Halo 3: Ascension

Summary
After the Arbiter helped Miranda Keyes and Sergeant Johnson to halt the Halo's firing sequence, he swears to protect them from the Covenant as they fight to reach the Ark. However, he is unprepared for the political struggles and moral delimmas that follow from rejecting the religion you have followed since birth. As he fights to gain ground, he encounters a strange conspiracy involving the Prophet of Truth and the aspiring Hierarch, the Prophet of Justice.

Cast
Sangheili
 * The Arbiter
 * Ship Master Gerka 'Setfethee
 * High Councilor Kagu 'Lafatee
 * SpecOps Commander Eito 'Opskitee
 * SpecOps Commander Rtas 'Vadumee
 * Major Omin 'Pirztikee

Unggoy
 * Jitji
 * Gedeg

Humans
 * Commander Miranda Keyes
 * Sergeant Major Johnson

Jiralhanae
 * Chieftain Cronus
 * Ship Master Aeson and Consus
 * Patroclus and Bacchus

= Halo 3: Ascension =

Prologue
“Rrrah!” Tartarus swung his massive battle hammer at him, missing by mere inches. The Arbiter ran backwards, shooting with both of the crimson plasma rifles he had taken from the Jiralhanae. The effort seemed futile, for the deadly plasma simply flowed harmlessly off his enemy’s enhanced body shield. Overheating, the rifles spilled out plasma. The Sangheili franticly held them away from his body, allowing the plasma to drop to the ground.

Tartarus, seizing his chance, smashed his hammer into the Arbiter’s chest. The hammer blew through his body shield and crushed the ancient armor. Tartarus laughed as the Sangheili cried out in pain, his fearsome eyes glowing wickedly in the shadow produced by his own bulk. “So here ends the mighty Arbiter!”

He watched the traitor raise his hammer for the killing blow, preparing for death’s claw to rake him in… when a violet particle beam struck his killer’s head. The beam, instead of bouncing off the Jiralhanae’s shield as the other weapons did, caused Tartarus to jerk in pain. A second shot made him lower his hammer. The third shot completely took out his shield! The Arbiter raised both rifles and shot plasma into the wretched creature. Tartarus roared as the plasma burned through his chest and, with one last cry, he fell.

Without wasting any time, the Human Commander took action, leaping from platform to platform to finally land on the main level. She ran past him to the beam of energy, removing the Icon. The energy beam intensified, and then fired up through the ceiling. After a few seconds, the beam faded away and all was quiet.

Did she stop it? The Arbiter rose, ignoring the intense pain in his chest, to approach the Human Commander. He stopped, however, as the console shifted image, becoming a cloud of geometric shapes. The Human Commander studied it as the Oracle floated down to her, carrying the darker Human, the one who wielded the particle beam rifle.

“What’s that?” the Human Commander questioned the Oracle.

“A beacon,” the Oracle answered simply. The darker Human dropped off onto the platform and joined his Commander.

“What’s it doing?” she asked.

“Communicating,” answered the Oracle, “At super-luminal speeds, with a frequency of-“

“Communicating with what?” the Human interrupted impatiently.

“The… other installations,” the Oracle replied, as though surprised that the Human did not know.

“Show me,” the Human commanded.

The Oracle turned to the hologram, interfacing with it. From a storm of geometric shapes, emerged the seven Sacred Rings. He moved in closer, noting that a small red note was attached to one of the Halos, likely noting it was destroyed by the Demon. The Oracle then spoke, breaking the Sangheili out of his thoughts.

“Fail-safe protocol. In the event of unexpected shut-down, the entire system will move to standby status. All remaining platforms are now ready for remote activation.”

“Remote activation?” repeated the Human. “From here?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Oracle said in a patronizing tone. The darker Human moved in angrily.

“Listen, Tinkerbelle,” the Human started, moving forward aggresively. “Don’t make me…”

The Human Commander grabbed his shoulder and quickly cut him off with a question to the Oracle, “Then where? Where would someone go to activate the other Rings?”

The Oracle looked at them both, apparently baffled at the question. “Why… the Ark… of course,” the Oracle finally answered.

