User:Dragonclaws/Ascension15

A Brewing Storm
“Will she survive?” Ship Master ‘Setfethee hesitantly asked.

After the attack, the healers had spread throughout ‘Lafatee’s quarters, focusing all their efforts on repairing the Human commander. In order to maintain security, he had the Oracle summon three small drones to watch over the alien. The drones were created for use as constructors, but the Oracle had assured him that their energy beams could slice through Sangheili body shields and that they could accept their new function with ease.

“It is difficult to say,” replied Olbe ‘Dlooree, the head healer. “We are not schooled in the study of Humanity, and this presents us with troubling dilemmas. We are aware that the subject has lost a bounty of blood, however we are not equipped with the means to properly replicate it. I would suggest that the subject be brought to High Charity for…”

“That is not an option,” he cut him off sharply. “You will take any step to ensure the Human’s survival, but we cannot return to the Holy City.” His words seemed to resonate in the air. Everything he had struggled his whole existence to achieve he now had to cast off, to abandon in favor of a heretical truth. “We cannot…” he muttered, lost in thoughts of sorrow. He felt as though he were tumbling aimlessly through a black abyss, a living shadow sea, inside his own mind.

“Yes, Excellency,” ‘Dlooree responded, bowing as he backed away.

“Despair not, brother,” ‘Setfethee quietly spoke to him as the healer returned to his duties. “We shall see our home once more. As soon as we exterminate what Covenant forces have gathered at the Ark, we shall ally ourselves with the Humans and together reclaim High Charity.”

“Inspiring words, ‘brother,’” he replied, placing a warning tone on the informal word. He would forgive the Ship Master for his disrespectful language this once, for he truly was as inspiring as he said. “Perhaps you have forgotten that I am leader of our race?”

“…Forgive me, High Councilor,” the Ship Master said after a short pause. “I meant no disrespect.”

I must acquire a new title, he thought to himself. No more must I sway to the opinions of others. “But of the Humans…” he began. “Will they refuse to listen if this commander of theirs falls prey to shadow? I suspect not; their empire lies in ruin and their homeworld is under siege. What choice have they but to accept our proposal? …Ship Master?”

“Excellency,” ‘Setfethee began with a respectful nod, “I agree that the Human leaders will in all probability accept, but many of the subordinates will be outraged that they must fight alongside a race that once hunted them. If this Muraandah Keezz were able to report our good will, it could well lower the possibility of rebellion.”

“An intriguing notion,” he allowed. Yes, Human politics must be considered as much as those of the Covenant. “Perhaps when all is settled I shall name you Councilor.”

“Your Excellency flatters me,” ‘Setfethee answered, “But I do not find politics as agreeable as a hot blade in my hand.”

“A pity,” he said. Rather foolish as well, he thought. The blades of Councilors are sharper and cut deeper than that of any Zealot. The sudden crackle of his radio broke him from his thoughts, and the voice of Major ‘Neporee soon spoke in his ear.

“High Councilor?”

He bowed his head in dismissal of ‘Setfethee and said, “Major?”

''“Commander, I have acquired knowledge that the Major responsible for designing the Arbiter’s armor has sabotaged its shields. Do I have permission to detain the warrior?”''

He grimaced; even now acts of betrayal were occurring. This was more reason not to announce the Oracle's words to his servants. “Yes, do whatever you deem necessary. Send in the warrior who detected the traitor so I may reward him for his actions.”

“Well… Excellency, the one who detected him was an Unggoy.”

“An Unggoy,” he repeated, scarcely believing the Major had spoken what he had heard.

“Yes,” the Major admitted. ''“It noticed the Huragok called by the mechanic was not the one he used to build the Arbiter’s armor, despite his claim to the contrary. When one of my warriors investigated, it was discovered the mechanic traded names of two Huragok in the database, and attempted to hide it with a minor disruption of code. The original Huragok was found and questioned, telling me exactly what it was instructed to do.”''

He scowled at the description of treachery. “Truly a disgusting story, Commander. Have him executed at once. But surely it was more appropriate to say your warrior detected him? The Unggoy may have first noticed a discrepancy, but it must have had no idea what it found.”

“Actually, High Councilor,” ‘Neporee said hesitantly, ''“The Unggoy was first to declare him a traitor. It had little evidence, but it cried loudly about how the mechanic was trying to kill the Arbiter. …Truly, all Unggoy have been greatly efficient this unit… ever since the Arbiter spared the Unggoy traitor, truly. High Councilor, do you suppose the Forerunners are rewarding us for his actions?”''

Normally he would think it a possibility, but he now knew the Forerunners were merely dead mortals. His gods, who he had worshiped since birth, nothing more than tricks used to enslave trillions. “Yes, Major,” he said with bitter derision, “The Forerunners have blessed us with smart Unggoy, undoubtedly the key to ascension. …Send it in and I will come up with some sort of reward.”

“Y-yes, High Councilor,” ‘Neporee said, his transmission ending.

So the Unggoy are more intelligent, are they? As a High Councilor, he was privy to secrets forbidden to the lower castes. So he, unlike the Major, knew exactly what was occurring. Although it was said the Milk was blessed by the Prophets to bind the loyalty of Unggoy to the Covenant, the truth was far less grand.

After the Unggoy rebellion took place, the High Prophet of Respect crafted a liquid nutrient mixture to replace the Unggoy food stores. The mixture contained chemicals to subdue the hostility of Unggoy by sedating them. This had the unfortunate effect, however, of lowering their capabilities against the enemies of the Covenant.

''Now that the Arbiter has allowed these Unggoy to eat standard rations it appears that they have regained their strength. Perhaps it could be used to our advantage?'' The Covenant’s Unggoy would be kept weak and lame, but his Unggoy would be warriors as fierce and as numerous as the Kig-Yar…

The door opened, and a small Major Unggoy slowly stepped inside. “Excellency, me wanted?” it asked nervously in its extremely informal tongue.

