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The Engineers by SPARTAN-034
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The Engineers, Part 1
Date: 18 June 2007, 8:43 pm
Hostile Alert
origin: Compiler Unit AAG-576
destin: Unit Wide Broadcast
ref: Unit Wide Alert
Stamp: Broadcast
Unidentified {?non-glanded?} hostile on level 1a, structure B136.
^31882stkevctnngld
^31882ybordeclqkng
AAG-576{compiler, conditioned}< ?self? > engaging hostile.
^31882stkevctnngld
^31882ybordeclqkng
All Aggregate Units requested to repel {?multiple?} intruders.
^31882stkevctnngld
^31882ybordeclqkng
{?pursuit?} Group 8 requested to proliferate orders in above sector.
^31882stkevctnngld
^31882ybordeclqkng
Enforcement Units < unyoked bastards >, all Willful Units warned < due process >, comply.
^31882stkevctnngld
^31882ybordeclqkng
Compiler Units AAG-575 to AAG-599 < brothers >, these hostiles are like our own kind. I bleed for them.
^----1aags'phtnet
^---25aags'phtnet
AAG-589 < Ra'thf >All S'pht must bleed for our new enemies. Lest we forget.
^----1aags'phtnet
^---25aags'phtnet
AAG-577 < Se'both >: Still, it is better to bleed {philosophically} than from the flesh. Destroy them.
^----1aags'phtnet
^---25aags'phtnet
Compiler Unit AAG-576 hovered over a few feet to take cover behind a massive stone pillar. The energy burst from the native alien's weapon melted a portion of wall behind to him. The Compiler charged his own weapon in retaliation. He spun around the column to face the threat, unleashing the swirling globe of heat from his torso. Steam flashed off the alien's head and it reeled to the ground. AAG-576 fired his weapon again, billowing the maroon cloak that shrouded him as if it were caught in a wind, revealing the egg shaped metallic body underneath. With his body hovering at a steady five feet above the ground, he needn't worry about slipping in the alien's spreading body fluids. It thrashed around for several seconds as AAG-576 observed its behavior, transmitting the data to his masters. Finally it stopped. Just as the Compiler started to turn away, it spoke to him in its own alien tongue.
"You may defeat me, Huragok ," the dying alien spat the name out with a pint of blood, "but you will never defeat the Cov…." It died in mid syllable.
AAG-576 waited for his translation software to kick in. After his organic brain was able to comprehend the statement, his computerized mind gave the machine equivalent to a chuckle. An old S'pht proverb came to mind. The universe bleeds with irony. One of AAG-576's own race had delivered a similar statement millennia ago, when the Pfhor conquered his people. And now this creature's people suffered the same fate. 576's underthoughts bubbled emotions like unbridled rage mixed with grief, but he tried to hide them as best he could. If the masters smelled anything of the S'pht consciousness… 576 stifled the thought. Another S'pht proverb came to mind, this one dating from around the time the Pfhor conquered them. Obey to survive. Orders from 576's superiors arrived. Orders were always arriving. Modern S'pht heard the voices almost every second of their waking lives. But in those few instants of quiet, when an officer paused between breaths, or when on officer changed shifts, or even those most valued times when the S'pht were in transit on shuttles for minutes at a time, there was quiet. And the S'pht could speak amongst themselves without fear. And they could plan. In the meantime, the voice in his head told him to continue his efforts on the alien computer he had been sifting. He carried out the task with only a suppressed pang of remorse for the dead alien.
Fifth Age of Conflict ( Estimated UNSC Military Calendar Equivalent 1036 B.C.)
Sangheili Homeworld, Central Landmass
First Holy City of the Covenant, Stabilized Zone, Forward Command Post
"So they came in half a dozen ships, using Forerunner technology?"
"That is the truth. They attacked with one large ship, a trio of medium sized craft, and a pair of smaller craft, similar to the one we encountered near the Yar colony.
'Julu Tuolumee hid his arms beneath his golden command robes. "How many of their craft have we destroyed?"
The Prophet's narrow shoulders slacked. "Three. One of their smaller craft and a pair of their mediums."
"And with what weapons?"
"Nuclear or fusion warheads have proven quite effective, although they are able to counter waves of missiles with point defense lasers. Our own laser weapons are highly effective, especially against their fightercraft. We never had a chance to use our orbitals…" Something like a growl left the Elite's throat.
