Halo - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Parley and Betrayal ❯ 0740 Hours, July 14 2546, (Military Calendar)\Yale System ( Chapter 2 )

0740 Hours, July 14 2546, (Military Calendar)\Yale System

 

The UNSC-SS Marathon-class cruiser Memphis slowly roamed the darkened void outside the loan colony system of Yale. One had to stay away from Yale, especially where Harvard was concerned. The captain of the Memphis could never understand how two systems were named Harvard and Yale. He figured someone from Berkley named them and probably hoped those two would be the next on the Covenant's list to be glassed. A sick joke, if he ever heard one. He was Captain Donald Reynolds. So far, things were quiet in the system. There were a few whispers here and there, but mostly that was from the chatter coming from Yale. The frats, mostly. Don rolled his eyes and sat back in his chair. On board his ship was an AI named Cornelius.

 

His tactical, Ensign Graham Ingles, shifted restlessly in his seat, his eyes going over a Playboy magazine concealed under the consol. He thought that he would be seeing some action when he signed up to be on a ship. Any action would due for him. Unfortunately, the only action he saw was the action going on in the glossy papers—two beautiful, topless women having a water and soap fight over a civilian-styled Warthog. That brought a smile to his face. A chime sounded on his consol and his eyes glanced up from the dirty magazine. He glanced over and saw that a light was flashing.

 

“Ensign,” began Don. “What is it?”

 

“Someone's hailing us, Skipper,” said Graham. “But there's not a ship in sight. The sensors aren't picking up anything.”

 

Cornelius appeared on a holographic projector near the Captain and he glanced down at the blue image.

 

“I'm picking up strange whispers, Captain,” he said. “From all around us. But like his said, I'm not picking up any ships in the area.”

 

Then, a voice came through the speakers.

 

“Hello?” began the voice. It sounded male. “Hello? Anyone there?”

 

Don's eyes glanced around the ceiling for a moment as his heart began to skip around inside his chest. The rest of the bridge crew were also glancing around.

 

“Hello?” the voice continued. “Is this a vacant ship? What? Do you guys just leave a ship out in the middle of nowhere like a fake speed trap and hope people are obeying the limit?”

 

“Uh…” Don began. “We hear you. Who are you and where are you?”

 

“Well, I'm in front of you,” the voice replied. “But I have others who are around you and above you.”

 

Graham glanced down for a moment and saw something else flicker on his consol and a message appeared on his screen. Cornelius twitched for a moment when he felt something invade his systems, disabling a command on the ship—a command pertaining to the self-destruct sequence.

 

“Captain,” he began. “You're not going to believe this, but who ever this guy is—just disable our self-destruct.”

 

“What?” Don asked.

 

“Now, now, now, now,” the voice echoed through the speakers of the ship. “I'll not have any Cole Protocol initiation while we are in the midst of discussing business. I assure you, I have no interest in the location of Earth. Besides, I already have a general idea where it is thanks to the transmissions of your ancestors. If I wanted to, I could just easily follow that and eliminate the sections one by one until Earth was left.”

 

“Captain, I think this guy's Covenant,” Graham said.

 

After that statement, the five ships faded from invisibility. And there they were, all around the Memphis. He could see the ship that the voice was coming from. She was an enormous Covenant capital ship, an assault carrier, nearly five times as large as his own ship.

 

“Well, you're only half right,” said the voice.

 

“My God…” Don breathed. “They just…my God…”

 

“I didn't even see them,” said Cornelius. “They weren't on our sensors. There's three large Covenant ships circling us while two slightly smaller cruisers are on the top and the bottom. They've got us boxed in! If I try to fire any weapons, the debris will destroy us too.”

 

“But you were planning on doing that anyways, right?” the voice asked. “Sacrifice your life and the lives of your crew just to save billions of humans on other worlds. A noble gesture, I might add. But not today. Perhaps tomorrow you'll have that opportunity to go down in history as well as your ship. As I've stated I have no interest in Earth.”

 

“Who are you?” Don demanded, rising from his chair. The face of a Zealot Elite appeared on the wide holo-screen in front of his bridge.

 

“Hi there!” the Elite said with a smile on his mandibles. His voice was the friendliest thing Don had ever heard coming from an Elite. “My name is Telek `Herosee, and I am the Ship Master of the Shade of Darkness, a cloak-enabled assault cruiser of the Covenant.”