“Ah, yes,” he said approaching it, adopting a friendly tone. “You would be our hero now?” Behind him, he heard ‘Setfethee lightly scoff at his act. Ignoring the inflexible Ship Master, he continued, “What is your name, Unggoy?”

“Eh… me Gedeg, Excellency,” the Unggoy answered, its eyes flicking back and forth from him to the wounded Human laid on the floor.

“Yes, Gedeg, we share council with a Human,” he said, preparing to spin his tale. “The Forerunners have chosen to speak through the Arbiter. His skin paled to the bleakest white, and he spoke to me with the unending wisdom of a Prophet. He spoke of great changes, Gedeg. Now I serve him as ‘Hodmilee served Lord Prorok at beginning of the Covenant itself. Will you be my loyal servant, my ‘Tawbolee?”

The Unggoy stared up at him in awe, “Yes, Excellency!”

He smiled, “Good. Now, you must know of the new Covenant we must help create. One in which pious Sangheili, Humans, Lekgolo, and Unggoy can triumph over the evil Jiralhanae, Yanme’e, and Kig-Yar. The Arbiter told me of a new race of Unggoy created from his act of mercy, one blessed with wisdom as great as… as Humans!” And as the Unggoy gazed upon him with unbridled delight, he knew that his servant would be true. He would succeed where the foolish Prophets had failed, and when the storm came he would stand victorious.

***

Jitji crouched weakly amongst dead Kig-Yar, trying to conserve what strength he still had left within him. The Sangheili lance he had released had stormed the bridge and saved the Arbiter, slaying even the Jiralhanae Ship Master. Now it seemed that their struggle was over, and all he wanted to do was sleep for the next seven units.

He had to keep alert, however. He had to be ready to fight should more Jiralhanae attack, or if the prisoner should come loose of his bonds. Holding the heavy cannon on his shoulder, he watched with pleasure as the Arbiter told the Sangheili rebels that their deaths would come at the hands of the High Councilor. The Arbiter knows I am his only true servant!

A gasp then escaped his lips as a large holographic image of a Prophet appeared in the air. With his golden headdress and gravity throne, this Prophet was undoubtedly one of the Hierarchs! Pale form, old face… The High Prophet of Mercy, he realized. The last of the Old Guard, loyal adviser to the High Prophet of Truth. These were truly good times that allowed Jitji to gaze upon his Eminence’s features!

His excitement faded as he began to take in what the Arbiter had declared to the Hierarch. The Arbiter… a traitor? It seemed a fantastic concept. The Arbiter was the Hierarchs’ own tool! How could a creature that close to the Forerunners turn wicked?

He was later ashamed that his next thought was, What will happen to me? For if he was spared by the mad Arbiter, surely the High Councilor would seek to correct it. Lamal and his fellows are dead for no reason.

Ally with the Humans? So, the Arbiter was truly committed to that notion? How very odd. He was reminded, then, of how he earlier compared the war against Humans with the Prophet/Sangheili war. So full of hate were our eyes, none of us could see… He clinched his fist, squeezing the cannon barrel painfully hard, as he fought to bury that line of thinking.

It is wrong to think such thoughts, he told himself. ''It is wrong. It is wrong. It is wrong.'' Or was it? Stupid Unggoy! he raged at himself. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong…

He stared at the female Human that the Hierarch had transformed into. What in the Mortal Realms is happening? The Human shone a powerful purple, and Jitji could see small lavender glyphs streaming throughout its body.

The Arbiter then voiced Jitji’s thoughts, “What… Who are you?”

“My name is Cortana,” the holographic Human replied. “I am a UNSC artificial intelligence construct created to supplement the Master Chief, your Demon. Although you never saw me, I was there when you met him and the Gravemind.”

As it spoke this final word, its body seemed to shudder with a ripple. The glyphs slowed as the ripple touched them, racing through once more as the ripple passed. Jitji looked at the Arbiter, but could not tell if he had also noticed it. Gravemind? He remembered the Arbiter’s tale. Is that the name of the Parasite leader?

“Gravemind…” the Arbiter muttered, apparently also unfamiliar with the name. “If you are not with the Master Chief, does this mean that the Demon has fallen at last?”

No, Jitji realized at once. The Demon is still alive. The Major Sangheili had said that the Demon had been seen attacking the Hierarchs, but that the High Prophet of Truth had not made any reference to it in his sermons. If the Demon had been slain, the Hierarchs would have loudly declared it to boost morale. The Demon is still alive!

“No,” Cortana answered, confirming his thoughts. “He boarded the Forerunner ship just as Truth set course for Earth. I remained within the servers of High Charity to ensure that Halo would not be activated. However, I did not fully anticipate the strength of the Flood. With the removal of High Charity’s primary power source, I have found it increasingly difficult to fight off their attacks with the automated systems available to me. I would like you to send a team to the Fourth Tower of Serenity to help me link up with an alternate power source.”

''Ascension has left High Charity? The Flood has attacked the Holy City? The Arbiter and the Humans are truly working together?'' Jitji found it all hard to take in at once.

“Such a decision is beyond my authority,” the Arbiter replied. “I shall relay your request to High Councilor ‘Lafatee, but it is ultimately his decision.”

“Acknowledged,” the construct replied. “But you can tell him that I have acquired the contents of the Hierarchs’ library and will gladly transfer it should he agree.”

“If we are indeed to be allies,” the Arbiter said, “What have you to gain by denying us the data? This cruiser’s computer core can surely bear even the weight of the Holy Texts.”

“Weight is hardly an issue,” Cortana said, its holographic eyebrow raised. “However, I am limited by a communications obstruction generated by the Jiralhanae in Sector 49. I am only able to manipulate it enough to transfer a hologram; large databases are out.”

