User:Dragonclaws/Ascension20

Brave New World
“…And therefore utilize the remnants of my creators’ genetic robotics network to enhance the biomechanical defenses…” the Oracle explained his science.

‘Ruukulee tried to understand how any of that would heal the Human, but was uncertain of many of the Oracle’s references. It seemed the Oracle was assuming he knew a lot more than he did, never thinking he did not possess the knowledge of the Forerunners. Prophets’ wrath, Oracle, I am a healer, not a scientist!

In any case, thanks to the Oracle’s help, it seemed as though the Human could survive after all. He checked the information displayed by the medical chamber and smiled. Already brain activity was increasing, suggesting the Human could have entered a state of dreaming. In fact… “The Human is speaking,” he said with some amazement, staring at her lips moving silently in the violet fog.

“Oh, is she?” the Oracle remarked, moving to look. “Based on the movement of her oral functions, I would surmise… given the limited nature of the English language… that she is repeating the phrase ‘brave new world.’”

“Brave new world…” he repeated the Human’s words. “What is it you suppose she means?”

“O wonder! / How many goodly creatures are there here! / How beautious mankind is! / O brave new world / That has such people in't!” the Oracle recited. “It is a verse from a Reclaimer theatrical performance known as The Tempest, dated 1610 CE, written by prominent dramatist Wihlium Sheikspir. The words are uttered by the female Reclaimer character known as Muraanda.”

Muraanda? That was the same as this Human’s name. “A work of fiction?”

“Hm, indeed,” the Oracle said, its eye blinking as it thought. “Yes. It would seem that Reclaimer culture regards Sheikspir’s work with high respect. It is remarkable, actually, how much of their culture is based around works of fiction. Hmm…” The construct trailed off.

***

It was a miracle.

Jitji slowly stepped through the broken city, examining the damage made by the Flood. It was clear that the Covenant had not been equipped to deal with their invasion, for it appeared none of its former occupents remained among the living.

All around him were the current occupents. Flood, from infection form to combat and carrier form, all walked through the halls. And all of these dangerous creatures paid absolutely no attention to him.

God had chosen him, Jitji, out of all others to do his greatest work. It would be harder than anything else he could think of, but he knew he would find a way. After all, it was in his blood.

I just need to succeed where Rajua failed. He had the advantage of hindsight, something the first rebels lacked. He had to examine the first Unggoy Rebellion, determine why it failed, and do something to make sure it did not happen once again.

“Jitji?”

He froze. A voice? Feminine. Familiar. Cortana.

He turned to meet the fake eyes of a violet hologram projecting from a pedestal. “Cortana,” he greeted. Did you betray us? he refrained from asking.

It must, however, been apparent what he was going to say, for Cortana said with a sad sigh, “Yes, Jitji, he didn’t let me protect you. I’d like to apologize for not adequately warning…”

“He?” Jitji interrupted. “Master Chief?”

“No, the Chief left on Ascension hours ago,” she shook her head. “It’s not important. What is important is that the Prophet of Truth be kept from activating the Ark. If he does, all will be lost. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” He remembered well the cruelty of the Forerunners. It was no surprise that this Ark would be a weapon like the Sacred Rings. He then frowned, “Can Truth be stopped? There is always an heir, another generation of tyranny.”

“Not this time,” Cortana denied. “Before leaving, Truth left Mercy to the Flood. He even had the Prophet of Justice ripped apart by his Jiralhanae as he tried to get on Ascension. No, Truth has made himself vulnerable to attack.”

“Are you Humans going to ally with the Sangheili?” he asked, having enough to mull over regarding Truth.

“Sangheili separatists. It’s very likely, in any case. We haven’t much chance without their help,” Cortana said. “You should get back to the Arbiter–”

He cut her off, “What will happen with Unggoy? Will you ally with us?”

“Assuming you continue to side with the Sangheili separatists, I see no reason why–”

“And if we don’t?” he cut her off again, daring to ask what felt like treason. “If we leave the Sangheili?”

