Halo: Vae Victis

Plot Overview
''It is August, 2552. Reach, mankind's last fortress world before Earth, is under attack. Having barely held off the initial Covenant attack, the UNSC is moving in a large portion of its fleet to help defend the planet. As the full might of the Covenant Empire is brought to Reach, the Human forces on the ground will be faced with their toughest battles yet as they fight to survive the planet's final days.''

Dramatis Personae
The primary groups in Vae Victis.


 * Three Hotel - A group of troopers under the UNSC Army's SPECWARCOM, Three Hotel is tasked with defending settlements around the Viery Territory from Covenant attack and assisting in civilian evacuation efforts. With enemy forces starting their final assault on Reach, mission directives may change as the situation grows more desperate.


 * Charlie Platoon - As part of the 11th Shock Troops Battalion assigned to the Epsilon Eridani Defence Fleet, Charlie Platoon consists largely of hardened veterans who are no strangers to fighting the Covenant. As the fighting intensifies they are deployed to several hot zones around the planet where they are needed most.


 * Echo Team - When news of the attack on Reach arrived, the UNSC Navy hastily recalled a number of Spartans from other deployments to assist in the planet's defence. While they haven't all been working together for long, these Spartans are all very experienced fighters assigned to help with the fighting in heavily populated areas.


 * Gauntlet Team - One of two Spartan groups under the UNSC Army's SPECWAR/Group Three, Gauntlet Team has seen action on a number of planets over the years and work well together as a unit. The Fall of Reach will be their toughest fight yet as they battle the Covenant legions descending to the planet.


 * N'Marz Legion - Known for their ferocity and fighting prowess, the N'Marz Legion is a feared force within the Covenant military. They have served with distinction on many campaigns during the Human-Covenant War and took part in a number of battles long before that. With some of the finest Sangheili warriors assigned to them, the Legion intends to descend on Reach and massacre all Human opposition there in the name of the Great Journey.

Prologue
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"We have a confirmation. The enemy Supercarrier is down."

On the bridge of the UNSC Resurgence, a cheer rose up from the assembled crew as the massive Covenant ship was torn apart by the slipspace rift. Had their ground forces not initiated Operation: UPPER CUT, it would have caused untold destruction to the planet below. As the burning wreckage fell towards Reach's atmosphere, the Captain called back to one of his bridge staff.

"Lieutenant Grunwald, contact FLEETCOM HQ on the ground and let them know they've got reinforcements arriving."

"Yes, sir!"

Kathrin Grunwald tore herself away from the sight of the wrecked Supercarrier and returned to her station. Their Frigate had been among the first few ships to turn up when word arrived of a Covenant attack, alongside the UNSC Dragon, Reunion and Revelation. Still, they would have been annihilated had they attempted an attack on the gargantuan vessel, and were forced to stand by near one of Reach's refit stations, Anchor Two, until the remainder of the fleet arrived. Grunwald opened up a COM channel to the planet below.

"FLEETCOM Headquarters, this is the UNSC Resurgence. Operation UPPER CUT has been confirmed as a success. We're moving in to pick off stragglers before the rest of the fleet arrives, over."

The reply came after a few seconds. "Copy that, Resurgence. We can see it coming down from here. Out."

Grunwald turned off the COM. She couldn't help but smirk at the thought of the higher-ups watching the burning wreckage coming down towards their cushy offices in New Alexandria. Still, at least the threat was gone for now. The rest of the bridge staff had more or less resumed their usual places as the Frigate slowly moved forwards. The Dragon had already taken point ahead of them, and was well-equipped to destroy any smaller ships still around in orbit. Across the bridge, an ensign called out.

"Sir, I'm reading multiple slipspace ruptures around the planet."

"It's probably just the rest of the fleet arriving," the Captain replied. "Stay on course."

"They're not at the assigned exit points."

"What do you mean?"

"We're getting pings below the orbital defence grid."