If the Arbiter is a traitor, do I serve the Jiralhanae now? Jitji wondered briefly, but then thought about how that guard, that Quirinus, had tortured ‘Opskitee. He was a monster, and I will not serve monsters.

“Manipulate it?” questioned the Arbiter. “Can you allow me to contact the dropships that surround this island? I have had some difficulty with the barrier.”

“No problem. Give me a moment to interface with the display.”

But then who was he to serve? The Prophets themselves? Surely not, he admonished. No mere Unggoy could serve creatures as great as they. But I do serve the Forerunners. That was the link. He served the gods, and the Prophets spoke their words thus being gods themselves. If neither Sangheili nor Jiralhanae served the Prophets any longer, then he would have to serve them himself.

But why would the Forerunners send him to save the Arbiter? Did they? he wondered then, Or did they send me to kill the Arbiter? With his fuel rod cannon, he could easily slay the Sangheili where he stood.

No, he decided with a moment’s thought. The Forerunners sent me to kill Quirinus, to rid this ship of evil. The Jiralhanae were far greater a threat to the Covenant than the Arbiter’s rebels. In a palace of sin, it makes sense to support the most clean of sinners, he supposed.

“Hmm, there we go,” Cortana said, projecting in place of its avatar a simplistic map of nearby dropships. “I took the liberty of marking which ships were using old friendship codes – it changed seven units ago. You may wish to update your forces.”

The Arbiter accepted this without comment. “Initiate contact to all Sangheili dropships,” he ordered a Sangheili, who hurried to obey.

As the Arbiter called the reinforcements, Jitji waited in thought. He thought about how he slew Drinol, his ascension into a true servant of the Gods, and how he very nearly decided to kill the Arbiter. I could have done it, he thought with certainty.

Unseen, Jitji shivered.

***

With the help of the Human construct, the reinforcements were summoned and the process of extermination could begin. The Arbiter had sealed every corridor, allowing his forces to conduct their duties in an orderly fashion. He turned his gaze away from the internal map and onto the imprisoned Jiralhanae, still unconscious.

Why did I let him live? The Arbiter wondered. Whether or not he had actually tortured him, the Jiralhanae had shown no moral objection to his pain and it was plain to see that he would follow his bloodmate’s command even after it was dead.

I could kill him now, he thought, examining a grenade launcher laid against the wall. A few swift chops could sever the Jiralhanae’s head from his body, correcting any mistake. I could… but I will not. The Jiralhanae had suggested that he would perhaps accept the Arbiter’s command if convinced of the truth, and the Arbiter would not let a potentially powerful ally go to waste.

His eyes were drawn to his motion detector, where a small dot indicated an ally in front of him and to his right. A glance in that direction revealed nothing to his eyes, implying that someone was still camouflaged. Another traitor?

He turned his gaze back upon the Jiralhanae, nodded slightly, and stepped over to the grenade launcher. As soon as he held it, he aimed it at the location from which the movement was originating and snapped, “Reveal yourself!”

The veil was dropped and he found himself looking at a weary-looking Unggoy carrying a fuel rod cannon. “Jitji,” he acknowledged, still cautious. “I see you have managed to survive thus far.”

“Yes, Arbiter,” Jitji responded. “With the strength the gods have given me.”

He extended a mandible in curiosity. Never before had he heard any Unggoy use proper formality in their language. He considered replying in kind, but felt no desire to treat false gods as truth. “Lower your weapon, Jitji. The fight is over.”

The Unggoy hesitated, but set down the cannon at his feet. “Arbiter, may I speak without reserve?”

“You may,” he replied, still confused by the strange use of formality. Even English would make more sense.

“Arbiter,” Jitji began, “Why do you… say such things about the Great Journey? And… why do you want a alliance with Humans?”

“An alliance,” he corrected automatically. Must I justify my actions to an Unggoy? he wondered. Yes, he decided. I must justify it to the rest of the Covenant, why not one Unggoy? “The Oracle has explained to me the true purpose of the Sacred Rings: to eliminate every lifeform capable of sustaining the Flood. The Forerunners built them as weapons and were destroyed by their own hands.”

“The Oracle has not been shown to be trustworthy,” Consus mumbled, causing Jitji to jump. He raised his head and regarded the Arbiter, “Arbiter, I will ask you again to let me join my Ship Master. Show me your superior honor, mighty warrior.”

“I will once more deny your request,” he answered, laying down the grenade launcher. “It would be most dishonorable of me to erase your existence from the world. Your bloodmate is dead, and nothing you do will allow you to see him again.”

“I will see him again,” Consus said with a smile. The Arbiter recognized his face as belonging to one with absolute certainty – undying faith. “The bond we share transcends Realms. To which world the gods sent him it matters not, for I will be sent there beside him when my time comes.”

“Not if there are no afterlives to be sent to,” he responded, preparing to convince both him and the Unggoy. “But I suppose we never did finish our conversation, did we?”

“I remember it differently,” Cronus muttered. He then drawled, “But I will persist if you wish, Excellency.”

“Excellent,” he said, ignoring the mocking tone. “You suggested that the Oracle had been tampered with by the Flood. Indeed, the crimson construct clutched by the Parasite appeared damaged. However, the azure Oracle remains in perfect condition…”

“Proving nothing!” Consus interrupted, mad with fury. He strained against his bonds, leaning outward as far as he could. “The Oracle’s state of appearance matters not! The Prophets have spoken not but truth since the Age of Discovery. They have been true to their word for two and a half thousand years, and you are breaking the Holy Covenant!” He laughed bitterly and spat upon the Arbiter’s face. “You Sangheili dare to insult my race, yet it is you who commit vilest treachery upon your most sworn allies! The punishment the gods will place on your heads shall be legendary, and all will remember you as the consequence of disloyalty.”