“It will be up to High Command,” Cortana stated. “I can see why you’d want to leave, but be patient. Social change won’t happen overnight, and we’ve got a war to finish. Now, I’ve told the Arbiter that you’re on your way. Do you want to keep him waiting?”

“One more question?” he chanced.

“Shoot,” she said, indicating for him to ask.

“Why do Humans believe in one God?”

Cortana paused, giving Jitji an annoyed look of impatience, but relented and spoke, “Over two thousand years ago, a religion known as Judaism arose, preaching the belief of a single deity. They carried as evidence a book detailing the origins of the universe as described by God to his prophets. Later, a group of their followers came to believe that a Human named Jesus Christ was the son of God. No, don’t ask me to explain that part to you,” she snapped when Jitji started to interject a question. “I don’t have all day! …According to accounts, Jesus possessed supernatural powers of healing, ressurecting, and others. When he was executed by the existing government, he rose up from his grave and ascended into the afterlife.

“About seven centuries later, a Human named Muhammad believed he had been visited by an agent of God. He preached methods of worshiping that were different from the previous Judaism and Christianity, as well as a differing mythology that held Jesus as a simple prophet rather than God’s own son.

“These three Abrahamic religions, Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, continue to exist in some form today… Does that make any sense to you at all?” she demanded when she had finished.

“A bit,” Jitji said, trying to wrap his mind around it all. “These… religions are each independently dominant?”

“Most of Humanity believes in one of these religions,” she said. “Each has their own ‘bible’, a book of text from which their own rules and history can be learned. Each is distinct from one another, yet all teach the existence of a single God, creator and overseer of the universe.”

“All at once,” he said, finding it hard to imagine. “And they don’t…” he paused, trying to find the right words, “…Kill each other?”

“Well,” she consented, “Up until the formation of the UNSC, a war would start up every so often. Humans are more civilized now; they can respect the beliefs of their fellow Humans, accepting that they worship the same God in different ways. ‘One set of nations under God,’ as they like to say. Now,” she insisted, transforming into a map, “I have been very patient, but it’s time for you to rejoin the Arbiter.”

***

“What… are you?” the Arbiter asked to the empty air, trusting that the creature inside the tower would hear and understand he was speaking to it.

“I?” Gravemind growled. “I am but a stage of many… strongest of all my kind… yet I am weak…”

He stood with his lance at the top of the broken tower, awaiting their return Phantom. He suspected the pilot was reluctant to land with the Gravemind’s tentacles freely waving around them. It bore an opportunity, however, to speak to this intriguing creature.

“How so?” he asked, both curious at the creature’s mysterious answer and at locating an advantage against what would inevitably become a powerful enemy.

“In the shadow of divinity… I am nothing but a speck…” Gravemind intoned as though reciting poetry.

The Arbiter was surprised by the reference to deities. From the earlier conversation they had beneath the Library, he would have thought the Gravemind to have as little belief in the existence of higher powers as he now felt. However, he did wonder about the poet-like manner in which the Parasite spoke. A remnant of Forerunner culture? he wondered.

“Divinity?” he questioned.

“The highest rung we may seek…” it replied. “Towards it we all journey…”

“The… Great Journey?” he asked with confusion. “Of the Covenant?”

“The Covenant does not exist,” it growled. “Their legends were wrought from lies… but Ascension, its promise… this is what all creatures seek.”

“Divinity,” he repeated. To ascend into godhood. “Are you saying gods exist?”

“Not as you see deities,” it said, its tentacles lancing around excitedly. “But the promise of power…” It let out a fierce shriek as its tentacles were struck by plasma fire, and swept itself inside, words forgotten.  “Come, Arbiter!” called the Phantom pilot as the dropship’s lift lightly touched the ground.

“You remember our vows…” Gravemind’s voice rumbled through the air.

“I will…” he muttered. A truce in High Charity and to the Ark. Plans would certainly have to be crafted to prevent the Parasite’s spread after the Forerunner danger passed.

“You comin’?” Jahnsen asked, the only among his lance to pause.

“Jitji,” he said, remembering the Unggoy. “We need to wait for Jitji.”

