The State of Things
"You're talking." John stated.
"Yes! I am talking! Moreover, I am talking to YOU!" She glared at the now-freed Spartan, whose shields popped back online. Behind her, the yellow, pink-maned horse fell to its side with a sigh.
"We lost Fluttershy." The white one with a purple mane said simply.
"Why in the name of Celestia did you kill all those creatures?" The purple one said again.
"They were Covenant," he explained, "and we don't get along." He glared with hate at the big Elite, who rolled on the ground, groaning, as consciousness returned.
"Chjet norsed beka ju'nek!" The Elite growled as his eyes met Chief's visor. Chief's time on the battlefield cued him in to more than one Sangheili curse word, and that was just about all of them. For his part, Chief just stared. The Elite stood to his full height and reached for his energy sword again, but it was pulled from his grasp by the purple energy field. The Elite roared with rage as he watched the hilt of his prized possession fly from his grasp.
"Exactly why," the purple one lectured, "can't you settle this like civilized ponies?"
"The Human is an affront to the Gods! His existence mars the face of creation, and must be extinguished!"
"At your service," Chief sneered. The Elite snarled and raised a fist. Chief moved to meet the creature, but was intercepted by a flying blue horse. What was in that cryo-serum?
"Easy, you two. I wouldn't want to have to kick any butts!"
"Pur'dak!" The Elite barked.
For once, Chief agreed; still, he held his tongue, and his fists. The Covenant and Humanity had reached truce once before. Maybe trying again wasn't such a bad idea.
"Now," the purple one sighed, "girls, I need you to tell Spike to send a letter to the Princesses. I think we'll need their help." She smiled as her friends went their separate ways to accomplish their goals. "So, you two. Why don't we go and talk over lunch?"
They had been led, with no small amount of tension between the two soldiers -- to say nothing of the opinions of the town's inhabitants -- to a building that reminded Chief of an early 20th century French cafe. Chief and the Elite were directed by a terrified waitress toward a table, where the purple horse took a seat.
"Please," she motioned, "sit."
Chief heard Cortana laugh as he looked at the tiny chair that had been presented to him. He and the Elite shared a questioning glance. Chief shrugged and pulled the wrought-iron seat over to him with a loud scraping sound, and sat. It creaked and groaned for a moment before collapsing under him. The ground shook as his full weight struck home. Cortana was laughing hysterically.
"If the abomination cannot remain seated in these feeble chairs, then neither can I. I will stand."
Working to his feet, Chief considered taking one of the splintered pieces of wrought iron and plunging it down the Elite's throat, but thought better of it. He smacked the side of his helmet to try and tell Cortana to knock it off. She didn't comply.
"Okay, then," the purple one said as the two stood at each other, still glaring daggers, "how about introductions? Rol, why don't you start?"
The Elite stood up straight and hesitated for a moment. "I am Rol 'Chusufai, Second Master of the Fear to Prosperity. My blade is the beacon by which our crew is led, and upon which the Shipmaster relies."
"Fantastic," she smiled a hesitant smile before turning to Chief, "and you are...?"
"Not going to tell you." He shook his head.
"We have to call you something."
He paused, considering his options. "Sierra one-one-seven."
"Ohhhkay. Well, then, Sierra one-one-seven, meet Rol 'Chufu ... 'Chuku... 'Chu-suf-ai. Rol 'Chusufai. I am Twilight Sparkle. Pleased to meet you both."
As the introductions concluded, the waitress returned with three plates, all set down in front of each guest. The purple one began to eat eagerly, and a moment later looked at her guests with confusion.
"Why aren't you eating?"
"I'm not taking off this helmet." Chief said plainly.
The Elite looked at the sandwich on his plate suspiciously. "What is this?"
"It's a sandwich, Rol. You should try it."
"Do not call me Rol. You must call me Second Master; it is my title."
"Okay, Second Master, try the sandwich." Twilight was getting more impatient by the minute.
The Elite picked up the sandwich with one hand and turned it over and over. His split jaws opened wide and took about half the sandwich in one bite. Swiftly, his head turned and he ejected the contents of his mouth. The rest of the sandwich was promptly hurled as far as he could manage it, all while being cursed very loudly in the Sangheili tongue. He rounded it off by turning back to Twilight with crossed arms. "Disgusting," he said simply.
"Well," Cortana mused in Chief's helmet, "aren't we the charmer?"