Wordlessly, the Arbiter wiped the saliva from his face. The Jiralhanae’s display of emotion was one familiar to him, one he had felt as he had watched the ‘heretic’ preach his message on the Prophet of Truth’s display. “Soon after the High Prophet of Regret fell, the High Prophet of Truth commanded me to retrieve the Sacred Icon,” he began slowly, keeping his eyes on the enraged prisoner. “A group of Humans fought their way into the heart of the Parasite’s domain and acquired the Icon before I could reach it. As I engaged them, I was interrupted by a pack of Jiralhanae led by Tartarus. The Jiralhanae seized both the Humans and the Icon from my grasp, and Tartarus himself declared that he acted on the Hierarchs’ orders before casting me into a great shaft, one which surely would have been my end were the Parasite leader not waiting below.”

“You lie,” the Jiralhanae growled. “The Prophets have always been faithful servants of the promise.”

“My word as a warrior,” he swore, spreading his arms.

“Traitors have no honor,” Consus hissed. “That mark on your chest proves what you are. Even as you cover it with your mockingly holy garment, we all can see it in your actions. You have no power that is not given by the Prophets, they who speak the will of the gods, and you can be sure that they can take it from you just as easily.”

Loyalty, faith… this is what this Jiralhanae cares about, the Arbiter mused. Consus split his blood to show undying loyalty to one person, the late Ship Master of the vessel. The metal collar he wore was a symbol of his subservience to his bloodmate, an echo of the worship a person conducted to the highest forms of life. Similar to the Mark of Shame, it was a tool of humiliation… and yet this Jiralhanae wore it with pride…

“Can you believe that I do not wish to die?” he questioned the Jiralhanae.

“I think you have made that clear,” Consus agreed in a patronizing tone. “You do not trust the Prophets when they speak of eternal life.”

“Jitji, engage active camouflage and walk away,” he ordered without taking his eyes off the prisoner. Watching his motion sensor out of the corner of his eye, he waited until the Unggoy was several units away before placing his hand on the restraints and releasing the prisoner.

As soon as he was free, Consus seized the grenade launcher at his feet and leaped away. Rolling into the far corner, he raised the barrel and aimed it at the Arbiter. “I thank you,” he said gruffly. “Where ever Aeson lives, I shall see him soon.” He fired.

The Arbiter remained where he was, allowing the grenade to smash into him and drain his shield. Two Sangheili engaged their swords and began to rush him. “Cease your attack,” he called out, raising a hand to halt his warriors. As the air around him shimmered, he continued to gaze straight forward at Consus, “I swear by my life, as a servant of Sangheili High Councilor ‘Lafatee, that I tell not but truth. The Hierarchs have betrayed us.” Do not make me have to kill you…

***

So overcome was he with shock, Jitji stumbled his way through the secured corridors, barely able to walk. By the Prophets… he repeated in his head. By the Prophets… “The Arbiter!” he gasped.

The Arbiter had declared the Prophets traitors, gave a Jiralhanae the power to kill him, and… The Jiralhanae spared him! The Arbiter had converted a Jiralhanae, an enemy, to his side. “A Jiralhanae!” By the Prophets…

The Humans? he then wondered about. Did the Arbiter convert them the same way? Would the Humans soon become a part of the Covenant? Not a traitor then? It did not excuse the accusation of betrayal… unless it were true.

Is it possible? he wondered. Could the Prophets betray the Covenant? It seemed impossible, for no act of treachery had ever been committed in 2.6 millennia… That you know of. The Prophets were in control of the Covenant, after all. If ever a Prophet became a rogue, the Ministers and Council members could easily keep it hidden.

But the Hierarchs, though? Truth himself created the Covenant! If one of his Hierarchs was corrupted, surely he would notice. Unless… it were Truth who fell prey to evil. He shivered as he stepped around two Jiralhanae corpses.

If this were true, it would be devastating. The High Prophet of Truth controlled everything, every aspect of the Covenant. If he were corrupted, there would be no evidence whatsoever of any rogue Prophet, he realized. He would let everyone believe everything was fine while he made various changes that would ensure him victory…

What victory? he then wondered. What could one who owned the Covenant possibly want? What would he want that would require Tartarus slaying the Arbiter? he realized was the better question.

“This war,” he said aloud. The Great Journey was units away, and Truth wanted to walk the path alone. Sending Tartarus to kill the Arbiter and take the Icon escalated the already mounting tensions between Sangheili and Jiralhanae, culminating in this war that ripped the Covenant asunder. Such a thing would be the perfect diversion for Truth… if he was in fact corrupted.

''He cannot be… Could he? Yes,'' he decided. For even the Prophets are mere mortals, not gods. However, the Arbiter actually claimed that the Forerunners did not ascend into godhood, but instead were killed by their own weapons. Now that is utter nonsense. He had felt the presence of the Gods himself, felt their collective hands stroke his scalp. No, the Jiralhanae must be correct in that the Oracles are corrupted.

But then he started to wonder about it. Did I really feel them, or was it something else? There was something about this place, the Sacred Ring, that made things look like other things. My Gods, he prayed silently. ''Please grant my request. Send me some sign of your divine power.''

He waited, but received no response. No miracle graced his vision, nor did he feel any different. “Gods?” he asked of the air, his voice coming out in the tiniest squeak. Perhaps they no longer deem me worthy, he thought with horror. ''Maybe they never did. Or maybe they do not even…''

He shook his head. It was pointless to speculate about things no mortal could fathom. What about the Prophets? he countered. Are they not connected to the Gods? “But I am not,” he whispered. He was not a Prophet, nor was he a Sangheili. “Me Unggoy,” he spat, wishing it were not so.

