40px-Terminal.png This article, Halo: Revenge, was written by Baccus78. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission.
Halo: Revenge

Date Released

Halo: Revenge is a short-story in the Halo universe, co-written by Jonathan 'Bac' Karlsson and Matthias 'Survivor' Karlsson.

Dramatis Personae

Main Fanon Characters

Main Canon Characters

Major Fanon Characters

Major Canon Characters

Minor Fanon Characters

  • Lieutenant Gerard
  • Corporal Marcus Damon

Minor Canon Characters


Humanity has defied The Gods by defeating their instruments. The will of the gods has to be fulfilled; humanity's destruction. The instruments must please their gods through exacting revenge on the unholy filth that taints this galaxy, or die trying...

After the siege at the Atlas moons, despite human predictions, no Covenant retaliation came. Human morale now goes up, as many believes the Covenant may be suffering an internal collapse because of their loss. Considerable amounts of UNSC forces are attempting to track down the Covenant worlds, in the hope of confirming what the Covenant are up to. But the Covenant aren't as down for the count as humanity thinks...

After a year of tiresome campaigns to terminate surviving Covenant pockets of resistance on the Atlas moons, decorated ODST Sergeant Major Nathan Dursley and his squad is reassigned to Chi Rho in order to await their next mission. While on their way, they hear about Listening Post Alpha-Two, a UNSC outpost in the outer regions of UNSC space that suddenly dropped out of contact. Is it truly Insurrectionists behind it, or is it something worse?

Meanwhile, new Master of the Kig-Yar Ped, has been granted a mission by the Hierarchs, as a consequence of the Covenant Navy suffering badly from the loss at the Atlas moons. Will he succeed, and bring honor and glory for his race and destruction on the human race, or fail and suffer the ultimate price?





Corporal Marcus Damon walked briskly along the trench, constantly watching out into the distance. He saw nothing but tall mountains or winds full of dust. He sighed quietly to himself, making sure no one else among the thirty-two men on guard heard him. Nothing ever happened on this barren rock. He wasn’t even sure why he had chosen to be here in the first place. He wanted to be on the front, fighting humanity’s new mortal enemy, the Covenant.
No one knew exactly what they wanted, where they came from or why they wanted to exterminate humanity. What everyone did know, however, was that they wouldn’t stop until humanity was wiped out from the face of the galaxy.
However, they had been very quiet recently. Ever since the UNSC’s well-earned victory at the Siege of the Atlas Moons, no new colonies had been attacked. Many thought they may have dealt the Covenant a critical blow by destroying most of that assault fleet, that the Covenant might actually be suffering an internal collapse because of the defeat. Morale throughout the UNSC had gone up over a hundred percent after hearing these rumors, and the Navy was now dedicating a considerable amount of stealth ships to the attempt of locating Covenant worlds, in the hope that they may be able to strike back and destroy the Covenant once and for all.
Marcus and several others weren’t so sure. Considering the Covenant consisted of so many races, it was surprising if their fleets weren’t larger than humanity’s. However, Marcus had chosen not to voice his opinion, as he knew the belief that they stood a chance was important to humanity; morale had to be raised somehow.
But, despite this new surge of UNSC activity and Covenant inactivity, Marcus was still trapped on this darn listening post out in the middle of nowhere. The Listening posts had been constructed out in unsettled UNSC regions either during the Insurrection, during which they served the purpose to track ‘innie’ activity, or during the war with the Covenant, where they were repurposed to track Covenant formations.
Success in tracking enemy activity was minimal, usually just the interception of slipspace anomalies indicating ships travelling through slipspace, and even that kind of discovery was extremely rare.
The post Marcus was stationed at, Alpha-Two had never intercepted anything as far as he knew. The most exciting thing that happened here was when the monthly freighter arrived to deliver supplies so they could survive another month.
The post consisted mostly of internal buildings built on the underground caves of the asteroid, although part of it (the barracks, to be precise) was built on the surface. Around it, the Marines had constructed a trench line in case of danger (mostly to have something to do). A large hatch covered by dust lead down the hollowed-out caves into the landing bay, where the Freighter docked, although there were also some old Pelicans placed there in case the Marines needed them.
Marcus continued his brisk walk around the perimeter, just to do something. He wished at least something would happen. He didn’t care what; he (and the other men) just needed some action.

