//------------------------------// // Soul of the Renegade // Story: The Lone Wolves // by InfinitySlayer //------------------------------// The blazing white stars twinkled in the deep night of the cosmos, their unrivaled power on a dazzling display for all the galaxy to witness from thousands of light years away. In the vacuum of space, a single blade of shining purple and gray pierced the darkness of the empty nothingness. The massive vessel was most similar in appearance to a scimitar on the horizontal, the bow of the craft curving downwards and expanding outwards in a smoothly cut bell shape. The sword-like cruiser was adorned with blue and green lights, illuminating the outer hull of the ship in a neon display of power. The massive Covenant Super-Carrier, the Soul of the Renegade, was designed for autonomous planetary assault. Equipped with over 100 outer deck, super heated plasma cannons, it was capable of destroying entire fleets of enemy warships completely unassisted. The entire hulking beast measured at over three quarters of a mile long and seven hundred feet in width, rivaling the stature of the UNSC's prime warship, the Infinity. The inner workings of the invincible vessel were equally as impressive as its outer shell. A cruiser of this size operated much like a portable city, fully equipped with thousands of living quarters, enough to house hundreds of thousands of loyal Covenant zealots. Dozens of individual armories contained enough combined firepower to destroy a large city. Massive cargo bays contained armadas of planetary assault vehicles, including Wraiths, Choppers, and Banshees. In the largest holding bay was the crown jewel of the cruiser's ground forces, a single, heavily armed Scarab. It's devastating Assault Beam had proven in the past that it could tear through flesh, through bone, through steel, though any opponent that dare threaten its majesty and power. The heart and mind of the Soul of the Renegade, the bridge, was the primary operating room for the entire vessel. Located towards the bow of the ship, in the most heavily reinforced section of Covenant metal alloys, it was capable of withstanding a constant barrage of the most destructive firepower. It was the main housing bay of the commanders of the floating city, of which worked nonstop to ensure its seamless operation. Hundreds of feet across and at least a hundred high, the massive, dome shaped structure awed any Covenant soldiers fortunate enough to lay their eyes upon it. The front portion of the bridge doubled as an observation area, made completely out of reinforced glass that curved upwards and outwards to form a bubble shape. From this viewpoint, a large, vibrant sphere hung in the vast emptiness of space. It was vivid and pleasing to the eye, with huge green swaths of land accented by cerulean oceans of even greater magnitude and power. A large, gray moon with oddly recognizable designs orbited around the planetary body in a perfectly calculated, majestic dance. Staring with prideful, lusting eyes at the innocent world beneath him was an massive, imposing alien creature of unimaginable strength and prowess. Its legs resembled tree trunks of the greatest stature. It's torso was the breadth and with of a small tank. Its arms were covered in bulging, powerful muscles capable of ripping the limbs clean away from almost any known creature in the universe. Its head was the size of a large chair, covered entirely by a massive, ornate, titanium alloy helmet. The entire mass of brute power and capability was covered in mat of furry hair, invisible under the thick, red and gray armor of the Chieftain's combat uniform, scarred from years of warfare and hundreds of victories. Slung on the beast's wall of a back was an ornate, cylindrical object with a gigantic, metal head on the top end infused with a Covenant device capable of altering the laws of space-time in a sphere around it, the Gravity Hammer. It was the weapon of choice for the greatest Jiralhanae, or as they were commonly and dejectedly known as by humanity, Brutes. The Chieftain's humongous arms were crossed as he pondered his current situation. Life had not been easy for him and his brothers. Since the assassination of Prophet Truth, the Jiralhanae had been rejected from common Covenant enclaves, as the blame for the downfall of the Great Journey was placed entirely on their own incompetence. In abject shame, they retreated into the dark depths of the galaxy, launching guerrilla warfare on the miserable humans who were truly to blame for the fragmentation of the Covenant whenever they could. Their efforts weren't even enough to garner significant attention by the UNSC, who treated them more as partisans than as an actual threat. This was largely due to the nature of the Jiralhanae, who believed in overwhelm and total warfare tactics. Anything less was labeled as pure cowardice. Retreat was unheard