wife pregnant with their second child, of his five year old daughter who had just started school this year. He had been given orders to abandon them, all of them, to their deaths. How could that be asked of him? Of anyone?

       It was his weapons officer, the only person on the bridge who did not live on Palatine II, who finally broke the silence. "Orders, sir?" he asked in a small voice.

       The indecision that had paralyzed Harris lifted. He had to act. Thoughts raced violently through his mind until one finally made its way to his lips. "Clarkson, how certain are we that all the ships are carriers?"
       "Ninety percent, sir. They are close enough to negate most slipspace distortion. It is possible there is a warship with them, however." Clarkson knew better than to question her commander's reasoning.

       Harris nodded slowly in his chair. Even one carrier was more than a match for both frigates in orbit, but carriers had a far lighter armament than most Covenant warships. They were not exactly ideal for glassing a planet. They were ideal for invasion, however; one typical Covenant carrier could carry approximately eight thousand troops, dozens of vehicles, and many tons of equipment.

       "Get me Captain Miller on COM please, Lieutenant," Harris said, his newfound hope making his voice hard.

       "Aye sir, channel open," she said.

       Miller, CO of the Marines on his ship, was a good man, and more than that, he and all of his men hailed from Palatine II. C class frigates normally did not have a complement of Marines but with the possibly close quarter action at Earth they had each taken on fifty of the best men the planet had to offer. He had orders to keep them with him, but felt he had to do something to help his home and his family and right now orders were the last thing on his mind.

       "Captain Miller, we have a situation. Fifteen Covenant ships are about four minutes from our position." He gave Miller no time to absorb this information. "Now as far as we know they are all carriers suggesting they are here to invade Palatine II, not to glass it. If the math is right there could be upwards of 120,000 enemy troops on the surface in a couple of hours. They are gonna need all the help they can get. I'm giving you and your men the opportunity to defend your homes."

       There was a moment of silence on the other end before Miller responded. "Give me a moment to speak with my men, sir," he said at last.

       "Make it quick, Lieutenant," Harris said, though he could hardly deny the need for discussion. It was very likely he was asking fifty men to land on a planet that was about to be glassed.

       Miller indeed made it quick. He responded in less than a minute. "We are all agreed. We are heading to the surface. We'll need about five minutes to get loaded up, though."

       "We'll try to give it to you, Captain," Harris answered grimly. "Good luck." He closed the link and turned to Clarkson. "Lieutenant, contact Commander Hawking of the Moskva and tell him to relay the same message to his Marines." He settled back in his chair, feeling validated that he had at least taken this small action.

       "Commander!" Clarkson said sharply. "Fifteen Covenant ships have just entered normal space… confirmed, they are all carriers."

       Harris gave an inaudible sigh of relief. He had hoped as much. At least Palatine would have a fighting chance. "What is their position, Lieutenant?"

       "Eighty million kilometers out-system, near Palatine III sir," Clarkson answered. Palatine III had only a very thin atmosphere. It was incapable of supporting human life and had only a small research station on its surface. Maybe the Covenant don't know that, Harris thought. "They're turning around, sir, heading here in normal space. ETA twelve minutes." Whatever the reason for arriving there, it would buy them some time.

       Harris reopened the channel with Miller. "Captain, you need to haul ass. We have to jump to Earth ASAP."

       "We're ready, sir," Miller responded. Harris could hear the usual noise that accompanied the rushed mobilization of fifty Marines in the background. "We're just loading the Pelicans now."

       "I'm uploading the command codes to the shuttle bay to you, Captain," Harris informed him. "Launch when ready."

       "Aye sir." The channel closed.

       The Covenant ships were magnified and made visible on the command screen. They were massive, bloated beasts with thousands of heavily armed troops teaming in their bellies. They were moving at full speed toward Palatine II, though their lateral lines remained dark. They hadn't even powered up their weapons systems though they must have been aware of the two frigates' presence. This indifferent approach angered Harris even though he knew it was perfectly justified; they were but a couple of flies to a pack of bears.

       "Shuttle bay doors opening, sir," Clarkson said as a shudder racked the ship. On the view screen the crew could see the ship's two Pelican transports speed through the vacuum towards the emerald green and deep blue of Palatine II. Moments later two motes of light could be seen leaving the Moskva as they unloaded their Pelicans as well. It was encouraging to know that all of the hundred Marines of the two lonely frigates volunteered to fight the uphill defense of their planet even if their contribution would be negligible.

       "Set coordinates for Earth, Lieutenant," Harris commanded as the fiery exhaust of the Pelicans faded into the reflection of the vast ocean. The commander stood up and took one last look at Palatine II: the rolling hills, the expansive sea, the tropical forests. A tear pricked his eye and he looked away only after his ship turned around. He had a horrible feeling that he had just had his last glimpse of his home. "Take us out."

       And behind him one hundred Marines and one hundred and twenty thousand Covenant headed towards the surface of Palatine II.

The Siege of Palatine: Part 2
Date: 13 October 2005, 10:56 am

Author's Note: On my first entry I made the mistake of saying the date was October 15 when in fact the invasion of Earth was October 20. I have changed it for this entry but that does not mean that five days have passed since the last installment.

0020 Hours, October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Alpha Sierra System, Palatine II
Onboard Pelican A en route to surface

       "Indefatigable has entered slipspace, Lieutenant," the pilot at the helm of the descending Pelican said. "They're gone."

       "What's the status on the Covenant ships?" Lieutenant John Miller asked.

       "ETA four minutes, sir. Buggers are closing fast."

       Miller scratched his chin. The planetary defenders would have had only about twenty minutes warning once the Covenant made landfall – hardly time enough to organize a coordinated defense. Miller wondered if the added complication of a hundred Marines inbound on Pelicans would be more of a hindrance than a help, but he had to assume that Palatine II would need every little bit it could get.

       "Sir, we're receiving landing coordinates planetside," the pilot said as the craft descended violently into the lower atmosphere. "They want us near the bay, at the communications hub."

       "Alright, son, set 'er down," Miller said, clasping the man's shoulder. He was relieved that command had found a use for him and his men. Inner Colony defense systems were often capable of gross incompetence.

       Miller left the cabin and entered the hold. His men were strapped in, all carefully checking their weapons and calibrating their gear. They were nervous as Miller could well see, being one of the only men on the entire planet to have actually seen combat. There were only small things that gave them away. They breathed through their mouths with a little too much control, they yawned when they clearly were wide awake, their heel tapped ever so slightly on the steel deck. The thought that occurred to Miller before every engagement he had taken part in flitted briefly and distractingly through his mind: how many of these men will meet their end before the day is out?

       Miller decided he would give a small speech to these men, these kids, most of whom were little older than his own daughter of twenty years on the surface below. Normally he did not waste his time with such frivolous matters to professional soldiers, but this was different. They had received no order to go to this place, to fight a battle that would probably be lost. They had volunteered to fly into the jaws of death. It was a sacrifice Miller understood as well as respected. No medals would ever be conferred to these men; indeed, within a few months it was perfectly possible that no human institution would still exist to recognize anyone. They deserved something.

       "Marines," Miller began, and all eyes looked up to him. It had not occurred to him that anything other than the decision to make a speech was necessary, but now that it came to it, he could think of nothing to say that would not drip uselessly from his lips. He then caught the eye of a Marine on his right. He must have been at least eighteen, but his boyish features made him appear much younger. He sat there, his big black eyes staring with anxiety directly at him, focusing on him intensely so that he may forget what was to come. He had not yet lived a quarter of his life yet he was prepared to give everything for a cause of which me must have had only the vaguest notion. Miller suddenly found the words.

       "Marines, from the beginning of human history men have been called up to fight for their homes. Sometimes they chose to and sometimes they were forced to, yet in either case in the heat of battle they fought with zeal for they were fighting for what they believed in, even if that belief differed completely from the man next to him. But even they had a luxury you do not: they could turn and run. We cannot. We fight not just for our homes but for our right to existence. Never before have the stakes been so high, and they are on your shoulders this day. Fight hard, fight beyond your endurance, for you fight to keep the flame of humanity burning bright!"

       Somewhere a Marine banged the butt of his rifle twice against the deck and cried, "Hear hear!" From this a raucous cheer filled the hold as the anxious silence suddenly evaporated.

       "We've reached LZ," the pilot yelled back to the Marines. "Doors opening."

       A green light switched on in the hold and the pressure doors slid silently open. Stepping from the darkened hold of the Pelican into the city of Tarentum caused Miller's eyes to water. The sun was just setting casting an orange glow on the white courtyard over which the Pelican hovered. A thin layer of fog covered his surroundings, almost like a thin layer of gauze that accentuated and reflected the breathtaking light. Miller surveyed the surrounding as the rest of his men followed him onto the surface. The courtyard he had landed in was in front of a massive glass and metal building with satellite dishes and transmission towers perched on its roof. On the other side of the courtyard was a four-lane street and a row of two story commercial buildings built in the classical Roman style of colored limestone and terra cotta roofs.

       Miller's earpiece crackled to life with a transmission. "Captain Miller of the Indefatigable?" a woman's voice asked.

       "That's right," Miller responded.

       "We need your men to protect the southern entrance of this relay station. Past Covenant ground engagements suggest this will be a priority target so they can knock out our ability to call for reinforcements. Defend it at all cost."

       "Wait!" Miller said before she could close the channel. "What's the status of the Covenant fleet?"

       For a while he got no answer and he feared he'd lost her. At last she said, "Covenant carriers are have entered orbit. Stand by for enemy contact." With that she left him with silence.

       A sort of icy fear flooded quickly through Miller. They still had no confirmation that the Covenant would not simply glass the planet. It was a death Miller had been terrified of since its first practice at Harvest. But he had to work under the assumption that an invasion was imminent. He opened a channel to all his men. "Fire team alpha, take position in the relay building in case of any infiltration. Try and enable a firing position inside to cover us. Fire teams bravo and charlie, secure those buildings on the far side and take firing positions."

