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Final Fate: Mankind's Demise
Posted By: Jinkaiden-XI<Nolimits4csk@aol.com>
Date: 9 November 2003, 3:46 AM
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Author's foreword: May the savior come…
The tale begins with Sieg, the last swordsman. Before him the gunslingers have fallen, one by one, in a never-ending series of peril.
Sieg stands upon a grassy hill. The memories of these years have drawn him to the sea, where his quest was destined to end. He gazes over the shore and out to the sunset.
There are, to be accurate, only enough resistance fighters to do battle one last time before the Covenant claim the Earth as their victory grounds. On this day, Sieg was chosen to lead these rebel fighters into their final, finest hour.
Hours after the church bells rang their toll, Lieutenant Col Hardy sat at the bar of the local tavern. Three empty whiskey glasses stood to his left, while a fourth, still half full, stood in front of his folded arms. His pistol lay on the bar, unloaded, to his right.
With a wince he chugged the last sips of whiskey, then slammed the glass down on the bar and slid it to the left. It collided with the others with a series of light sounds.
The bartender stepped up to the Lieutenant and spoke, "I think you've had enough, sir."
"One more," Col replied drowsily. "Just one."
The bartender set the glass he was drying on the counter and reached for an old bottle of Jack Daniels. He popped the top off and poured the bitter liquid into another glass. With a sigh he set it before the officer, who took it willingly.
A sheathed sword slammed down on the bar next to the Lieutenant, making him jump. Sieg sat down, his hand still gripping the sheath. He looked up at the bartender, who nodded. Sieg left his sword where it lay.
"Mornin', Lieutenant," he said as he removed a pistol from his belt.
Col turned and said, "Ah, the old swordsman. How are things?"
Sieg unloaded the gun and placed it on the counter. Nodding to the bartender, he slid it towards his left. "Well, for a man who's about to lead the last battalion on a final stand, I guess I can say things are going well."
Col patted Sieg on the back as he ordered a drink. "Good, good. Tell me this: Have you spoken with the Admiral lately?"
"Can't say I have, sir. Last I heard from him he was headed back to HQ. Lord only knows what he's going through."
Col nodded with a smile. "Yeah. He'll make it, though. He's got that strength, you know?"
Sieg reached for the glass of whiskey he had been handed and sipped it noisily. With a grimace he replied, "Don't I know it. The man's pushing himself, no doubt about it."
"The fate of mankind rests on his shoulders," Col said sympathetically. "I can't help but wonder what that must be like."
Sieg finished his drink and set the glass on the bar. He turned in his chair and faced Col directly. "He wants me to lead today's operation. I can't help but wonder if he's crazy."
Col smirked. He faced Sieg and said quietly, "There's nothing crazy about it. I see what he sees in you. The last swordsman, the one who still stands after every gunslinger has fallen. He's got pride in people like you, kid."
Sieg chuckled. "You sound like my grandfather."
"It's the truth," Col interjected. That got Sieg to be quiet and listen. "He's putting his faith in you because he knows you can take something this heavy. Even I know that, and look at me."
Sieg didn't catch on right away. Col leaned back and went on, "I'm just an old man, a lowly Lieutenant. How much honor is in that?"
"A true soldier doesn't seek honor, Lieutenant."
Col raised his finger to Sieg's face. "See? That's what I'm talking about. Your wisdom is what gives the Admiral confidence. That is what he sees in you. A true soldier, a man who fights for the benefit of the whole, not himself. It took me a while to learn that lesson."
"How long?"
Col looked to the floor. "Let's just say that it took me six thousand men and nineteen losses in battle. We'll leave it there."
Sieg nodded as he caught on. With a smile he said, "Don't punish yourself for that, Lieutenant. All men make mistakes. I'm likely to make one on this very day."
"There's honor in dying with your men, kid, but don't go lookin' for it because it's there. That's no way to go down on the field."
The church bells chimed twelve o'clock noon. Sieg reached for his pistol, slid it into its holster, then grabbed his sword. He dropped a few bucks on the counter, which the bartender scooped up eagerly. With a spin he headed for the door, but not before placing an encouraging hand on the Lieutenant's shoulder. Thanks, the embrace said gratefully.
Col watched him go. The slam of the door was his cue to turn around. He stared at the counter longingly, almost as though he forgot to say something. Too late now, he thought sadly. Poor kid. Such a good heart. He doesn't deserve to die on this day.