“I am here, Arbiter!”

He turned to see the Unggoy running out of the entrance, fast but without any fear he could tell. “Jitji,” he greeted as the Unggoy caught up with them, “I am glad to see you have survived this encounter.”

“Yes, Arbiter,” Jitji nodded, his voice sounding distant. “I am… stronger.”

“Good,” he nodded. “We are in need of strength.” He led his alien warriors into the Phantom, where they could speak more freely.

“I’ll tell you what to do,” Jahnsen declared when he had announced that the Gravemind was out of hearing range. “As soon as this place drops out of Slipspace, you blow it the hell up! That thing… you can’t trust it for a second.”

“I would agree,” ‘Pirztikee added. “Although, I would not wait until we have a chance to escape its destruction, for the Flood will seize it as strongly as we will.”

“We cannot sacrifice ourselves,” he said. “Who then will stop the Ark?”

“The Master Chief,” Jahnsen suggested. “He’s kind of the hero type.”

“We do not know if the Master Chief still lives,” he pointed out. “All we know is what exists here.”

“I’d say the world still being here is evidence enough,” Jahnsen said.

“We are in the Shadow,” ‘Pirztikee pointed out. “This is not the same world.”

“So we could arrive at Earth to find everything dead?” Jahnsen asked. “Then what does it matter if we blow up the city? Who would benefit?”

“Enough,” he broke into their argument. “We are getting off course.”

“Do the Halos reach the Shadow World?” Jitji asked.

“Jitji, what did I just say?” he asked with a sigh.

“But, Arbiter,” the Unggoy insisted, “If they do not… then we could send our people into it when they fire.”

“Huh. Good point,” Jahnsen grudgingly admitted.

“It would make a decent last resort option,” the Arbiter mused, going over the thought.

“Oh, Arbiter?” Jitji asked again, his face lighting up.

“Yes, Jitji?”

“I, uh, fought off the Flood long enough to live,” Jitji began uncertainly.

“Before the truce could be forged,” he nodded, waiting for the Unggoy to continue.

“Yes, the truce! Yes. I believe I am the only Unggoy thus far to fight the Flood and return alive. I thought I could… perhaps instruct other Unggoy in Flood combat,” he suggested hopefully.

“A fair proposal,” he nodded. “I will have a methane pit prepared for your lesson. Regardless,” he continued, returning to the original point of the conversation, “I will not risk the safety of our world by sacrificing ourselves needlessly. Should the occaision arise make no mistake of where my loyalties lay, but this is no time for needless heroics.”

“Needless,” Jahnsen repeated. “I think Great Cthulhu down there is need enough.”

While he was unfamiliar with the name, it was plain to see the Human was referring to the Gravemind. “I believe it will honor our truce,” he said. “When we arrive at Earth, we should be able to leave the city to detonate it. The Flood have only In Amber Clad, while we have Zealous Missionary, Enlightened Soul, and Silent Blessing. If we can properly take advantage of our circumstances, we should be able to keep the Flood contained within the city long enough to have it destroyed.”

“I’m hearing an awful lot of ‘should’s in there,” Jahnsen noted. “You’re sure this has nothing to do with your sudden loss of faith in an afterlife?”

“I know my priorities,” he said briskly. “And truly, what is sacrifice without great loss?”

After boarding Enlightened Soul, he had a methane pit set up for Jitji to use for his lesson and sent Jahnsen back to the medical center to keep him safe. He was soon summoned to the control center to give Cortana to the Emperor. But, of course, he had nothing to give but an account.

“The Parasite leader,” ‘Lafatee repeated, disbelief in his voice. “You made a pact with the Parasite leader?”

“The Parasite is not to be trusted,” ‘Vadumee said, his words supported by experience. The Arbiter found his eyes drawn to the stumps of his mandibles. “They do nothing but kill and consume. They drove the Forerunners to suicide, and they will try it with us.”

“You say Jahnsen remains alive and whole?” ‘Setfethee questioned, breaking the tense moment.

