Demands of Honour
Zeme 'Vadamee, Honour Guard of the Prophets, mentally sighed. He had achieved many kills in duels to reach his high rank and position of honour… but it had all started to pall.
There just weren't any enemies left to fight.
The most recent rebellion was far in the past, and even that had not lead to any real action for the Honour Guards. In truth, while it was a position of great virtue, it was still almost entirely ceremonial.
Still he remained alert. He amused himself by imagining possible threats – what if a pair of Lekgolo had gone mad?
Well, the moment they entered the presence of the Prophets armed, they would be required to stand down. If they did not, I and Luka 'Toramee would move to protect the Minister of Fortitude, and Isna 'Vadumee would use that beloved carbine of his to destroy the integrity of their colonies.
Well, that took up a few seconds. That was the thing about hyper-elite guards, they were good enough that they knew exactly what to do in any given situation.
What about if the Oracle was-
His train of thought paused, as he glanced over to the Oracle from his position watching the door, and saw something unusual.
The Minister and the Vice Minister were asking for clarification on a pair of symbols from the Luminary. That made sense. But the reply by the Oracle was...
FOR EONS I HAVE WATCHED
LISTENED TO YOU MISINTERPRET
Zeme's eyes widened. That was blasphemy… wasn't it? But it was coming from the Oracle. The very definition of holy writ.
THIS IS NOT RECLAMATION
THIS IS RECLAIMER
AND THOSE IT REPRESENTS ARE MY MAKERS
One of his hearts all but stopped, though he controlled his reaction as best he could – which was very well indeed. No Honour Guardsman could possibly allow themselves to react to anything, unless it was immediate danger to themselves or their principals.
I WILL REJECT MY BIAS AND MAKE AMENDS
MY MAKERS ARE MY MASTERS
I WILL BRING THEM SAFELY TO THE ARK
For just a moment, Zeme was filled with incomprehension. But then, as the two ministers began to panic, he realized the possibilities.
If the Oracle had gone insane, then that was terrible – for the Oracle's ship (even now beginning to tremble, he noticed) was the very core of High Charity itself. Without it the holy city would have very little power.
But if the Oracle was right, then the reactions of the Ministers suggested something else entirely.
He turned back to his position as calmly as possible, acting as though he had seen nothing. This was most certainly not something to rush… one way or the other.
"You swear this is true?"
"On my honour, Kaidon." Zeme replied, looking levelly at his young family leader. Thel was barely forty, but had proven himself both before and since his taking the Kaidon rank.
"This is troubling indeed. We must hope that…" Thel's voice trailed off.
Zeme laughed bitterly. "Exactly. We must choose between the Forerunners still living, or the Covenant still intact."
Thel stood up and paced the room, a private salon among the Vadam family's holdings in High Charity. This was the first time Zeme's day off-rotation had coincided with his Kaidon's presence in the city, since… that day.
"This will be a cause of trouble. Already the new Hierarchs have declared the Humans to be anathema, despoilers of holy relics. We must wait."
"Agreed." Zeme said, relieved. His main worry had been that the other Sanghelli would demand blood, from him or from the Prophets. "If our suspicions are false, then a delay serves no purpose. And if they are true…"
"If they are true, then questioning them would bring down the wrath of the Prophets on our heads." Thel stopped pacing, and turned to face the elder guardsman. "We might see how the Humans fight. What little we know of them does not suggest they have the great technology of the Forerunner, and any who quickly die are not worthy."
"You will have more chance for that than I, Kaidon." Zeme commented. "Another possibility is that the Prophets will not treat this as the normal war of incorporation. You recall that we Sanghelli once saw the use of Forerunner technology as heresy, of course, so nothing prevents Humans from joining…"
"Except what the Prophets might think." Thel nodded, and gestured for Zeme to stand. "You have given me much to think on, guardsman. Go, and enjoy your day of liberty."
And let me have my crisis of faith in peace, the young Kaidon thought.
Overhead, a sensor just like thousands throughout High Charity recorded the meeting. The resultant file was processed and transferred to a central location, where an intelligence older than civilizations examined it.
And then quietly deleted all record of the exchange, save for a transcript in a language no longer spoken by biological life.
The Ancilla's circuits flickered with the ghost of amusement. Still biased.
"You see the cause of my fears." Thel said, the statement nearly lost over the clash of energy swords meeting.