 

“Okay, if you have no interest in Earth…what do you want?” Don asked.

 

“Well, for one, your name,” said Telek.

 

“Donald Reynolds,” he replied. “Captain of the Memphis.”

 

“Memphis…” Telek began. “Ah…like in Egypt or Tennessee? Nice name. I here the one in Tennessee is nice this time of year. I've always wanted to visit Graceland. See the Peabody Hotel and watch the ducks run across the floor to their little fountain. Didn't think that someone like me would know about that, eh?”

 

Don was just speechless. He had been one of the many people who had not seen an Elite before, or even had been near a Covenant ship. He was told to avoid them as best as possible, per the instructions of the Cole Protocol.

 

“What is it that you want?” Don asked.

 

“Yes,” Telek nodded. “One moment, I have to look it up. Just sit tight okay—and no purging or anything like that. If you do that, I'll just blow you up and find the next ship to do business with. I'm joking! Hah! Just stay right there. Don't move. Tekn, where the hell is that book?”

 

“Getting it, Excellency!” the one called Tekn said. “Here it is.”

 

The Elite named Tekn handed Telek a rather old, canvas bound, red book with gold letters that were faded on the front. As Telek began to flip through the pages, dust rose up from the book, which caused the Elite to cough and sneeze.

 

“Ah, here we are,” Telek said as he blew across the pages, dispersing a plume of dust. “Let's see…purée, par-fey, parking…partly…uh—porter, no…too far. Ah! Here it is. Parley. Yes. Parley.”

 

“Par—what?” Don asked.

 

“Parley,” Telek said with a meaningful grin on his face. “Parley.”

 

In the background, Don could see Tekn waving a rainbow flag behind him. Telek glanced back for a moment and shook his head.

 

“No, you idiot, that means we're gay!” he corrected.

 

“Oh,” Tekn said. “What about this one?”

 

He then began waving a flag with a black dot in the center.

 

“No!” Telek cried. “What are you trying to do, scare him? That means we're quarantined for diseases.”

 

“What about this?” Tekn asked, raising a black flag with skull and crossbones.

 

“No, that means were pirates,” Telek said. “Wait—that could be useful for later. Keep that one. Get out the white flag.”

 

“White flag,” said Tekn. He brought out the white flag and waved it frantically.

 

“There we go,” Telek nodded. “Parley—white flag.”

 

“Uh—one moment,” said Don, pressing a mute button. “Is he surrendering?”

 

“Three ships circling us, and two ships above and blow us…” began Cornelius. “I don't think that's a surrender.”

 

“What does `parley' mean?” Don asked.

 

“It's in my databanks as a nautical term used during the 17th century, sparingly used today I believe,” the AI replied. “One moment. I'll look it up.”

 

“Captain,” Telek began. “Captain, aren't we going to do anything? I've said parley.”

 

“One moment, please,” said Don. “You're using a term we haven't used in a very long time.”

 

“Protocol, Captain,” Telek said.

 

“We're looking it up,” Don said. “Just one moment.”

 

Cornelius reappeared with his own book in hand and blue the dust across the pages.

 

“Parley…” he said. “To accord terms between two enemies. Peace talk. Generally, it means he wants to bargain with us.”

 

“B—bargain?” Don asked, running a hand down his face. “Oy vey…”

 

Graham mouthed: “Bargain…” to the lieutenant sitting beside him.

 

“You want to bargain with us?” Don asked.

 

“Yes,” Telek nodded. “Indeed I do.”

 

“Why the hell didn't you just say so?”

 

“I did,” Telek said. “I wish to parley with you about these POWs I have.”

 

“Say what?” Don asked, standing back up.

 

“Prisoners of War, Captain,” said Telek.

 

“I know what POW means,” Don snapped.

 

“No need to bite my head off,” Telek said. “I'm trying to negotiate peacefully here.”

 

“I know—I know,” he said. “You have prisoners you wish to hand over?”

 

“Yes,” said the Ship Master. “Three Marines, to be exact. Step forward, gentlemen.”

 

The three Marines stepped closer to the screen and Don could now see them. They looked healthy and well.

 

“Sir, they might have been tampered with,” Cornelius whispered.

 

“How do we know these Marines aren't carrying bombs or something inside of them?” Don asked.