The bartender knocked on the counter. Col sat up and looked up at the burly man, who stood over him with surveying eyes. Despite his previous opinions, he asked, "You want another?"
For a moment Col considered it. It was his last day to live; why should he limit his intake of unhealthy drinks? It wasn't like he'd wake up tomorrow with a dizzy head. It wasn't like he'd wake up tomorrow anyway. "No," he said, and thanked the bartender. The big man turned away with a satisfied nod, he'd done his job. Col rose from the barstool and snatched his pistol from the counter. He too dropped a few mere dollars on the bar, after which the bartender fetched for absentmindedly. He's but another victim of our day in, day out reality, Col thought smugly.
He pushed his way out the door and onto the solid ground. The sun was rising steadily in the east, casting a cool midday light on everything. This is the world I must say goodbye to.
An ever-present admirer of the ocean, Sieg sat wordlessly along the rocky beach, a campfire cackling at his side. It was nearly sunset again, sometime between late afternoon and early evening. His sword, now unsheathed, was stabbed crudely into the sand, blade first. A leather strap, tied around the hilt, waved silently in the cool breeze.
Behind Sieg was the barracks at which his men slept and joked, gambled and trained. In the center of this second-hand fortress was a large cabin, which served as a command center. Elsewhere along the premises was a dining hall, training ground, firing range, and practically anything else a military force would need in order to prepare for one last stand.
A hand rested upon Sieg's shoulder. He turned, startled, to gaze upon the face which greeted him. It was female, with light brown hair that flowed straight down to the shoulders. The soft blue eyes which stared into his own were magnificent in every way. "Lana," Sieg whispered as she smiled and kneeled next to him.
Lana had been with the resistance for almost a month. She, up until now, had stayed hidden within the encampment doing the Admiral's filing and Intel reports. "What are you doing here?"
"Admiral Collins assigned me to the unit here," she replied softly, her voice kind and gentle. "I was told by a fleet commander that you were chosen to lead these men into a final stand."
Sieg nodded as he returned his eyes to the sea. "You think I'm ready for it?"
"Regardless of what I think, you're going to end this hell for all of us. That much I know."
Sieg wasn't so sure. Lana had always been optimistic, even now, when mankind faced its ultimate demise. Nevertheless, he felt better about himself hearing her say that. You make it sound so easy, Sieg thought to himself. You do so much and yet you don't even know it.
"What, then, do you think about when facing the greatest possibility?"
Lana turned abruptly. "The greatest possibility?"
"Don't tell me you've never thought of it."
Lana sighed. "You're getting at something. What is it?"
"The end of this world, Lana. You know it's going to happen."
Lana sighed heavily and turned her head away. A teardrop fell from her eye. It shimmered in the light from the fire, just before it sank into the ground and vanished. "Stop it, Sieg. Please. I don't look forward to that future."
"I'm sorry, Lana. I don't look forward to it, either, but you can't just pretend it isn't there."
Lana allowed her face to return to its original gaze. Another tear rolled down her face. "I've been wondering about that ever since this whole thing started, and I came to this place hoping for the best. But I can't help it anymore."
"I know," Sieg replied. He reaches out to her and their bodies almost touch. Just before they can embrace one another, a shell from an unknown origin met the shoreline. The resulting explosion shattered the moment like a bullet does glass. Sand, rocks, and seashells rained down on everything.
Seconds passed. Another shell struck the water violently. On the horizon, the silhouettes of numerous warships began taking shape. The beginning of the end started here.
The shelling ceased after fifty or so rounds. The once peaceful beach was now a wasteland. Sieg, now alone, stood among the craters and fires as seaborne Covenant troopships closed in on his standing position. In his right hand he carried his sword, a blade of shimmering metals. The first of the troopships ran aground fifty feet offshore, dropping its heavy ramps with a splash to the salty sea.
Then two more struck the sands, then three. Singly or in groups, vessel after vessel landed abruptly and prepared to unleash its carnage. The first of the ships to land began releasing its cargo. Grunts and Elites charged through the advancing ocean waves, each carrying a long plasma rifle. Each was clad in an ornate armor specifically designed for every individual.
As the Covenant made their last charge, Sieg waited wordlessly on the wasteland. As they broke free of the ocean's grip and prepared to cut Sieg down to size, they were interrupted by the booming report of a series of cannons.
Sieg smiled, satisfied, as the front lines fell to the onslaught of shells. Mounted machine guns raked the wasteland with heavy rounds, claiming their own toll of victims. The lucky few that made it through the damnation were sentenced to endure severe rifle fire from the resistance fighters themselves.