“And where, Oracle, is that?” he asked, stepping into the group. The Humans stared up at him, perhaps astonished that he had left them alive.

“Scanning,” the Oracle intoned as it turned back to the console. The hologram soon changed into a depiction of the galaxy. “Ark detected,” announced the Oracle. The holographic galaxy rose, and a holographic star system took its place. “On the third planet of a planetary system approximately 6,100 light-years from our position.”

“My god,” the Human Commander said in a quiet voice. “That’s…”

“Earth,” finished the other Human.

''Earth? The Human planet attacked by the High Prophet of Regret?'' “Oracle,” the Arbiter began, “Can the Ark be disabled from here?”

“Certainly not,” the Oracle stated, “My creators specifically created the Ark to control the installations. Should there ever be a circumstance where the countdown sequence is disrupted, the Reclaimers would override such infraction from the Ark.”

“What are Reclaimers?” the Human Commander asked, making the Oracle turn to stare at her. After a long moment, the Oracle spoke.

“Why… the Reclaimers…” The Oracle indicated the Humans. “You are the Reclaimers,” the Oracle said, utterly bewildered.

“Say what?!” cried the dark Human. Jahnsen, was it?

The Oracle looked between the two of them, concerned. “Are you two perhaps… ill?”

“We’re fine,” the Human Commander began to say, but stopped as a party of Sangheili reinforcements entered the chamber.

Nothing Lasts Forever
Five Special Operations Sangheili in shining white armor, led by a gold-armored Zealot Commander, leapt down to the platform one by one, and ran toward the Arbiter. He rubbed his chest where Tartarus’s hammer had struck, wincing at the pain. It will be good to get back to the healers. As the team neared, he realized they would see the Humans as hostile, and moved to intercept them.

“Do not harm the Humans,” the Arbiter commanded. The Commander raised a hand to stop his subordinates, and then stepped forward himself. The Arbiter realized that this was Gerka ‘Setfethee, Ship Master of the Eternally Faithful. Through exceptional battlefield skills, this Sangheili had achieved significant prestige.

‘Setfethee bowed his head respectfully and spoke with a bold, clear voice. “Yes, Arbiter, I have heard of your alliance with the Humans.” Despite the Commander’s carefully neutral tone, he could still hear a disgusted inflection on ‘Humans’. “I see you have killed Tartarus. If you have no further business here, I suggest we make our way to our fortification.” He disengaged his sword and strapped it to his hip.

The Arbiter began to agree, when he realized he had no true authority over the Humans; their alliance had been a thing of pure necessity. Tartarus would have activated the Sacred Rings and ended all life—they had to ally. Now that Tartarus was dead and the countdown stopped, did that mean they were enemies once more? …Not necessarily, for it was the Prophets who had declared war on the Humans; the Sangheili race should have no quarrel with them.

The Arbiter turned to the Human Commander. “Commander,” he began, feeling the eyes of the other Sangheili on him. “I thank you for your assistance. Now I ask you to aid us once more, if you are willing. If we can prevail over the Brutes, I will personally ensure that no Elite will ever harm another Human in the name of the Prophets.”

The Arbiter felt the eyes of his fellow Sangheili boring into him. He was not exceptionally skilled at interpreting Human expressions, but he could tell that the Human Commander was equally stunned by his words.

“I’m very glad that you have seen benefits of such collaboration. Thank you for making this choice,” the Commander finally said, “I will take any steps towards a peace between our species.”

“Heh. You got that right,” Jahnsen said.

“Surely this is in jest,” one of the Special Operations soldiers snarled in outrage. “For it would be no less than heresy to ally ourselves with the Humans.”

“Silence, ‘Opskitee!” The Zealot turned to admonish the Sangheili. “This is the Arbiter, the hand of the Prophets; if there is any we can depend on in these violent times, it is him. While I am…” the Commander paused, searching for a proper phrasing, “Surprised by the Arbiter’s decision, I will follow his command until death.”

The offender was wise enough to know when to stop fighting. He lowered his head in submission. “My apologies, Commander.”