       Miller saw fifteen men run towards the relay station and the rest head across the street to the commercial buildings. He decided to accompany bravo and charlie teams since he guessed their position would be the toughest. Likely alpha team would see little action, because if the perimeter fell, the Covenant would level the building from a distance.

       It wasn't until Miller crossed the courtyard and reached the empty street that he began to notice the sounds of the city. Although the Marines already defending the station had taken the small care of blocking off both ends of this avenue, the rest of Tarentum was in disarray and chaos. Miller could hear the screams of thousands fill the air amid the accentuated noises of frantic traffic and the general cacophony that accompanies a city in panic. The realization of the slaughter that was to come didn't hit Miller until now. A Covenant force of over a hundred thousand was moments away from making landfall when crowds of untold numbers were still milling in the streets.

       Disheartened, he entered a building near the right end of the avenue. Inside was a small shop selling electronics and various recreational gadgets. He noticed five of his men standing disconsolately around a counter at the back. He walked over to see what they were looking at.

       "Christ," Miller muttered under his breath. For behind the counter, huddled miserably together, was a family of four. The father held his wife and his two children together protectively as if the Marines were the enemy he need worry about.

       "Jackson, get on the roof," Miller ordered quietly. "The rest of you upstairs." As they hurried to obey, Miller knelt down so he was on the level with the man. "Sir, I need you and your family to stay out of our way. You can't leave, but I don't even want to know that you're here. Understand?" The man gave a slow, deliberate nod. He didn't seem offended by Miller's curt tone, only surprised that this seemed to be happening. His children whimpered pitifully.

       Miller cursed again under his breath. It was a complication he really didn't need. Little could be done about it now, and he grimly set to work. He dragged a small display cabinet over to the entrance and propped it against the door. He smashed the front window and brought over a heavy wooden bookcase to provide some small cover. He lay out his four extra magazines on one of the ledges of the bookcase as well as his two grenades for quick access. He leaned back against the side wall, sweat now covering his face due to his exertions in the muggy heat. He glanced out the broken window. The fog had thickened precipitously and the sun was almost down; it would be bad fighting conditions for both sides. He brought down his visor from his helmet and switched heat vision on. He did not order his men to. He trusted they would know what to do from here.

       The fog seemed to usher dead silence. The fierce noises of the city seemed to be subdued by the oppressive mist and for the briefest moment Miller could hear nothing other than the sound of his own breathing. Then, without preamble, there was an explosion of noise. Arms fire and explosions erupted all around him, the fog playing with his senses. He stood up and scanned the street and courtyard through the scope of his A-16 Faulkner assault rifle. He saw no heat signatures.

       "Jackson, what do you see," he asked calmly but firmly on COM.

       Jackson, his squad's ace sniper that he had sent to the roof, reported coolly between the sharp cracks of his own rifle firing. "Couple of Phantoms just landed to the east, sir. Covies inbound our position. They'll be coming in from the left."

       As if to illustrate Jackson's commentary, three Phantoms flew overhead. They earned their names this day, appearing as a faint outline and a collection of purple hued lights floating eerily through the fog above. Miller heard three cracks from Jackson's rifle followed by the dull beating of automatic fire from the four Marines on the second floor. Miller leaned and peered far to the left. The enemy had arrived.

       At first Miller saw only what seemed like a blue tide flood into the courtyard: Grunts, with their super-cooled methane, always led the attack, absorbing enemy fire and distracting the enemy from the real threat of the Elites and Jackals. He opened fire into the flood of dark thermal signals indiscriminately, a constant stream of 6.62mm rounds that tore brutally through the Grunts' backs as they headed steadfastly towards the relay station. From the left approached three round warm spots: Jackals' shields. They set up in a line and appeared full circle, meaning they were pointed right at him. He ducked and rolled away from the window followed closely by a slew of plasma bolts that struck the limestone wall behind him. Molten rock flew in all directions, burning his face and hands. On the second floor he heard someone scream foully for about three seconds before it abruptly ceased. He glanced quickly at the family in the corner. They were shaken but unharmed. He returned to the window.

       Miller peeked from over the rim of the bookcase to survey the battle. Blue figures littered the street and courtyard, yet there remained a handful of Jackals and two Elites that were effectively pinning the Marines down, and a second wave of Grunts were joining the fray. He knelt back down and opened a channel to the men he had stationed in the relay station. "Men, there is minimal risk of infiltration. I need you to move from your position and flank the enemy at my position." He tapped a button on his vest that let out an electric pulse that could be picked up using thermal vision. "Move now, ASAP."

       The aliens picked up their rate of fire. Even Covenant small arms could devastate human infrastructure with startling quickness. Greenish-blue plasma rounds struck continuously on the outside of the shop building up a wave of heat so intense that his skin screamed in anguish. Another plasma bolt sailed through the broken window and struck the limestone behind him sending another spray of molten rock to scorch the back of his neck. He shrieked into his COM, all pretense of composure now gone. "Marines, I need you to get the fuck over here, now!"

       Even as he said it a fresh burst of automatic fire flooded Miller's senses. He peered over the edge again in time to see two of the Jackals get hit from behind by the flanking maneuver and three Grunts drop to the ground. The Jackals turned to face this new threat and as they did so Miller stood up, primed a grenade of his own and threw it at the formation of shielded aliens. Busy deflecting bullets from alpha team the explosion caught the remaining Jackals full in the back, blowing them bloodily into the air.

       The two Elites remained, however, behind a concrete barrier on the far side of the street. Miller called Jackson. "Corporal, I'm gonna get those bastards' attention. Get ready to take 'em out."

       "Roger that, sir," Jackson confirmed.

       Miller readied his second grenade and tossed it on the other side of the barrier. Both Elites sprang from their positions in opposite directions. Miller and the remaining two Marines above him fired at once on the Elite on the left in such volume that the alien never had time to recover and fire its weapon. It died under the withering fire of three assault rifles. Jackson was just as quick with the second. He fired three shots from his high caliber sniper rifle before the fourth penetrated its energy shield and brought it to its bloody end.

       Silence fell once more on the courtyard. Miller ran a hand roughly across the burns on his face, vaguely delighting in the pain, a sure sign he was still alive. Almost absentmindedly he opened a COM channel. "All teams, check in," he commanded, the exhaustion he felt creeping into his voice.

       All teams checked in, one after the other in a curiously leisurely fashion. The amazement that one always felt after combat to be alive affected them all. Miller sat down and leaned heavily against the wall, turning his head to check that the family that he now somehow felt responsible for was alright. Even the children had the expression of quiet fortitude and accomplishment even though they had not taken part in the fighting. It was an eternal mystery how killing was somehow a binding force.

       He strained to listen to the sounds of the city, but his ears rang from the clatter of battle and he could not discern any noise beyond a few feet from him. It hardly mattered; a few minutes later a General Ito rang through on universal COM declaring that the Covenant were retreating back to their fleet. It didn't even faze him when the general went on to say it was likely just a probing attack and to stay on high alert. A small victory had been claimed and they had sent the enemy running. A sort of haggard exultation swept through him. He had done something right today.

       And so he would keep on fighting, beyond endurance, beyond duty, beyond reason.

The Siege of Palatine: Part 3
Date: 20 October 2005, 10:57 am

1420 Hours, October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Alpha Sierra System, Palatine II
Planetary Capital, Tarentum

       Captain John Miller bit hungrily into a ham sandwich, devouring near half of it in a single ravenous bite. Besides the fact that his battle fatigue had awakened a crippling hunger in him, it had been over a month since he had eaten anything other than the hermetically sealed chemicals they passed off as food on the Indefatigable. It had been a pleasure beyond description when his Marines discovered an abandoned deli just down the street, and he felt beyond caring that their procurement of supplies was outright thievery and thus strictly against regulations.

       It struck him as odd that he should feel so pleased when so much death and destruction surrounded him, but the sudden realization didn't dull his hunger any nor did it faze him. He knew, without letting it sink in, that he would feel all the horrors of battle later, that a sickness would seize him and sleep be robbed of him, but he could not feel it now. All he felt was the elation of success and the anticipation of the fight that was to come. His humanity was suspended; for now he was a warrior.

       He sat on a bench in the courtyard, watching uninterestedly as a group of orderlies hauled the naked bodies of slain Covenant soldiers onto one flatbed truck and their weapons and equipment onto another. The fallen Marines had already been more respectfully removed. He had watched with a sort of strange detachment as he saw his comrades' charred bodies removed from the ruined buildings. The only thought that had occurred to him was whether or not they would ever get a chance to bury them.

       Thinking deeply of the events of the previous night he was surprised when he saw he was being addressed by a Marines that stood before him. "Excuse me?" he asked, hastily adding a "sir" when he saw the man outranked him.

       "Is this seat taken?" the man repeated slowly and with what might have been a smirk.

       "No," he said somewhat dreamily, then said with more emphasis, "No, no one's sitting here."

       "Ah, good," he said, his smirk now developed into a full blown smile. He was a man of about fifty, about ten years older than himself, with a harsh, well-weathered face that was soften somewhat by the light blue eyes of a much younger man. He had a generously sized cookie in one hand with the other he removed his helmet and made himself as comfortable as one can on a concrete bench wearing full battle gear. After taking a bite of his prize from the ravaged deli he extended a hand and introduced himself. "Major Frank Gerard of the 81st," he said in a gruff, friendly voice.

       Miller shook the proffered hand and likewise introduced himself.

       "You should get those wounds looked at, son," he said, referring to the burns he had suffered the night before.

       "No, I think I'll do that later," he said, running a hand across the scorched patches of skin on his face. He had the ridiculous notion that if he waited until the end of the fighting to tend to his wounds that he would somehow survive the fight.

       "D'you know the numbers, Miller?" the Major asked suddenly, foregoing any further chance of small talk.

