Fifteen: The Prince of Egypt

The pyramids were magnificent in the sun. Blinding, even, the light reflecting like a beacon off the polished limestone casing. John had to squint to look at them, and even then his eyes watered at the brightness. Finally, he had to look away. [Now I see why the Flood breeds in primarily dark places.]

'You've never had this problem before.'

[I was always in my armor with its polarized visor before.] He hunched in on himself, trying not to look at the sand either. It was just as bad about reflecting the light. [It's especially painful because one of the augmentations was designed to enhance my vision and night sight.] He squeezed his eyes shut and enhanced his hearing. [Aaah…]

'Oh, Commander.' Nep'Thalia sounded affectionately exasperated. 'Who would have guessed you're such a child inside?'

[I didn't have much of a childhood. Trying to get it all in right now.]

'Don't do that!' Kenera protested, and Venera added, 'That park hasn't even been invented yet! You could shed some muscle, make yourself into a ten-year-old, go run around and have some fun…'

["That park?"]

'You know, the park! The one with the rodent mascot?'

[You mean Disney?]

'Yes! And this time it won't be a Goddess-awful derelict when you go!'

John had been to a Disney theme park before, but that was using the terms "been to" and "Disney theme park" very, very loosely. Blue Team had engaged the Covenant in a hit-and-run fight in one of the parks on an Outer Colony world, but for obvious reasons, it wasn't exactly "the happiest place on Earth" at the time.

[Hm. We'll see.] Something was tossed on top of him, making him blink. It appeared to be a blanket of black cloth, but despite its color, it was not absorbing the intense heat of the Egyptian sun. The Spartan pulled it off and held it up.

It was a tightly woven cloak in his size – undoubtedly custom made, considering the fact that he towered over most humans (and aliens). He tugged it on without hesitation. The black cloth absorbed much of the light that was bothering his eyes. He sighed.

'You're welcome.' Sérë's R&D team had been working on nanotube-weave clothing for everyone who was planetside, since they couldn't very well wander around in their armor without drawing a lot of attention. It would provide the protection their armor normally did without compromising their cover. 'You'll have to tell us how it does.'

[Don't expect Shakespearean prose.]

'A simple "it works" or "it doesn't" will suffice, Commander. Your reports are infamous for their conciseness. This one is my favorite: after a seven-week battle against an enemy Gravemind, all you had to say about it was "it's dead."'

[Doesn't make it any less true.] John tramped across the sand, the Builder following close behind. [Captain's log, star date 10.01.95621 Post-Cataclysm. We are stranded on Earth with no hope of alleviating boredom. Lifeworkers and Builders are having a field day archiving human history. Note: pyramids are impressive, but don't visit at high noon.]

'Slipspace rupture detected.'

[Is this going to be anything like the last rupture we detected?]

'Oh by the Tower I hope not.'

'It's a registered signature. Unless, of course, the Adonte world has been captured and we haven't heard about it.'

John let out yet another sigh. He piggybacked the Blade's external cameras to watch the ship slide back into realspace. Initial scans were promising, and a deeper scan showed that the population on board was indeed the logical little aliens. They had come, along with a handful of Builders and a number of Huragok, to stock up the fleet's supplies in exchange for their improved weapons and shielding.

'The Falls are now on lockdown.'

[Good.] The Spartan lifted a hand to shade his eyes. There was the faintest glimmer of silver in the blue sky of Earth. Next to him, Sérë did the same, both of them watching as the Storm decloaked, appearing as another speck of metal reflecting the brightness of the sun.

The muscles around his spine contracted suddenly, making him gasp as his back arched. He slumped to the sand, hands grabbing at his back. His spinal column was flexing, changing shape. It pulled mass from elsewhere in his body, layering it over the bundled nerves. Something gouged his hand, before the strain of attempting to fight the involuntary change forced him into unconsciousness.

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John came to in the med bay of the FireRain, lying on his stomach. He was exhausted, but his body felt like it had slept enough. He clenched a fist in the sheets.

"Don't get up yet." Areana moved around the bed so he could see her. "We're still running scans."

"What happened?" he groaned.

"Near as we can tell – this." She planted an image in his mind. It was his spine alright, but parts of his vertebrae called the "spinous processes" had changed, as had the flesh around them. Instead of being a simple lump of bone, a joint had formed on each of them, and the bone itself had lengthened and sharpened. The muscles had wrapped around the spurs of bone in such a way that they could be flexed in all directions, even side to side.

The spines weren't long – the longest was about six and a half centimeters – but their appearance was going to force a creative redesign of his back armor to accommodate them, to say nothing of his clothes. They weren't quite as sharp as monomolecular blades, but they would become a problem in the future.

John closed his eyes and relaxed again, delving into a part of the Infected's collective mind that no one often entered. He gave his caged instinctive self a poke, and it tried to take off his hand. The Spartan promptly responded by putting it in a mental headlock and demanding an explanation.

body is seat-of-awareness but no natural defenses claws fangs poison so modified to have

He narrowed his eyes. 'I can defend myself.'

know but bad things happen

It had a point. That didn't mean he had to like it. 'I appreciate that you're trying to help, but it really isn't necessary. So quit.'

It started sulking, so he left it alone. But what it had done wasn't just a physical shift, like his centuries-earlier emergency. It was also at a genetic level, and coded in such a way that it would be very difficult to remove, even at their level of technology. And to top it all off, this was just the first of what could become many unplanned modifications to his base shape.