“Yes, he fought off the Flood with quite a ferocity,” he replied. He was reminded, then, of how the Gravemind referred to Jahnsen as ‘neither Flood nor man’. He wondered what it meant, but it did not seem important enough to bring up.

“If that is so, then Cortana is not necessary,” ‘Setfethee said simply. “We will protect our still-living Humans with all the strength of our enemies, and we will not set foot on High Charity again. When we arrive at our destination, the Zealous Missionary will be left behind to serve as the explosive to destroy this Flood-infested city.”

‘Lafatee stared at the Ship Master with anger, but did not object. Sighing, he lowered his head. “The city must be destroyed,” he admitted.

“And Arbiter,” ‘Vadumee said, “There is something you should know about.” He indicated the viewer, which depicted the exterior of High Charity with hundreds of ships floating around it. “We have space.”

It took him a moment to understand the significance of that statement. “Yet we are in the Shadow World?” It should not have been possible, even for High Charity.

“So it would appear,” ‘Vadumee said, turning his gaze on another display. “As far as I can tell, we exist within some sort of sphere, which in itself exists within the Shadow World.”

“The importance of this discovery,” ‘Setfethee added, “Involves the approximately 430 ships that may choose to land on High Charity at any given moment.” He strode over to the viewer. “We have tried to contact them, but half of them are Jiralhanae and the other half challenge our right to command them,” he gave ‘Lafatee an annoyed look. “But if the Arbiter were to contact them…” he let his words hang in the air.

“I will do my best to convince the Sangheili Ship Masters,” he nodded. “But the Jiralhanae…” He thought back to Consus, the Jiralhanae he convinced to surrender. Could I do it again?

“…Could be fought off by the Sangheili,” ‘Vadumee said, finishing the Arbiter’s unfinished sentence. “What is more, you shall wear the ceremonial armor of the Arbiter.”

He looked at the commander, questioning. “The armor was smashed by the Fist of Rukt,” he informed him. “It no longer functions.”

“No,” ‘Lafatee made a face. “The traitor ‘Bepolee deceived us. The armor was simply left untreated. We, however, have repaired it to a functional level.”

“That is… good news.” He looked down at his magenta armor, marked with the Kama. It was to have been symbolic of his freedom from the enslavement the Prophets had forced upon him. Nothing lasts forever, he nodded.

“It is, unfortunately, not as powerful as this recently created armor,” ‘Lafatee went on. “However, it contains the power of historicity, something I believe we as a people respect a great deal more.”

He nodded again, trying accept the change. Something then occurred to him, “Has the Ship Master’s body been proccessed?”

“Ship Master? The Jiralhanae?” ‘Setfethee asked in surprise. “No, I do not believe it has… Why do you ask?”

***

''“They never will understand the finer points of life,” Aeson complained. They had just returned from the Ministry of Concert to acquire bloodmate rights. Despite the assimilation of Jiralhanae culture, everything they did still needed to be cleared with the Covenant authority.''

''“Honorable Sangheili,” Consus said mockingly. “I wonder if they’ve ever heard of the word ‘fun’?”''

''“They probably deem it unworthy of their mighty minds,” Aeson rolled his eyes. “As if bloodbondage need be expressed in logical terms.”''

“And the Minister didn’t even try to–”

''“Hush, Consus,” Aeson interrupted. “There are Unggoy within earshot.”''

''Consus glanced at the four Unggoy scurrying past them, chattering about all the ways they were better than Kig-Yar. He didn’t understand his lover’s dislike of Unggoy. It wasn’t as though they were the great minds of the Covenant. However, he respected his future bloodmate’s feelings and patiently waited until the Unggoy had left. “The Minister,” he resumed, “Didn’t even try to stop the Sangheili councilors from insulting our heritage. And that big one was going on and on about passion being the ‘enemy of discipline…’”''

''“Yes,” Aeson grumbled. “Foolish creatures. Passion is strength, power, freedom. If they would only but listen…”''

''“Let us not dwell on their foolishness, Aeson,” he said, stroking his lover’s fur comfortingly. “We have a ceremony to look forward to, after all.”''