       Assuming he meant the casualties from the night's engagement, he said, "I've heard a dozen different tales from a dozen different people."

       Gerard grunted. "Well, word from command is about three hundred combatants KIA and as many wounded. Civilian casualties are thought to be in the thousands."

       It was about what he had guessed, but the staggering figures managed to penetrate his clouded mind and stirred a feeling of remorse for his home. "Those are official?" he asked.

       "Well, as official as they can be in the middle of a mess like this," he said with a sweep of his eyes that took in the carnage around them. "Apparently the Covenant torched a lot of apartment buildings that were full of people trying to get off the streets." He shook his head gravely, an understated gesture given the enormity of the tragedy. "And that's not even the worst of it. Command thinks less than two thousand enemy troops actually landed last night. It was just a sampling of the fight ahead."

       Miller wondered briefly why Gerard was talking to him. "It seems odd they wouldn't overwhelm us right away," he said, deciding to humor the Major. "They've only given us time to organize a defense."

       "Bastards have been busy the last couple hours. They've bombed military installations across the planet, including the other three relay stations. This is the last one we've got. Without it we won't be able to send interplanetary messages."

       The news alarmed Miller. "What's to stop them from glassing Tarentum?"

       Gerard shrugged. "There's a reason they're invading and not glassing. Whatever they've come for must be here."

       The idea intrigued him. With the rush and activity of that past fourteen hours he had neglected to analyze the situation. It certainly was unusual for the Covenant to do anything but render human worlds uninhabitable once they got the chance. The only other instance in which the Covenant had invaded was at Sigma Octanus IV, and he recalled that ONI had been all over that little bombshell. Whatever had transpired there was a closely guarded secret.

       He suddenly remembered the plight of Earth, forgotten amidst his own myriad problems. "What news of the Home World?" he asked the Major.

       "They repelled the first wave quite handily and are mopping up the last few Covenant that made it to the surface. I heard the fleet that arrived numbered only fifteen ships and still did quite some damage to our defenders. In any case the enemy survivors are regrouping at Epsilon Eridani and are staying put, probably waiting for reinforcements."

       "Then we can expect no help from them," Miller said bitterly.

       Gerard shrugged. "Well, not much, though in their infinite wisdom FleetCom has sent 'someone' to take over command of the Palatine defense."

       He narrowed his eyes at Gerard's mysterious emphasis on "someone". "ONI?"

       "We picked up something in Covenant communications that caught those bastards' attention," Gerard acknowledged. "They'll be here soon, one assumes."

       Miller groaned. Like most members of the UNSC armed forces he had a healthy dislike for the Office of Naval Intelligence matched only by a strong suspicion for their motives. They had reached almost a mythically evil status in the UNSC, and most Marines took it for granted that ONI were indeed responsible for all the things they were accused of including reprogramming captured Covenant soldiers, conducting experiments on children, even attracting the Covenant's attention in the first place. It was perfectly natural for people to want to blame someone when faced with utter extinction, and he assumed ONI bore these feelings with no small amusement.

       But Miller's hatred of the shadowy agency was much more deep-rooted than the average man's. Four years ago, on Ysaris III, he had been involved in a botched operation that had cost the lives of many civilians and ONI had swooped down on the incident with blinding speed bringing enough whitewash to cover the Great Wall of China. He and all the men under his command had been detained for days and rigorously questioned by Internal Affairs before finally being set loose with not so much as a stain on his record. To penalize him would be to acknowledge that anything had happened and it was blaringly obvious from the onset that their intent was to cover it all up as neatly and discreetly as possible. He was hardly grateful; the guilt of that day gnawed away at him even now. It had all just left a bad taste in his mouth.

       He suddenly fell silent and his expression darkened. Sensing their conversation was over Gerard gathered his gear and stood up to go. Before leaving he said, "I came over to tell you that Covenant chatter has increased and Command thinks they're getting ready for their second attack. This time it's gonna be all they got. Get into position, son, and tell your men to do the same." With that he returned to his own Marines.

       A sudden tiredness swept over him replacing the elation he had felt only moments ago. It occurred to him that he hadn't slept in almost thirty-six hours. As he stood up his gun felt unnaturally heavy, his arms stiff and his head muddled. How am I going to fight like this? he wondered, and as he approached the building he taken position in the night before. He grabbed a chair from behind a counter and placed it at the front of the shop. He dropped his gun to the ground, took a seat, and let his head roll back. Although the feeling of accomplishment had drained he still felt no fear; he was too tired to be scared. He felt sure somehow that he was not going to die here. It was a feeling of Providence…

       He would have fallen asleep but a sudden thought made him snap upright in his chair. Like tending to his wounds before the battle was over he had the absurd idea that contacting his family while there was still fighting to be done would be bad luck. He decided now that such superstitions were selfish since his wife and two daughters would be left wondering whether or not he was still alive. Opening a line to the communications hub, a bad feeling creeping into the back of his mind, he got hold of an operator with surprising quickness.

       "How may I help you?" a woman asked in a cold, automatic sort of voice. He guessed it was a simple AI.

       "Patch me a line to Ancona, resident Rachel Miller."

       "Yes, sir, one moment please." The call was rerouted to his hometown, a small town two hundred kilometers north of Tarentum. It was a beautiful town, built on a meandering river and surrounded by rolling green hills so fertile that they would grow crops if one merely sprinkled the ground with seeds. His own house was a villa built, as much of Palatine was, in the style of classical Rome, the building itself surrounding an inner courtyard with a garden and a small pool. His heart ached as he thought of it. The first thing he had done after the fighting of the previous night was to check that Ancona had not been touched by the Covenant.

       At last the call went through. "Hello?" a woman's voice ventured, a voice he had known intimately for the past twenty years. In the single word she uttered he could detect strain and sorrow, and for a moment he could do nothing but silently berate himself for being so selfish and not letting his loved ones know that he still lived.

       "Rachel, it's… it's John," he said lamely. What could he say?

       It seemed to be enough, however, for she let out a long sigh of relief and even gave him a small laugh. "My God, I was so worried, I thought – I'm glad you called."

       "I'm so sorry, sweetheart, things have been very hectic here." A terrible excuse, he thought. It's been over twelve hours.

       She accepted the lie without trouble, not wanting to ruin the moment. "Of course, I can imagine."

       "How are the kids?" he asked, finding it harder and harder to speak.

       "Kelly's helping to coordinate defense for the region. You know how good she is with technology. Claire is here with me. She's really scared but she's helping me lock down the house." Her voice became choked and she had to stop several times.

       Tears threatened him as well. Clearing his throat he managed, "Tell them I love them."

       She was crying openly now. "I love you."

       "I know, I know. I love you too." Tears blurred his vision and his throat felt many sizes too big.

       Before he could say anything further the courtyard erupted with the shouts and warnings of Marines. The Covenant had arrived.

       "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, but I have to go." He didn't say why. She had enough to worry about.

       She seemed to know anyway. With difficulty she said, "Just come home, John. Come home."

       The tears that he had struggled to contain poured down his face unchecked. "I'll see you soon, my love." Before it could go on he closed the channel. Wiping his face with the back of his hand he took his position at the front window, cocking the machine gun that had been placed there at his request since the first attack. Calling had been a bad idea, he thought. How am I going to fight like this?

       "Here they come!" someone yelled.

       Miller opened fire.

       By nightfall Tarentum remained decisively in the hands of humanity though it no longer stood. The famed jewel of the galaxy that had once stood as a symbol for beauty and learning and art now lay in ruins, its smoldering remains the only gravestone for untold thousands of men, women, and children who could not get out in time.

       Its defenders had faired little better, beating the invaders through perseverance and sheer force of will. While over half of the Covenant force had been killed in their effort at least that many of the humans were also dead, though it was feared much more. Command worried that if the Covenant survivors, driven to make camp outside the city, launched a third attack nothing could be done to stop it.

       Miller was among the survivors, and the third attack was the last thing on his mind. In an alleyway facing the relay station the battle for him and about a hundred Marines was not over. Two Hunters and three Elites were trapped in the alleyway and the Marines were trying desperately to dislodge them. The Hunters were lobbing their heavy plasma bolts from a distance into the relay station that, by miracle and by the blood of hundreds of men, was one of the few buildings left standing.

       That was about to change, however. The Hunters were reeking havoc on the station and it wouldn't be long before in collapsed. The Hunters were on Miller's side of the alleyway while the three Elites were on the far side protecting their comrade's vulnerable backsides from a flanking maneuver.

       "Somebody bring up that rocket launcher!" Miller cried. Sergeant Morchenko, one of the few surviving men from his command, brought one to the front. Stepping into the alley he knelt down, leveled the weapon, and fired a round at the two alien beasts.

       Having seen this happening, the Hunters came together and brought up their shields as one. The powerful rocket detonated on them, but their thick steel-blue armor protected them from any real harm. Leveling their own weapons, they fired at Morchenko. Quick enough to dodge out of the way, the Sergeant avoided getting hit directly by the stream of greenish plasma so feared by the Marines but his proximity took its toll. When he landed next to Miller half his face was a mass of blackened, simmering flesh. He twitched grotesquely, near death.

       "Medic!" Miller screamed. He looked away for fear of vomiting. Furious, he opened a channel to Command. "This is Captain Miller requesting an air strike at my position, over." He knew it was a useless gesture since the use of the air force had been prohibited for fear of attracting Covenant fighters. For reasons unknown the Covenant were not bombing the city from the air and Command was nervous to tempt them.

       After a crackle of static someone said, "This is Command, no air strike is available at this time. Can't risk Covenant response, over."

       Miller slammed his fist into the side of the ruined building against which he leaned in helpless anger. "If they haven't sent their fighters yet they're not going to now. We need and air strike, immediately!"

