Post by Coconut on Mar 22, 2009 3:23:21 GMT -5
The Soell star system had been the object of searching by the Covenant Remnant for many days, the gas giant Threshold the specific focus of the searches, it's blue, gaseous bulk spinning around in a motion that would be calming for most species of the galaxy. But not for Brutes. The planet itself wasn't important. Nothing needed to be done with or on the planet; as far as the orders went, it was irrelevant. The gas mine, however, was another matter. Salvaged from the storms which raged around Threshold, close to absolute destruction, after the Arbiter of the Covenant sent it wheeling down into what could only be described as hell on Threshold, the gas mine had stood strong. The gas mine had always stood strong. To this day, Styx, Chieftain of the Jiralhanae didn't know how the unknown benefactors of the Covenant Remnant had done it, he didn't know how they'd pretty much resurrected it. But they had. Styx had been told the words of the Monitor of the nearby Halo installation.
"This mining facility predates Installation Alpha by several hundred years. It was retrofitted to research possible offensive and defensive measures against the Flood. Indeed, I designed and oversaw the construction of this facility's various outbreak management systems." It was ancient indeed. Styx new very little about the mine, but he knew very well that it's main purpose wasn't to mine or to harvest the gas which could be so done and so sold on for large prices. Or, indeed, used. The facility wasn't something made in their time, or even during the Ninth Age of Reclamation. For all Styx knew, it could predate the era of the Forerunners. And the Forerunners, and those that predated them, didn't have a major interest in gas. Styx knew, yes, what they were looking for from the gas mine. He wondered if the purpose of the mine was to do exactly what they were doing now. It was imperative indeed that the United Nations Space Command didn't discover what they were doing. But they wouldn't.
Styx's red, blood coloured armour shone in the sun which was at the same, Twilight level all throughout the day, as he patrolled the various workstations of Brutes and Jackals, Grunts and even a few Hunters, as they worked to discover the Relic that was the focus of their searches, that the Prophet of Chaos, the new leader of the Covenant, had told them that they must find. Yet Styx knew the knowledge of the Relic hadn't come from the Prophet. It had come from those who were almost Gods in Covenant society. They hadn't found the Relic, yet, but Styx knew they would. They must. Styx shook his head and turned away, knowing it was time he reported to the Prophet of Chaos. Stepping inside, off the balconies, the noise of the storms outside subsiding as the doors shut, Styx made his way forwards amongst the rows of Elite honour guards, his great hammer clenched in his fist. He wasn't challenged; they knew who he was. As he reached the door, Styx beat his fist on it, three times, before kneeling to await the coming of the Prophet. "Hierarch." He said, in the guttural, grunting speech of the Jiralhanae.
"This mining facility predates Installation Alpha by several hundred years. It was retrofitted to research possible offensive and defensive measures against the Flood. Indeed, I designed and oversaw the construction of this facility's various outbreak management systems." It was ancient indeed. Styx new very little about the mine, but he knew very well that it's main purpose wasn't to mine or to harvest the gas which could be so done and so sold on for large prices. Or, indeed, used. The facility wasn't something made in their time, or even during the Ninth Age of Reclamation. For all Styx knew, it could predate the era of the Forerunners. And the Forerunners, and those that predated them, didn't have a major interest in gas. Styx knew, yes, what they were looking for from the gas mine. He wondered if the purpose of the mine was to do exactly what they were doing now. It was imperative indeed that the United Nations Space Command didn't discover what they were doing. But they wouldn't.
Styx's red, blood coloured armour shone in the sun which was at the same, Twilight level all throughout the day, as he patrolled the various workstations of Brutes and Jackals, Grunts and even a few Hunters, as they worked to discover the Relic that was the focus of their searches, that the Prophet of Chaos, the new leader of the Covenant, had told them that they must find. Yet Styx knew the knowledge of the Relic hadn't come from the Prophet. It had come from those who were almost Gods in Covenant society. They hadn't found the Relic, yet, but Styx knew they would. They must. Styx shook his head and turned away, knowing it was time he reported to the Prophet of Chaos. Stepping inside, off the balconies, the noise of the storms outside subsiding as the doors shut, Styx made his way forwards amongst the rows of Elite honour guards, his great hammer clenched in his fist. He wasn't challenged; they knew who he was. As he reached the door, Styx beat his fist on it, three times, before kneeling to await the coming of the Prophet. "Hierarch." He said, in the guttural, grunting speech of the Jiralhanae.