Outer Orion Arm, Covenant-Controlled Territory
By human timekeeping, it should still be the early hours of dawn on this alien world. Most of its surface should be cloaked in darkness.
But at this moment, the entire world was ablaze.
Unknown extraterrestrial flora and fauna rippled like waves, covering the land in a mesmerizing tapestry of greens and blues, interspersed with earthy browns. From orbit, it was a breathtaking sight.
Yet war allowed no time for admiration. Everyone knew the light illuminating the planet was anything but natural.
Boom!
Colossal beams of energy crisscrossed the skies, carving through the heavens in an apocalyptic ballet.
Scorching winds swept across the once-thriving landscapes of this Covenant colony world, reducing vibrant foliage to withering embers. Leaves curled and blackened, their death-rattle lost amidst the cacophony of destruction.
Orbital artillery, aerial bombardments, and railgun strikes rained down relentlessly, blanketing the land in a ceaseless storm of devastation. The tremors of constant explosions tore apart the soil, carving deep, smoldering wounds into the planet's surface.
Beneath the blinding firelight, entire districts of meticulously planned alien architecture quivered and crumbled, their foundations unable to withstand the relentless assault. Towers collapsed in quick succession, sending up clouds of debris and bloodied mist—shattered remnants of those unfortunate enough to be caught within.
Each eruption of light heralded another deafening blast, flames consuming everything in their path. Alien screams of agony and terror filled the air, but the inferno was indifferent, swallowing both the dead and the living alike.
From above, vast rivers of fire twisted and coiled, surging through the wreckage in an unstoppable tide. To the devout Covenant believers, it was nothing short of divine retribution.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
For many newly recruited Imperial auxiliary troops, it was their first time witnessing such destruction. Staring out from their transport's viewports, they were left in stunned silence, awestruck by the sheer scale of devastation.
...
Low Orbit – Punishers Fleet Flagship, Wrath of the Empire
Standing before the armored glass viewport, Grand General Budo and his subordinate, General Sakazki, silently observed the burning planet below.
The thick hull of the warship insulated them from the natural winds and the fiery heat, but through the viewport, they could see the seething flames licking hungrily at the land. The scars of war were being carved deep into the world's very fabric.
"So, this was your subordinates' plan?"
Hands clasped behind his back, Budo watched impassively as countless energy projectiles streaked downward, blooming into deadly firestorms upon impact.
Behind him, a holographic projection flickered to life. It depicted a black-haired, pale-skinned figure—8th Legion Commander Konrad Curze—who spoke evenly, his sharp gaze betraying his ever-calculating mind.
"Nathaniel has made contact with the human civilization of Universe-117. He is currently en route to their forward command headquarters on Reach and has already secured an agreement with one of their high-ranking officials. I see this as an opportunity."
"Using Nathaniel's reconnaissance fleet as an anchor, we can execute a large-scale precision deployment of forces."
Budo turned, his eyes narrowing. "You're suggesting a decapitation strike?"
Curze nodded. "More accurately, a forced decapitation. Leveraging our newfound contacts within the United Earth Government's military, my operatives have established a working relationship with one of their elite bio-augmented strike teams."
"With this, even if their leadership remains wary of us, they will not outright refuse a meeting. After all, this is their own military headquarters. If they lacked the courage to even consider negotiations, they wouldn't have survived twenty years of war with the Covenant."
"So, your goal is to control the UNSC military leadership and force them into compliance?" Budo asked.
"Curze, your plan surely involves more than that… or is this just a smokescreen?"
"Precisely." Konrad Curze sighed, shaking his head. "If it were that simple, I would certainly prefer it."
If they were dealing with a single planet, a single star system, or even multiple isolated systems, he was confident that a swift decapitation strike could secure control. But the UEG's colonial reach was vast—too widespread for his Legion to handle alone.
"Reconnaissance reports indicate that this universe's human civilization is far from united. There are deep-seated conflicts, multiple instances of division, and records of past civil wars."
While his naval forces harassed Covenant territories, Curze had also deployed operatives to infiltrate the UEG's outer colonies, gathering a trove of intelligence.
"However, most of the instability lies within the outer colonies. The inner colonies, which are the UEG's stronghold, have known relative peace for centuries. If we resort to sheer brute force, their resistance may be just as fierce as the Covenant's."
"I never expected a single decapitation strike to cripple an entire interstellar civilization. Conflict is inevitable. My objective is to paralyze their military command and minimize collateral damage where possible."
The UEG had countless populated worlds and military installations. Whether the Empire ground them down one by one or the UNSC forces chose to fight to the bitter end, large-scale destruction was inevitable. Curze's aim was to safeguard what he already saw as Imperial property.
With chilling pragmatism, he viewed the UEG's infrastructure—and even its people—as assets that would soon belong to the Empire and the Divine Empress.
"By now, Nathaniel's team should be arriving at Reach."
Budo nodded. "As long as you've considered every angle, proceed as you see fit. If you require cover or resources, let me know."
"Understood. I'll handle it." With a brief nod, Curze severed the transmission.
A brief silence hung over the bridge before Budo spoke again. "That's enough. Cease bombardment." He turned toward Sakazki. "Take your men and eliminate the remaining xeno resistance on the ground. Any who refuse to surrender—behead them and erect a warning."
"By your command."
...
Reach
Fleet Command Headquarters – UNSC High Command, Manassas
If Earth was the UEG's political, economic, and cultural hub, then Reach was its military backbone. As home to the largest non-automated titanium mines, it served as the UNSC's most valuable strategic asset.