       His last word was drowned amidst a deafening explosion and for half a second he thought he had gotten his request in record time. Peering down the alley told a different story, however. The side wall to the alley had been blown open and black-uniformed soldiers he could not identify poured out of the gap in between the Hunters and the Elites. Three of the mysterious newcomers shot the Hunters in their exposed backs and they both dropped with a heavy thud. The other five dispatched the Elites who, caught now between these reinforcements and the Marines they had been contending with before, were killed without being able to take down a single man.

       As these new soldiers secured the alleyway, one of them putting a bullet in the head of a twitching Elite, an ninth figure emerged from the hole in the wall and, ignoring the carnage through which he stepped, walked calmly over to Miller. Not sure exactly what to make of the black-uniformed soldiers Miller was relieved to see that the man was indeed human.

       The man walked up specifically to Miller, noticing the insignia that denoted his rank, and asked, "Are you in charge here, Captain?"

       The man himself bore the rank of Colonel. He snapped a quick salute. "Yes, sir," he replied. Major Gerard had been incapacitated holding his end of the courtyard and he realized only now that he was, in fact, CO.

       The man nodded as if he had already known. "My name is Colonel James Burke. By the authority of the Office of Naval Intelligence I'm taking Command of the defense of Palatine II."

The Siege of Palatine: Part 4
Date: 28 October 2005, 2:54 am

2320 Hours, October 20, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Alpha Sierra System, Palatine II
Planetary Capital, Tarentum

       "My name is Colonel James Burke. By the authority of the Office of Naval Intelligence I'm taking Command of the defense of Palatine II."

       For a moment Miller was too stunned to respond. It seemed a pompous thing to him, to announce one's seizure of command to a mere Captain amid the rubble of a ruined city. Exactly what was expected of him was not especially clear.

       "Do you want me to contact command for you, sir?" Miller asked at last.

       "No, Captain…?"

       "Miller," he offered truculently.

       "No, thank you, Captain Miller." He thought that for the briefest moment the Colonel gave a small, knowing smile. "I will be heading there myself momentarily." He pressed a button just beneath his shoulder. A second later, the eight black uniformed soldiers ceased what they were doing and rallied behind the Colonel with startling speed.

       They were like no soldiers Miller had ever seen. They wore dark urban camouflaged pants that were covered in holsters for a sidearm, a combat knife, grenades, and a copious amount of ammo for weapons of all description. Their vest was thick and black and worn over a black uniform without any identification or rank. The vest was made of a material he didn't recognize and looked more like rubber than Kevlar*. Their faces were the most disconcerting, however. Underneath a black helmet their eyes were covered by large, dark goggles and the rest of their faces concealed by a black ski mask. Not one inch of skin was visible.

       "Who are they?" Miller asked in awe. The Marines all around him stared at the mysterious soldiers as well for they exuded a sense of fear even in their apparent allies.

       "We'll talk on the way over," the Colonel said. Burke himself was dressed exactly like his men save for the headgear. Instead he bore a standard issue communications piece and a simple black beret with the curious symbol of two golden swords crossed over each other stitched on the front. He gave two of his men a hand signal that they silently acknowledged. They ran down the street and around the corner with the same unnatural speed they had demonstrated before.

       "On the way over?" he asked, confused.

       "Yes, Captain. You're coming with us."

       Before he could ask any questions two Warthogs roared down the street and stopped just before the alleyway. Without even being told the rest of the Colonel's men piled into the Warthogs with swift, almost robotic movements. In the lead vehicle the driver got out and sat in the back letting the Colonel drive. He motioned for Miller to join him in the passenger seat.

       He hesitated for a moment, more out of shock than apprehension. The prospect of accompanying an agent of the Office of Naval Intelligence along with eight unidentified soldiers was itself cause for doubt, but that he had been seemingly singled out added outright suspicion.

       Colonel Burke seemed amused by his hesitation and gave a smirk that infuriated him. "Captain Miller," he said with what seemed strained sincerity, "I will answer all questions you have on the way over. But we need to move, now."

       He could hardly refuse a direct command from a superior officer with the authority of ONI behind him. He reluctantly opened the side door and clambered into the passenger seat. Burke entered after him and started the ignition. Before heading off he stuck his arm out the window and issued a hand signal to the Warthog behind him. As he drove off the other vehicle followed.

       Miller was at least grateful for the opportunity to sit down on a proper seat. He set his weapon, which had felt increasingly heavy as the day wore on, in front of him and grimly set the safety on. He removed his helmet and propped it on his knee, running a hand tiredly through his light brown hair. He was shocked to discover upon examining his hand that it was covered in blood. Tentatively he felt his head and discovered the wound at his hairline.

       "You should probably get that checked out," Burke commented, this time with what seemed to be genuine concern.

       Mildly surprised by this sudden care, he said, "No, it's nothing." He took a piece of gauze from a pouch on his belt and pressed it firmly over the cut. He looked over at Burke as he did this, the questions that had been stirring in his mind now finding their way to speech. "What do you want with me, sir?"

       For a moment the Colonel didn't respond as he drove with some difficult around the rubble of a collapsed building that had spilled over much of the road. The shouts of Marines scrambling frantically to put out a blazing fire in the remains filled the vehicle and drowned most other noise.

       When they had passed Burke spoke. "You're Captain John Patrick Miller of the 31st Marine Division of Palatine II, correct?"

       He struggled to understand how Burke could possibly know that five minutes after meeting. He had had no time to put in a search on his name nor ask any of his comrades. It was perfectly possible his subdermal automatically identified him from his speech though he suspected as he had before that this man knew much more than he let on. Deciding not to be difficult he simply said, "That's correct."

       The Colonel remained expressionless. "You were transferred back to your home planet four years ago from active duty on Ysaris III and tasked to train local defense forces, correct?"

       He gritted his teeth and struggled to contain his anger. The thinly veiled reference to the incident on Ysaris III filled him with unabated rage. He was tortured day and night by his memories from that day and to have it thrown in his face so soon after meeting another agent of ONI was unbelievable. With difficulty he managed, "Yes, sir."

       He nodded, still determinedly showing no emotion. He rounded a corner and began driving down an abandoned street even more devastated than the last. "We've intercepted Covenant transmissions indicating that they're searching for something on the surface."

       "So why do you need me?" he asked, annoyed by his coyness.

       "Whatever they're looking for is in the woods outside of Tarentum. I understand you train men there?"

       It was true. The military had claimed a large swath of the forest to the west of Tarentum for a training camp for local assets. He regularly trained the raw recruits there. The more experienced trainees were taken to the deep wildernesses far to the south.

       "With respect, how the hell do you know all this about me, sir?"

       He shook his head. "Doesn't matter."

       The Colonel still waited for an answer. Miller wondered why he bothered when he obviously knew. "Yes, sir, that's correct," he said, purposely deliberate.

       "Maps of the area go only so far," Burke continued. "We're going into the forest and we need a firsthand guide to help us around."

       "I thought you were assuming command of the planetary defense."

       "I will inform General Ito that he will act under the authority of the Office of Naval Intelligence, but I will not be personally coordinating the defense effort, no,"

       Whatever that meant, he thought. No messages were being sent to Earth unless absolutely necessary for fear of being intercepted and decoded by the Covenant. He wondered briefly but uninterestedly as to what Burke would tell the General.

       "We're here," he announced and stopped the vehicle in front of a low, sprawling office building. The government facility was acting as the provisional headquarters for the defense of Tarentum. Given the importance of the target it was in remarkably good shape. The landscape around it, however, was utterly leveled and littered with casualties from both sides, a bitter testament to fierce battle to protect it.

       "Alright, Captain, I'll be back soon," Burke told him. "Stay here and don't go too far. I'll leave four of my men with you."

       The Colonel left with the other four and headed towards the entrance. He walked with a casual assuredness that contrasted heavily with the carnage through which he stepped. His men were a different story: they were down low, watching their corners and forming a protective ring around their leader. They worked in unison and moved in short, clipped movements that seemed distinctly inhuman. He wondered what outfit they were from and realized he had forgotten to ask.

       The remaining men left with him were no less alert. Two of them manned each of the turrets on the two Warthogs and the other two ran to find cover and form a loose perimeter around the entrance. Miller himself wandered over to a ruined building with a nonchalance similar to Burke's, taking his helmet and weapon with him only as an afterthought. He took a seat on a particularly large piece of rubble and put his face in his hands. He was technically still in a hot battle zone but he no longer cared. Exhaustion once again seized him. He was going on two days with no sleep, and having fought hard for the past twenty-four hours had taken a heavy toll. He needed to rest. He cursed in resentment when he realized he would be going right back into action with this mysterious Colonel.

       He began tapping his foot nervously and he then noticed that his boot was on something quite soft. Looking down he saw the battered body of a small boy. He recoiled with such horror that he fell off his perch and landed heavily on his back. Getting up he hesitantly approached the corpse. Wincing, he knelt down and felt the neck. The boy had been dead at least four hours. He sighed deeply and, overcome by a strange curiosity, turned the head so he could see the face. A feeling stirred in him as he gazed into the lifeless eyes of the child, an expression of horror and pain frozen grotesquely on his youthful face.

       With a sudden onset his right hand began to shake and blood drained from his face. Despite the warm evening air a chill swept through his body. Memories flooded back to him. He grasped his hand to try and steady it and took a few involuntary steps backward. All at once, as if someone had switched them on, tears streaked down his face. His body was wracked by a series of violent sobs that must have been heard by the four men left to protect him. He fought the memories back, tried to subdue them and push them back into the recesses of his mind.

       His tears stopped as suddenly as they had come, but his hand was shaking as uncontrollably as ever. He recalled something he had meant to do and opened a channel to the main hub. "The status on settlement Ancona, please," he asked when he got through, his voice as unsteady as his hand.

       After only a short pause the operator said, "Ancona was untouched by the Covenant. Do you want me to patch you through to a resident there?"

       He didn't even consider it. "No," he said. He couldn't go through that again. Not when there was still so much to be done.