of. Death on the battlefield was the greatest fate attainable for the strongest of them, in their own glory hungry minds. However, that calculating Chieftain had seen enough bloodshed and defeat to understand that victory was often separate from glory. The Chieftain had been searching for a suitable home for his defeated brethren, his brothers in arms, for years. The Soul of the Renegade may have been a perfectly stable civilization in itself, but it was nothing compared to the lush forests and open spaces of the world below his massive feet. While reading through old logistics sections of Covenant databases stored on the vessel, he was surprised to discover that this planet had survived a Sangheli invasion in the recent past. In a rush to hide their shame, the Sangheli had immediately encrypted all data regarding the vivid world. Since the downfall of the Covenant, however, many of their deepest secrets had long since been unearthed. The Chieftain stroked his large, gray beard in thought. According to the logs, the planet had repelled the invasion mostly due to the actions of a Spartan, code-named Noble Six. The Chieftain had seen the immense power, the raw determination and intelligence, of Spartans on the battlefield before. They were not to be trifled with. If the Spartan was still present on the planet below him, his destruction would have to be swift and absolute. By invading the world, he was putting the lives of his brothers at risk. However, the Chieftain recognized that the benefits of gaining the lush, untainted planet far outweighed the risks of the losses they would attain. That planet, in the Brute's mind, could even become the next great home world of his species, an immense, shining kingdom for millennia to come. From that bastion, the Jiralhanae could again grow to be the greatest threat to humanity in the galaxy, and at last exterminate every single member of their blasphemous race for all eternity. Pride bubbled in the heart of the Chieftain. He could become the singular ruler of that planet through its conquest, unite all of the scattered Jiralhanae under his sole command. He became eager to get the invasion underway. In a low, grumbling voice that resembled thunder, he spoke to his second in command, who was analyzing data on a nearby computing station, "Are the scans complete?" The strong Jiralhanae, adorned in his blue combat armor, lumbered up from his stooped position to face the Chieftain. His ape-like face was curled in a snarl. On the high-tech computer next to him, a series of large red dots flashed in the lower atmosphere of the planetary body. In a low, disgusted tone, he spoke to his fearless Chieftain, "They are, my Chieftain. However, preliminary scans have detected five human warships in the planet's lower atmosphere." The Chieftain's voice bellowed in an outburst of rage upon hearing this information, startling the rest of the crew aboard the bridge. He had not been expecting the heathen to arrive on this world. Five UNSC warships posed a major threat to his grand design. However, a sense of fear, of hopelessness, never entered his soul. Nothing would divert the course of his mission. The humans would feel the wrath of his brothers' rage, of his own destructive power. "Bring them up on the monitor," The second in command pressed a colorful button on the control pad, causing a massive, three dimensional image to display itself from a large holographic projector in the center of the bridge. Every eye fell upon a digitized scene of five mid-sized UNSC warships, portrayed in red, high-definition pixels, hovering above the planet's green surface. Every soul, even the lowliest Grunt, hurled accusations and curses at the blasphemous vessels that dared to challenge their hold over the planet. As the Chieftain calculated the scene before him, his face curled into an evil smile as he noticed yellow symbols hovering above each UNSC warship, indicating that they had already taken substantial damage. He did not question what had caused the damage, perfectly pleased knowing that his task would be made that much easier. Clenching his gargantuan fists, he turned to face his enraged and expecting crew. With a voice that shook the entire cruiser, he bellowed, "The filth you see before you today will be a distant memory tomorrow, my brothers! We will destroy their fleet without mercy, the world below your feet will by ours, and we will feast upon their scattered remains in paradise!" The bridge erupted in shouts and screams of approval and zealous rage, many Jiralhanae hurling their fists in the air in allegiance to their Chieftain. They would follow him to the most hellish corners of the universe, to death, and to the glory that lay in the life beyond. The Chieftain grasped his Gravity Hammer in both claws, raising it above his head in a display of power and victory. "Today, my brethren, we fight! Today, we will have victory!"