The Prophet grew slightly more fervent. "They used a type of energy projectile as their main weaponry, which we believe is plasma based. It has range that is…quite extraordinary. But our pulse lasers were able to do significant damage to them, as well as our warheads. One of their smaller craft was completely destroyed by our weapons, whilst two of their mediums were crippled and fell into the atmosphere. We believe that the hull from one of the craft may have made it through to the surface intact."
"Although most likely we will not have time to salvage the wreck. And the crew may have survived…" The Elite twitched his mandibles. "And our own ships, how are they-"
"We have lost our Flagship and a dozen frigates! They were destroyed while the enemy was still out of range." The Prophet wailed and paced around the room. 'Julu slammed his fist on the table.
"Damn them! That was over half this system's fleet!" he fumed for a moment. "It would be…ill-advised to draw forces away from your homeworld." He cast an almost spiteful eye at the Prophet. "We could call a few scout ships back. And we can negotiate four support with the Kigs. They owe us for our contribution in their last war with the Yar. The Kig fleet is large enough that they can spare a battlegroup. Their ships are not as advanced as our own, but in the face of this enemy we should have numbers. If they can not…or will not….hrrrrr, the remainder of our ships are all frigates…our weakest against the invader's strongest…"
"I would have to agree with you," The Prophet sighed and paused for a moment. His eyes went into that distant stare common of his kind. "Let the Fleetlords handle the war in orbit. You should concentrate your efforts on repelling the ground invasion, Fieldmaster. We have authorized you complete control of the legions, as well as nuclear arms."
"Very well…" muttered the Sangheili general, no longer paying attention to the Prophet. He laid his right hand over the broken telescreen in front of him, moving his fingers down the cracks. He gave the equivalent of a sigh.
"In the meantime, I ask you to examine these photographs. There are two new types of units. One type is a large, armored biped that can carry heavy weaponry." The Prophet walked over to 'Julu and handed him a pair of grainy photographs. "The warriors are able to defeat them with plasma rifles, albeit with heavy losses. They are some sort of battlesuit, that I know, but whether they are yet another subspecies, I do not know. The other is tall, frail unit usually armed with a flamethrower. It too appears to be a different variety than the warriors we encountered previously. Those that have been encountered in the field only seem to fire on the enemy units unless provoked." The Prophet walked back over to his work area and looked out the window. Smoke billowed on the horizon. 'Julu eyed the pictures.
One showed a massive creature, almost twelve feet tall. Like most of the aliens it stood on two legs, had two arms, a head on top of the torso, and held its back rigidly strait. Unlike the varieties encountered thus far, its entire body was covered in armor. The legs were segmented like an insects. On its shoulder was a cylindrical object with a greenish glow coming from the front. Large shield like protrusions were attached to its forearms. 'Julu noted the Elite skewered on one of the shields. Melee weapons. The other photograph showed an alien just a little taller than an Elite, at almost eight feet even. Its skin was cool blue and smooth where it showed on the three-eyed head and five fingered hands. The skinny body was covered in a silk-like robe. It would have looked like some sort of priest, if not for the massive rifle it clutched. A trio of strange protrusions stuck out of the back of its head.
"We shall equip hunter-killer teams in groups of three with… anti-tank weapons." He said regarding the armored hulk. 'Julu held up the photo of the frail looking creature. "I believe this may be a form of commander, or enforcing officer. I want one of them captured," He tapped the photo with his finger. "Alive."
"Hmm." The Prophet nodded and typed 'Julu's orders into the computer at his desk. Then he stood and nervously looked out the window again, his hand drifting down to the pistol at his waist. Even in his combat armor, the Prophet felt vulnerable. He hoped there were plenty of Sangheili between he and the aliens. Better them than him.
'Julu settled into the command and control pod. From it he could oversee and coordinate ever action his forces made throughout the city. His first concern was the defense of the city's walls, specifically the eastern wall. Hundreds of Sangheili soldiers stooped in trenches and fired into the charging alien hordes. They fired a mixture of the new plasma rifles as well as their older projectile firing weapons, shredding thousands of thin bipedal bodies into a yellow mist. Wave after wave of enemy formations crumpled under their fire, but the second push was comprised of stronger, armored units. Their bodies were covered in large egg shaped environmental suits. When the sun was at the right angle a trio of eyes was visible under each heavily polarized visor. They each held a large, mean looking automatic rifle. Ducking under the Elite's fire, they slowly advanced on the defender's lines, using the bodies of the dead for cover. Off in the distance the rear units arced their weapons into the air and fired objects from underslung launchers. Like a bonfire in dry pasture the action spread to the front of the lines. As the cloud of projectiles arced through the sky they blotted out the sun. When the projectiles, the grenades, impacted in the trenches they sent flame and shrapnel everywhere. After the last muffled whump, the horde charged en masse. 'Julu clenched his fist and activated a microphone.
