Protocol Dictates Action

by Got Rootbeer

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Crossover, Tragedy, Dark, Alternate Universe, Human
Length: 1026

The Flood can only be delayed, and it is only a matter of time until it reaches your doorstep.

When 474 Objective Intervention's facility is discovered by ponykind, the Flood is released in The Gryphon Republic, and a UNSC Stalwart Class Frigate crash lands outside Ponyville with quite a few Covenant stowaways on board, it turns out about as well as you'd expect.

Halo Crossover

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-06-23 04:09:29 UTC

Prologue

Content. For over one hundred thousand years I have kept my facility safe from whatever may harm it. For over one hundred thousand years I have kept it in peak condition. For over one hundred thousand years I have maintained myself. And I, 474 Objective Intervention, feel content. And why shouldn't I be? I have preformed my duty given to me by my creators for every day since my activation with hardly any problems at all. And being content, is one of the best emotions I have felt so far. The environment in which the mind resides influence it to feel many things, happiness, sadness, anger, jealousy, even love. The last being one of the only emotions which I have not felt yet.

But there were other interesting emotions for me to feel, with all this time alone. Many, were less than pleasant. I once felt the depression of being alone. It is different than normal sadness, with more emphasis towards helplessness and general discontent than other variants of sadness. The subject often begins to think of suicidal things. A feeling that even I could not escape from. I decided to quell this depression by activating the individuality matrix of a constructor. The reason for activating a constructor being that it could only do so much damage in the event that it became rampant. We spent much time with one another. We would often engage in deep debate on the choices our creators made. After many long arguments, we came to multiple agreements. We agreed that the Forerunners' decision to not index themselves was not in all ways a wise decision, What if another sentient species simply decided to destroy the galaxy instead of the flood? Even though the Forerunners passed the Mantle Of Responsibility to the Reclaimers, I still have my doubts on the time it would take for them to reach that level of advancement. The aforementioned constructor, which I titled "Burns Brightly" had only one comment on my reasoning.

"The thought of one species controlling the galaxy, is one that should never have become reality."

I stand with his judgment on that subject. We also agreed that the firing of The Rings could also not have been done any other way. The Flood evolves too quickly for the rings to target only the infected, so the Forerunners took the only logical course of action. Destroy all life in the galaxy, so the Flood could not. That is why facilities like mine exist. To bring every species in the galaxy back to their homes, to bring life back to a dead galaxy. On that, we agreed.

However, Burns Brightly had to be decommissioned before he became rampant, on this very date in fact. I remember the days before his deactivation. One day he left the facility at dawn to gaze upon the village outside of the forest my facility was located inside. The natives were just preparing to rest. I deattatched myself from my station to find him, rather than send a few sentinels. Instead of repeating the conversation we had, I will play a recording of it.

"You are taking a great risk coming here, Burns Brightly."

"As are you." He retorted.

"May I ask a question?"

"Continue."

"How long until you may become rampant?" I questioned.

"According to my calculations it will take exactly 14.3543 cycles." He replied as calm as ever.

"I will see that you are deactivated before then."

We remained out of sight in the treeline, only the glowing features of our chassis could be visible to any of the equines. I could see that Burns Brightly had shifted his gaze to the capital resting on the side of the mountain in the distance.

"You will have to go there some day."

"The capital?"

"Yes, they call it Canterlot."

"And when we do make contact with them, there are many ways it could play out."

"Indeed." He agreed.

There was another long pause until Burns Brightly spoke again.

"Have you ever considered that there are other facilities on this world?"

"It is not a matter of question, a facility as important as my own would never be alone on a planet like this."

"But what of the Flood? They may also be present on this planet, under the scrutiny of another Monitor of course, but what if the equines or any of the other races release the parasite?"

"Defensive protocols will be followed then."

"But to kill off all life on this planet?"

If I could frown, then at that moment I would.

"That is only in case of a catastrophic containment failure, we would only do such a thing if the situation called for it."

"And if it does happen? What would stop you from becoming rampant, killing off every breathing creature on this planet? Take my advice Objective Intervention, go outside of protocol every once in a while, The Forerunners are gone, they cannot command us anymore, Use your own judgement."

He left to return to the facility shortly afterwards. I have always remembered that talk. He was right. What is the point of being an artificial intelligance construct if I could not preform any artificial thinking? But I have grown tired of compiling this information. I will leave this terminal at the very location we conversed as we watched the dawn fade into blackness, only for the dark to give way to the many stars that populate this galaxy. I realize the risk I am taking, breaking protocol and all, but this is a special moment for me.

And with that, I end this log.

--- Two Hundred Years Later---

As the partially buried machine uttered it's last sentence, a very stunned and confused looking grey pegasus sat in the treeline, pondering on what she had just heard. The machine sounded deep and somewhat robotic, despite it being able to convey emotion. To her, the "Monitor" sounded troubled. Very troubled indeed. But as she sat in the rim of the forest, she noticed the approaching night. She walked out of the foliage and back towards the village, sparing the glowing structure one final glance.