Lieutenant Gerard pressed the entrance code and the door opened. He walked through the opening and into the control room. A dozen screens covered most of the small room, but there was enough room for a chair in front of the main panel. Currently, a very broad-shouldered man with the insignia of a Lieutenant Junior Grade sat in the chair, apparently sleeping deeply. Ignoring his loud snores, Gerard walked over to the broad-shouldered man and grabbed his shoulder. The man woke quickly, spinning around and checking what touched him.
“Damn, Gerard!” He shouted, while correcting himself in the chair and scratching his back. “Do you always have to do that? I mean, you’re scaring the shit out of me every time you do it.”
Gerard laughed quietly, while making a friendly grin. “Maybe you should get used to it sometime? Anyway, you’re dismissed; I’ll take it from here.”
The man simply nodded and walked out, continuing to scratch his back. When the door shut behind the Lieutenant Junior Grade, Gerard sat down in the chair and checked all the screens. After checking all of them, he guessed it would be another shift of nothing happening, like usual.

However, he was surprised to find that something did happen. A few minutes into the shift, one of the screens beeped. He rolled the chair over to the screen, realizing what it meant the second he saw it; something had sent a message to the outpost.
He pressed a button, revealing the message.


Gerard had been through this before. It was standard procedure; he had done this almost every month since being assigned to the outpost. He typed the usual response calmly.


He pressed the enter button, and the screen replied that the message had been sent. Knowing that his job was finished, he relaxed in the chair and placed his boot-covered feet on the desk. A short while later he fell asleep, after mumbling ‘nothing ever happens here’.

Chapter One


The Pelican’s hatch opened slowly. While the vehicle’s engines roared, Nathan pointed to the others to jump out. After a few moments, the whole four-man squad was out of the Pelican and rushing for the first hill. The Pelican slowly rose into the air and then flew away. Now, the squad was alone. But it didn’t matter. Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, ODSTs for short, were used to working alone. They were the best of the best, after all. This mission would be a simple routine op.
Although the UNSC had won against the Covenant on the Atlas Moons, some Covenant ground units had survived and hid on various places. These resistance pockets, while unable to deal any significant damage, was a pain in the ass for the top brass, and made patrols less safe. Thus, some ODST squads, such as Nathan’s team, had dedicated over a year to tracking down and taking out the resistance pockets. NavSpecWar recon teams believed they had found one of the last ones, the one Nathan and his squad was looking for, in some tunnels inside Medusa Mountain.
The squad moved as quickly as possible up the Cliffside. According to the information they had received, the tunnel entrance wasn’t far away.
After a few minutes of fast climbing, the squad finally reached a platform. Nathan silently told the squad to stay quite over the COM. They climbed up onto the platform, to their surprise not finding any hostiles. He waved forward, and Mike and Tyler moved ahead, checking the entrance. They both gave thumbs-up. Nathan drew his Assault Rifle and followed Jeremy Jones through the entrance. Everyone in the squad now had their main weapons drawn; Jeremy an assault rifle like Nathan, Mike a shotgun and Tyler a suppressed sub-machine gun.
The squad continued forward throughout the tunnel. Despite the light outside, it was getting darker and darker here. Only after having walked for five minutes did they find any sign of Covenant presence. A tall, fur-covered creature sat on a flat rock dozens of feet ahead. Nathan quickly took cover among the rocks, followed by his squadmates. The Brute guard had apparently not realized they were there, luckily.
Nathan strapped the assault rifle to his back and drew the sniper instead. He pressed the scope to his visor, praying that the brute didn’t notice him. As if Lady Luck was on his side, the brute turned the other way as Nathan zoomed in on its head. After just a second he pulled the trigger. A loud crack was heard as the guard’s head exploded into a wave of skin, blood and brains. The headless body dropped to the floor.
Nathan and the others moved out of their cover and further down the tunnel. After an additional minute, they closed in on what appeared to be an entrance into a large, open area. Sneaking closer to the entrance, their suspicions turned out correct; it was a large, circle-shaped cave. The ground inside was filled with Covenant and brute weapons and equipment. The remaining empty space was barely enough for the twenty brutes present. Despite it being a relatively large cave, there was barely enough room for the furry aliens to move without touching each other. A perfect circumstance for the squad, Nathan thought to himself.
While the brutes continued to talk with one another or sharpen the blades on their weapons, Nathan silently signed to the squad get into position to throw grenades. They moved slowly, sticking to the shadows, nervous about whether the brutes would see them or not. When all four of them were in position and each held a grenade in their hand, Nathan gave the signal.
Four grenades flew through the air and down on the ground of the open cave. Before they realized what had happened, most of the brutes were caught in the waves from the four grenades simultaneously. Sixteen of the brutes fell to the ground, either dead or heavily injured, while the remaining four drew their weapons and desperately looked around to see what hit them. But before they did, Nathan and his squad rushed out of their cover and fired their weapons. Shaken and confused by the explosions, two of the brutes had fallen before the remaining two fired back. Nathan rolled to the left, avoiding several spiker rounds intended for him. He got onto one knee and fired his assault rifle on full automatic. The rounds tore through the alien’s chest, tearing small holes in the harness while blood oozed out. As the creature fell forward, Nathan watched as Mike fired his shotgun at the other brute at point blank. The slugs tore through the brute’s armor without problem, as well as sending it flying onto its back.
All in all, the battle had taken less than a minute. It had been easier than even a routine op. It was almost a joke by ODST standards. After checking all the bodies and shooting each one in the head (at least the corpses that had heads left to shoot at) just in case, the squad walked casually out of the cave and into the tunnel towards the exit. They laughed and joked with one another all the way out, while Nathan called their Pelican to pick them up. Secretly, he started to long for the real missions, not these cleanup operations.