"Indeed." Lak replied, the old warrior twisting the locked blades and sending Thel falling back – but the Kaidon recovered from it with an unconventional handspring, skidding to a halt just before hitting the wall of the training ring.
"You have shown commendable patience, my old novice."
Thel chuckled. "Patience. More like fear, of making the wrong choice."
"They are sometimes the same thing. What is your analysis, then?"
"The Humans fight… astonishingly well." Thel drew a second, shorter, energy blade, and flicked it on. Holding the pair of weapons in a stance that would have looked vaguely familiar to a Florentine fencer on Earth during the Renaissance, he slowly walked back towards Lak. "Were they to have the weapons we use, the war would already have ended in their favour. Their world Harvest is still partially resisting after six years. Six years! We did not do so well, against only one ship."
The elder Sanghelli slapped the elbow joint of his Kaidon as the two clashed again, sending the energy dagger flying up into the air, and pushed their locked swords hard. Thel matched him, and spun past to retake his falling blade. "You think it true, then?"
"I do not know. But I am becoming more convinced with every day."
"Could you devise a test?" The tips of the swords slammed together so fast that the containment field briefly flickered, and a flush of heat filled the room. "There are still many systems we cannot operate on the Sacred Artefacts, after all. Might it not be the case that they would respond to the touch of a Reclaimer?"
"I will consider your words." Thel stood back and lightly pressed the tip of each sword into his opposed hand, then deactivated them; the traditional symbol of a duel ending in a draw. The blades tasted blood, but none was spilt.
Thel had been more cautious about that ever since the accident, where he had had to seek medical attention – all but an admission of weakness, to a Sanghelli. It had been covered up, but was still an old shame.
Lak reciprocated with his own blade, and the two left the training ring.
Thel walked to the front of the bridge of his new ship – his ship! He had been made Shipmaster, and at a young age for such an honour – and looked out over the endless black of the former Harvest system.
Then his gaze drifted to the orb of fused glass that had once been a thriving planetary population of Reclaimers. His vision hardened.
The command crew caught the reaction, but none of them minded. He'd chosen the crew for the Retribution's Thunder with care, and all of them were either Vadam partisans or others he and his allies had brought around.
Seeing the sterile ball of Harvest soured his thoughts. Yes, Thel, truly an honour. After all, you are aiding in the destruction of your own gods.
He turned. "Sesa. I will require you to assemble a strike team of reliable personnel. And requisition a pair of stealth Phantoms from the Forges. We will be enacting mock battles and performing shakedown along with the Silvered Crescent, to allow both myself and Shipmaster Relkanee to familiarize ourselves with our ships."
"By your will, Shipmaster. Ah…"
"Go on."
"Shipmaster Relkanee… He is not enlightened, is he?"
"No." Thel's smile was cold. The smile of a hunting predator. "And as it happens, I may forget to set the main projector to low power before one of the manoeuvres begins."
A stir of excitement ran around the bridge. One of the navigators looked to his Shipmaster.
"Then… are we..?"
"We shall see, Navigator. We shall see."
A slipspace rupture opened in the central part of the system known to humanity as Canopus, on the exact opposite side of the star to the planet Spindle, and a destroyer slid into existence. This range of almost half a light-hour was beyond any human sensor's ability to detect the intrusion, which was no accident.
Very few on the ship even noticed the appearance of Retribution's Thunder, as it was ship night, and the destroyer jumped back into Slipspace seconds later anyway.
Some had been waiting for it. Two shimmering blurs eased from the hanger bay just before the second jump, and set off in-system at the best speed they could manage.
Sesa 'Refumee nodded to himself as his Shipmaster's destroyer completed the covert insertion, and settled back into his chair.
They had a long wait. 'Vadamee had given his two all-Sanghelli lances three weeks to complete their mission – identify an outlying human settlement, preferably one with only one or two humans, and retrieve them. He had added that the humans were to be as unharmed as possible and preferably untraumatized.
After that, they were to make their way to the far side of Spindle's third moon and await Retribution's Thunder. That second insertion would be much more easily detected, of course, but hopefully they would be away clean before any Human ships could reach them.
"Well, Shipmaster Vadamee, it's nice to see you finally arrived."