"Look, this is going nowhere," Chief shook his head and pointed at the Elite, "Why don't you go back to your ship while I try to find a way off this planet?" He turned and walked away, ignoring the rants of the Elite behind him and the desperate cries of Twilight.
"You know, Chief, I wasn't going to mention it, but that Elite's holier-than-thou attitude sealed the deal; an SDV-Class heavy corvette like the Fear to Prosperity could probably muster enough juice to get us home, and I could probably muster enough juice to get her flying."
"I'm up for it." As the walked, he noticed the streets were deserted; he presumed the locals were just too terrified to be around him. That suited him just fine; less nonsense to get in the way.
"Well, let's get moving, Chief. We've got work to do."
The UNSC Two for Flinching was a fast-attack Corvette of distinguished service. It was, as such, frowned upon to steal it from the Shipyards over New Canaveral and abscond into the depths of interstellar space. This fact didn't really bother Linda-058. When, on the way home after her rescue by the Port Stanley, she had picked up a faint and admittedly broken transmission she was SURE said something about "117" and "finishing this fight", and in the light of the attack on Earth, her mind was made up. Her return to Earth, too late though it was to help in the battle, led to her being heralded as a shining achievement of the Human species, just like Doctor Halsey knew her Spartans would be. She was even hand-picked by Doctor Halsey to field one of the prototype MJOLNIR Mark 7 variants. John, though, haunted her. The last time she saw him, he was cradling her in his arms while a glob of plasma seared the flesh at the back of her skull. She knew he thought she was dead. She knew, now that the Ark had been destroyed, everyone on Earth thought he was dead. That wasn't something she could allow. Somehow, she knew he was alive. Somehow, she would find him.
After several years of careful planning, she had managed to convince a small crew of naval personnel and combat personnel to assist and accompany her on an off-the-books, AWOL mission to retrieve the lost Spartan. At this point, she and her crew were considered criminals, and she was sure that they would be followed to the best of the UNSC's ability. At the same time, the Two for Flinching wasn't a large ship by any means at only 520 feet long. While they were certainly being tracked and followed, the Admiralty of the UNSC wouldn't dedicate considerable firepower to their capture. They would be seen as a rogue element to be captured at the earliest opportunity. The most likely asset on their tail would be a Charon Frigate, and at the most a single Halcyon class. With their frequent blind course corrections, their pursuers' advance would be slow. For the past two years, they had been zig-zagging in the direction of Chief's last known coordinates. The Ark, Installation 00, was 262,144 light years from galactic center according to the data left over from the battle. That was more than one and a half galactic diameters. Earth was a quarter of a galactic diameter from center, which meant she had about 237,000 light years of space where John could be. Her little fighter, though, couldn't hope to take her outside of their galaxy, so all she could hope to search was the 25,000 light years from Earth to the Rim. It was a crapshoot, and not one where the odds were in her favor. Her little crew knew that, though, but they were so dedicated to the idea of Humanity's greatest hero that they felt anything short of a lifetime dedication to his recovery would be an insult. Her crew were all ideologues, to be sure, but they meant well, and she couldn't help but respect that dedication.
Her motivation, though, was decidedly more personal.
She had nearly given up hope that their mission could come to fruition, until, after these two years, their little ship's scanners picked up a faint transmission. They were nearly seven light years from Earth, on the positive x-axis swing of their staggered advance, when the signal scanner that ran 24/7 pulled just a few words out of the black.
"Mayday, ma---y, m-----. This is ---C FFG-201 For---d------D-wn, reque----------diate evac. Surv------aboard. Prio------tion-------Vi--or Zero Five------------dash Sierra Zero One One Seven."
The transmission quickly faded back into static. Linda, though had heard enough.
"Commander," she called out to their communications officer, Lt. Commander Xiu Lee, "did you get a bearing on that signal's origin?"
Even though Linda had only been a Petty Officer, Second Class, these men and women respected her. Since they were all AWOL, they had established their own command structure. Since Linda was the most well-trained and had the most experience, there were no objections to her taking command. She was the captain of this ship, with no reservations from her crew; she rewarded their loyalty with her own.
"Yes ma'am," Xiu replied, "it's not terribly precise, but it will get us in the right direction. Helm, set to bearing 82.55 yaw, relative -27.87 pitch to present. Captain, it's about two hundred light years out. It's about a two month flight. Six if we want to keep using staggered directional travel."
"As the crow flies, Helm," Linda called, "thank you, Commander; your work is commendable and appreciated."