"Leave it."

"Commander?"

"Leave it. If it becomes a problem, we'll get rid of it. For now, leave it. And help me make something to keep them lying flat."

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"It looks like an enormous Band-Aid."

"Well, what did you expect? A bondage harness?"

"… I'm not going to dignify that with a response." John flexed the spines, then flattened them against his back, merging the flesh together. He had done so before as a temporary fix, but he had been startled by an outsider while planetside, and they had torn free.

"This has given us a good opportunity to test skin-friendly adhesives," said Elenasto, helping Areana peel the backing off the peach-colored strip, "We really haven't had much cause to before."

"Buy stock in Band-Aid," he said, kneeling so the elderly Lifeworker could press one end at the top of his spine, "Plant someone on their science team. We'll make a fortune." He kept his head tilted downward as Areana smoothed the strip down along his spine. When she was done, he flexed the spines, but they only moved the tiniest bit no matter how hard he pushed. "Excellent work."

"We do try." The strip underwent a series of chemical changes to match his skin tone. Aside from the odd warping from the spines, he looked perfectly normal. The Chief twisted and turned to test it. Other than a few tiny wrinkles, it appeared to be real flesh for all intents and purposes.

'Incoming transmission from the Iso-Didact.'

[Isn't he supposed to be extra-galactic right now?]

'He is.'

[…Put him through.]

"Spartan."

"Didact. What can I do for you?"

"Tell me, how much of a load can your reactors handle?"

The Commander blinked, then shot a pointed mental glance at the team of Engineers and Builders who maintained the fleet. One of the techs stepped forward to elaborate on the specs of the ships.

"Is there any way you can boost that?"

"Only through a hard dock. Why?"

"We've found some survivors on an infected world. We're not equipped to deal with them, and obviously they cannot stay in a combat zone."

"The MoonBlade can stay here, in orbit above Erde-Tyrene. The rest of the fleet can jump to the galactic rim and perform a hard dock there. It'll help conserve power. Can you hold that long?"

"Easily. Contact us when you're in position."

The crew of the fleet was already shuffling, most of the Builders and Engineers moving onto the departing ships with the tech teams and highest-level defensive squads. After a brief consultation and debate, the Spartan moved, too. He was reluctant to leave Earth, but it would be a good idea to speak face-to-face with their leader.

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The ships reverted to realspace on the edge of the galaxy closest to the Didact a day after the initial transmission. A temporary halt on Slipspace travel galaxy-wide had been called to accommodate the jump for the massive ships. A coupled physical analysis and language lexicon awaited them, along with a short cultural analysis.

These alien survivors were apparently the inspiration for the old Norse myths about giants – the smallest subspecies was between seven and eight feet tall. The tallest was between eighteen and twenty feet. They all had evolved to suit their own environments – forest, jungle, plains, mountains, tundra…

Their leader was teleported to the fleet first; a tundra giant by the name of Luka. John held out a hand; the language lexicon transmitted to the fleet was far from being complete enough to communicate. After a breath of hesitation, Luka placed zir hand in his to establish a relatively stable mind-to-mind connection.

'I am Luka Lurfey, "Hell-Deep Chasm," and I speak for my people.'

[I am John, "God's Grace," and I speak for mine.]

Zir lips quirked into something like a smile. 'The grace of a god indeed. Thank you for giving us sanctuary. When That Thing arrived on our world, we feared our peoples were at an end.'

[We're glad to help. Is there anything we need to know about your peoples? Foods you cannot eat, and the like?]

Ze gave the information without a fight or questioning intent. Certain forms of leafy greens were poisonous to the tundra giants due to their unique evolution. The plains giants were almost entirely intolerant to cold, but they could endure heat up to 100 degrees Centigrade. The rainforest giants had to keep their skin at least lightly moist, or else it would crack and bleed like chapped human lips. Their collective average lifespan was about two to three hundred Earth years.

While the two "conversed," the other giants were teleported in one by one, slowly but surely. Some reacted negatively to the long transit and were carefully treated. None died, though one was hospitalized due to a transit error that failed to assemble part of an organ.

[You chose to fight the Flood, rather than submit.]

'What race willingly goes to its own demise?'

[Oh, you'd be surprised.]

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The Spartan left Nep'Thalia to oversee the surveying of planets for the giants' new home, in favor of returning to Earth. It was still quiet in-system. The research team from the Capital had gone, and no one had arrived in the interim.

The Egyptians were celebrating the coronation of a new pharaoh, Userkaf of the Fifth Dynasty. John only remembered him because some 23rd century archeology had shown that he had fought a clever naval battle while attempting to restore Egypt's trade routes with the rest of the Mediterranean.

'Commander!'

[Yes, Kenera?]

'Ice cream!'

A bowl was shoved into his hands, piled high with the frozen treat. It smelled cold and sweet and rich, so he took a bite of it. It was the real deal, made with natural dairy and sugar, not that stuff that he'd eaten in MRE's. The Lituni seemed to like it especially well, their inner cat coming out to enjoy the dairy, even though it wasn't healthy for them. Most of them were at least partially lactose intolerant, like real cats.

John rolled his eyes and signaled the Lifeworker teams to get them some enzyme injections while the rest of the fleet enjoyed their ice cream party.