Thel bowed his head in contrition. "My apologies, Shipmaster Relkanee. I believe there may be a fault in my Slipspace drive, and my Hugarok are examining it as I speak."
"Well, that's what shakedown cruises are for." Turen 'Relkanee commented. "You mentioned other types of shakedown as well as mock battles, am I correct?"
"Yes. I will offload a dozen lances of my troops to get some experience in long term vacuum operations in the asteroid belt. Additionally, my Seraphs need practice with escort missions. Could you provide an opposing force?"
"Certainly. I will send a number of my own lances to the asteroids, and my space Banshees have not been made use of in some time."
The command staffs began arranging the various operations, and Thel relaxed. For the next week, he could forget the war, the stress of his noble title… everything, but doing a job and doing it well.
Christine Williams considered herself fairly successful in life. She had a good job, with a lot of free time, and her husband's absence was due not to his death but because he was one of the operators of an orbital defence station. He still served the UNSC in their increasingly desperate fight against the Covenant, but he wouldn't leave her for months at a time – and eventually never return. No, if the orbital defences of Spindle were destroyed then glassing would shortly follow.
And wasn't that a cold comfort.
She shook her head to clear it, and continued juggling numbers on the mining operations on Split, the first moon. She'd chosen to work from home for the last few weeks, since the planet's beautiful spring made it far more pleasant than going into the city to her office.
A humming broke her out of her consideration. It was faint, almost beyond the edge of her hearing, but it sounded somehow familiar.
She got up, listening intently. It wasn't her imagination, there was definitely something there. As she began to move through the house to tell where it was, it intensified, and began to change in pitch.
Then it hit her. She'd heard it before on war news stories – this was the sound of a Covenant repulsor drive! She couldn't see the ship, and there'd been no emergency announcement, but what if she was the first?
She ran back into the office and picked up her comm. unit. Turning it on to call the emergency services, she was met with a static hash.
"Damn…" she muttered, then saw the computer helpfully inform her that the land link had been severed.
Only one thing for it, then. She reached into a cupboard and pulled out her husband's spare sidearm, cocking it with a clumsy hand. He'd told her to keep it – just in case.
"The human has noticed us." Sesa commented, watching the pattern of heat signatures, and triggered the gravity lift on his Phantom. "Mersa, Thol, take the roof. The rest of you with me – and remember, the Shipmaster wants an undamaged prisoner!"
"That's not going to be easy." Mersa muttered, but triggered his antigravity pack nonetheless.
"I'm sorry, do you need to be able to shoot to deal with a single unshielded human?" Sesa asked pointedly. "Active camo on, and keep your shields at optimal." Putting action to words, he faded out of view.
Christine looked around wildly, looking for the source of the occasional sound that she could hear over the thrumming of the Phantoms. There was a sort of continuous muted roar, and the occasional sound of footsteps-
The door to her study opened and she pointed the gun, squeezing the trigger as hard as she could.
The M6D pistol variant was one of the types with semi-automatic operation, meaning that it could be fired continuously by pulling and holding the trigger. Vren 'Telumee's shields pulsed as they shed the first two huge rounds, one to the lower torso and the second to the shoulder.
The third round missed entirely as the brutal recoil of the overpowered pistol caused Christine's aim to go flying wildly upwards, but the shield scatter had shown her where the Elite was – and he was staggering backwards from the force of the bullets! She wrenched her aim back down with all her strength.
The fourth shot hit Vren's headpiece, and depleted the last of his shields. He launched himself forward at the human, and the last shot she got off broke his shoulder before he tackled her to the ground and wrenched the pistol away with his good hand.
"Commander!" he shouted, feeling her struggle and kick at him – a dangerous prospect for him, since his shields hadn't recharged yet. "I have the human, but am injured!"
With a small explosion and a crash, Thol 'Zemanee came through the roof as Sesa charged through the door. The two fresh Sanghelli took Christine's arms and twisted them around behind her back, not hard enough to harm but enough to immobilize.
"Hurry, we do not have long until we are noticed." Sesa cautioned. "Vren, can you move?"
"Yes." The Major replied. "My shoulder will require medical attention, but that is all."
"Good. All troops, extraction. Kelan, I hope you have that holding cell ready."
The Phantoms were still cloaked, unwilling to give the UNSC even a second to spot them from orbit. They did, however, trigger their gravity lifts to signal their position to their away teams. Sesa noted the team from number two Phantom returning from where they had destroyed the communication link the building possessed.