On the other side of the bridge, a familiar warning klaxon began to sound. They all knew what it meant. At once, the bridge crew began checking their monitors as dozens of panicked voices filled the COM.

"Covenant!"

"-must be their whole damn fleet!"

"We've got more slipspace ruptures across the system!"

At her station, Grunwald turned off her COM feed and checked the nearest satellite uplink. Sure enough, the feed showed dozens of Covenant ships - Battlecruisers, Destroyers, Corvettes - exiting Slipspace just above the colony world. She took a deep breath, and turned to the Captain's chair.

"Sir, how long until the rest of our fleet arrives?"

His voice was solemn. "A few hours, give or take."

Taking one last look at the growing fleet appearing above Reach, she moved back to her station. The four ships in their battlegroup wouldn't do much against a force this size, but they had to try. It was all they could do.

Standby
"Murphy, you hearing this?"

"Yeah, we're screwed."

Nearly two dozen Army troopers sat around the small encampment, listening to reports and tactical readouts from UNSC forces across Reach. It was confirmed: Another Covenant fleet had arrived. They had only just received news that the damn Supercarrier had gone down, too. Corporal Leon Sikowsky emerged from one of the tents, rifle in hand.

"What's the word, Steinworth?"

"What do you think? More damn Covvies."

The Corporal sighed. The unit had already taken losses fighting on Szurdok Ridge a couple of days ago, and this news would only serve to lower morale further. By the looks on the faces of the men and women around him, things had gone from bad to worse.

"Got anything from the fleet?"

"Not much. We've got more ships arriving every hour, and I guess the ODP's will slow them down, but they're coming. Nothing we can do about that."

"I hear ya." Sikowsky looked up to see several UH-144 Falcons descending on the base. A couple still bore noticeable dents and plasma burns from the last battle. If they were back so soon, then it probably meant that it was time to move out. Steinworth turned off the nearby radio and clambered to his feet, picking up his helmet as he did so. Two Hotel's squad leader called her unit over, and a few troopers walked off.

"Hey Leon," Steinworth muttered. "You think we're gonna get thrown right at the first Covvie landing zone?"

"I doubt it, Jacob," he replied. "SPECWAR groups like ours usually get the glamorous assignments."

Steinworth laughed. "Yeah, if you can call it that."

---

Across the camp, Sergeant Major J.P Lee exited the command tent, followed by a much larger figure in light blue armour.

"Clear and evacuate, those are your orders from the Colonel."

"I understand, ma'am." Lee turned to face the Spartan, glancing down at the robotic prosthetic she had in place of her right arm. "But don't you think that regular Army units would do for this mission?"

The Lieutenant Commander's face was behind an opaque silver visor, but he could tell that she was slightly annoyed at this. Lee had been fighting this war since it started, and was used to all kinds of missions - recon, search and destroy, assaults - but he couldn't help but question why Holland wanted his unit on a simple evac op.

"You're all we have left in this area while our larger forces mobilize, Sergeant Major. I trust that it won't be a problem for someone of your caliber?"

"No, ma'am. We'll get to it."

Lee saluted the Spartan, and watched as she walked off towards the Falcons. Three Hotel had worked with NOBLE on a few occasions, but he still found her a little too abrasive for his liking. He sighed, and approached his unit. Most of them were still grabbing equipment, but were otherwise combat-ready. The Sergeant Major cleared his throat and spoke.

"Listen up! We've just received orders to lead the evacuation of nearby settlements - Visegrád, Mezőgazdasági, Kikötő and the like. We're up in five minutes, people!"

At once, Three Hotel sprang to life. Lee was pleased to see that they weren't grumbling about their assignment, though that was probably because they weren't being sent against the Covenant. He watched Two Hotel's Falcons head off to the west, and quickly ducked inside the tent that served as their temporary armoury. Private David Murphy glanced up at him for a moment before affixing an eyepiece to his helmet.