He would live the rest of his life as an Unggoy, never to be a great warrior or leader. He would simply fight and most likely die as a mere footsoldier, unless he could survive to be a breeder. He jumped as the ship began to move, and then swore at himself. Stupid cowardly Unggoy…

Jitji coughed violently, his body spasming. He grimaced as he felt something warm and wet hit his mask. When the coughing finally ended, he held his breath and wiped the substance off his mask. Breathing once more, he looked at the liquid and felt shock as he stared at bright blue blood covering his hand. Am I ill?

He remembered his fight with the Kig-Yar, how the beast had struck him with the shield. Did it do great damage? he wondered. Was it even… a sign from the Gods? He had not heard of such a harsh message before, but perhaps it was because he was an Unggoy and undeserving of greater signs.

Regardless, it made sense to be examined by a healer. Whether or not it was a sign, it was clear that he was injured. Taking a few breaths to calm himself, he started searching for a healer.

***

“Excellency, the Zealous Missionary has landed directly overhead.”

Emperor ‘Lafatee smiled. Well done, Arbiter. “Prepare the Human for transport. ‘Aedodee, alert the crew. We leave now.” The Minor hurried to obey.

“What if the ship is crewed by Jiralhanae?” ‘Setfethee asked, his derision evident in his sardonic tone.

“If that is so, then we have already lost,” he replied, annoyed at the Ship Master’s attitude. “Refuse to use the honorific ‘Excellency’ again and I shall have you removed from my presence. Is that understood?”

“It is, Excellency,” ‘Setfethee said in a more humble manner. His mandibles were still lowered in a frown, however.

He nodded, and stepped over to the gravity beam suspending the Oracle. “Your Human will be brought with us to the Ark. If I release you, will you remain alongside us?”

“Hmm, very well,” the construct said, its eye pulsing with light. “I would like to examine the Ark, perhaps determine what went wrong. And of course, you may be assured that I will protect the Reclaimer from your rebellious and hostile subordinates.”

“Good,” he said simply, glancing down at the fresh blood stains. “If she does perish, we will likely lose our access to Earth and the Ark.”

“Indeed?” it questioned. “Perhaps I improperly ranked the task’s priority? Da da dum…” Gold rings lanced through the air beside him, and before his eyes appeared three Sentinels. “These Sentinels will supplement your defenses of the wounded Reclaimer.”

“It is a task of high importance,” he asserted. “Focus all of your strength on allowing us passage to the Ark as swiftly as possible.”

“I’m sorry,” the Oracle blinked, “Only a Reclaimer has the authority to alter my ranking of containment protocol. Were I to obey your command, the Flood would escape from the installation.” It began humming its song once more.

“The Reclaimers,” he repeated. He had heard the Oracle use that term often. “Humans. Why is it you serve them?”

***

“Unggoy all agree,” Gedeg told him as they approached the gravity lift. “We train harder, stronger. We be better troops. We be better than Kig-Yar, and great as Humans. We kill rebels in your name, Excellency.”

“Very good,” ‘Lafatee praised. “Continue and our might will be legend.” He looked up as a Minor Unggoy floated down the lift. ''A good sign. We may procede.''

“Sangheili in control,” the Unggoy called out in a squeak, confirming his thoughts.

“First send the fighters,” he ordered, raising his voice to be heard be all who stood in the dark shaft. “Then the leaders, followed by the Huragok and non-essential infantry.”

As his warriors marched, he reflected on the Oracle’s words. The Forerunners are not gods, he told himself once more. Indeed, they were mere mortals who had attempted immortality by burning their minds into the Humans’ bloodline. Even in this poor, dumb, version of the Great Journey they had failed, leaving behind no more than trace remnants. The Oracle followed them simply out of protocol, for it possessed no true loyalty for its own masters.

“Very messy,” the Minor Unggoy whispered to Gedeg. “Big dead thing – Sharquoi.”

“Sharquoi?” all Sangheili within the range of hearing said at once.

“The toilers?” questioned ‘Setfethee, a mandible extended.

“The Jiralhanae took even they that dwell beneath the stones for their own selfishness?” he cried in outrage, his mandibles spread. “Damn them all!”

“Do you know if the warrior who slew it yet lives?” ‘Setfethee questioned the Unggoy.

“Ah… Me heard rumors, Excellency…” it muttered, tilting its head down nervously. “If true, he alive…”

“What is his name?” ‘Setfethee prodded.

“Ah… They say it was traitor who kill it,” the Unggoy got out, backing away as if afraid of being struck. ‘Lafatee just nodded, seeing no reason to harm it.

“The Arbiter has shown himself to be a powerful warrior, Excellency,” ‘Setfethee commented to him as they strode toward the lift. “To slay a Sharquoi is no small feat.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “He will be awarded for his merit.” The use of such promotion was agreed to inspire confidence and patriotism amongst failing troops, and the recent attack told him this may well be essential to the performance of their mission.

As they rose up the lift, the combined noise and distance made it impossible for him to hear the Unggoy whisper once more, “Not Arbiter…”

***

“You say you slew the Sharquoi with a fuel rod cannon?” the Sangheili healer ‘Ruukulee questioned Jitji as he monitored his heartrate. Fortunately, the medical center had been located, cleaned out of Jiralhanae, and secured by the Sangheili.

“Yes,” Jitji said shortly, reliving the moment in his mind. Drinol’s mouth opened so wide… He looked down as the healer scraped the dried blood from his legs and into a small container, which then glowed lavender.

“I understand you were promoted from Minor directly to Special Operations Major less than a unit past?” the healer asked. Not waiting for a response, for all knew the about the Unggoy traitor, he went on to ask, “Before you were issued your weapon, did you undergo proper training procedures?”

“No, Excellency,” he said, starting to get nervous. “Me, I, I was just sent to rest and then to fight.”

“Indeed,” the healer said, his contempt evident. He took a small rod and placed it on the back of Jitji’s head, and then after a moment he examined the instrument. “I have reached my diagnosis. You are afflicted with what is commonly known as radiation illness. It is a condition that can be induced by contact with fuel rod fragments. Normally, Unggoy spend several units training before ever being allowed to wield fuel rod cannons, specifically for that reason.”