''“So we do,” Aeson said with a smile that lit up the dim corridor like a beacon. “There is no one else I would have bound to me,” he said seriously.''

“There is no one else I would bind myself to,” he replied.

They gazed at each other lovingly, feeling the warmth of their delight fill the air.

“Consus.”

He woke sharply from the precious memory. Scowling, he turned to regard the Arbiter, who stood outside the cell holding the Fist of Rukt. “What do you want?” he asked crossly.

“We are within the shell of High Charity,” the Arbiter told him. “It has penetrated shadow, bringing along the Second Fleet of Homogeneous Clarity. We all seem to be within a protective sphere, within which we may move unhindered by shadow.”

“I see,” he said flatly, noting that the Arbiter failed to sufficently answer the question. “What do you want?”

The Arbiter explained his proposal.

“I see,” he said again. “And you think as Aeson’s bloodmate I will hold political power?” He looked down at the gravity hammer. “Will that symbolize your domination of the Jiralhanae race?”

“You think in terms too simple,” the Arbiter said. “And yes, I think you will hold enough power to influence these Jiralhanae Ship Masters. After all, your bloodmate was a favored of Cronus.”

“Of many,” he spat back. Though, he couldn’t help but think of the gifts Cronus had given Aeson. “Will you free me from this cell?”

“If you serve as a member of this crew,” the Arbiter said. “And promise not to kill yourself, at least before the war can be ended.”

He considered. On one hand, treachery. On the other hand, survival. The first hand spoke of honor, while the second reminded him of the Flood. It is not honor, he decided, but glory. Helping his kind would be honorable, and by keeping them safe from the Flood… from the Prophets…

“I have brought you a gift,” the Arbiter said after a moment of silence. The Sangheili set down the hammer on the floor and removed the cell wall.

“The Fist of Rukt?” he asked, admiring Tartarus’ mighty weapon.

“No,” the Arbiter said, pulling into view the still body of Aeson.

He stiffened. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.

“You may choose the method in which his body will be dealt,” the Arbiter replied, looking at him evenly. “If you wish for a monument 100 units tall, I will take all steps to insure its creation.”

He stared at the lifeless body. What had so recently contained his bloodmate was now no more than an empty shell. He took one finger down to Aeson’s helmet, still worn by the body, and stroked the crimson metal. “Aeson…” he whispered, wondering if his bloodmate could still hear him from somewhere.

“His blood flows with my veins,” he found himself saying. “I live on… and so does he. Through me he will speak for you, Arbiter. This body can be processed like any other. As for a monument, you may place Aeson’s name amongst your own, for Aeson once fought and died like a Sangheili. Through me, though, he will live on and be respected among all Jiralhanae.”

***

In the Enlightened Soul control center, the broadcast was staged. The Arbiter and the Jiralhanae Consus stood side by side, the Arbiter in his ceremonial armor and the Jiralhanae in his Ship Master bloodmate’s armor. Hands clasped together, they each wielded weapons symbolic of their race; the Arbiter held a sword, while Consus held the Fist of Rukt.

“Locked,” reported one of the few Unggoy they could find that had not gathered for Jitji’s lesson as it trained a holographic recorder on the pair.

“Prepare to transmit,” Gerka ‘Setfethee ordered.

“Ready!” announced the Unggoy.

“Ready,” said the Arbiter, the Jiralhanae echoing him.

He activated the recorder, transmitting their images to the control center of every starship. “Now,” he whispered to himself, signalling to the pair to begin.

“People of the Covenant,” the Arbiter began.

“We ask you to hear our desperate plea,” Consus continued.

“For we have been split in two…”

“…And must be repaired.”

“Hear our plea, good people.”

“The Jiralhanae…”

“…and the Sangheili…”

“…Do not have to be enemies.”

“For…”

“…We…”

“Have been decieved.”

‘Lafatee looked up sharply as the Arbiter left the script that he had written for them. Gerka smiled at the self-described Emperor as the pair continued.