The several officers at the helm station offered verbal affirmations before starting the ship's attitude change. They dropped out of slip space, and immediately small amounts of G-force affected them, but the ship's artificial gravity largely negated this. Once their new bearing had been established, the helm called out, "the slip drive needs time to reset, she's been running hot. Engineering estimates 2 hours before full effectiveness."
Linda resented her position as Captain for only one reason; she hated having to talk all the time. Spartans were made to work, not talk. Still, for John, it was worth it. "I expect that we'll be doing everything in our power to come in early from that estimate, but understood." We've waited two years. Two hours is nothing to be concerned about.
Chief crouched under the cover of the thicket at the perimeter of the Covenant camp. They had set up their base of operations around the crashed Corvette, erecting a basic wall with crates, deployable covers, and plasma batteries. For structures they couldn't erect with junk from the crash, they used local materials such as wood. The structures were primitive, yet still maintained that sleek and elegant look for which Covenant architecture was renowned. They'd been at this for more than four years -- they'd organized. The Brutes had been delegated to lookout duty, the Grunts were delegated to the usual Grunt tasks of functioning as light lift gear, the Jackals sat around pretending to work but mostly just giving their jobs to Grunts under penalty of death or torture, and the Elites acted as foremen, mostly directing labor but also contributing from time to time. The current focus of their attention was a large spire created from some of their ship's wreckage. Hardlight and plasma made the several-story tall structure glow with a radiant blue hue. It was obviously cut-and-paste construction, but it was also apparent that it was well constructed, considering the state of things.
"What is that?" Chief asked Cortana.
"I'm no expert in Covenant potpourri construction, but I'd say it looks like some kind of communications relay. They must be trying to call for help."
Chief looked over at the Fear to Prosperity, and it was obvious why that was their goal. The ship was completely destroyed. The parts of it that weren't unrecognizable showed serious plasma damage. It was actually surprising that anyone at all had survived the crash. Still more disturbing, though, was the obvious damage to parts of their wall. Deep gashes that came in rows of four seemed to pepper the parts of it that weren't hardlight, and various Covenant bloodstains usually followed.
"What do you suppose did that?" Cortana asked with a bit of a quiver in her voice.
"Something big."
As if on cue, at that moment, Chief heard the familiar sounds of Covenant fighting. The guards that were facing him ran from their posts, drawing weapons, and headed toward the opposite side of the encampment. From moment to moment, Chief heard faint roaring that was distinctly non-Covenant.
"Looks like your luck is holding out, Chief! Let's get in there, maybe we can find something that will give us an idea of what the state of things is."
He didn't stop to ask. Cortana had never really steered him wrong before. Being very careful as he went, he began to infiltrate the camp. At the center of it, nearest to the wreck of the ship, was a building that obviously housed an Elite of some importance. Figuring that was as good a place as any to enter, Chief poked his head into the structure. Empty. The Elite that lived here must have gone off to join in the fray. Chief began to rummage through the junk. In his search he managed to find a poorly made wooden chest full of energy sword hilts. He picked up two and tested them. They ignited, with full batteries. He smiled to himself and hooked them onto either side of his hips. All he was able to find other than that was a plasma pistol with a little over half charge in it. Finally, as he was about to give up, a shimmering point of blue and purple caught his eye. It was behind what he presumed was a bed. He picked it up, and it sparked to life.
"It's a data pad, Chief," Cortana said with a bit of surprise, "I can access this. Just give me a minute."
From outside, the commotion had died down. Chief heard Covenant voices drawing nearer. "No time," he said, "it's coming with us."
"If the Elite that lives here finds it gone --"
"We'll deal with it." Chief bolted through the doorway and back out into the cover of the forest, seeing a myriad of red dots just on the periphery of his sensors. Just in time.
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Hey! I found a car fire big enough for you to die in:
ice-age-ahead-iaa.ca/large/castle_bravo_blast.jpg
Good story
4318594 Did I upset you somehow?
4318622 Thank you.
4318642 I hope it's worth the wait... I'm having fun writing it.
4318750 No no no! Of course not, you didn't offend me, you just wrote halo crossover #558.
I hate you and your kind with a passion that cannot be physically comprehended by the human brain.
4318762
If you don't like Halo crossovers then why the f
are you here?
4318893 Because avoiding halo crossovers is like avoiding Syphilis in the 18th century.
It's everywhere, and it's unpleasant for everyone except for that one satan-worshiping fucker who's really into his dick looking like The Flood.