Layin' the smack down, Sieg laughed in spite of himself.
Reinforcements poured in like blood gushing through an open wound. Airborne craft tormented the heavy artillery with plasma grenades and gunfire. Warships slid toward the shore with intensity, and human forces were pushed back. Wave after wave of soldiers came with wave after wave of the ocean. Sieg's smile faded.
This is it.
Sieg met the oncoming savagery openly. He swung his sword over his head and sliced through a Grunt with ease. The blade's velocity ceased to drop as it ripped through a second's neck, decapitating the helpless alien without mercy. With an artistic twist Sieg twirled, his blade piercing everything it touched.
Sieg spun low, dropping to one knee. With the broad side of the sword he snapped the jaw of an Elite as it swung its energy blade blindly through air. He rose, still spinning, and slid the blade into the lower abdomen of a Grunt. The creature shrieked as it dropped its own weapon and collapsed, lifeless, to the ground.
With the sword he would be capable of killing multiple enemies with magnificent speed. His lethality increased dramatically as he launched a secondary assault by drawing his pistol and pumping three bullets into the skull of an Elite. The monster died before the second round ripped through its head.
Sieg continued to fight, slashing one soldier here, firing on another there. I'll save this world for you, Lana. For you and everyone else that I have come to love.
Lana, now one of the voluntary nurses in the barracks, shouted conditions to doctors and then escorted cot after cot of bodies to the emergency rooms and surgical operations center.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she felt the painful grip of a soldier's hand slipping away. He died before doctors got a hold of him. "Lana," one of the doctors called as he reached her, "You've got keep moving. Don't stop, Lana, please don't stop now."
She nodded and ran back into the lobby, which rumbled violently as a plasma grenade landed nearby. The screams of several men rose and faded. She hurried to the check-in nurse, who was frantically trying to determine the condition of the incoming men and where they should be taken. She reached her and had opened her mouth to speak when the sound of a low-flying craft roared overhead. Shots from plasma guns shattered the windows and melted through the walls and ceilings.
Lana threw herself to the floor as lights, glass fragments, and whatever else was hurled across the room. Soldiers were tossed from their cots and thrust upon the floor. Sparks fell like rain.
It ended as quickly as it had begun. The sound was gone and the horror ceased. Lana rose to her feet, as did many others. She turned at once, gazing down upon what had been done. During her search for soldiers and papers she discovered the body of the check-in nurse, who had been brutally slain from a direct plasma shot.
Sieg, now wounded in nearly ten places and bleeding from the chest down, continued to battle the advancing Covenant forces. Many Elites had gotten past him and yet they too were met with a murderous barrage of gunfire. Human forces stormed the beach and began the countdown to their final hour.
Another Grunt tasted the smooth steel of Sieg's blade. He parried a blow from a Covenant swordsman, then struck back with tremendous force. The strike knocked the swordsman off-balance, which Sieg took quick advantage of. He slid his sword through its stomach, then removed the blade, now stained with blood. And yet he was overcome.
From somewhere behind him, a Grunt managed to fire off one shot from his plasma rifle. That one shot had been able to explode through the crisp air with a whine as it closed on its selected target. That one shot, the final shot that would be fired in this world, passed through the hordes of Covenant infantry and pierced through the chest of a human soldier. This soldier, the swordsman named Sieg, felt the shot enter his body and stop at his heart. With a grunt of pain he collapsed, dropped his sword, and died right there on his knees.
Lana, now blinded by tears, struggled to hold herself together as she fought to save lives. The soldiers were coming in at a rate ten times faster than five minutes before. Lana had also noted that there wasn't enough medicine to save each one of these hundreds of dying men. In fact, they would only be able to save another twenty at most.
It didn't matter now. She turned as the whine of a Covenant fighter swooped in for a strafing run.
There were screams at first, but in an instant there was a brilliant flash of light, a loud eruption of sound, and then everything ended.
Another wave crashed to the rocky shore. The magnificent sunset that now colored the skies a deep crimson faded into night.
On the shoreline sat two figures, one male and the other female. To their right was a small fire, and to their left was a ornate sword which stood half buried in the sand. A leather strap tied to the hilt waved gently in the breeze.
The swordsman and his only hope reached out for each other, and then they meet in the loving embrace they never lived to share.
The demise of mankind. With one final stand and the death of tomorrow's hope, we fade into history with only a memory.
And the world ended, just as we knew it would.
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