Halo - Series Fan Fiction ❯ Parley and Betrayal ❯ 1130 hours, October 13 2546 (Military Calendar)/Earth ( Chapter 3 )

1130 hours, October 13 2546 (Military Calendar)/Earth

 

Three months had passed since the Memphis had met the Shade of Darkness and the negotiations between Telek and Reynolds concluded and the report was sent back to Earth and to the Office of Naval Intelligence. Lord Hood sat with Captain Donald Reynolds while Commander Jacob Keyes watched over through satellite feed from Reach as they listened to the recording.

 

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

 

“My first demand is for you to bring me an Olympic-sized pool filled with either vodka or Jack Daniels. Either one will be fine. This is to be delivered to me by John Wayne. My next demand is for your chef to make me and my crew some `special brownies'. These brownies must be the size of a Spirit drop-ship. My next demand is for the `special brownies' to be delivered to my ship by Stephen Hyde. 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 on a silver platter. For that is the reason why we started this war in the first place.”

 

“Jonny Carson?” Hood asked. “This Elite knew about Johnny Carson?”

 

“It doesn't end there,” said Don.

 

“Next is Brittany Spears!”

 

“You want us to bring you Brittany Spears?”

 

“No! We want her knocked up one more time! Preferably with a plasma sword. I shall donate my sword for the job. Next we demand that slut Paris Hilton to be taken to the nearest black hole and dropped into it. 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. The next thing that we demand is for Santa Claus to come. 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.”

 

“Oh, it gets better,” Don smiled when he saw the other two laughing.

 

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

 

“And what question is that?”

 

“How many licks does it take to get to the Tootsie Roll center of a Tootsie Pop? 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!”

 

Hood just broke out in laughter when he heard that. Jacob could be heard laughing behind him from the screen, shaking his head as well.

 

“This is brilliant,” Hood stated. “How the hell did he know so much about our culture?”

 

“Well, I believe it's because it's possible that the Covenant had been tuning into old Earth broadcasts from the late 20th century and on,” said Don. “It's possible that shows that aired 500 years ago are just now being picked up by the Covenant. He knew about the Peabody Hotel in Memphis, Tennessee, and the fact that they walk the ducks out to the fountain every day there. And he knew about Graceland.”

 

“I'm guessing he's an Elvis fan,” Hood shook his head in dismay. “And then what happened?”

 

“Well, after the negotiations were over, he left,” said Don. “We checked the three Marines. They were clean. We even called several other ships in the area to see if he'd come back with a fleet. He didn't.”

 

“This is undoubtedly the first time a human spoke to a Covenant and survived,” said Jacob Keyes. “You said his ship disabled your self-destruct?”

 

“I don't know how the hell he did it,” Don sighed. “It's possible that other Covenant ships can too, but the problem is that they don't cloak.”

 

“We never see the cloaked ships,” said Hood. “We just see the damage they do. And I'm guessing they are a part of Telek's fleet.”

 

“The Marines had informed me that Telek's ship is one of 10 cloaking ships,” said Don. “Five of them were with him when we met him outside of Yale…”

 

“Who the hell named a planet Yale?!” Hood growled.

 

“Somebody went to Harvard,” Jacob chuckled. “Alright, it's settled. I want to meet this Telek `Herosee.”

 

Don shook his head and glanced away: “He said that he maybe executed for the negotiations for he was going against the Covenant in doing so.”

 

“A shame,” Hood sighed. “I would have loved to wonder if any other negotiations, and perhaps alliances could be worked out by this—Elite Benedict Arnold. We could benefit from the information he could share with us. From the report filed by Sergeant Eliot Manning, Telek `Herosee holds a deep and grudging hatred towards the Covenant and their Prophets. He'd be a perfect source of vast information we could use on the Covenant. Weapons, language, tactics, ship designs, their culture—everything! And he would probably have handed it to us.”

 

“With a price, no doubt,” said Jacob. “Defecting from the Covenant would mean a cut off from their supplies and fuel for his ships. He probably want supplies from us.”

 

“A price gladly paid,” said Hood. “But if he is dead, then there is no use in discussing it. What about those who were loyal to him?”

 

“Probably executed or sent to prison now,” said Don.

 

“A shame,” Lord Hood sighed. “A shame.”