"Heard the reports, sir? About the Covenant?"

"Yes. They say over 60% of the fleet is heading here."

"You think it'll be enough to hold Reach?"

Lee shrugged. "Let's worry about what happens on the ground, Private." Taking a glance at the half-empty weapon rack, he grabbed an M739 LMG, better known as the SAW. These things were a rarity in the Army these days, so he made sure his unit kept a few around. After loading up with ammunition, the Sergeant Major emerged from the tent to where Three Hotel stood ready. The skies seemed to be growing dark unnaturally early today, possibly hinting at one of the area's frequent rainstorms.

"Okay, we're moving out!"

While the troopers made their way aboard the waiting Falcons, Lee noticed the familiar sight of Spartans exiting the command tent. Wherever NOBLE was being assigned, it was probably worse than his destination. As they boarded their own helicopter, he realised that they were missing a couple of members. Chances were that they were already deployed, so Lee dismissed the thought and followed his men into a waiting Falcon. The aircraft rose into the air and flew off, flanked by three others.

Mission Brief
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Beneath the armoured heel, the ground whizzed past, barely a brown blur. From her vantage point on the UH-144 Falcon, Bren could see the orange sun begin to dip behind the vast mountains that made up the Viery continent on Reach. The armoured Spartan had been recalled to receive new orders, having spent the majority of the previous engagement acting as reconnaissance for NOBLE. She had a growing feeling that her and her team simply couldn’t be kept out of combat any longer. Bren felt a nudge on her shoulder, she turned to face Raquel.

“What’re you thinking?” Raquel said over a private com channel.

“Nothing, just worried,” was Bren’s succinct reply.

“Me too. NOBLE knocks that carrier out only for this bigger fleet to hit us.” The armoured head of Raquel shook in clear disapproval at their luck. “Any word on the fleet coming to aid?”

Bren shrugged her soldiers. “Just rumours as yet. I heard one ell-tee say they’d be here by this evening, while some are saying sometime within the next three days. It’s all fucked, truly.”

“Jesus,” Raquel whispered. “Is there even much of the current defence group left?”

Bren held her hands up, offering an apology. “Raquel, I really do have no idea.” There was a pause. “We’ll play it by ear. It’s not our fight, not yet.”

“You got it.”

Bren nodded, and drew a small smile with one finger across her visor. Her attention turned to the rest of the four-man Spartan Team known as GAUNTLET, sitting directly opposite her and Raquel on the aircraft. Raul-B151 and Kevin-B077, fellow Spartan-IIIs but unlike herself and Raquel, they weren’t from their Alpha Company – they were Beta, the group supposedly better than them. She’d never met any other Betas in the field, so she could only wonder if they’d met the same fate as her company. She gently tapped the foot of Raul and pointed to the side of her helmet.

“Ma’am?” He said almost immediately.

“What’s your gut telling you?” She asked. Raul had a particular skill for sensing ambushes and it had served her and GAUNTLET significantly in the past.

“Well, there’s a huge fleet overhead, we’re still waiting on naval reinforcements.” Raul gestured wildly, “I can’t say my gut is full of optimism.”

Bren grunted. She could hardly argue with his assessment. Truth be told she was struggling to believe it could be won, but she would never allow her team to know this. She kept her body language hidden and her back straight. The aircraft wide com buzzed, “We’re landing now. Colonel Holland has requested your presence upon touch down, Bren.”

“Understood, sir.”

The Falcon gently touched down and the four Spartans had all vacated the vehicle before the rotors had stopped spinning. Bren turned to face her team and spoke across the squad wide channel.

“Okay, who knows what deployment we’ll get so Raquel and Raul, stock up on ammo and get some serious explosives just in case. Make sure to find me some special bullets.” Raquel and Raul nodded, Bren turned her attention to Kevin, “Kevin, find as much medical equipment as you can, just like we don’t know where we’re going, I don’t know how long we’ll be gone for. Make sure you have plenty of everything, especially bio-foam.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He replied curtly.