The Arbiter felt a burst of pride fill him that almost made him forget his injuries; despite his colossal violation of the Oath, he was being defended by a Ship Master. Of course, it is foolish to place value on such things, he chided himself. Was he not a warrior? The Oracle looked between them, apparently fascinated by the discussion.

“Now then,” ‘Setfethee said, slipping into a rough English for the Humans’ coprehension. “We have wasted enough time here; I suggest we return to the Phantom before the Jiralhanae decide to attack.”

Unable to argue with the Commander’s logic, the Human Commander ordered the Oracle to return the platform to its original position. Before leaving, the Arbiter lifted Tartarus’ battle hammer; he would keep it as a trophy of his victory.

They made their way through the debris caused by Jahnsen’s Scarab and emerged to the sight of the Scarab itself, stretched out on the control room’s front. Its back legs supported it on the ground while its front legs were placed up on the building. While it was an undignified position, he saw no other way for Jahnsen to have entered. Balanced on the Scarab’s cannon, Commander ‘Setfethee’s Phantom waited for their return.

He noticed that the cruiser which once hovered nearby had departed. He hoped Commander ‘Vadumee had managed to retake it as he had set out to do. The Sangheili paused on the ledge and took a moment to admire the Forerunners’ profound work. He flexed his mandibles, breathing in the cool air, as he gazed at the brilliant landscape before him.

The last few units had been very tough for the Sangheili. After watching the Demon destroy the Sacred Ring, an object he revered beyond all others, he had been declared a heretic and sentenced to public disgrace. He had been tortured for half a unit before given the Mark of Shame, something that he would truly never be able to hide. When the High Prophet of Truth had offered him the position of Arbiter, how was he to refuse? Death on the battlefield was far preferable to death by execution, and all the better if he would do the work of the Prophets. Additionally, he would receive the honor of having his corpse preserved in the Mausoleum. If he could not go on the Great Journey, then at least he’d have a small piece of immortality.

As the Arbiter, he had killed those who perverted their faith and fought his way through numerous waves of the Parasite, released by the heretics as a weapon. Before he was free of that struggle, he had faced the heretic leader, revealed to be holding the Oracle. The heretic had used a defiled version of holodrones that could cause damage to the Arbiter, while his own attacks did nothing. The Arbiter had managed to corner the heretic and kill him using an Unggoy fuel rod cannon, and then dropped the heretics’ fortified Forerunner mine into the crushing depths of the gas planet.

It had been less than a unit before it was announced that another Sacred Ring had been found, but that the High Prophet of Regret had been murdered by the Humans… specifically the Demon. Despite the rage that had filled him, he had remained focused on his task to retrieve the Sacred Icon. He had fought his way through legions of Flood and Enforcers, only to find the Icon locked in a sheath, hovering over a great shaft. If two Humans – the same Humans he now fought with – were not there to retrieve the Icon for him, he knew not what he would have done. After he had secured the Icon, it was taken by Tartarus, who, acting on the orders of the High Prophets, had cast him into the shaft.

His intense descent through the Library made him lapse into sleep. When he awoke, both he and the Demon were in the grasp of the Parasite leader: a massive, tentacled creature. The creature spoke of the Prophets leading them to their deaths; the same words spoken by the Humans and the heretics. He would have disregarded the Parasite’s words had he not been betrayed by the Prophets only moments before. The creature then told them that there was time to stop the key from turning, but first they had to find it.

“Fate had us meet as foes, but this ring will make us brothers!” The Parasite had declared, before bending the very fabric of space and sending the Arbiter to a stretch of land not far from the Sacred Ring’s control-room. As he made his way toward it, the Arbiter had learned that the Jiralhanae race, along with the Kig-Yar and Yanme’e, had begun murdering the Sangheili, Lekgolo and Unggoy of the Covenant, and made up his mind to stop the Hierarchs from finding the path. When Jahnsen commandeered the Scarab and demanded a truce, he had immediately agreed.