       His hand was still now and only slightly cold. He rubbed it vigorously with his other hand and took a moment to survey the night sky. He noticed only now that much of the Eastern horizon was tinged with a red glow. He realized with a horrible feeling in his heart that much of the city was probably ablaze from conventional Covenant weaponry. Even if his planet survived this he wondered how much of it would be scarred forever.

       A hand clasped his shoulder and he spun around suddenly and forcefully, surprising a taken aback Colonel Burke. "You alright?" he asked.

       "Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, averting his eyes and wiping his face with the back of his hand.

       Burke looked down at the broken body of the young boy and a glimmer of understanding smoothed his concerned face. He looked back at Miller and said simply, "Let's go."

       He felt a strange wave of affection for Burke for not questioning him about his appearance. His feelings of hostility seemed to melt away. For a moment in the man's eyes there seemed to be a consoling twinkle… as if he knew. The realization didn't bother Miller. He was just grateful to him for letting it go and even felt slightly comforted.

       The soldiers that surrounded them made no move that they had even heard what was said. Now overcome with curiosity and eager to put the incident behind him he questioned the Colonel once the Warthog started again. "You're men, sir," he began uncertainly, unsure of how to put the question when three of them were sitting in the back. "To what outfit do they belong?"

       Despite maneuvering around the dangerous streets of the burning city Burke tapped the symbol on his beret of two golden swords crossed over each other with pride. "They're the Areani. Special Forces. They are the fighting branch of ONI."

       "They seem… different." When he seemed hesitant to go on, Miller pressed him. "You said you'd answer any and all questions."

       He had half meant it as a joke, but the Colonel seemed to take his promise seriously. "They certainly are different. They were handpicked at twenty for extraordinary service to the UNSC. They were given special training and an implant at the base of the neck that taps into their spinal cords. It keeps them hyper-adrenalized, enhances the senses, improves nerve transmission." Again he paused but decided to go on past what he should have disclosed. "It also transmits on an ultra-low, alternating frequency that simulates telepathy between members of their squad."

       "They can read each other's minds?" he asked in awe.

       "Not exactly. They can transmit a feeling, a sense, nothing more. But it is enough to coordinate simple tactics silently and efficiently."

       "Are they Spartans?" He, like all Marines, had heard of the mythical Spartans who sent the Covenant running on several occasions… at least according to news reports.

       "No. In individual combat the Areani can't compete with the Spartan IIs. In a group, however, they could take one down quite easily." There was not a hint of idle boasting in his voice; he said it simply as fact.

       Miller looked back at them. He didn't doubt it. The Areani, even sitting in the Warthog, were in constant motion. They checked and rechecked their weapons, scanned their surroundings, or readjusted their position. The man on the turret swiveled with an almost manic awareness. He supposed that was an effect from the hyper-adrenalization. He wondered how they performed in a combat situation.

       He settled back in his seat and tried to relax. The effects of his episode had all but worn off. The pace of the day and his exhaustion helped to dull his senses some. Now he just remembered the feeling he had experienced mere minutes ago as if they had been described to him by someone else. Trying to shake it off, he continued talking. "How did you get past the Covenant blockade from Earth?" he asked somewhat distractedly.

       "We came in on a Prowler. They must have detected us jump in system but they didn't try too hard to track us. They must not have considered us a very serious threat." Burke looked over and stared straight into his eyes. "Let's see if we can change that, shall we?"

       Miller fell silent. Burke's ominous comment had awoken a sickness in his stomach. He had had the feeling from the beginning that he would not die this day but he nevertheless felt that heading into trouble a third time was testing his luck. Since Tarentum was built on a peninsula the retreating Covenant would have only one way to go: into the forest. Ten men were about to enter a hornets' nest.

       They reached the edge of the city and the highway that led off the peninsula and into the forest beyond. Unfortunately there were open plains that extended for over three kilometers before reaching the tree line which would leave them very exposed to the enemy before they reached cover.

       As they began their perilous drive on the highway the Areani became, if possible, more alert. Burke had also assumed a new expression, one of grim determination. The stream of traffic trying to get out of Tarentum had long since stopped so the stretch was completely abandoned; the Colonel was free to tear off at top speed.

       Although his surroundings blurred past him, Burke asked him to take a pair of binoculars from underneath the seat and look to the north from the passenger window. He set them on twenty times view and saw a remarkable sight. Thousands of Covenant were leaving the city by the northern road. They had many of their vehicles with them but the majority were on foot running in a disorganized fashion towards the forest. A few enthusiastic Marines gave chase in Warthogs, ripping into the dense mass of aliens with the mounted chain gun, but they were quickly driven off by the threat of Ghosts covering the rout.

       "My God, but they're beaten!" he exclaimed excitedly. "They're running pell-mell from the city, the bastards."

       "And only on the northern route," Burke mused.

       "So?"

       "So that's where we're going."

       His protest was lost amidst the rumble of tires on raw dirt as the Warthog swerved off the asphalt and onto the plain. When they reached the tree line they drove a few hundred meters in until the foliage became too dense to navigate. Burke and his men hopped out of the vehicle and he told Miller to do the same.

       "It's time to earn your pay today, Miller."





* Footnote – Obviously they would have something better than Kevlar five hundred years from now but for simplicity's sake I'm just calling whatever material they would use Kevlar.

The Siege of Palatine: Part 5
Date: 31 October 2005, 3:59 am

0015 Hours, October 21, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Alpha Sierra System, Palatine II
Planetary Capital, Tarentum

       The Areani covered the two Warthogs with brush to help conceal the already well camouflaged vehicles from prying Covenant eyes. Captain John Miller could only sit back and admire their movements. Watching them was like seeing action fast forwarded: their crisp yet fluid movements seemed almost robotic. It was slightly disconcerting to see them working almost telepathically, one man handing the other some scrub before the other had even extended his arms. He noticed they never spoke. He wondered if they were even able.

       Colonel James Burke was sitting on a log nearby staring fixedly into space. He assumed he was reading information on an implant in his retina. There was still much left to be answered. While unusually loquacious for an ONI spook the Colonel was vague at best when it came to their actual mission. What they were searching for and exactly his role was as yet unknown to Miller. He was sure that his role as a "guide" was superfluous, to put it lightly, and he suspected it was a hastily imagined story. Burke seemed to know where they were going without his help and the Areani would probably end up guiding himself through the forest. The more he thought about it, the more it worried him.

       On top of his perfectly reasonable concerns he was beginning to worry that his exhaustion was affecting his mind. He recalled, almost as though it were a dream, his weariness after the first engagement. That had been twenty four hours ago. After that he had felt merely lethargic and drawn out, a completely normal reaction given the circumstances. Now, however, he felt markedly different. He was filled with a manic, frenetic energy. His skin burned and his body shook. He had gone well over two days without sleep enduring much hardship and stress. The only other time he had felt like this was during boot camp when he spent three days in a forest hopelessly lost and deprived of sleep and nourishment. He remembered how completely he had broken down when he had been found by a search and rescue team.

       What was left of his reason was worried about his state. He would have told Burke but he knew the Colonel was on a mission direct from ONI and would not stop for rest. For some reason he found that irresistibly funny and a small laugh escaped explosively from his lips. He looked around. No one had heard him but he knew it was a very bad sign.

       "Alright, Captain, we're moving out," Burke announced quietly.

       Although moments ago Miller had been waiting impatiently to get going he now felt an intense rage course through his body now that action was again expected of him after all he had already done. He felt blood pounding in his ears and his face flush hotly. It was a struggle just to acknowledge the order. "Yes, sir."

       Burke must have noticed the strain in his voice for he looked questioningly at him. "Are you alright, Miller?"

       "Let's go," he said, now answering him, instead plunging ahead through the brush without turning to look at his face.

       He and the Colonel walked side-by-side, alert but upright and moving quickly and noisily. Four of the Areani stuck with them while the other four took up the front and rear. Although he knew they must be close he could not for the life of him see or hear them. They were silent killers, gliding unseen in the forest in the dead of night, utterly aware of everything around them. The notion unnerved even him despite being, at least ostensibly, on the same side.

       Every step was torture. His legs ached unbelievably. His eyes were strained and burned with every blink. He felt sick. His stomach had a dull, constant pain one gets with the flu and his skin felt like it was on fire. He didn't even feel the perimeter of his body anymore, as if is normal mass were being stretched outside itself, spread out, thin, and fragile. He struggled desperately to put one foot in front of the other but it was a losing battle. Right foot, left foot… right foot, left foot… right foot…

       Suddenly he was on the ground, though if forced or by accident he was not sure. He was only aware in the cloudiest sense that he was no longer upright. He struggled to get to his hands and knees but he was shoved roughly down again. "Stay low!" a fierce whisper sounded unmistakably in his ear. He looked over to see Burke also prostrate on the hard forest floor.

       He heard the muffled sound of silenced weapons all around him and it occurred to Miller in that instant that it was a very comforting noise. The volume of fire increased when a shot of plasma lit up the murky woods, the squeals of Grunts and the hisses of Jackals now filled the air. It was odd hearing no human sound at all through the course of the firefight. If he had not known it was the Areani in combat he may have judged the Covenant were winning.

       The reality turned out to be quite different, however. Gradually the eight men formed up above him, checking in with the Colonel. After an extended conversation consisting of a slew of rapid hand signals Burke appeared satisfied and gestured for them to return to their positions. He looked down and seemed to notice for the first time that Miller still lay on the ground, face down.

       Kneeling down he grasped him by the shoulder and shook him forcefully. "Miller, are you hit?" he asked, his voice strained with concern.

       Miller twisted around violently and his eyes bore into Burke with all the manic craze he felt. He gazed at the man without recognition. For a moment he knew neither where he was nor who he was with. Suddenly memory flooded back to him almost painfully and he recalled that he was here because of this representative of the hated ONI. With surprising strength he shoved Burke off him. "I need rest, Colonel!" he shouted furiously, his voice reaching a frenzied pitch.