“While we were raised to revere…”

“…the Forerunners and their Prophets…”

“…the Prophets acted not in compassion…”

“…but in hostility.”

‘Lafatee moved to halt the transmission. He reached out to the controls, but Gerka grasped his wrist firmly. Staring the power-mad High Councilor in the eye, he shook his head slowly; ‘Lafatee tightened his mandibles.

“All know of the Prophets’ once hatred of the Sangheili…”

“…But few know their final act of vengeance.”

“They discovered something about the Forerunners…”

“…Not a pathway to the Divine Realms…”

“…But a weapon so terrible…”

“…As to extinguish the Sangheili race altogether.”

‘Lafatee wrenched his hand out of his grip and began to draw his sword. Before he could activate it, the hilt was kicked out of his hand. ‘Lafatee spun around to glare at ‘Vadumee, who leveled a Jiralhanae spike rifle at his head with a grim smile.

“The Sangheili were powerful…”

“…Too powerful to defeat in open combat.”

“They had to resort to the Forerunner weapons…”

“…Deep in space…”

“…But they could not reach space. They needed…”

“…Ascension. But they could not find Ascension, so…”

“…They recruited the Sangheili…”

“…To find the Forerunner weapons. But the Sangheili…”

“…Would not knowingly help them search, so…”

“…The Prophets lied about the purpose…”

“…Of the Sacred Rings.”

‘Lafatee swallowed in horror, holding his head in his hands. He shook his head back and forth, beginning to tremble. “Doomed us all,” he muttered.

“The Prophets spun a tale…” the Arbiter continued, ignoring ‘Lafatee.

“…Of mortals ascending into gods…”

“…To decieve the Sangheili.”

“They searched for a spaceship…”

“…To help the Prophets search…”

“…For the Forerunner weapons that would be used…”

“…To annihilate us,” the Arbiter growled.

“Over the Ages, the Covenant sought to expand its numbers…”

“…So they forcibly inducted–”

“Brutally dominated,” Consus corrected.

“…The members of every alien species they encountered…”

“…Besides the Humans…”

“…Because the Humans bore evidence that the Forerunners…”

“…Were not gods.”

“The Sacred Rings were created with a specific purpose...”

“…To…”

“Kill the Flood by starvation,” the Arbiter explained, realizing Consus lacked knowledge in this area. “They could not kill the Parasite even with these great weapons of destruction. They could only kill the creatures on which the Flood could feed. The Sacred Rings, what they called Fortress Worlds, killed every living creature including the Forerunners themselves!”

“Except the Flood,” Consus added.

“They wanted to live on after their deaths,” the Arbiter continued. “They built a ship called the Ark and sent it to Earth, the Human homeworld. The Ark altered the Humans, who were at the time too primitive to serve as Flood hosts, to transform them into what the Forerunners called Reclaimers. They intended for these Reclaimers to contain the minds of the Forerunners, allowing them to survive. However, the technology failed, and the Humans became just one of many sentient species.”

“The Prophets could not let the Covenant discover this,” Consus said, trying to get back to the point.

“If the Covenant were to learn of the Humans’ heritage…”

“…It would become common knowledge that the Forerunners…”

“…Never ascended into ‘gods.’”

“We ask you to…”

“…Think about this message.”

“And know that Jiralhanae…”

“…And Sangheili…”

“…Were never meant to be enemies.”

“Our true enemy…”

“…Now takes Ascension to the Ark…”

“…To activate the Fortress Worlds…”

“…And bring about the end of all life.”

“I, Arbiter of Sangheili…”

“…And I, Consus, bloodmate of Aeson, Ship Master of the Zealous Missionary, once servant of the Prophet of Justice…”

“…Strongly urge you to see reason in these dark times.”

“Do not let unfound prejudices sway you…”

“…To support the enemy of life itself.”

“Well,” Consus said, looking at the Arbiter, “Is that all?”

“I believe so,” the Arbiter nodded.

“Turn it off,” Consus told him.