“Go, we’ll meet back here in fifteen.”

The team nodded and quickly went about their business. Bren took off her helmet as she walked into Holland’s command tent, she ran her hand over the tightly shorn head of hair. Since graduating she’d not once let her hair grow out again. She liked it this short. Upon spotting Holland she stood taller and saluted. “Sir.” She said.

“At ease.” Was Holland’s terse reply, he didn’t return the salute. “Over here.” Bren headed towards Holland who was not standing in front of a holo-tank displaying the Viery continent. Holland zoomed in on the city of Pálháza. There had been reports of intense fighting in the surrounding areas of the city, but Gauntlet had been kept well clear of it thus far.

“ONI Recon Group Theta Four had been reporting almost non-stop of a sizeable Covenant force in and around the city of Pálháza, we’ve got the 3rd Infantry Regiment currently stationed there and 2 Hotel are currently en-route. You and your team are to assist in the defence of the city should, as we believe, the Covenant attack.”

“Sir, you said Theta Four had been reporting almost non-stop.” ONI Team Theta Four had worked with Gauntlet before on Tribute, she knew them as The Colour Gang and they were among the best non-Spartan operators she’d ever worked with.

Holland grunted. “Yes, I did.” He tugged on the top of his grey regulation trousers, “they’ve been silent for about twenty minutes now. They were on the outskirts of the city reporting on a massive column of armour.” He stopped and thought for a moment, clearly thinking about what to do to resolve the situation. “Discovering what happened to them and rescuing them if possible is to be a strictly secondary objective. Your primary objective is to hold that city until evacuations have been completed. Understood?”

“Clearly, sir.”

“Good. I’m uploading the objectives to your HUD. Make sure your team get them. Dismissed.”

“Thank you, sir.” Bren scratched at her cheek before putting her helmet back on. Kevin sat on the floor of their Falcon, quietly scrutinising everything he had managed to gather. It wasn’t the big spoils she had been hoping for, and it was worrying. She’d reached Kevin just as Raul and Raquel returned with a rather large kitty bag full of ammo.

“What did we get?” Bren asked.

“Well, we’ve about half a dozen C12 charges, two M168s and two dozen thermite grenades.” Raquel said as she started handing out the grenades.

“Fantastic.” Bren replied, rubbing her hands together excitedly. “What about guns and ammo?”

“Raul was able to get a SAW and about seven hundred rounds for it. I’ve got some heavy armour-piercing rounds for our snipers, as well as two clips of incendiary ammo. There’s a few MA37s in there, some BR55s and I think one or two M392s?” She turned to Raul.

“We got two.”

“Okay, so two M392s.” Raquel stood back and rotated her shoulder blades. “We can choose weapon load-outs en route; there’s enough there to keep us going for most engagements.” There was a pause. “So, what’s the mission?”

Bren uploaded the objectives to her squad’s HUD.

“Pálháza. I’ve never been.” Raul said.

“It’s lovely this time of year,” Raquel replied quickly.

“The Colour Gang are out there?” Kevin enquired, breaking his silence.

“Holland made it unequivocally clear that anything to do with them is strictly secondary.” Bren looked around, “personally I think we owe it to them to make sure we get whoever’s left out.”

Gauntlet nodded in agreement. Friends were hard to come by in their profession, and when they were made you stuck by them whatever the cost. The team began climbing on board the Falcon and it quickly took off, heading west towards their destination.

“Once we’re in Pálháza we’re to rendezvous with 2 Hotel before finding the 3rd Infantry’s CO.”

“Another SpecOps team?” Raul asked.

“Yeah, they were sent about ten minutes before we got here.”

The sun had lowered further in the sky, its once brilliant orange hue had turned to a thick, watery gaze that reflected off the Spartans’ opaque visors. Each of them preparing for their first engagement of the campaign.