Together, they made their way into the control-room. There, they had all listened to the truth told by the Oracle. The Arbiter, despite his sorrow, was able to accept the Prophets’ betrayal. Tartarus did not, and attempted to have them walk the path to destruction. With the help of the Humans, the Arbiter was able to slay him and stop the Great Journey weapon. Yes, it had been a very long, difficult unit. But now, with the truth known and a new alliance, the Sangheili felt better than he had felt in a long time.

“Arbiter!” beckoned Ship Master ‘Setfethee. The Arbiter came to his senses and led the Humans into the Phantom.

Three Sangheili veterans greeted them as they entered. They stared in awe at the Oracle, who hovered around the cabin, commenting on its design. After a moment had gone by, they turned their gazes from the Oracle and looked curiously at the Humans, particularly Jahnsen’s particle beam rifle and his Commander holding the Sacred Icon. “Prisoners, Arbiter?” one questioned.

“Allies,” the Arbiter said firmly. “I will explain it all when we reach our fortification.”

The Sangheili looked as though they wanted to question further, but refrained for politeness. They did trade each other meaningful glances, however.

“Arbiter? Might I speak with you, Arbiter?”

The Arbiter turned to see ‘Setfethee standing at the far end of the craft. Excusing himself from the red-armored warriors, he placed his trophy in a weapons compartment and joined the Ship Master.

“Arbiter,” the Commander began in a low voice, “Your decision to ally our noble race with the likes of the Humans is not only a breach of the Oath we all swore, but a true insult to us and our ancestors. Earlier, I supported your words merely to punish the insolent ‘Opskitee, but I see it as a blatant attack on everything for which the Covenant stands. I was truthful when I spoke of following you until my death; however, I must warn you that others will not share my viewpoint…” he broke off to look to his left. The Arbiter followed his gaze. The two Humans spoke to each other quietly, while the Sangheili warriors glared at them with hate.

“It could end here,” the Ship Master spoke up in a soft yet frantic voice. “The Humans are contained and outmatched. They are armed with merely a Kig-Yar’s rifle in a crowded Phantom; they have no prospect of survival. Tartarus is dead, we have the Oracle and the Sacred Icon; there is no longer a need for an alliance. Arbiter, I bid you, let it end here!”

During ‘Setfethee’s speech, the Arbiter felt all his new sense of pride drain away. “No,” he said simply. “The Humans are not our enemies. My decision cannot be swayed.” He shared a hard look with the Ship Master.

“Commander ‘Setfethee, a word?” buzzed the internal radio. It was the pilot.

‘Setfethee glanced toward the cockpit but continued addressing the Arbiter. “Very well, Arbiter. But know the time will come that you will regret your choice.” He turned and entered the cockpit.

The Arbiter sighed. So much for my good feeling…

Lost Sanctuary
Sergeant Johnson gripped the rifle as he watched the Elites glare at them; he glared back. Stepping closer to Commander Keyes, he muttered, “So, we’ve joined the Elites to fight in their rebellion… They don’t seem very grateful.” This he directed at the nearest Elite. The alien snarled, flexing its mandibles. Real pretty, split-jaw.

“With In Amber Clad taken by the Flood, we need as many friends as we can get.” Commander Keyes said, smiling at the surrounding Elites. All this seemed to do was anger them more. Her smile faded. “At least the one in the fancy armor seems committed to our truce,” she said as she rested against the Phantom’s dark blue wall.

Johnson eyed said Elite as he spoke with the gold-armored Elite on the far side of the cabin. “Yes, ma’am. He’s called ‘the Arbiter’. I heard the Brutes talk about him. He seems to be some kind of Elite criminal who the Prophets made into a very high-ranking leader.”

They watched as the two Elites argued with each other in their alien language, the gold one leaving into what must have been the cockpit. The Arbiter approached what Johnson recognized as a holographic generator on the side of the wall, and ran his hand up and down the side. After a bit of fiddling with it, the Elite left it be.

“Ma’am, what do you propose we do about this ‘Ark’?” Johnson asked.

“We’ll just have to convince the Elites to take their battle to Earth,” Commander Keyes said. “From there, the Monitor should be able to find its location. We will then only need to reach the Ark and disable the Halos.”