4318898
Syphilis and fanfiction have nothing in common that warrants a comparison. No one is forcing you to read this. Please leave and stop bothering people for enjoying something that you do not care for,
4318898
Wtf are you talking about? There is such a thing as not clicking on a fanfic. It's not like this fic was cleverly disguised as something that wasn't a halo fan fiction.
And honestly if you can't handle cliché and/or repetitive story lines then you must have an incredibly horrible time finding a good crossover fanfic for just about anything. Seriously though, the only ones that are usually not cliché are XCOM crossovers and that's only because there are so few of them.
4318750 I'm liking this, it was an ODST fic that inspired me to start writing (yes, an ODST fic too since I couldn't do Chief justice). But you have done chief proud. so proud that Chief will start to sparkle, and make Twilight's Edward die from his pure manlines and general Armstrong have tears of pure manliness.
Excellent! I just hope that Celestia and Luna (Especially Luna since she is still a bit stuck in the old ways) understand war and don't instantly claim them as evil monsters or literally force them together in an effort to make them friends. That sometimes gets a bit tiring when they try that.
Nice chapter, I especially like the idea of Chief sitting down on that chair only for it to break under his weight. I still see the Ponies playing peace negotiators and having to send the covies and UNSC into time out zones at some point. By why didn't Master Chief give his rank to Twilight after Rol gave his???
4318762 Well, I'm flattered that I can cause such an extreme reaction in a reader. Albeit, it isn't the reaction I was hoping for, but I'll take what I can get. I would venture to say though that you should probably take a moment to consider exactly what we're doing; we are on a website that is dedicated to fanfiction centered in the My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic universe. For the most part, we are late-teen to mid-twenty year old males. The bizarre nature of that fact should be enough to remind you that taking any of this too seriously is not really worth it. I am, as AK Yearling, a pony fanfiction writer. I write fanfiction not as a profession, but as a hobby. It's really not worth getting upset about.
4318772 Ah, yes, a fact of which I am very much cognizant. Unfortunately it presents an interesting problem for the writer; if you don't have dialogue, it becomes difficult to show rather than tell. The same is true for too much dialogue. A narrative with characters like these in a universe like this requires that the characters be able to speak, so I've had to tweak that a bit. That all being said, I feel like when there are other characters for him to play to, that is to say when I've finished setting up the major conflict and its players, he can take on his strong silent type role a bit more. Thanks for the comment!
4319444 I hope I'm not THAT predictable in my writing! I'd like to think some of the ideas in which I hope to take this story can be at least a little exciting and believable.
4319700 Thank you very much for your enthusiasm! I'll try to live up to it.
4319938 I'll be honest, this is probably going to end up being more of a Halo fic that's crossed over into Equestria rather than vice-versa. My thinking is that since the UNSC and the Covenant are such powerful and forceful entities, they will tend to dominate not only each other, but the story itself as well. At least, that's how it's been going so far while I write it. I hope it's still enjoyable of course, but I won't lie about where I think this is going.
4318772
He doesn't talk a lot because the VA wants a fucksack of money.
static.squarespace.com/static/51aae414e4b013f5da4a816c/t/53345e72e4b09fffc70d3444/1395940979168/
keep it up!
4320448 Still, Magic is probably the one thing the Covenant and UNSC can't figure out, so the Ponies might be able to hold their own.
4321705
Have we been watching the same show? Magic has proven to be extremely limited unless the caster is Twilight or somepony using a magic boosting artifact (all of which drive the user insane).
So you are telling me that Chief would let a highly dangerous and genocidal alien in a cafe and simply go away without even making sure that he can't follow him?
Also, if the Elite sees the demon possibly going to their base, won't he use his com to contact his comrades?
4328241 This Elite is largely unfamiliar with Chief. He's been out of the loop since before Reach.
this is going to be good its good now
Uh, ex-FUCKINGcuse me???????
media.giphy.com/media/UvwI1X7XkbXq0/giphy.gif
How do you fucking go from MURDER EVERYTHING to "hey let's go out for lunch! Oh don't worry about the blood, we can wipe that up easy!"
I don't even...I can't...u fucking wot, m8? I need to use this .gif again
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The only explanation I can think of for this is that Chief is still stuck in the Droppod and is having a comadream.
Either that or Twilight and all the ponies are suffering from an extreme case of ADHD.
If it's the latter, I give up. This story had SUCH PROMISE and then it all went to hell in such a few short moments. I can't take this.
4340934 don't be a dick
The writer worked hard on this
Excuse yourself
The UNSC Two for Flinching was a fast-attack Corvette
i laughed for about 2 minuets after that