Manned Meteors
Master Sergeant Ash Mitchell stood by the holotable inside the UNSC Kasaan Bay's drop bay, shifting between the holographic image of a city on the surface below, and the nine other ODSTs in the bay. Before assembling everyone in the bay, he had taken the time to look over everyone's CSVs. Staff Sergeant Davis was a decorated veteran of the war, Kidrov and Braun have both served since before the war, even Privates Maxwell and Calzaghe have shown to be promising. He had come to the conclusion that the Brass had assembled a team of some of the biggest badasses the Corps had to offer. They would need their collective skills and experience to handle the missions that lay ahead. Mitchell smiled to himself as he called the others to the holotable.

"Alright men, let's bring it in. We got get this briefing over so we can get down there and kick the Covenant's collective ass off Reach."

"What're we lookin' at Mitch? I ain't seein' a whole lot a Covvies down there." said the heavily accented Davis.

"Yeah, all I'm seeing is a bunch of towers." Corporal Mal Roberts spoke up as he walked to the holotable.

"Gentlemen, I know you aren't going to be thrilled with this, but we've been tasked with the evacuation of HVTs, specifically, the several high-value ONI officials and an important A.I. for relocation off world. With luck, we won't encounter any Covenant at all."

Mitchell watched as several of the men rolled their eyes, as they walked over to the weapon racks, taking down their personal favorites. Davis instinctively went for the M739 LMG, while Robson went for his BR55HB Battle Rifle. Mitchell retrieved his own MA5B Assault Rifle and helmet, and walked to his pod, motioning for the others to follow suit. As he stepped inside his pod, he heard the mechanical hiss off several pod doors close, his own sealing soon after.

Mitchell sighed as his pod door shut and the automated system began moving the HEVs into position. The Covenant weren't going to give up until every last building on Reach was a smoldering pile of radioactive rubble. He also knew that the UNSC wouldn't give up either, and would throw ever man and machine at its disposal at the Covenant until they left or everyone was dead. That was how it had to end, in an apocalyptic battle for the ages, and his job was to make sure that if it did end, it would end with a bang.

At that instance, the clamps holding onto the pods released, sending the small manned meteors down to the surface below. From his pod, he could see fires all over Viery territory, remnants of previous battles. The place was already starting to look like Hell, and that was a small reconnaissance force, so he could not, or would not, imagine the devastation this larger fleet could bring, but even then, his thoughts began to wander as the HEVs rocketed downward.

The momentary peace he enjoyed so much was broken by Sergeant Viktor Kidrov coming in over the COM.

"Sir, what will we have in way of support? In case the mission goes south?"

"Very little, the Kasaan Bay, along with the Abukuma, Warsaw, and Sheffield are moving into formation to assis the Falling Star. Seems like her captain is attempting to bite off more than he can chew. We can't risk losing that carrier, given the size of the enemy fleet."

"How big is the fleet?" asked Sergeant Vincent Angelo.

"Big, a couple Assault Carriers, lots of cruisers, and dozens of destroyers, frigates, and corvettes. We've got more ships, but we all know that doesn't mean anything. We've already lost a dozen ships, including the Edinburgh, El Dorado, and the Emdem."

Upon mention of the Emdem, the other ODSTs went silent. The UNSC Emdem was one of the few carriers left in active service, and even fewer that were assigned to the fleet. Its loss meant a huge gap in naval force projection, and a severe lack of assistance to ground side forces. It was a few moments before anyone else spoke, then Oliver Braun, the heavyset German, spoke up.

"Oh man, we really /are/ in deep, aren't we? That's a lot of assets down the proverbial drain."

"I know, which is why we need to get in, get the HVTs, and get out as fast as possible. With luck, we'll be out of there before the Covenant get within three klicks of the place."

Mitchell leaned back into the seat of his pod as he heard the others mumbling in agreement. Maybe, he thought, he could enjoy the rest of the trip down to the planet. It was at this moment that the pods touched down near the ONI facility.