It housed the UNSC Navy's most extensive and active shipyards, the training grounds for the Spartan Program, ODSTs (Orbital Drop Shock Troopers), and numerous elite military units. In orbit, an imposing fleet centered around the Supercarrier Trafalgar stood vigilant.
Protecting Reach's near-orbital space were twenty planetary defense platforms, each bolstered by carrier battle groups and versatile tactical warships.
This formidable defense network meant that any slipspace disturbance would be detected instantly. The moment an unidentified warp signature was registered, automated alerts began flashing across the High Command's strategic monitors.
"Admiral Parangosky, after cross-referencing all inbound and outbound logs, there are no records of any UNSC vessel scheduled to return at this time."
A middle-aged woman with a solid build, clad in the dark uniform of the United Nations Space Command, Admiral Parangosky kept her gaze fixed on the screen displaying the slipstream rupture.
"Is it a Covenant fleet?"
"No, Admiral. The ship's design is distinctly human. In fact, it closely resembles the Gothic architectural style popular in 18th and 19th-century Europe on Earth."
On-screen, an enormous warship emerged from the slipspace rift, its prow resembling the head of a leviathan breaching the surface of an ethereal ocean. Every inch of its hull was lined with formidable weapon arrays, while engines larger than most UNSC warships flared with plasma fire, illuminating the void like a caged sun.
Parangosky exhaled slightly. "At least it's not the Covenant. If it's human, there's still room for negotiation." She turned to her staff. "Send a transmission."
"Instruct them to identify themselves and power down their engines. Any unauthorized movements will be considered hostile, and they will be fired upon."
"Admiral, incoming transmission... Wait, detecting a signal from Silver Team Spartans aboard that vessel... Admiral, it's the Master Chief."
A communications officer called out urgently.
Parangosky's expression hardened. "Spartans? The Master Chief? What the hell is he doing aboard that ship?"
She hesitated before giving an order. "Get Dr. Halsey up here immediately." She put extra emphasis on the word get.
"No need, Admiral. I'm already here."
The command room's doors hissed open, revealing Dr. Catherine Halsey, blonde-haired and clad in her white lab coat, walking in with an air of nonchalance. "How may I assist you, Admiral?"
Parangosky narrowed her eyes. "Catherine, do you know something about this?"
Halsey offered a small, knowing smile. "Yes. It's John. I had him extend an invitation to a resistance force."
"Resistance? Invitation? Catherine Elizabeth Halsey, I hope you understand the implications of what you're saying." Parangosky's voice rose sharply, drawing glances from the bridge crew.
Realizing the misunderstanding, Halsey raised her hands slightly, her expression calm. "A resistance force dedicated to fighting the Covenant, Admiral. Not the Outer Colonies' insurrectionists you're imagining. They're experienced warriors, and they've come bearing gifts—for us."
Parangosky's face twisted in disbelief. "You mean to tell me there's a civilian-led military force, unaffiliated with the UNSC, that specializes in fighting the Covenant?"
Her tone dripped with skepticism and scorn.
"In that ornate, oversized luxury yacht-turned-warship?"
The sheer absurdity of it was hard to process. Even the UNSC's own highly trained forces suffered enormous casualties in engagements with the Covenant. The idea that some ragtag civilian group could put up a meaningful fight was laughable.
To Parangosky, the so-called "resistance" of the Outer Colonies was a nuisance at best. If the UNSC were allowed to deal with them without political constraints, they would have been crushed long ago. But with public pressure, media scrutiny, and the ever-present call for human unity, the government was forced into a stance of reluctant tolerance.
The thought was infuriating.
Meanwhile, as the Sacred Selene Empire gathered more intelligence on the United Earth Government, the stark differences between the two civilizations became ever clearer.
Under the Empire's absolute monarchical system, the central government's power was strengthened to an unprecedented degree under Selene. It was not just her decrees—any directive issued by the Imperial Ministry of Internal Affairs carried absolute authority. Any defiance was met with immediate and ruthless execution.
The moment an order was disobeyed, assassination squads and suppression forces were deployed without hesitation.
As the tension lingered, a communications officer seated at the leftmost console spoke up. "Admiral, incoming video transmission from the unidentified vessel."
"Put it on the main display." Parangosky commanded.
"Yes, ma'am!"
The central console flickered to life, projecting the incoming video feed in full clarity.
Just as Halsey hesitated, a familiar voice reached her ears.
On the holographic display, a pale but strikingly handsome warrior materialized. The bridge crew exchanged puzzled glances as the unknown figure casually greeted Halsey.
"Dr. Halsey, we meet again. As promised, I've brought you a gift—an assortment of Covenant captives, including Unggoy, Kig-Yar, Yanme'e, and Jiralhanae."
"Please provide a landing coordinate so we may deliver our goodwill in person."
Halsey turned toward Admiral Parangosky.
Parangosky narrowed her eyes. "So, Halsey, your meddling never ceases." Her tone dripped with disapproval. "This time, I guarantee the Security Council won't let this slide."
Her displeasure was palpable.
But in the next moment, her demeanor shifted. "Assign them a landing route. Only transport craft are permitted to descend."
Despite her frustration with Halsey, Parangosky chose to meet the newcomers. This was Reach, the heart of the UNSC's military might—she had full confidence in their ability to control the situation.
From the brief footage, she had noted the pale warrior's armor. It bore a resemblance to old, discarded models of UNSC's Mjolnir Mark I and Mark II power armor. That alone warranted caution, but not fear.
Moments later, the central display tracked two Thunderhawk gunships detaching from the designated cruiser's hangar. Escorted by UNSC aerospace fighters, the vessels entered Reach's atmosphere at a controlled pace.
Parangosky turned to Halsey. "Let's go. To the landing pad. I want to see exactly what you've gotten us into."
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