Chapter Two


Jonathan stared at the whiteboard, half-asleep. The rest of his classmates did the same, barely listening to their history teacher, Mr. Anderson. He taught a decently interesting course, but his monotone-like voice made him incredibly boring to listen to. Before the end of the class, most of his students had usually fallen asleep. The only reason the students were still awake, with only two minutes to go, was that afterwards, it would finally be Christmas leave. Almost a month free of school-work was enough to disrupt the class’ usual routine.
Still, they only listened enough to interpret around half of it. The 21st Century was the most boring subject they had had so far, even worse than the 20th century. However, Mr. Anderson never noticed when his class didn’t pay attention. He continued to talk with his monotone voice as if he was talking to himself, something that made Jonathan even more ashamed of the fact that it was his father.
He and his father couldn’t have been more different; Jonathan was good at sports (second best in the school, in fact), had decent to above-average grades in all subjects and had a charming voice (a good quality for anyone who wanted to easily get girls); his father, on the other hand, had received an F in sports, and all his other subjects except for history (in which he had A+) were given F, D- or D, and as mentioned, his voice was so boring that practically no one listened to him.
There had been more than once when Jonathan had to use his de facto position as the school’s 'alpha male' to protect his dad from harassment. When a few boys in his class had started to threaten and taunt him, Jonathan had the rest of the school leave them out of everything, 'freezing' them out until they stopped. It hadn’t been easy; many in the school agreed that Mr. Anderson was the worst teacher they had, and they saw no gain in protecting him. Jonathan had also almost regretted it when his dad ended up giving them the same massive amount of homework like he used to. But deep down he knew he had done the right thing. Teacher Anderson was his dad, after all. It didn’t stop him from feeling ashamed of him, however, neither did it feel good to have to protect him, when it should be the other way around.
Finally, after what felt like three hours as opposed to the actual one hour, the school bells rang loudly, and everyone hurried to get on their feet and push the books into their bags or rucksacks, talking wildly and hurrying to get out of the classroom. Jonathan took it a little slower, waiting until everyone except for Cyrus and his dad had left.
“Can you wait outside?” he asked Cyrus, who simply nodded and walked out. Jonathan went up to his dad, who was busy pushing his books and papers back into his bag. He smiled when Jonathan went up to him.
“What did you think of today’s lesson, son?” he asked gently, double-checking if he had already put down Window to the 21st Century into the bag.
“Great” Jonathan lied. “When will you be home?”
“I’ve got a meeting with the rest of the staff sixteen-twenty” he replied, digging through the bag to make sure he had everything. “Then there’s some more tests I need to see through, so I guess I’ll be home by seventeen forty-five. You can tell mother that when you get home.”
“Alright” Jonathan said “good luck.” He patted his dad on the shoulder and then stepped out of the room, to his relief seeing Cyrus waiting. The two walked through the corridor to their lockers, putting in the books. Then they closed them again and walked for the exit.
“You said the same thing again, man?” Cyrus asked.
“Yeah” Jonathan said after a little thought.
“Y’know” Cyrus said “I’m not sure how much longer you’ll be able to keep up this charade. You’re playing along with two parties; at some future point, you’ll have to choose.”
“Not if I play well” Jonathan said with a slight grin. They had been through this discussion before. Cyrus wanted him to be honest with both the rest of the school and his dad, and Jonathan respected that, as Cyrus was his only true friend. However, Jonathan had spent most of his childhood lying his way to success. Lying to his dad about what he thought about his lessons made him happy, which Jonathan aimed to keep the way it was. No matter what he thought about his father, he would do anything make him happy with his life. Lying to the classmates and the students had gotten him popularity, and the position of the school’s alpha male. Lying was, in other words, his life, something he didn’t love or hate, simply something he couldn’t live without.
“You can’t keep it up f’ever, dude.” Cyrus said, now with a slightly worried look. However, when Jonathan replied with his infamous ‘serious face’, Cyrus changed the subject.
All the way to Jonathan’s house, they talked about their favorite artists, what girls they liked, the usual stuff. However, when they approached the house, in the middle of a discussion whether the UNSC was fascist or not, they noticed that the door had been kicked in. Suddenly worried, Jonathan ran towards the house and through the door. He didn’t care when Cyrus shouted warnings, he continued to move through house, wandering what had happened.