 

“Well, you can't be sure of that, can you?” Telek asked. “I can give you my word, but I doubt you'll trust it. You may examine them when they are transferred to your ship. They'll be in your hands and out of mine. That's all that matters. I can't keep them here. For one, they hate the food being served on board, and well—if my superiors found out they'll kill them.”

 

“So what?” Don asked. “You Covies don't take prisoners anyways, why should you care?”

 

“As I've stated, you're only half right about me being Covenant,” said Telek. “I am risking a lot handing these POWs over to you—my life for one and the lives of my crew and the five ships that are here. Now, I don't want to bore you with the details, so, let's just get on with the negotiations. After the parley has been fulfilled, we'll leave you be, return to slip-space and to whence we came. You will not see us again.”

 

“Alright,” Don sighed. “Let's get on with the negotiations. What is it do you want in return for the prisoners?”

 

Telek brought out a piece of paper and began reading off his list of demands.

 

“My first demand is for you to bring me an Olympic-sized pool filled with either vodka or Jack Daniels,” he said. “Either one will be fine. This is to be delivered to me by John Wayne.”

 

“Huh?” Don asked. He glanced around at the other crewmembers who just shrugged and shook their heads.

 

“My next demand is for your chef to make me and my crew some `special brownies',” Telek continued. “These brownies must be the size of a Spirit drop-ship.”

 

“Brownies?” Graham asked.

 

“What are `special brownies'?” Cornelius whispered.

 

In the background, they could hear the three Marines start to snicker.

 

“Brownies with marijuana baked into them,” Don whispered back.

 

“My next demand is for the `special brownies' to be delivered to my ship by Stephen Hyde,” he continued. “Next, we demand the Immortal Jonny Carson's return to the Throne of Prominence and the unholy usurper Jay Leno executed and his head brought to the Covenant, impaled on a pike. For that is the reason why we started this war in the first place.”

 

“Actually, I always thought it was over latrines,” chuckled Tekn.

 

“No, I thought it was over latrines,” said Telek. “When I was sleep-deprived that one time. No, it's over Jay Leno and Jonny Carson.”

 

“Right, all hail the great and powerful Jonny Carson!” Tekn bowed.

 

“Can I please get on with this?” Telek asked. “Next is Brittany Spears!”

 

“You want us to bring you Brittany Spears?” Don asked.

 

“No!” Telek bellowed. “We want her knocked up one more time! Preferably with a plasma sword. I shall donate my sword for the job.”

 

He raised up the glowing blue blade so that the captain could see it. Don hit the mute button again and whispered to Graham.

 

“Record this and send it to Lord Hood,” he said.

 

“Yes, sir,” Graham nodded.

 

“Next we demand that slut Paris Hilton to be taken to the nearest black hole and dropped into it,” Telek continued. “Because we are certain that like light, tastelessness can not escape its gravitational pull. We hope that your on board AI will agree to be the one to take her—it will be a very noble sacrifice.”

 

“Say what?!” Cornelius cried, horrified. “This guy is nuts!”

 

“The next thing that we demand is for Santa Claus to come,” Telek continued. “Bringing with him a bag of coal the size your moon—sending it in c/o of the High Prophet of Truth in High Charity. Have it painted in festive red and green colors. He's been a very bad boy this year.”

 

“He's been a bad boy every year,” said Tekn.

 

“Yes, that's why the coal needs to be exceptionally huge,” Telek agreed. “To cover for all those Christmases he missed. May the Ghost of Jacob Marley and the Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future haunt his craggily, old ass for the rest of his days!”

 

“Uh, we haven't mined for coal in several hundreds of years,” said Don.

 

“I'm sure you can start back up again,” Telek said. “You'll need to in order for Santa to deliver Truth's gift.”

 

“Right,” the Captain nodded.

 

“The next request is the immediate answer to that age old question,” Telek continued.

 

“And what question is that?” Don asked.

 

“How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop?” Telek replied. “I mean you had 500 fucking years to figure that out! This question has been brought to our attention and our Prophet Hierarchs are still stumped. We demand an answer! This is not negotiable!”

 

“Yes!” Tekn cried. “For we don't have tongues and therefore cannot answer such a great and statuesque question. That is why we demand that you provide it to us.”

 

“Finally,” Telek said. “We demand pictures taken of a naked singularity.”

 

“A what?” Don asked.