Divine Warriors
"The human pickets are moving to intercept us!" the navigations officer barked from his battle station.

Shipmaster Deyad 'Marakee glanced down from the platform that raised him above his subordinates on the Triumphant Faith's bridge. "Their numbers?" he demanded, hands clasped behind his back.

"Three at the fore, one supporting from the rear."

"They move to engage even though they have no hope of victory," 'Marakee's aide mused from the base of the command platform. "These humans truly are desperate creatures."

'Marakee eyed the tactical console in front of him. The human ships were indeed advancing, though from the looks of things their trajectory was slowing. He shook his head.

"They choose to face us head on rather than flee and be hunted down one by one," he replied. "At any rate, these ones hope to drive us upwards, back within range of their orbital defenses."

He nodded to the communications officer. "Order the Beloved Faith to take its battlegroup and engage the humans. Give them the warrior's death such valor merits. This ship has more important things to do then swat down stragglers."

He returned his gaze to the tactical display as the bridge crew hurried to carry out his orders. The fleet was lucky to encounter such light resistance, 'Marakee knew. It was only through the grace of the gods that the Long Night of Solace's premature assault had not ruined months of carefully coordinated planning. 'Marakee's mandibles curled at the thought of the supercarrier's commander's incompetence. A waste of a good ship and a fine crew.

'Marakee was determined not to make the same mistake. Had the Solace performed its duties properly, the Covenant would already have seized a firm foothold on the human planet's surface. But even with the loss of theSolace's detachment, the destruction of the human fortress world would not be forestalled for long.

The shipmaster glanced down at his aide as the bridge filled with battle reports from the deck officers and the rest of the fleet. "Alert the warriors in the holds. Tell them to be ready for departure immediately."

'Marakee allowed himself a small smile as the aide rushed to carry out his orders. The humans on the planet below were about to realize that what they had faced so far was only a taste of the Covenant's true power. The divine warriors of the N'Marz legion were about to descend upon them.



Alarms blared through the hold. Anxious Unggoy and impatient Kig-Yar dashed across the decks, racing towards their battle stations. Dropships whined to life in the hangar, their Banshee escorts floating into position beside them. Wraith tanks and Ghost hovercraft were raised into position beneath the waiting Phantoms as lances of infantry arrayed themselves in formation on the hangar floor.

The N'marz legion was going to war.

Field Master Stel 'Vadamee surveyed the assembled troops, a surge of pride rising within his chest. He had been waiting for this day for months now, amidst all the endless training and preparations that had preceded the Fleet of Particular Justice's assault on the human fortress world. The Vadam bloodline would achieve great honor here on this world known as Reach. Stel's older brother, Thel, was the supreme commander of the fleet, directing one of the most powerful battle fleets in Covenant history. It would be Stel's honor to serve as one of his brother's many blades, leading the N'marz to victory on the surface below.

He nodded to the warrior standing beside him, Zealot Cotoal 'Turlikee. "We are ready for battle. These warriors will sweep the humans away like dust in the wind."

The Zealot nodded. "My own warriors stand ready to serve in your ranks. The gods will smile upon us this campaign."

"Good. Disperse your Zealots as you see fit. Until we have a clearer understanding of the human defenses, you may take your own initiative in choosing where to fight."

Cotoal dipped his head in thanks and rested a hand on the energy sword that hung at his hip. "Then I will waste no more time. Expect to see me soon; I will remain close to your command center."

The Zealot strode away. The hangar floor was packed with troops now; some lances were already boarding the Phantom and Spirit dropships that would ferry them into battle.

The human world loomed outside the hangar's energy doors, a shining beacon beckoning Stel and his warriors into battle. It was an invitation each and every one of the N'marz warriors was eager to accept. Unfortunately, Stel would have to forestall his own descent for now. There were other matters that needed attending to.