       Recovering himself Burke walked over to Miller, still on the forest floor, and grasped him firmly by the shoulders and half carried, half dragged him to a nearby tree. Miller struggled but the broad shouldered Colonel overpowered him with almost humiliating ease. He shoved his back roughly against the trunk of the mighty oak and forced him to look into his eyes.

       "Captain Miller, we are on a mission and you will maintain discipline!" He paused for a moment and just looked into his eyes. He shook his head slightly and sighed as if silently berating himself for not recognizing the problem sooner. "Alright, Captain, we'll take thirty." He rummaged around in small pouch on his belt and retrieved a small needle. "In the meantime I'll give you a little pick-me-up."

       Burke removed the plastic cover on the tip with his teeth and spat it out. Without hesitation he plunged it into Miller's thigh and pressed the plunger. Too weak to feel anything or resist the unwelcome injection he just laid his head back on the soft bark of the tree and hoped if he didn't move they would just leave him behind. Thoughts of his home drifted sleepily into mind. He imagined himself lying on his elongated beach chair in his courtyard on a warm summer day with a good book in one hand and a cold beer in the other. His pool lapping to his left, his children playing to his right, the birds singing overhead. And before him, his beautiful wife…

       His eyes snapped open. He stretched and yawned involuntarily, feeling quite refreshed. His instincts told him it must be morning but he gradually became aware it was still pitch black and that Burke was still in front of him and looking at him expectantly.

       Seeing his confusion Burke said, "I gave you a supplement the Areani sometimes use. It boosts energy and caps adrenaline levels. Your body was pumping a lot of adrenaline into your system before but in your state it was just driving you mad," he explained.

       Miller nodded half-heartedly. Indeed, besides feeling energized, some of his reason had returned. He felt as though he had had a solidly mediocre sleep. He rubbed his face with his hands, the friction against the burns he had sustained the day before helping him to wake up some more. "I'm sorry about before, sir," he said candidly, his hands still covering his face.

       "Think nothing of it, Captain," Burke said graciously. He sidled up beside Miller, sharing the tree as a backrest, their confrontation a minute ago entirely forgotten.

       For a while they sat in silence, neither of them talking nor searching for anything to talk about. Somehow their speechlessness spoke volumes. It was odd, Miller pondered, the events that bonded men, especially in stressful circumstances. Perhaps it was left over from primal instincts that men understood each other better in conflict than in the more mundane interactions of civilization. Whatever the reason, he felt a strong connection to Burke at this moment and felt that they had gained a mutual understanding.

       They were moving north again before the thirty minutes were up, but Miller did not mind. He was now eager to be done with this mission and get some proper sleep. The predicament they would still be in even if they found what they were looking for did not seem to bother him. He was hopelessly optimistic and always had been. Just as he felt he would not die this day he felt his home would remain safe.

       They walked on a while longer, no one making a sound. After what he guessed was two hours he felt Burke tense up beside him and slow down. He crouched down and tried to move as silently as the dense foliage would allow.

       "We're coming up on something," Burke whispered mysteriously, beckoning him to get down.

       He did so, crouching behind a particularly large fern and peering through the darkness in an attempt to see what they had come upon. As his eyes focused he began to notice that there was indeed a faint light emanating up ahead. He looked over at the Colonel questioningly but he just shook his head and listened intently. Miller turned and also tried to listen. For a while he heard nothing except the soft rustling of the Areani shifting around them, but suddenly a noise emanated from somewhere in the distance. It sounded like some sort of machinery followed closely by a loud and distinctly alien cry.

       Burke nodded and motioned to Miller to move out. The further they went the brighter the light became until its source was distinguishable. Two tall lamps had been erected and were shining a slightly purple hued light at a freshly dug hole in the ground. Underneath these lights were dozens of Covenant soldiers, mostly Grunts, tending to a large machine that seemed to have excavated a cleared portion of the forest floor. They had been quite industrious, apparently, for the hole went deep.

       Burke examined the scene with a pair of compact binoculars and handed Miller a pair. He looked through them, scanning the area and trying to count how many Covenant were defending the site. He estimated about two dozen grunts, half a dozen Jackals, and two Elites. They were standing about quite carelessly, paying more attention to the machine than to possible threats. Even the Elites, usually the brutally efficient leaders of the less competent lower castes, were standing together near the hole, speaking to each other casually.

       Raising his hand in the air the Colonel made a series of signals that he assumed the Areani would see and carry out. His assumption was justified for seconds later two silenced shots sounded to Miller's right and both Elites, unshielded in their arrogance, dropped to the ground. A moment later and four more shots rang out killing most of the Jackals before they knew what happened. Two grenades detonated in a group of Grunts, killing at least half of them in a bloody mess, and two of the Areani moved out from the tree line under the cover of the flying debris. They ran with inhuman speed and were upon the stunned survivors in an instant, devastating them with a series of shotgun blasts. The long ranged shooters continued firing from the concealment of the forest, covering their comrades with a stream of perfectly positioned shots. The final enemy soldier, a Jackal, was killed when one man knocked the glimmering shield out of the way and the second blew a hole through it with his shotgun.

       Miller was amazed. He had never seen an attack so perfectly coordinated, so quickly executed as the one he had just witnessed. The other Areani ran from the trees and secured the scene before he could even stand up. He approached the hole and peered down into its depths. It was an extensive tunnel, sloping downward at a steep angle, and culminating, if his eyes could be believed, in a metal hatch with a green light glowing brightly on his front.

       "What in Christ?" he breathed in awe.

       Burke ignored him and rallied his men. They set off down the tunnel and he and the Colonel followed closely. The whole operation was becoming more abstruse by the second. He just wanted to get it all over with.

       Something alarmed one of the Areani in front of him. The man snapped his head around and rushed suddenly straight at him. For a split second Miller thought he was the target but the man brushed passed him to grasp the wrist of an Elite who had sneaked up behind him and was on a downward swing to crush his skull with a blow from its plasma rifle. In a single fluid motion the soldier pushed Miller out of the way and heaved on the alien's arm, using its inertia to throw it forward. It fell on all fours, a remarkable feat in itself given the speed of the attack, but before it could recover three of the Areani rushed forward and shot steadily into its back at point blank range until its shields collapsed and the bullets tore through flesh and armor. As the Elite lay on the freshly turned soil of the tunnel, gurgling pathetically, the man who had initiated the attack walked calmly over to it, kicked the heavy helmet off its head, and ground its skull mercilessly into the ground.

       Miller watched this all happen in a split second and then the Areani get back into formation without even acknowledging that they had just saved his life. He tried to be grateful but found he could not. Although the alien's death had been entirely necessary, and perhaps on some level gratifying, it had been executed in a cold, ruthless manner that left him with a feeling of abject horror.

       Burke rushed over to him and helped him up, his face white with concern. "Are you all right?" he asked, giving him a cursory examination for wounds.

       The extent Colonel's worry startled him almost as much as the attack had. Once again Miller wondered why he was truly here but he did not deign to ask. He guessed he would be finding out soon enough. "I'm fine, sir," was all he chose to say.

       "Good, good," he murmured, shooting what might have been an admonishing glance at the ever stoic Areani. "Let's move on."

       They continued on into the earth towards the small hatch at the bottom that glowed with a faint green iridescence. As the lead Areani approached it the two halves opened with a soft hiss revealing a darkened room beyond. The soldiers did not seem in the least surprised at this, they simply moved on through. Burke also walked through the hatch in long, confident strides, leaving Miller obliged to follow, albeit cautiously.

       The Areani had switched on their flashlights, illuminating a square, angular and completely bare room. It was quite small, perhaps twenty meters long and three high and wide enough only to meet their needs. All the surfaces were made of a dull grey metal that did not seem to reflect any of the light that shone on it. The only distinguishing characteristic of the place was a band of pale green light that ran lengthwise across the right side of the room and at intervals formed glowing runes. Also, there was a second door at the other end of the room with the same green light shining on its front.

       It was unimpressive in detail yet it still filled Miller with a sense of wonder. Everything about the place, even the drab metal, seemed distinctly alien. Even more compelling was that the style was not at all like the Covenant's suggesting, perhaps, a another player in this deadly game. For good or evil, he thought enigmatically.

       Burke walked over to the lights on the wall, studying them closely. "Amazing," he breathed, extending a finger into one of the runes. It passed through and made a small noise like a sizzle but stayed otherwise intact. "Just amazing," he said again, pulling a small camera from his belt and taking a few pictures.

       "What is this place, sir?" Miller asked quietly with the feeling of speaking in a holy place.

       "I'm not quite sure yet, Captain," he said, returning the camera and moving slowly over to the second door. The Areani mimicked his movements, two of them taking position on either side of the door and the rest ready to spring forth at any threat beyond. Miller hung back but the Colonel was up front with his own weapon drawn and motioned for his men to go through.

       The door opened and the Areani ran through in pairs, weapons raised and ready, alert for any threat. Burke walked through with them and Miller followed somewhat reluctantly.

       What he saw took his breath away.

       He stood on a platform overlooking a cavern of impossible magnitude filled with what looked like alien structures of all description. Although the cavern walls and ceiling were comprised of the same dull metal of the room they had entered at first, the buildings that thickly covered the bottom were made of materials of all description. One particularly large installation was built of a green tinged metal with spectacular designs carved ornately on its surface. Another was built of a warm colored stone and almost resembled the style of the humans above. Most striking of all, however, was a blue hued light that shone with stunning brightness far in the distance. It was as beautiful as it was ethereal, and it filled Miller with a humbleness he had not thought possible.

       "My God," he exclaimed wondrously. He could not take his eyes from the light despite its blinding intensity. "How was this place not discovered before now? By us, I mean."

       "At a guess," Burke said, gazing up to the roof of the cavern, lost amidst the darkness, "I would say the metal shell surrounding this place simulated regular igneous rock, confusing geological surveys." He looked over at him meaningfully. "So you just built right over it."

