Two Sides of the Same Coin

=== Syndicata, April 4th 2538 - 4301 Hours, Cedar Local Time ===
A blast of plasma singes the rock ceiling above, cascading debris and pieces of stone and mineral down onto the cavern floor, narrowly missing Private Hari Ikara. Curled up behind a makeshift barricade of rock and stone, cradling her assault rifle in the same manner a mother would her newborn, Hari is broken. Three months of constant combat, of retreat and withdrawal and defeat, of death and destruction, had worn on her. But this? This was too much. Long past her breaking point, it was nothing short of a miracle that it had taken this long for her to break.
More and more plasma rained down onto the positions of the remaining humans – men and women she had never even met before. Just fifty-four people remained in this defensive holdout that used to have 4,000 brave soldiers of the UNSC just one month ago. Of course, that was one month ago. And now, after the deaths of 23,000 of her comrades in arms, and a further eight million of Syndicata’s people, just fifty-four were left.
And as Hari could hear the cries and screams of the wounded, as the plasma from the Covenant tanks and mortars picked up in intensity, as the squeaks of Grunts and the short, sharp retorts of their Elite officers grew ever closer, she knew it would be over soon. But it would be over on her terms.
Unfurling herself from her collapsed position on the ground, she muttered just six words.
“From the shores to the stars.”
Hari threw herself over the barricade, tumbling into the shocked façade of an Elite officer. She brought her rifle up, squeezed the trigger, and as she felt the alien slump to the ground, she looked up to a hail of plasma barrelling her way.
And that was that.
----For one of the few times in his long years of service to the Covenant’s war machine, Glikbap the Deacon was actually enjoying the thrill of combat.
Obviously being a deacon had its perks – lecturing his feeble-minded brothers on the wisdom of the Hierarchs and the glory of the Ancients was always an enjoyable experience, and made him feel superior to those imbeciles. It also meant that when his battalion would face combat, he would oftentimes be far away from the frontline, having candid chats with Sangheili officers on how inhaling small doses of methane would, in fact, add longevity to their honour-bound lives.
But thanks to the resistance of the humans, he had been called to serve and lead his brothers. Losses were too great, the Sangheili General had said, and so Glikbap had trodden off towards the front with a Needler and a hope of not dying. And usually, whilst combat and fighting scared him, today was – surprisingly – fun! He had never known that simply firing a weapon at the vermin and watching them explode could be so thrilling, especially when they were so hopelessly outnumbered.
His thoughts returned to the battlefield, as he slowly hopped forward towards a small mound – clearly an impromptu defence made by the humans. The plasma detonating behind it provided a beautiful backdrop, with splashes of colourful green, purple, blue and red, along with the screams of the pests that they encountered.
Suddenly, movement. He looked towards the mound, where one of the aliens had jumped over the stone construction, tackling a Sangheili major to the ground. The human fired its outdated contraption at the Sangheili, penetrating the shield and facially reconstructing the now-limp officer’s face into a mess of purple and red.
Glikbap thought nothing of the Sangheili’s death, and raised his weapon towards the human, as many other Unggoys did. The human crumpled with the impact of plasma and crystal, dying where she stood. Glikbap paused, checked his Needler for jams, and marched onwards.
Hopefully they would serve something other than the blue paste at the food nipples tonight.
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