He turned away from the swarming hangar and headed back towards his command chambers. "Send me Felo 'Ranakee and his officers," he said into his com unit. "I have a task for the special operations unit."



Fire. There was a fire burning in his flesh.

The call to battle had been made, but once again he was denied the right to venture forth and reclaim his honor. Disgraced and cast aside, he was condemned to live out his days in the shadow of his fellow warriors, never to be permitted the glory of battle ever again.

It was more than bear, yet he had borne it all the same for these long years, given mocking, menial tasks while his fellow warriors went out to claim honor on the battlefield. He had become lower than the meanest Kig-Yar, forced to consort with Unggoy laborers and Yanme'e drones. He had endured the scorn of his fellow Sangheili all this time as they trampled upon his pride and relegated him to cleaning crews and repair details.

Thel 'Lodamee's fists tightened at the memory of an armored human laid low before him, victory within the reach of his blade... only for him to be caught up in a gravity beam and dragged away from his prey, denied redemption by another's cowardice.

He had slain one of the human Demons in battle. That alone should have been enough to secure his ascendancy in the eyes of both the gods and his fellow Sangheili. But instead he had been disgraced and slandered by his commander's accusations of cowardice, and when a second Demon had been his to kill, that same commander had deprived him of his victory. The disgrace of that day still haunted Thel's thoughts.

There was no chance of redeeming himself in the eyes of this world. His commander's slander had seen to that. Thel no longer cared what the Sangheili thought of him. All that mattered was earning the gods' forgiveness and securing his place in the bliss of the Great Journey. And in order to do that...

Thel released his hold on the Major's neck. The dead warrior keeled over, only to be caught by the gangly hands of a waiting Kig-Yar. The avian mercenary lowered the corpse to the floor and motioned for her fellow brood-mates to begin removing his armor.

"Hurry," Chur'R-Kim hissed. "There is not much time."

Thel nodded. The armor the Kig-Yar were stripping from the officer he had just murdered bore the same maroon tinge of the rank he had once held; a painful reminder of both his past and the crime he had just committed to ensure his own salvation. He removed his own harness, a dull grey suit of armor that denoted him as one of the Triumphant Faith's support staff. Yet another element of his long humiliation.

"Forgive me, brother," Thel whispered as he donned the dead officer's combat harness. "Find peace within the Journey."

If he met his victim in the next life, Thel would beg for forgiveness for what he had been forced to do. But first, he would need to ensure that he earned his place in that paradise. His victim's sacrifice would be worthwhile, Thel swore to the gods. He would make sure of that.

He slipped the officer's helmet onto his head and appropriated the dead Sangheili's grenades and plasma repeater. Of his old trappings, he kept only his own energy sword. He would win back his honor with this blade.

The Kig-Yar divided Thel's discarded armor amongst themselves in seconds. Thel could not help but admire the perverse discipline with which the creatures distributed their looted prize. Chur'R-Kim tapped the beam rifle slung across her back impatiently.

"Time to go," she ordered, then caught herself, casting a sly look at Thel. "I mean, at your order, Major."

It had cost Thel every last scrap of money to hire Kim and her fellow pirates on. Fortunately, once bought the Kig-Yar were ferocious fighters. They would serve him well in lieu of the standard lance that should have been his by right.

Thel nodded to the Kig-Yar and strode out of the maintenance deck, leaving the body where it lay. By the time the corpse was discovered and his own supervisors realized he was missing, he would already be on the battlefield below, amidst the glory of battle and beyond their reach.

The Kig-Yar fell into step behind him, and despite the shame that burned within Thel he could also feel traces of his old pride returning as well. He had endured his disgrace long enough. It was time to take back his honor.

Thel offered three silent prayers of thanksgiving as he and his Kig-Yar retinue marched toward the hangar. One to the gods, and one to the soul of the warrior he had murdered.

And one to the humans who would pave the path of his Journey with their blood.