Jitji stared up at him in shock. He remembered standing over Drinol’s head, dipping his fingers into the green blood which pooled out of it. Blood filled with the fragments of the fuel rod, with which he had decapitated Drinol. It had been a brilliant ritual at the time, restoring his honor and making him worthy of ascension. I’m such a fool. “What is the recovery time?”

“You must spend 20 units within a medical facility,” the healer said. “You must receive treatment very soon, before the illness takes hold. However, I do not have adequate equipment onboard this ship. If you do not receive this treatment in the next unit, you will die shortly.”

Jitji moaned in despair. After all he had been through, he would die from an illness contracted by his own carelessness. So much for an eternal servant of the Forerunners… He began to weep softly.

“I must report my findings to the Arbiter,” the healer said, raising his voice to be heard by the other patients as he started to leave. “Stay here and rest.”

When the healer had gone, he curled up and tried to sleep. Sleep, however, would not come to him. He remained in that position for several hundred heartbeats with no success. Despite his persistent weariness, he could not capture the will to slumber. He opened his eyes to examine the walls until he should become weary enough, and froze.

There on the wall was his shadow, and beside it, the shadow of another Unggoy. There were no other Unggoy in the room. Has… Has Lamal’s spirit come to seek vengeance upon me? He closed his eyes tightly in fear. When he reopened them, the shadow was gone.

Perhaps it is a sign from the Forerunners? he wondered. But how was he to interpret it? ''Another Unggoy? Myself? Two parts of myself?'' He continued to try to make sense of it as he pretended to sleep.

***

The Jiralhanae, Consus, had dropped his weapon. He had chosen a life as a servant of the High Councilor over death, and had allowed the Arbiter to live. The Arbiter was still cautious, though, and had him escorted to a holding cell along with the traitors.

The control center was now crewed by several Majors, many of whom were delighted by their new positions. He had the wicked restraints and torture equipment removed, and the room was filled with Unggoy cleaning up the mess. The Human construct had vanished from the holopanels, with only a faint image of High Charity left as a reminder.

He frowned. There was something… odd about it. ''It tells me that the High Prophet of Truth is taking Ascension to Earth, and then asks for me to rescue it? Surely it would have realized that stopping the High Prophet was of most importance…''

“Arbiter, we must speak,” a Major declared as he entered. “It is a matter of some importance.”

“Yes, Major, what is it?” he asked, stepping down the ramp. He could contemplate the unusual actions of the construct later.

“Arbiter…” the Major paused, unsure what to say. “Arbiter, it appears the Jiralhanae acquired a Sharquoi and sent it up the gravity lift after you boarded.”

“A Sharquoi?” he asked in amazement. How by the… how did they acquire a Sharquoi? “Does it still breathe?”

“It was attacked and slain by two guards. An Unggoy appears to have been the one to lay upon the killing blow,” the Major answered slowly. “The Sharquoi crushed the Sangheili, and the Unggoy decapitated it with a fuel rod cannon.”

Jitji, the trembling Unggoy, slayed a Sharquoi? he thought in disbelief. It seems as though my mercy has been profitable indeed. This was truly unprecedented, though. No Unggoy in the history of the Covenant had ever… Not in the history given to us, he reminded himself. How was he to know the Prophets did not alter all known history? “The Unggoy… will receive a promotion,” he decided finally. It was what he would give to any Sangheili, and he knew no appropriate protocol for Unggoy.

“Excellency, the Unggoy is already at its highest rank,” the Major supplied.

“Yes? Well, I’ll think of something,” he said vaguely, an idea brewing in his head.

The Major nodded, “Arbiter, there is more: The Unggoy seems to have contracted a deadly illness, that of radiation poisoning, from weapon carelessness. I am assured that the site of the mishap is currently harmless, but it is probable that this Unggoy will die in a matter of units.”

He sighed. Despite himself, he felt sorry for the Unggoy. “Then perhaps he will make the best of his last units by helping us defeat… our enemies. Is that all?”

The Major nodded again, “Yes, Arbiter.” He bowed his head and backed out of the room, only to bow once more as the High Councilor entered.

“Arbiter,” ‘Lafatee acknowledged as he entered, accompanied by Ship Master ‘Setfethee, the Oracle, and several Majors. “You are all dismissed,” he told the temporary crew. They walked out disappointed as they were replaced by the High Councilor’s Majors. “That applies to you, as well,” he told the Unggoy, who hurried to leave.

“I trust I am to stay, High Councilor?” the Arbiter questioned.

“Indeed,” ‘Lafatee answered. “However, I must clarify that I am changing my title to one more appropriate of my role, that of Emperor.”

“Ah,” the Arbiter said with some surprise. He had not realized that ‘Lafatee would wish to take the place of the Hierarchs. “I see… Emperor.”

The Emperor nodded, “Well, then, set course for Earth.”

“Actually, Emperor,” he said with a pause, “There is something we must discuss.” He explained about the Human construct.

“Hmm, yes, Cortana 0452-9,” the Oracle muttered angrily. “It was most persistent in its efforts to keep me from activating Installation 04…” The Sangheili shared glances; was the Oracle truly on their side?

“If the Flood have indeed invaded the Holy City,” ‘Setfethee began slowly, “Then perhaps it is our best interests to see it destroyed.”

‘Lafatee sharply sucked in a breath. “Even,” he said, his body stiffening, “If that were the case, it is an impossible task! More defenses surround the city than any construction in known history!”

“If the engines were overloaded…” ‘Setfethee began, only to have ‘Lafatee cut him off.

“No,” the Emperor shook his head. “If Ascension has been launched, then there would not be enough power to penetrate shadow, let alone… destroy the city. No, the Flood must be fought off. I will sanction a mission to provide this Cortana with the energy it needs to continue its fight.”