 

“Oh, excuse me,” he corrected. “Let me see…” Telek pulled out a pair of spectacles and placed them on his nose. “Ah, yes. Pictures of a naked singularity. This is to be taken by Ms. Hilton upon passing the event horizon. This is not negotiable! I'm sure that being strung out like a piece of spaghetti will be an improvement on her looks. And don't forget the alcohol and the brownies.”

 

“We demand brownies and alcohol!” Tekn cried. “Brownies!”

 

Don stepped back, completely mortified by these outrageous demands. This was the enemy? This is the Covenant?

 

“We're boxed in, right, Cornelius?” Don asked.

 

“No where to go…” the AI replied. “And he just robbed us of the sweet liberty of death by disabling our self-destruct.” Cornelius started to cry. “What the hell kind of monsters are they? I can't believe that this is our enemy. Just give him the coordinates to Earth! Anything is better than this.”

 

“Man, is he a pansy or what, Excellency?” Tekn snorted.

 

“I told you, I have no interest in your home world,” Telek said. “The Covenant has spoken! Fulfill our demands and the prisoners go free—as well as we won't glass anymore of your planets.”

 

There was a long pause. Then, just like that every crewmember in the bridge of the Memphis broke down in laughter.

 

“Oh my God!” Graham cried. “Who the hell are these guys?! Johnny Carson!”

 

“Johnny Carson hasn't been alive in 500 years,” Don laughed. “And I'm sorry, but age and drugs got to Brittany Spears and Paris Hilton as well—500 years ago.”

 

“Jay Leno is dead too,” said Graham. “Again 500 years ago.”

 

“I know,” Telek chuckled. “But I wanted to see your reaction. Now, let's get down to the real business. There is something that I want you to understand, I never wanted this war to happen. If you see this ship again, it may have a new Ship Master for when I return to High Charity, I'll probably be executed for speaking to you. Okay, we'll hand over the prisoners now. Just give us whatever cases of booze you have stored in your ship and the parley will be concluded. I wan to be blind stinking drunk when my superior officer comes in telling me he'll have to arrest me for treason.”

 

“That I can do,” said Don. “Miller, you heard the man. Every case of alcohol you can find.”

 

“Aye, aye, skipper!” Miller called.

 

Cases and cases of various alcoholic drinks filled Telek's office. He sat there, with his bare hooves on his desk, dressed in his bedclothes and red terry cloth bathrobe—beer mug in hand and a satisfied smile on his face. Not only did the humans give him beer and liquor, they gave him pretzels too. He handed over the three Marines to the Memphis. They thanked him for the hospitality that he gave them. And Telek thanked Captain Donald Reynolds for the beer. Telek stated to the captain that he hoped that this would be the first of many Sangheili/Human trade relations. After all he needed his sweet nectar.

 

Though, as Telek feared, he was caught the moment his five ships returned to Covenant space. The fleet Particular Justice was waiting for him. Telek's head was resting on his desk when Supreme Commander Otto `Gamamee came walking in with guards behind him ready to arrest his Fleet Master. He found Telek completely intoxicated, beer cans scattered everywhere as well as various empty shot glasses, mugs, and martini glasses rolling around on his desk. The Fleet Master glanced up, eyes bloodshot, but his face had the look of disgust for his old mentor.

 

“I heard about what you did, Telek,” Otto said. “So did the High Council. Therefore I had no choice but to tell them what you found out. You're being charged with treason and heresy. Put your armor on, you'll be standing before the High Council and the Hierarchs.”

 

“I've got one thing to say to you, Otto,” Telek growled. “Kiss my ass.”

 

“My greatest student and my greatest disappointment,” Otto sighed. “What you discovered has thrown you into madness. The only reason why I'm doing this is because I'm seeing someone who is suffering inside. Your life—suffers. Perhaps death will finally bring you peace.”

 

“So, you'd have me executed,” Telek leaned back in his chair. He started laughing wildly at Otto.

 

“Take him away,” Otto sighed.

 

“You don't know what you've done, Otto!” cried Telek as the guards took him out of the office. “You don't know what you've done! It's all a lie! Everything is a lie! The Covenant, the Great Journey, the Prophets. It's a trick! The Halos will not grant us salvation, they'll only mean our deaths!”

 

“Enough of this!” Otto cried. “I deny all that you say! Why would our Lords do this to us?”

 

“They're not our Lords,” Telek called. “They never were.”

 

“What you say is heresy,” Otto began. “I can no longer protect you. Let the Prophets judge your fate.”

 

“Like how they've judged the humans?” Telek asked as he was dragged away.