 

“I don't know,” said Jacob. “I've been getting strange reports of five Covenant war ships wondering around the outskirts of the remaining Outer Planets with the age old pirate symbol the Jolly Roger painted on their flanks. One especially was an assault carrier. One minute they're there, the next they're gone. Cloaking technology.”

 

“That assault carrier,” Don began. “The Shade of Darkness…the Jolly Roger…”

 

“No, that means we're pirates,” Don remembering what Telek said. “Wait—that could be useful for later. Keep that one…”

 

Then, he started laughing after that. Jacob went over the reports he had received.

 

“One particular report was about the capture of the Covenant assault carrier known as the Mercy and Reconciliation,” he began. “The report was that they saw the other assault carrier—the one that could cloak—tow the Mercy and Reconciliation to one of our colony stations. Then, the ship left, leaving the disabled assault carrier at the station. When the personnel went out to investigate the Mercy and Reconciliation, they found paper arrows strung out all over the place, leading them to the bridge of the ship, and even pointing to controls on the ship's holographic consol with detailed instructions on how to operate the ship. The ship was empty. No crew, nothing. It was full though of weapons and vehicles that a carrier like that would hold. Here's the thing that really put a laugh on everyone who saw the ship. It had a bow on top of it with a card that stated: `It has to be someone's birthday somewhere, so here is their present. I give to them the Covenant carrier Mercy and Reconciliation. May they use it well to protect their world.' It was signed the `Pirates of Orion.' Maybe it's Telek, maybe it's not. But who ever it is—I wanna shake their hand, or claw, or whatever they've got. We're already debugging the ship as we speak, making sure it doesn't have any sort of devices that the Covenant could track. Once that's done, she'll be ready for UNSC registration.”

 

“You plan on using that ship?” Lord Hood asked.

 

“I intend not to look at a gift horse in the mouth,” Jacob replied. “Yes. We intend to use it.”

 

He paused for a moment as his assistant came in handing him another note. Jacob Keyes glanced down at the file and then chuckled once more. He nodded and thanked the assistant.

 

“We've got another captured ship,” said Jacob. “A frigate called the Devout Regent. And another note: `I intend on replacing every UNSC ship that was destroyed within the last 30 years since this war began. This is my way of leaving this universe with a clean conscience.' Ah, and it's signed Telek `Herosee, Covenant Separatist.”

 

“Telek…” Don breathed. “He's alive.”

 

“Well, looks like we may still have a chance at some sort of an alliance with this—ex-Covenant pirate,” Lord Hood said. “I'll order any ship who sees any Covenant ship baring the Jolly Rodger to report the location of those ships. They should hold off on the Cole Protocol and perhaps make contact with those ships first. If the ships become unfriendly, then follow the Protocol guidelines.”

 

He picked up the whisper of the ship as it came closer to his own. This ship was coming dangerously close to one of the human colony worlds that his five ships guarded in silent invisibility. The scar on his chest still ached from the burn and he rubbed it constantly. He was branded with the Mark of Shame, a mark that signified him as a heretic, a traitor to the Covenant. He was marked to be executed, but he escaped with the help of his loyal crew—his friends. Five ships jumped through slip-space away from High Charity, and had been jumping since. They were through running and through hiding.

 

Telek had made changes to his ship in the three months since his escape from incarceration and his sentence to be executed. The holy symbols on his armor were scratched out and instead of them—the Jolly Roger was painted. Every crewmember on board his ship and the four other ships loyal to him had the Jolly Roger on their armor. Even their ships had it painted on their flanks. It was an identifying marker that showed the universe that they were not Covenant. Not only that, but he disabled and destroyed every tracker that would lead the Covenant to his ship.

 

“We've got another Covenant cruiser, Excellency,” said Tekn. “Coming in for the trap.”

 

“Particular Justice markings?” Telek asked.

 

“Yes, Excellency,” said Tekn. Telek raised his shot glass and took a swig.

 

“Let's take her,” he smiled. “Yo, ho, yo, ho, a pirate's life for me.”

 

“We can't, Excellency,” began Tekn. “Slip-space ruptures.”

 

“Telek!” called Cujo, his face appearing on the screen. “More ships are arriving. I think they're picking up the faint whispers of our engines.”

 

“Then, we'll have to run,” Telek sighed. “We can't face an entire fleet.”

 

“Excellency!” called Tulsa `Yuromee. “They know we're here. My sensors are picking up attempted locks. They're following my engine trails.”