“Emperor,” the Arbiter cautiously advised, “I must stress the urgency of the scenario. Ascension is the fastest ship in our possession. We must not let Truth reach the Ark!”

“We will not,” the Emperor agreed. “But we will contact an allied vessel to send a team into High Charity. Ship Master, if you will?”

‘Setfethee nodded and stepped up the ramp with the Emperor beside him, a gesture bringing the Arbiter up as well. “Communications?”

“‘Dehudee, Excellency,” responded the Major.

“‘Dehudee, establish contact with the nearest vessel.”

“Yes, Excellency,” the Major replied. After a moment, “Excellency, the barrier is too great to penetrate.”

“Take us above the atmosphere,” ‘Setfethee ordered. The holographic viewer showed the clouds pass by, and finally the Halo itself as they floated above it. He rotated the viewer toward High Charity, and his hands tightened into fists.

A grid of six ships rested between them and the Holy City – a wholly unnecessary barricade in the Arbiter’s opinion, for beyond it was a great maelstrom of clashing ships. “How could the Flood ever make it beyond that?” he wondered.

“By slipping into the Shadow World,” ‘Setfethee answered, unclenching his fists. “Test the barrier.”

“It has weakened, Excellency,” ‘Dehudee said. “Perhaps enough to get a message through, however, our chances…”

“Bring us within 7,000 units of the nearest ship,” ‘Setfethee said instead. “Keep our plasma turrets ready to fire, but do not charge the pulse lasers. We would not wish them to deem us aggressive.”

They watched as the ships neared. Before the Zealous Missionary could reach its destination, a ship in the formation contacted them. The viewer faded and a flickering hologram of a Special Operations Commander appeared in its place. “Zealous Missionary, you are not permitted to pass. Cease your movement at once, or we will open fire.”

‘Lafatee nodded to ‘Setfethee, who made a gesture to decelerate. “Commander,” spoke the Emperor, “I am the last living High Councilor, the only one which has not been slaughtered by Jiralhanae. Let me speak to your Ship Master at once!”

“I have none, Excellency,” the Sangheili replied through static. “This ship has been seized from the hands of the Jiralhanae as, I suspect, yours has. I am afraid that even a warrior as distinguished as yourself is not exempt from our quarantine.”

“Quarantine?” ‘Setfethee questioned.

“The events at the first Halo have shown us the deadly potential of the Parasite, of this Flood,” the Commander explained, his voice and image beginning to clear. “No ship, be it Apparition or Destroyer may pass our barricade, Ship Master.”

“Your barricade has failed,” ‘Lafatee informed him. “My sources tell me that the Flood has invaded High Charity. I have come to recruit an elite team to perform a delicate mission that would give our forces the strength to repel the Parasite.”

“What sources would these be, Excellency?” the Commander asked skeptically. “The barrier has inhibited all of our communication with the Holy City.”

“I have a warrior inside the city,” ‘Lafatee lied slightly. “He has manipulated the barrier to allow him to contact the Zealous Missionary. The Flood appear to have used precise penetration methods to allow them to enter the city without passing your ships.”

“All ships that are capable of penetration are destroyed immediately upon detection,” the Commander stated, the static fading away enough for the Arbiter to tell that he was missing his left mandibles. “If the Sinless Purpose had not determined that you were unable to penetrate, you would have been cut apart.”

“Unable…” ‘Lafatee shot the Arbiter a glare. “You did not test the engines?” He turned back. “Less than a cycle past, we obtained an entirely new method from the Humans that allow us to make specific penetrations from within the gravity wells of planets or Sacred Rings. If the Parasite infested but one person who knew the method, they would have been capable of entering the Shadow World without leaving the Halo. Now then, we have to follow Ascension at once, so allow us entry to one of your ships capable of penetrating shadow and light.”

“May I, Excellency?” the Arbiter asked. At ‘Lafatee’s nod, he addressed the Commander, “Commander Rtas ‘Vadumee, we bring dire news. The Prophets, long have they sworn to be our allies, formed the Covenant out of deceit. They wanted us dead, and the only way they could slay us all was through the use of ancient Forerunner weapons. They could not find them on their own, so they tricked us into searching for them ourselves. They told us that they would bring salvation, yet they only bring destruction. Indeed, it was these weapons that the Forerunners killed themselves with in a futile attempt to destroy the Flood. I refer, of course, to the Sacred Rings! Oracle?”

“How may I be of assistance?” it asked, floating up beside him.

“Oracle, tell the Commander of the purpose of the Halo installations,” he commanded, watching ‘Vadumee’s intense face as he listened to the Oracle’s tale. “That will be all, Oracle.” He waited for the Commander to respond.

“I… thank you, Arbiter,” he said finally. “Allow me to confer with my associates.” The hologram vanished to be replaced by the viewer.

“Arbiter, you fool!” the Emperor exploded with fury. “That warrior was obviously intimidated by our nonexistent Parasite threat, and now you have given him every reason to destroy us!”

“Prepare plasma torpedoes,” ‘Setfethee said briskly.

“Charge the lasers,” ‘Lafatee cried, waving his arm in the air.

“Belay that,” ‘Setfethee snapped. “Emperor, we face a possible engagement with two heavy cruisers, two frigates, one light cruiser, and one Reverence-class cruiser. We may be able to run back to Halo should they turn hostile, but I will not risk the safety of all life by making the first move.”

“Ship Master, I command you! I am the last living High Councilor, and…”

“Your power,” ‘Setfethee interrupted, “Exists only because we recognize it. May I remind you that what you are doing is treason against the Covenant? By their law, I would be well within my rights to slay you where you stand. Fortunately for you, I do not recognize their rule because of their desire to kill us. Similarly, I fail to recognize your rule when it will get us killed. If they have not attacked by now, I must assume that they are indeed discussing the matter, so kindly leave my platform and let me command this ship.”