       Miller nodded in understanding. The cavern extended for miles and probably went right under the city of Tarentum. "So that's why the Covenant didn't glass the planet. This is what they came for."

       Burke was no longer listening, instead issuing commands to his men. At a signal from the Colonel the Areani nearest him removed the silencer on the end of his weapon and fired a sustained burst straight into the air. The report echoed explosively in the vast space and could probably have been heard by anyone or anything along its length.

       "What the hell are you doing?" he hissed, more out of shock than subordination. Despite being a markedly stupid and conspicuous thing to do in an unsecured area, he couldn't help but feel the brutish gesture had somehow shattered the divinity of this magnificent place.

       In response to the noise a slew of Covenant on the cavern floor below that had previously not been visible came into sight and opened fire on them. They all ducked behind a low partition at the edge of the platform on which they stood; it absorbed the superheated plasma without melting. Four of the Areani got up to a crouching position and fired down on the enemy, ducking at intervals to avoid the plasma that was fired up in deadly streams. The other four ran down a ramp to the bottom and flanked the Covenant from the left. Despite starting in an unusually unprofessional manner, the fighting arm of ONI was rapidly taking command of the firefight and pushing the numerically superior alien forces back.

       Miller risked a glance over the wall. Many Grunt and Jackal corpses littered the hard metal floor, overwhelmed by fire from above and from their flank. A handful of survivors, including two Elites, were falling back for reinforcements. Meanwhile the four Areani below had split into two groups, each entering with the two nearest buildings with rushed caution. He heard gunshots in the distances and a flash emanate from the doorway of both structures.

       He looked over at Burke, who had stood up and was snapping some more shots of the cavern with his tiny camera. "What the hell is going on sir?" he asked exasperatedly. He considered helping the four Areani still on the platform but decided his assistance would not be welcome.

       "My men and I are just investigating the ruins, Miller," he said absentmindedly while scanning the area with his camera, this time taking a video. The Areani below had left the buildings they had been in and ran hastily to two more. A couple of them were carrying some objects that had procured from within.

       He waited a while longer, knowing full well he would get no answers from the Colonel. The Covenant, meanwhile, had gathered more troops from further in. The men on the platform opened fire to delay them but they were now heavily outnumbered. Miller knelt down and opened fire as well, no longer caring what was thought of him, and clipped a Grunt just as one of the Areani left a building. The men below also opened fire, one of them lobbing a grenade into the mass, but it hardly stemmed the tide.

       Burke pressed a button on his vest which Miller assumed sent a signal to his men. "I think that's enough. We need to exfiltrate now before reinforcements drop in behind us." He tapped the shoulder of one of his men and they ran back towards the entrance of the first room.

       Although still confused as to what Burke's purpose was here, he was all too eager to leave. The Covenant numbered in the hundreds now and the fire from him and the three Areani left were not enough to cover the four men's retreat below for long. They backpedaled, firing a few rounds at the alien horde, then ran pell-mell for the ramp. Just when he thought their luck at dodging plasma bolts was at an end, all four men made it up on to the platform and were back out the door. Miller and Burke followed hastily.

       The man Burke had sent back was activating a mine at the front hatch, setting up a trip wire for the first unfortunate Covenant soldier to give chase. They all hopped nimbly over the wire and ran as fast as they could to the top of the tunnel. Miller felt a sense of safety as he took in his first gasp of fresh forest air.

       "The Pelican should be nearby," Burke said to nobody in particular, then radioed in for the pilot.

       "Where are we going?" Miller asked, curious as to what their next move would be.

       "Back to the Prowler," Burke answered when he had closed his channel. "We need to get the hell of this planet ASAP."

       Miller's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, sir?"

       "From what we understand of Covenant religion, they won't tolerate a human presence in one of their holy sites," Burke explained, obviously referring to the alien site behind them. "It has been desecrated for them. They have no choice but to glass Palatine now."

       As if to accentuate what he had just said the mine at the bottom of the tunnel detonated and high pitched squeals carried up clearly to them through the night air. Miller couldn't at first comprehend what he was being told. "Wh – what?" he stammered.

       "I'm sorry, Captain, but it was the only way. The Covenant can't be allowed to investigate those ruins. That's how they get their technology, but scavenging old alien sites. We're already losing this war, Miller. We can't let them become any stronger."

       Miller thought with sickness of his family to the north, worrying at his own safety. Of his hometown, that glimmered like a jewel in the summer and was wrapped in a warm, comforting darkness in the winter. Of his house, with its terra cotta roof he had put in himself, its garden tended to so lovingly by his wife, and the sparkling pool in the courtyard his daughters had been so fond of in their youth. Of three hundred and fifty million souls that had no idea of the horror that was about to befall them.

       Without thinking he raised his own weapon and pointed it straight at Burke's head. At once two of the Areani snapped around and threatened him with their own firearms. If he pulled the trigger he was a dead man but he didn't care. He couldn't just let it happen and do nothing.

       "You son of a bitch, Burke," he spat furiously, his anger overtaking reason. "You piece of shit!"

       "You're threatening a superior officer, Captain," Burke said calmly, not at all shocked or angry, his voice only loud enough to be heard over the shots from the Areani containing the Covenant in the tunnel below. He walked slowly but steadily over to Miller, and he found he was unable to fire. The Colonel yanked his weapon brutally from his hands when he reached him and followed this with a punch to the face that almost knocked him out. Burke caught him as he fell and handed him over to one of his men, who picked him up and slung him over his shoulder as if he were a stubbornly insolent child.

       His vision was blurred and he found it difficult to discern what was going on. He was vaguely aware of some men behind him firing at the Covenant that persistently pursued them and of Burke's heated yells into his communications piece. At last they came to a clearing in the woods where a Pelican was hovering just off the forest floor. Two more Areani were waiting patiently at the entrance to the hold and dutifully hauled Miller's body onboard.

       At last regaining some of his strength he fought against his captors who restrained him with contemptuous ease. As the rest of his men clambered into the back Burke took a needle from one of the men who had been waiting and thrust it painfully into his arm. He felt the effects of the contents almost immediately as a debilitating drowsiness swept through him. He found his concern for his home world ebb away as quickly as his strength. At least I will get some sleep, he thought peacefully as darkness took him.

       The last thing he remembered before drifting into unconsciousness was the Pelican's engines rumbling to life and taking off into the air.

The Siege of Palatine: Part 6: Conclusion
Date: 7 November 2005, 3:59 am

       He crouched down low, his knees almost skimming the earth with each careful step. Leading up to the burning rubble was little cover, save for a few scattered rocks, and so he tried as best he could to present as small a target as possible. He was terrified. Those Elites could survive almost anything, it was said. He didn't care that he had just seen the whole city collapse in on itself. He was convinced something was waiting for him just ahead, something was watching him…

       When he reached the perimeter safely, he felt himself relax slightly. On either side of him were mounds of smoldering ruins, shapeless heaps of concrete, metal, and wood, no longer discernable as the buildings they once were. A hot wind blew on his face, carrying burning ash and the smell of death. The first icy wave of dread filled his heart, though he did not yet know why.

       He commanded his men to spread out and search for survivors, human or otherwise. They did so, cautiously stepping over rubble that had spilled into the now vaguely defined streets. Somehow, though, he was no longer concerned. A horrible silence covered the town almost substantially, oppressively, interrupted only by the unnaturally warm breeze that whistled through the skeleton of this once beautiful place.

       As his men slowly reported back to him it became apparent there were no Covenant survivors; indeed, no Covenant at all. The only corpses were human. Men, women, and children indiscriminately littered the devastated surface, often half buried in the homes that had become their graves. Their bodies were charred and broken and had most of their clothes blown or burned off them. They looked pitiful, just lying in the open before him, blood covering their deathly pale skin. They were a ruin of mankind, made so by their own kinsmen. What must they have thought as the bombers had roared towards their own city?

       He stopped when he stumbled over something hard and stiff, distracted by the horror of his creation. Looking down he saw it was a body, the body of a boy no older than twelve, his head twisted hideously on his neck, the rest of his body charred beyond recognition.

       Overcome, he collapsed, picked the dead boy up and cradled him gently in his arms. Tears dripped steadily onto the child's still face…

2100 Hours, October 23, 2552 (Military Calendar)/
Alpha System, Earth
Earth, ONI Headquarters

       At first he was aware only of a bad taste in his mouth, then gradually of a dull pain in his extremities. He hated sleeping on the Indefatigable. He always awoke with the feeling of toxicity, as if his body didn't feel quite right in its skin. Perhaps it was the chemicals they had the audacity to label as real food products, like "steak" or "corn", or perhaps it was the zero gravity he was forced to maneuver in throughout most of the day. Whatever the reason, he knew only that he much preferred to have his feet firmly on solid ground. On Palatine II…

       He snapped upright, his eyes bulging, but did not get far. Restraints on his wrists and ankles kept him tied tightly to the bed on which he lay. He struggled desperately against the metal clamps, not yet fully aware of why he was here, knowing only that he had to get away and go somewhere, see someone.

       "Calm down, Captain Miller," a soothing voice sounded above him. He turned his head fervently to his left, revealing a tall, slightly built man dressed in a black suit. He noticed the darkness of the man's clothing contrasted heavily with the room he was it. Looking around as much as was possible in his position he noticed all the walls, floors, and ceiling were a blinding, antiseptic white. There were scattered medical instruments that littered the room as well as a number of desks that sported glass monitors but as far as he could tell the man before him was the only other person in the room.

       "Why am I here?" he asked, settling down but still gazing alertly around the room. "Who are you?" He asked the question vaguely, not out of any real curiosity, but simply as an impulse as his mind raced to focus itself.

       "My name is Andrew Wagner," the man said, his voice retaining its gentle, reassuring quality. "I am the regional director for the office of Naval Intelligence. You're on Earth, John. At ONI Headquarters."

       "Wh- What are you talking about?" he asked, shaking his head vigorously on his pillow as if to stir up some memory and clear his mind.