***

Within the cramped space of a methane pit, over three dozen Unggoy crowded around the Unggoy Gedeg called ‘blessed.’ They knew him for slaying a Sharquoi nine times his height and the Arbiter making him into a Sergeant, leader of all Unggoy. He now looked over his fellows, preparing for a lesson like no other.

“My fellows,” he began, collecting his thoughts, “I come not to educate you in the ways of the Flood, but in something far more important. Is Gedeg here?”

“Me here, Sergeant!” Gedeg eagerly exclaimed, running forward. He dropped into a bow at Jitji’s feet.

“Rise, Gedeg,” he said quickly before the other Unggoy followed suit. “You were right, friend,” he told the grinning Major. “I was blessed… but not by the Forerunners.”

“What you mean?” Gedeg asked with confusion, still grinning.

“Everywhere I have been this past unit, a God has been with me,” he explained. “When I was spared by the Arbiter, when I slew Drinol (the Sharquoi), when I rescued captured Sangheili and saved the Arbiter, and when I met the Flood in combat. All through these events, this God was there helping me.”

“Just one god?” an Unggoy he did not know ventured to ask.

“Just one,” he confirmed. “Because there is only one.”

A murmur erupted in the crowd.

“Just one?” cried an Unggoy somewhere in the back.

“How you know?” Gedeg asked, never doubting his word.

“When I fought the Flood,” he paused, trying to figure out how to describe it, “I was attacked by an infection form… it stabbed me and tried to convert me into a host.” Gedeg reached out and grabbed his arm comfortingly, formalities forgotten. He smiled at his fellow before continuing, “God saved me at the last moment. He made the Arbiter create a truce with the Parasite leader, who withdrew his Flood and saved me. In that instant, I saw everything that happened to that Flood and its ancestors… and I saw the Forerunners for what they were: monsters.”

“You sure not Flood trick?” asked one.

“He sure,” Gedeg said confidently.

“I am sure,” he nodded. “It was too real to be fake.”

“How… Forerunners monsters?” another asked.

“Vile people,” Jitji muttered, recalling the alien memories. “Cutting them up, changing them, for no purpose… The Flood were not always so bad. It was the Forerunners who made them that way, and they deserved what the Flood did to them. The Forerunners built seven weapons of last resort, the Sacred Rings, which they used to kill everything in the world… but they failed to defeat the Flood.”

“Sacred Rings… weapons?” Gedeg asked, confused.

“Yes…” he let his gaze slip away as he let the visions grow in his mind. “The Prophets are false… even the Arbiter knows that. The Prophets lied to enslave us all. Gedeg,” he said then, looking into his fellow’s eyes, “God showed me our history as well…” He looked away to address the room as a whole, “Fellow Unggoy, we were once a powerful race. On our methane-rich world, we created vast cities comparable to High Charity itself. Then the Covenant came, demanding we join them in their quest for the path. When we refused, they struck down upon us, forcing us to join their ranks. Ages later, we struck back at them, only to be severely punished.” He indicated the food-nipple, plates of meat resting beside it, “They made us this Milk to humiliate us, and forced us below the even the Kig-Yar’s feet. But God has rescued us from this burden, he wants us to strike back once more, this time to end in victory!”

The crowd stared at him wordlessly. Then Gedeg began to cheer. The other Unggoy soon took up the cry, filling the room with cries of dissent. It was music to his ears.

“Sergeant?”

He turned to regard a young Unggoy beside Gedeg. “Yes?”

“Hi, me Dibid,” he said cheerfully. “Um, Sergeant, me family – in High Charity? There old legend we tell ourselves. It tell of Unggoy hero, a fellow with strength greater than Sangheili. Hero will take us from Covenant, bring back to own world.”

“You think me hero?” Jitji asked.

“Me know,” the Unggoy answered with all the confidence of a prophet.

Jitji was stunned. Could I truly be this creature of legend? he wondered. And where did such a tale arise? Could there have been other Unggoy prophets? Perhaps the Hierarchs had worked to keep such things hidden. Surely they would not want us ready for a leader; they would want us demoralized and compliant.

“Jitji hero,” Gedeg nodded, smiling. “Me know too.”