"Light fusion shell. Eastern Plain." Amidst the sounds of combat in the distance, a single distinct bang stood out. There was a wail as the shell fell through the air, then a light brighter than anything natural that could occur on a planet. For a millisecond the camera was able to show the miniature sun as it burned, then only static. The Elite General realigned another camera to get a view of the results. One massive smoking crater. No sign that the enemy had ever existed there. No sign that any Covenant troops had ever stood there to oppose them. He switched his attention to another threat on another view screen.
One of the large, armored enemies was tearing through ranks of Sangheili, battering them aside with its huge arms. A single soldier stood against it, peppering its massive chest with bullets. There was a flash as a green orb flew from the monster's shoulder and through the Elite's chest. The creature continued on its path of destruction unfazed. The Prophet stuck its slender head in through the side of the pod. "That creature is just four blocs away. I believe it may be headed toward our command center." 'Julu nodded.
"I may have to fight it myself." He muttered. The Prophet gasped.
"Do not be foolish. That beast would tear you apart! Let the-" he was cutoff by an explosion that rocked the building. The power went out and stayed out, rendering the command pod useless.
"No. I am no coward." 'Julu grasped his energy blade and pulled himself out of the pod.
On the other side of the city, Hjar-1337 took a deep breath from his rebreather. This alien world was a hot and dry place, even on the top of the flattened mountain that the city rested on. Hjar was a Fighter class warrior of the Pfhor Empire, the mightiest force in the galaxy. His roughly humanoid body was tall and gray. His legs would be called reverse jointed by any species that may have evolved from monkeys. His head was about the size as a basketball with a brain big enough to attain sentience. In his mouth (hidden beneath his rebreather) were the teeth of an omnivore. The eyes on his head that were arranged in a pyramid gave him an excellent field of vision. His chest, abdomen, forearms, and groin were covered by blue body armor, signifying high his rank within the Warrior class. He chittered for his cohorts to move up to his position.
Things had gone sour ever since the fleet had arrived in this foul system. Preliminary scans had shown only a dozen of the primitive enemy vessels orbiting the planet. The flagship N'km D'ke had eliminated the most threatening ships and stations from orbit before the fleet had moved in. But when the fleet settled into low orbit the rest of the alien ships came burning at them from the other side of the planet at flanking speed. Their innovative use of atomics combined with laser weapons had cost the Empire three of its ships. After a short exchange of fire they fled back around the planet to lick their wounds. The N'km D'ke survived the attack with minimal damage, but the two remaining escort ships were nearly crippled. They sent commandos down to the planet to wreak hell and left a few dropships and shuttles on station as backup, then the Empire's ships fled for one of the planets many moons.
The armored Troopers were the first ones on the ground, teleported en masse to the plains outside the main city for a rapid strike against the citadel. The Pfhor used their own atomics low in the atmosphere for the electromagnetic pulse effects, disabling several of the enemy's anti aircraft systems to allow the shuttlecraft to land. However, the enemy had a surprisingly high number of atmospheric craft in the air within minutes of the attack, a costly oversight for the assault's coordinators. It was likely that those individuals had been executed.
An entire horde of Fighters had been lost at the city walls. Hjar let out a slow rattle of remorse. Fighters were the Pfhor's basic groundpounder units. They weren't as specialized as the armored Troopers, nor were they equipped with power armor like the Hunters. Fighters got by on sheer cunning and their shock staffs. Hjar had heard that Troopers had been sent to their location to reinforce them. An ominous mushroom cloud had risen from that area. Hjar feared the worst.
He and his horde were advancing through the western outskirts of the city unopposed. Alien merchants scattered before the advancing army like rats from a sinking ship. A few of the giant Hunters had been sent in along with the fighters. He watched one of them tear through a building like it wasn't even there. Hunters were among the strongest of the Pfhor infantry. Twelve feet of power armor armed with shoulder mounted fuel-rod cannons made them more than formidable opponents. Enemy infantry had taken down a few of the Hunters with their own plasma weapons, but most of their efforts were delaying actions. No one could stand against the Hunters for long. Hjar could see yet another alien fool advancing on the group.
He was covered from head to foot in golden armor that shone bright in Hjar's eyes. In his hands he held what looked like a projected energy blade, similar to the tip of Hjar's own staff. One of Hjar's peons moved to intercept the soldier and was cut down effortlessly. Hjar held his troops from advancing. Let the Hunter deal with that blade.
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