 

“Spreading these lies about our Lord's designs,” the High Prophet of Truth began as he read off the list of charges. “Reckless intoxication, making bargains with our enemies the humans. Insubordination. This is the last straw, Fleet Master Telek `Herosee.”

 

Telek stood coolly before the High Council as the murmurs of both Sangheili and Prophet voices were heard all around him. His fate was sealed the moment he stepped on High Charity.

 

“You never had a problem such as these before, Fleet Master,” Truth continued.

 

“It was only when I found that I had been serving nothing more than a fairy tale, did I become so `insubordinate',” Telek spat. “If you had any care for the Covenant, you will stop these lies now!”

 

“Silence, heretic!” Mercy cried.

 

“What did you discover, Fleet Master?” Truth asked. “Tell us. Tell us everything.”

 

“The Halos,” Telek began. “They will only spell out doom for us. They kill life, all life. All the life within the range of their pulse weapon. It doesn't matter whether they are good—evil, or indifferent. We all will die!”

 

Otto listened to the testimony of his Fleet Master and his eyes widened. How did Telek come by this? Where did he learn such information? Who told this to him? Then, he recalled the mission that he sent Telek on—the mission that changed him forever. The moment Telek returned from that mission, he was no longer Otto's student and dear friend. He was someone completely different. He looked like a being who's world had just blew up in front of his face.

 

“Lies!” Regret cried. “They're all lies! The Sacred Rings do no such thing! If they did, we would know. If they meant our end, then why are we searching for them?”

 

“Tell me, Regret, why are you searching for them?” Telek asked.

 

“You will not address me in such manner, Fleet Master!” Regret spouted.

 

“I will address you as I see fit, you wrinkly old prune,” the Zealot sneered.

 

Gasps filled the council chamber as both the Sangheili and the minor Prophets just stood back—aghast. Telek heard a snort from the Chieftain of the Jiralhanae Tartarus. His fist wringed across his great battle hammer, the Fist of Rukt.

 

Someday, I'm gonna slam that damned hammer into your head, you smelly ape, Telek thought with disgust.

 

“Tell me!” Telek demanded. “To my Sangheili brothers, do you not remember the war? We were enemies once! We hunted you down and we hung your skulls up as trophies. The Prophets were our enemies once, and the more I look at their complacent faces, I see that they still very well may be. You already knew what the Halos do, Truth. I have no doubt in my mind that you already knew. It was just a matter of time before one of us finally wizened up to your schemes and now you wish to kill me to keep the truth from Sangheili ears. We followed you like mindless stooges. Well, you'll not have me so easily blinded.”

 

“I have heard enough,” Truth said. “It is with a heavy heart that I sentence you to death for high treason and heresy against the Covenant. You shall be branded and after you are dead, your body be placed on display as a warning to anyone of the evils of blasphemy.”

 

“Blasphemy!” Telek spat. “You're the one who spouts it, not I. What the Forerunners left is a warning, they hold no salvation. They didn't leave to some sort of distant dimension, they died, you morons!”

 

“Take him away, Tartarus!” Truth cried. “Silence the heretic jackass for good!”

 

Tartarus chuckled sinisterly: “Of course.”

 

Otto stood and watched as his old friend, ranting and raving was dragged from the council chamber. His head lowered and he took a solemn breath.

 

“Supreme Commander `Gamamee,” began Truth. Otto raised his head up and approached him. “Supreme Commander, I am deeply sorry for your loss.”

 

“Forgive him, Holiness,” Otto pleaded. “Please. Something…something did this to him. I don't know what. He's mad, that's all.”

 

“And we shall free him from his madness,” said Truth. “You know what was to be done about this the moment you turned him in.”

 

“I knew,” Otto said. “But…”

 

“I understand why you feel this way,” Truth continued smoothly. “He was your greatest pupil and he has brought much credit to you. His battle tactics are second to none. But his feelings about the humans and these lies that he speaks of are a danger to us all. If you had not come to us about this, he would have betrayed the Covenant and surrendered his knowledge to the humans. Now, what he knows will be kept from them.”

 

“Telek and the humans…” Otto shook his head in dismay. “In some ways I see it happening. But when he is killed…”

 

“We'll think no more of it,” Truth said. “Go and see your old friend one last time.”

 

Otto bowed his head and left. He left to watch Tartarus brand his greatest pupil a heretic.