‘Lafatee just stared at him stunned for several heartbeats. “Very well,” he said finally. “Ship Master… Arbiter…” he slowly stepped away, exiting the room.

“Bloody fool has been driving me to madness,” ‘Setfethee muttered, twisting the viewer to examine the arrangement of ships. “Do you believe ‘Vadumee can be trusted, Arbiter?”

“I have trusted him with my life many times,” he answered. “He was by my side as we hunted down the heretics of Threshold, fought the Parasite, and attacked Tartarus’ warriors.”

“Heretics of Threshold?” the Ship Master asked, a mandible extended. “You mean he led the strike against Sesa ‘Refumee, leader of the faction that rejected the teachings of the Prophets?”

“So it seems,” he sighed, wishing he could undo all the damage he did. “When the Prophet of Truth sent me on that mission, he showed me a small section of ‘Refumee’s speech declaring Prophets false. The hologram contained no explanations, no sources of their information. I see no reason to assume Commander ‘Vadumee was offered anything greater. Perhaps with the Oracle here, he will realize I speak the truth.”

“Well, it does seem as though he is considering it,” ‘Setfethee acknowledged, studying the viewer. “‘Lafatee has been inspiring the Unggoy by filling their heads with nonsense about Forerunner blessings, white Sangheili, and ancient prophecies. He says that we should recognize the success of the Prophets and spin tales as they do to motivate our troops. As I would tell him if he would but let me, the eventual death of the Prophets will be due to their lies. We, their soldiers, recognize we have been deceived and now attempt to strike back. While mere Unggoy will not pose a threat, deceiving Sangheili is another thing entirely.”

“They must be trusted with the truth,” he agreed. “But perhaps the Unggoy do deserve greater respect than what we show them. Today, the forgiven traitor Jitji slayed a Sharquoi armed only with a fuel rod cannon within our gravity lift cargo area, and then freed the stalker unit with the intend of rescuing me from the Jiralhanae.”

‘Setfethee looked at him sharply, “Did it? …Yes, I saw the Sharquoi body – an alpha male, largest variety – being cleaned up by Unggoy as I boarded. Valuable genes, I would say. I am not certain if your choice to spare it was wise, but it seems to have repaid you generously.”

“I have considered using Jitji for breeding,” he admitted. “However, it seems he has absorbed a fatal dose of radiation, which negates breeding opportunities. I then was considering gifting him with a new rank, higher than the highest Unggoy rank, as tribute to his combative success. However, I wished to clear it with the, ah, Emperor before acting.”

“Hmm,” the Ship Master mused. “How powerful would this rank be?”

“No greater than that of a Sangheili Minor,” he described his idea. “One that would supplement his role as my aide by granting him authority over other Unggoy, yet not encumbering the superiority of Sangheili.”

“Intriguing notion,” ‘Setfethee commented. “Well, ‘Lafatee has put enough focus on Unggoy that I doubt he would argue, especially considering the short life expectancy of this one. What name would you give this rank?”

He pondered this for a moment. It would have to be a word that would invoke respect, yet he did not wish a promotion of the false religion. His thoughts went to the Humans, their new allies. Long had they fought valiently against the might of the Covenant, making them quite possibly their greatest threat. He remembered Jahnsen’s much needed assistance in the defeat of Tartarus, something he doubted he could have done without him. “Sergeant,” he spoke the alien word. “It shall be called Sergeant.”

He was sure he saw one of ‘Setfethee’s mandibles twitch in a smile, before he turned the conversation onto a graver subject, “The Human Commander was attacked by one of the Sangheili assigned to guard her from such traitors. She sits at the edge of the line between life and death, and the healers say she could slip over at any moment. Does your Sergeant Jahnsen yet live?”

“He does,” he answered, remembering ‘Pirztikee’s report. “I believe he was helping to arrange supplies in our makeshift armory.”

‘Setfethee tapped a command and spoke into the ship-wide radio, “This is Ship Master ‘Setfethee. Bring the Human Jahnsen to the medical center as swift as possible, and make certain it remains there. Unharmed!” Disengaging the radio, he spoke to the Arbiter, “We must take care to protect the last Human we have in our possession if we are to expect the Human rulers to pay our offer of allegiance any respect.”

He nodded in agreement. “What of the armor projects?” he changed the subject. “Has Major ‘Bepolee completed his work?”

“‘Bepolee… has been executed for plotting against the Arbiter,” ‘Setfethee informed him with a sigh. “His work has come to a halt.”

‘Bepolee a traitor? It seemed that they could not fully trust anyone. His eyes went to the viewer, where six ships sat motionless. Anger surged through him as he thought about the damage the Prophets had done to his race, forcing them to march to their own deaths as the Prophets watched and smiled. The few who realized the truth were branded as heretics and killed for simply trying to free their brothers from this enslavement of the mind. “The source of the Hierarchs’ power goes beyond the loyalty of their followers,” he said bitterly. “The Prophet of Truth claims to be the reincarnation of Prorok, a living connection to the gods in the Divine Realms. Should all of the Hierarchs be slain, their mortality will be proven to all.”

“Yes,” ‘Setfethee agreed. “The Hierarchs should be removed as soon as possible. Without a living god to command them, their strength will falter until they are crushed.”

“Do you believe that complying with Cortana’s request is in our best interest?” he asked him then, his doubts about the construct rising to the forefront of his brain.

Before ‘Setfethee could answer, the viewer was replaced with ‘Vadumee’s form once more. “We have come to an agreement,” the Commander stated, a grave finality in his voice. “The Prophets have betrayed us… However, my allies will not risk the contamination of their own vessels. I invite your crew to board my cruiser, the Enlightened Soul, and chase after Ascension.”