Except for the door, everything looked normal. He walked through the hall into the living room, unusually small compared to that of other houses, but somewhat ‘cozy’. Everything stood were it was supposed to, with the exception of the TV being on. Suddenly he realized someone sat in the sofa with the back turned to him. The person sat up straighter and turned around to see him. The person turned out to be a woman, apparently eighteen, judging from the slightly more mature appearance than the girls at Mykene Junior High. She had average-length purple hair.
She smiled when seeing him and stood up, pushing a button on the TV (shutting it down, also cutting off a politician in the middle of his speech), then turned around so that she stood face-to-face with him.
“What…what’re you doing here?” Jonathan asked nervously. Now that he saw her clearly, he noticed she wore a purple-black leather coat, with a grey blouse underneath, along with deep-black pants, matching shoes and black fingerless gloves. Jonathan had a hard time to compare her clothing to anything specific, although the thought that she would’ve fit for a Flip music concert (something rare in the 26th century, seeing as flip had few fans) struck him.
“Sorry for the door” she said, still smiling, pointing in the door’s direction “I would’ve just used a lockpick normally, but as clumsy as I am I dropped all of them somewhere.”
“You’ve not answered the question.” Jonathan said, now with more confidence. He started to get a feeling she wasn’t a thief or thug, but he was still curious as to why she wanted to break into their house; there wasn’t anything particularly valuable in it. The TV was bought second-hand and barely worked, the only computer was a twenty years old model and the family had barely enough money to buy food for the day, leaving nothing left to be sitting anywhere in the house.
“Oh, my apologies” she said, while digging through one of the pockets in her coat. She lifted the hand out of the pocket, holding something in her hand. “Master Chief Petty Officer Hannah Fields” she continued, while showing the badge she held “UNSC Navy and Civilian relations Liaison officer.”
Jonathan just stared at her. Her being with the military was the last thing he’d think about. If they were letting a freak like her join the military, he thought to himself, the UNSC must have a failing standard. Despite this, he couldn’t deny that she was quite beautiful.
“Why did you break into my house?” he finally said. She continued to smile, something that for some reason made him uneasy.
“I was told to seek out some bloke called Jonathan James Anderson Junior, would that be you?” She asked. When he nodded she continued. “I came to talk to you about one Victor Schwartz, captain and only crewman on the Freighter Pallas. Rumor around here says you know him.”
“Well, yeah, I do” Jonathan said, deciding to play along with the lines she had probably set up before-hand. “But there’s nothing unusual about him. I mean, he’s young and likes to sail, but beyond that he’s just as normal a man as I am.”
“We at the Office of Naval Intelligence disagree” she said, maintaining her smile but also changing her voice to an interrogating tone. “Just two days ago we discovered that Pallas had arrived at a UNSC outpost in the Outer Colonies, and then the outpost dropped out of contact. An intriguing coincidence, don’t you think?”
Jonathan had a feeling where it was going. “He wasn’t an Innie” he said before she could continue. “He sailed that freighter without any remark for three years. It had to just be a coincidence.”
“As I said, the Office of Naval Intelligence disagrees. Had there come an unscheduled arrival at the outpost, it would have triggered an emergency signal to alert any nearby UNSC forces. The only way to work around that would be either if Innies were hiding inside the Freighter and took out the UNSC personnel from the inside, or if the freighter docked, and then exploded. Both scenarios are tricks Innies have been known to use.”
“Suspect whoever you want” Jonathan said, making sure to have a skeptical tone “I still don’t think good’ol Vic could’ve done that. Either someone hijacked the ship during one of his stops, or the ship exploded because of an incident. He wouldn’t permit somebody onboard his ship, let alone help in killing people.”
“Where did he usually make stops?” Fields asked, now with a somewhat more neutral look, although she still had a small smile.
“Hell if I know” Jonathan replied honestly. “He never talked about the specifics of the job with anyone, because we insisted on him not boring us to death with details.”
“We?” She raised an eyebrow in surprise.
“Me and Cyrus, my best friend. We sometimes visited him when he was ashore here on Chi Rho between his deliveries.”
“Very well” she said “I think we’re done here, Jones.”
“Jonathan” he corrected her.
“Whatever Jonas” she said with a carefree smile. “We’re done here in any case. But beware that I’ve been tasked to watch you for a few weeks, just to make sure you’re not holding out on me. Are we clear?”
Her brown eyes looked at with so much intensity that he was surprised he didn’t feel as if she bore a hole in his head. “Yes, ma’am” he quickly added.
“Good, Jacob” she said, returning to her standard, smiling look. “Now, let me deal with the cops your friend without a doubt was calling while we talked. Just to prevent you from getting into trouble.”

Chapter Three