       "You were brought here, from Palatine II," Wagner said coolly. "It is October 23, about 2100 I believe."

       Memory returned to him, jolting him almost electrically and turning his insides to ice. He looked as best he could into the man's face, his eyes hard but his face pleading. "What happened there?" he asked, his voice shaking tremulously.

       "You got out just in time, John," Wagner said almost encouragingly, as though persuading him to see the positive side of things. "Your planet was glassed just after you left. We could do nothing to stop it."

       Miller could not hear his last words for his grief forced a cry from his lips. His wife, his daughters, his home, his world… all gone, killed, burnt out of existence. At first just his head was shaking, as if trying to deny what he knew was true in his heart, then his whole body was consumed in a series of violent thrashings. His arms and legs strained under the effort of resisting the unyielding restraints and his torso heaved up and down on the bed in a futile effort of escape. He screamed and howled foully, like an animal, sorrow and fury overwhelming reason. And at the bottom of it all, the horrible, wrenching feeling that he had failed to prevent it.

       For how long he was inconsolable he was not sure. He was only aware that he was eventually once more lying still and staring and the ceiling with eyes blurred by tears. He was still being watched by his uninvited guest who remained standing by his side. He waited there, gazing down at him patiently, as a parent does with a stubbornly tempestuous child. This filled the hollowness in him with a burning fury.

       "You bastards!" he spat viciously. "You knew what would happen if you went there. You fucking knew!" Once again he wrenched with all his strength at his bindings.

       "Please, Captain," Wagner said, a touch of mockery tinting his still placid voice. He looked utterly unconcerned at his attempts to free himself. "The Covenant were there to scavenge whatever the hell technology they could have from that place. When they were done they would have evacuated and glassed Palatine anyway. We were never coming for you." He looked down almost pityingly at Miller. "You knew that."

       "No," he said desperately, his head still muddled from the drugs he had been given. "You just let them die. My God, my family." Tears coursed down his face anew.

       "Miller, you know some sacrifices have to be made if we are to pull through this, not just as a civilization but as a species! The lives of the people of your planet were spent just as any soldiers' are, their sacrifice just as important, just as real."

       "They never asked for that!" Miller cried through clenched teeth. "Men, women, and children, you fuck!"

       "Who asks to die, Miller?" Wagner shouted back, his composure lost. "It needed to be done! You're not looking at this objectively. You lost your family, and for that I am sorry, but you know what we did had to have happened and could not have happened any other way. You know it!" He seemed to force himself to calm down, then continued. "That is precisely why we chose you, Captain. You understand this, perhaps better than anyone, even if you do not yet know it."

       "What do you mean?" he asked exasperatedly, twisting disconsolately on his bed. "Chose me for what?"

       "You and your team were able to gather a small amount of artifacts from the alien ruins, I see," Wagner said, reviewing a datapad he held in his hands. "You were also able to take some images before retreating back to your Pelican. Sadly, you were the only one to make it back to Earth alive."

       Miller's brow furrowed in confusion as he slowly began to concentrate on what he was being told. "What about Colonel Burke and his men?" he asked.

       Wagner smirked at him knowingly. "I'm sorry, Captain, but I have no idea who that is."

       Miller knew before Wagner had even finished speaking what his purpose had been all along. He gave a cold, mirthless laugh. "You want me to present the findings to the UNSC because the Areani 'don't exist', is that it?"

       He gave no answer, but continued to smile in the same manner as before. It was all the answer he needed, for the man would never admit to any knowledge of the shadowy special forces known as the Areani, even now.

       He smiled almost gratefully, for he had been given at least something to resist the murderers of his family. His own pleased look still upon his lips he settled back into his bed, his eyes closed in protest. "I will have no part of your lies, Wagner. I owe the people you abandoned that much."

       "Yes, you certainly owe it to them to make their sacrifice worth nothing," Wagner said sarcastically. His voice did not sound particularly worried at his dissension, as if he had expected nothing less.

       When Miller did not respond, Wagner pressed him. "It is over, John. You can't bring them back, no matter what you do. What you can do is help us to win this fight, save humanity."

       Miller turned to him, defiance still shining brightly in his eyes. "I am going to my grave with too much already," he said dully. "I will carry no more on my shoulders."

       To his surprise, Wagner nodded gravely, perhaps even sympathetically. "Indeed, Captain, you have much on your conscience. The events on Ysaris III would weigh heavily on any man."

       "Fuck you!" Miller snapped. "That was your intel we worked with! You said the city had been evacuated!"

       Wagner laughed mockingly, biting through him and ravaging him to the core. "It had, John, but you know as well as I that there are always those who can't be gotten to in time, or those that can't leave. Though I admit," he scratched his chin and sighed, "Who could have guessed there would be a whole school full of children left without having been contacted?"

       "Shut up," Miller managed as he felt his throat swell painfully. Memories of that day mingled with the feelings of grief he felt for his home, forever lost, to form a horrible sickness in the pit of his stomach.

       "Of course there was no Covenant counterattack," Wagner continued relentlessly. "Our reports were false. But we didn't know that, and neither did you. You knew only that the mission to take out the carrier above the surface was jeopardized and that its success superceded the importance of the lives of a few thousand inhabitants of a doomed city. And so you had it bombed by our own men."

       "Stop," he begged. He remembered walking through the ruined, burning city of Clearfield, every building leveled, every vehicle destroyed, every person killed. "It is not the same thing," he attempted desperately.

       "No!" Wagner agreed whole heartedly. "No, it is not the same thing. For on Palatine you saw for your own eyes the clear and present danger that you knew threatened our cause, our people. On Ysaris you condemned those people to death because of a baseless report you could not have personally confirmed. You acted out of blind fear and an ultimately false instinct to ensure the continuation of our species. You have no place to lecture me!"

       Miller continued to shake his head and deny everything Wagner said. It seemed to make sense, but it must be specious, there had to be something wrong with his logic, he was just too tired to see it. He just needed time to clear his head.

       But Wagner would offer him no such chance. "You are a hypocrite, Miller. You hold the lives of your family above those you killed at Clearfield." As he said this he pressed a button on a console near Miller's bed. The bed rotated forward so that he was now upright, not prostrate. "You probably will not admit that to yourself, so let me show you."

       A holograph flickered to life before him showing the three dimensional face of a teenage girl. She must have been only fourteen or fifteen with pale white skin, beautiful blue eyes, and short blond hair. She had a faint, ghostly smile on her face and a youthful vitality shining brightly in her stunning blue eyes, reminiscent of his own lost daughters'.

       "As you know, many planetary governments require their citizens to update their picture and voice records every few years for security reasons," Wagner explained. "Ysaris III was among the first to implement such a system, and despite its destruction we were able to recover the records."

       Miller knew what was going to happen, and he looked pleadingly at Wagner. "You know this is not necessary. Don't do this."

       "You need to appreciate that we're not the villains here, John," he said, once more returning to his calming voice. "You have to understand that in war some atrocities are necessary for survival."

       He pressed another button and the face of the girl became animated. Her voice played loudly from the speakers in the room. "My name is Anne Wilson. I am a resident of Clearfield, Ysaris III."

       "You killed her, John, just as surely as if you'd dropped the bombs yourself."

       Miller twisted violently in his restraints. "Stop this, please!"

       "You understood it once," Wagner said as if he had not heard him. "You just need to see it again."

       With that he walked away as a new face replaced the girl's. It was the face of a young boy, about the age of the one he had stumbled upon himself in the city he had ordered destroyed. "My name is Daniel MacLean. I am a resident of Clearfield, Ysaris III."

       "Wagner!" Miller cried after him. "Stop this!" His plea fell on deaf ears.

       "My name is Laura Brennan. I am a resident of Clearfield, Ysaris III."

       "Please!"

       "My name is Anand Singh. I am a resident of Clearfield, Ysaris III."

       The briefing room was imposing in design, and purposely so. The ceiling towered fifteen meters above them and sported an underpowered array of dimly lit lights. At the head of the long room was a heavy oak table, elevated high above the diminutive table that stood before it. It was twenty five meters in length and seated two dozen UNSC brass. On the wall behind them the insignia of the United Nations Space Command was placed prominently on the wall glowing with a faint blue luminance that did little to improve the gloom of the chamber. A slew of stenographers were also present, ready to officially record all that was said along with the many microphones that were scattered among the room. At the back was an audience of over a hundred high ranking officials eager to hear some good news before the Covenant commenced their second attack on Earth.

       Sitting at the small table that stood low and unimpressive before its beautiful oak counterpart was a Marine in full dress uniform. He was medium in stature and had handsome features somewhat hardened by a number of burns that, though faded, were still quite fresh. More remarkable, however, was the tired, defeated look in his eyes that could be clearly seen by his inquisitors even through the darkness.

       A man sitting at the head table and dressed in the fatigues of a full general began the meeting. "This is Special UNSC Committee on the investigation of pre-Covenant findings, commencing at 1330, October 24th, 2552." The stenographers tapped furiously on their pads as they kept pace with the speech. "We are gathered today to overlook the evidence collected from an ancient alien site found under the surface of Palatine II." He paused and nodded to the man before him. "Marine, please state your name and rank for the record."

       For a moment the Marine made no movement to respond and merely looked steadfastly at the surface of his table. His head was shaking almost imperceptibly as if in refusal. A buzz began from the audience at the subordination of this man. It was unheard of to ignore the direct command of the head of the committee in the middle of a hearing.

       Just as the general made a movement to repeat his question the Marine stood up from his chair and looked directly at the board of directors. An immediate hush fell over the chamber and no one had trouble hearing the soldier's clear, hollow words. "I am Captain John Miller of the United Nations Marine Corps."

We are NOT Bungie, Inc.! Bungie Inc. are bungie.net!
Halo © Bungie Inc., 1999-2012, Microsoft 2012-2024
Intellectual © halo.bungie.org, 1999-2024