 

“Otto's getting smarter,” Telek sighed. “Prepare for slip-space jump. Random coordinates. Just go anywhere. Cujo, Mitsu, Tulsa, Tulsa, here are the coordinates. Let's go.”

 

Multitude of Covenant ships began to open fire on the shimmering stars and whispers that their sensors picked up. All five separatist ships began to speedily plow their way out of the barrage of blue fire aimed towards them.

 

“Damned bloody trap!” Telek growled. “That ship was a decoy. The others were just lying outside of sensor range.”

 

He felt his own ship began to shake and tremble slightly.

 

“That was a little close!” Telek called.

 

“Excellency!” called Tulsa `Yuromee. “My engines have been hit! They've disabled my slip-space drive.”

 

“`Yuromee!” called Tulsa `Duroshee.

 

“I can't come with you,” said the Ship Master of the Celestial Guard. “I'm de-cloaking and surrendering.”

 

“No!” called Telek. “They'll kill you.”

 

“At least they won't get a hold of you, Excellency,” he said. “Nor my little and big brothers. I can't come. Go. Jump. I'll be fine.”

 

“We're sitting ducks out here if we don't go now,” said Mitsu. “`Yuromee, watch your back.”

 

“Keep little Tulsa safe,” said Tulsa `Yuromee. “Now, go.”

 

Tulsa `Duroshee just shook his head, trying desperately to fight the tears that were stinging his steely blue-white eyes.

 

“Random coordinates,” said Telek. “Goodbye, old friend.”

 

From inside the Celestial Guard, Tulsa `Yuromee watched as the other four ships disappeared through their slip-space ruptures. He glanced back at the other screen, watching the Covenant fleet slowly approach him. His cloak was disabled and they could see him now plain as day.

 

“I won't be executed for knowing the truth,” he said. “Nor doing what's right. If I'm to die, I'll take a bunch of you bastard Prophet-kissers to hell with me.”

 

He pressed a sequence of buttons on his holo-panel and turned to hear the sound of sirens whine through the corridors. He had initiated his self-destruct sequence. Tulsa smiled weakly and sat down on the platform of his bridge, waiting for his ship to explode in a blue nimbus, taking some of the approaching ships out with him.

 

 

Because of some of the minor damage, coming out of slip-space was a bit rocky. But his ship managed. As soon as the four remaining ships came through, they were met with a surprise at the end. Telek saw in front of him a red-colored gas giant with two moons. Orbiting the planet was also a large ring. Upon further inspection, there looked to be landmasses and oceans inside the rim of the ring.

 

“Tekn, do you see it?” he asked.

 

“Yes, Excellency,” Tekn replied.

 

“Call up the Text,” Telek ordered. “Cujo, Mitsu…Tulsa…”

 

“We're here,” said Cujo. “Tulsa's a bit shaken though.”

 

“He didn't have to sacrifice himself!” Tulsa bellowed. “What am I supposed to tell little Tulsa?”

 

“Tell him the truth,” said Telek.

 

“Yes, Excellency,” Tulsa sniffed.

 

“Excellency,” began Tekn. “According to the Forerunner text, this is Halo Instillation 05.”

 

“Does it have that virus on it?” Telek asked.

 

“No,” Tekn replied.

 

“Ship Masters, I believe we've found a refuge for the moment,” Telek said. “Welcome to our new home.”

 

“Live on Halo?” Cujo asked.

 

“For now,” said Telek. “Another thing. With giving the captured ships to the UNSC, no doubt we've probably made some friends. I think an alliance is desperately needed.”

 

“As it is said,” said Tekn. “An enemy of our enemy is our friend. One question, do we tell them about Halo?”

 

“No,” said Telek. “Not yet. I've given them a hint, but that's all. I don't want the humans thinking that this thing be something they could use. No one should ever use Halo for its intended purpose. And we'll not go looking for the Control Room nor the Index to do so. So, no exploring except for shelter and food.”

 

“Yes, Excellency,” nodded Tekn.

 

“Well, we better make ourselves comfortable,” Telek said. “And plan for a rendezvous with the humans. It'll be awkward at first because they don't know our mannerisms. But aren't all relationships like that in the beginning?”

 

“I suppose parley will be a word we'll use often,” said Cujo.

 

“Until they can trust us,” said Telek. “Let's land.”