“Huh,” Johnson grunted. “Sounds simple.” Like things ever are…

The gold-armored Elite came back into the room and spoke with the Arbiter for a moment, then turned and barked an order. All the Elites, save for the Arbiter, stood at attention. As the Elite addressed his troops, the Arbiter approached the humans.

“We have sighted a Spirit troop-carrier following us from afar,” the Arbiter told them, “To ensure that the Brutes do not find our encampment, we will lead it far from our path and then destroy it.”

***

“Ship Master, I have sighted the perfect area for our trap,” Kiga ‘Oimomee spoke into the radio as he steered the Phantom toward what appeared to be the ruins of an ancient temple. The compound was set in a small valley, with small waterfalls flowing down the sides and into a pool in the center.

“Excellent,” the Ship Master’s voice came through the speaker. “Proceed to engage the enemy craft.”

Kiga reduced the Phantom’s speed as he approached the site. He looked at his aft display and laughed as he saw the Jiralhanae dropship slow to match his speed. Loathsome rabble… He flew the Phantom slowly over a small cliff on the side of the temple complex. Just as the Phantom had cleared the top, Kiga moved it down and out of sight of the Spirit. He hovered the craft, waiting. “Steel yourself,” he told his co-pilot, ‘Tsafonee, who grunted in reply.

Kiga gripped the controls in excitement; never had he done battle in a dropship before. He had been trained primarily as a Shadow driver but after the rebellion began, he had been assigned to ferry troops in Phantoms. Such was his delight when he found himself the pilot of Ship Master ‘Setfethee and the Arbiter!

Finally, the Spirit cleared the hill and was directly above them. The Jiralhanae saw them and tried to disengage. Kiga, however, sped after them at once. “Fire!” His co-pilot acted promptly, spilling plasma fire over the dropship’s aft. The enemy, instead of returning fire as Kiga expected, swung around and smashed their starboard troop bay into the Phantom’s underbelly. The Phantom shook with the impact. Kiga pulled the craft back hard, feeling the controls vibrate under his hands.

“Status!” he cried.

“Our first and third cannons are offline,” ‘Tsafonee reported. “The fuel line for the gravity lift has been ruptured; it will be offline shortly.”

The Spirit shook off its shattered bay and tilted sideways, revealing an open corridor. In the opening stood a Jiralhanae wielding a sword; as he watched, the beast shook the weapon tauntingly. Kiga growled; the sword was a sacred weapon of the Sangheili. Thinking about an unworthy Jiralhanae using one filled him with disgust. Just as he gave the order to fire, the Spirit’s cannon swiveled around and fired on them.

“We have lost the final cannon,” ‘Tsafonee reported grimly.

Silently cursing the Jiralhanae, Kiga quickly informed the Ship Master of the current situation. He moved the Phantom out of the Spirit’s range, sliding towards a temple structure as it gave chase. To his surprise, the one who answered was not ‘Setfethee, but in fact the Arbiter.

“I believe I have a solution,” the Arbiter said. “Meet the gravity lift with the opening so that we may do battle with the enemy.”

“Yes, Arbiter,” Kiga said, following his orders hastily. He moved the craft into position, swinging treacherously close to a building on one side of the temple complex. I hope this does not mean a demotion…

***

As he collected his crimson rifles, the Arbiter quickly explained the situation to the Humans. “While we are in the troop carrier, you must guard the Oracle and the Sacred Icon. You may wish to further arm yourselves,” he said, indicating the weapon storage containers built into the walls.

The alien Commander opened an Unggoy’s compartment and, after sifting through the supplies, removed a needler and two crystals. Jahnsen chose four grenades and raised his rifle to a firing position.

The Phantom groaned as it once more made contact with the Spirit. “We are in position, Arbiter,” the pilot said.

“Very good, warrior,” the Arbiter said into the radio. “Hold as long as possible.” He turned to the warriors, “Attack!”

The Arbiter engaged his camouflage, raised his rifles and charged forward. He quickly stopped before reaching the lift, realizing that his camouflage was not on. Putting down a rifle, he ran his hand over the armor’s censors more deliberately but with no effect. He realized with a jolt that his body shield was not there either. Tartarus’s blow must have dealt more damage than I believed…

He was too important to take such risks. While traditionally an Arbiter would place himself in the greatest of danger, these were very unusual times. Because the Prophets had betrayed the Sangheili, he was needed to inspire courage among the troops. He was also the only Sangheili who knew the truth of the Sacred Rings, the only one who would be able to protect the Humans. Will ‘Setfethee continue to accept the Humans as allies if I should die? He did not think so. Despite the Arbiter custom, it would be best for him to wait behind in the Phantom.

“Is there something wrong, Arbiter?” asked Commander ‘Setfethee.

Startled out of his thoughts, he realized he had stood there for the past ten seconds. Turning to the Sangheili, he informed them of his circumstances. “I will have to stay here.”

“Upon reaching our stronghold, we shall have the Huragok restore it to its full glory,” ‘Setfethee said. “For now, let us handle the battle.” He turned to his Sangheili, “Come, my warriors, let us show these creatures our blades!” The Sangheili disappeared through the lift.

***

Kiga hissed as the enemy craft slid away from him. Fortunately, the Arbiter’s troops had successfully entered the craft, as was evidenced by the dropship ceasing to fire on his Phantom. However, Kiga had a suspicion the Arbiter would be angry should he find the connection broken.

I am in enough trouble already, he thought as he chased the Spirit toward a small tower in the center of the complex. An idea formed in his head as he eyed the tower’s open roof.

When the Spirit was directly over the opening, Kiga slammed the Phantom down into the enemy dropship, forcing it into the tower. Here the dropship would be effectively contained, unless the Jiralhanae chose to abandon their craft and flee. Kiga hoped they would; then they could be hunted down!

“We have lost the gravity lift,” ‘Tsafonee said anxiously.

“It matters little,” Kiga said with more confidence than he truly had. “It would have lost power regardless. Now that the Apparition is contained, the Arbiter may complete his task.”

***

“…which is why I simply cannot understand why you meddlers insist on behaving in such primitive…” the Oracle was saying, when the Phantom violently shook, stopping him in midsentence. “Oh dear…”

The sudden sounds of battle filling the air made the Arbiter realize that the Phantom’s gravity lift had finally succumbed to the dropship’s abuse. “Oracle, do not expose yourself!” he ordered quickly. While it was doubtful these Jiralhanae had any gravity tools strong enough to capture the Oracle, he was not going to take any chances.

Careful, he crept over to the opening and looked through. They appeared to be in a circular chamber of Forerunner build. Below them, the one-winged Spirit lay pinned to the ground, the sounds of frenzied battle still coming from its interior. As he watched, a Jiralhanae emerged from the opening and began to flee from the battle, splashing through a thin layer of water covering the ground.

Suddenly, a particle beam shot out from the Arbiter’s right, hitting the beast directly in the head. As the body fell, the Arbiter turned in surprise to see Jahnsen standing at his side. This Human seemed to have a talent for moving unseen and unheard.

“You wield that weapon very well,” the Arbiter complemented him, remembering that it was his shots that extinguished Tartarus’ enhanced body shield.

“The Reach Naval Academy trains all officers in the use of known Covenant weaponry,” Jahnsen explained, sounding pleased.

“When I was a Supreme Commander,” the Arbiter said, “I attempted to have a law implemented to have all warriors instructed in the use of Human weaponry and vehicles. I am afraid my request was ignored by the Council.” Because I was the heretic who lost the Sacred Ring…

“Well, now that the Covenant has split,” Jahnsen said carefully, studying his expression, “I’m sure you’ll be able to command these Elites all you want.”

“Yes, as Arbiter, all Elites are under my command,” the Arbiter asserted. Inwardly he worried the statement would prove to be inaccurate. Seeming satisfied with his response, Jahnsen nodded his head. The Arbiter absently rubbed the Mark of Shame, noticing the sounds of battle had ended.