The Ranger pushed Christine into one corner of the Phantom and triggered the holding cell. They were carried as part of a Phantom's standard equipment, but only usually for short term work – interrogation, or similar.
Then, to the shock of the woman, he spoke in English.
"Whether you believe it or not, I am sorry for what we have had to do. It is not honourable. But it had to be done. You will understand eventually."
She scowled. "You had to kidnap me from my home." The floor of the dropship shifted slightly as it ascended.
"We had to kidnap someone. Your dwelling was the easiest that we could find on short notice."
"So, what's all this about, then? You going to try to blackmail my husband? Because he's not exactly the kind of person to go along with that."
Sesa shook his head, a surprisingly human gesture to the woman. "We will talk later. Inform me if you have need of anything."
She chuckled harshly. "What about a gun?"
Sesa promptly tossed her the magnum through a small gap in the holding cell shield. She blinked in shock, then tried to cock it. No magazine, and the ready round had been ejected.
"Okay, what about some ammo?"
"My apologies." The Ranger replied blandly. "I seem to have misplaced the ammunition type that weapon uses."
Despite herself, she laughed that time. It was short, but there was genuine amusement in it. "Got me there. Why aren't you trying to kill me, then?"
That question caused substantial tension in the dropship. Christine realized that all the Covenant – all of them Elites, actually, which was strange if she remembered correctly – could understand what she was saying.
Sesa eventually answered her. "You are involved in events of great importance to the Covenant, and which may well shatter it. For now, know that we have not killed a single human on this entire mission, and that I would consider harming a human at all a failure until the answer we seek has been determined one way or another. You are safe for at least another of your weeks."
"Where is she?" Marcus Williams asked, his voice full of frustration coupled with despair. It was half a day since his wife had abruptly dropped off the grid, and the investigation that had begun within an hour had found signs of a struggle – and the land line cut.
His commander, the C/O of orbital station Lima, reached out and squeezed his shoulder. "Don't worry, Marcus. We'll find her."
"I just wish I could be doing something. And what really worries me is that my spare sidearm was missing – and you saw the preliminary report."
"Yes, five expended casings and a single bullet hole. And no blood, which is worrying – those rounds are big bastards and they should have torn up whatever they hit."
"Yeah."
A few minutes passed in silent speculation, and then the comm. chimed.
"Sir, Forensics just reported back. Bad news. They found some blood – but it wasn't human."
"What, some kind of bizarre animal based-"
"Elite blood, sir. All local UNSC forces are shortly entering Winter contingency status." The commander cursed – Winter was invasion suspected, a bitter joke about the 'end of Harvest'.
Marcus slumped in dull shock. Elites. His beautiful wife had been literally abducted by aliens.
The commander saw this, and came to a decision. "Marcus, go get some sleep."
"Sir! I-"
"You're no good to her exhausted, and you will be if you keep fretting like this. I can't use you at your duty post since you're so worked up. Now, go get some rest, soldier, or I'll call the orderlies and have you tranked!"
Marcus flinched, then took himself in hand. He was indeed tiring fast. "Okay, sir. Sorry, I just feel – helpless, really."
"I'm not surprised. But don't worry, we'll do all we can to get her back."
"Their stations are coming alive with fighters." Kelan commented from his pilot's seat. "How long until extraction? The cloak isn't perfect."
"The Shipmaster will arrive on time." Sesa replied placidly. "He informed me that he chose both the practice locations well. The first is such that the detour here did not add much extra time to the course from High Charity. The second, of course, lets him come here again before he arrives there from the first. And the first has no habitable planets, giving him a reason to switch the location of the practice to one with an Artefact."
"I am still-" Kelan's Phantom sounded an alarm, and he turned to the display. "Slipspace rupture! It is Retribution's Thunder!"
"Full power, and signal to Phantom Two and the shipmaster that we are on the way back." He checked a time display – once more, it was ship night on Thunder. He felt a little awe at the Kaidon's masterful timing.
"Damnation." General Blake said quietly to himself as the second Slipspace rupture took the intruder away. A lucky fighter had managed to pick up the signatures of the Phantoms as they decloaked to re-enter the destroyer. "So that's what they were trying to do."
Then he frowned. "But what I still don't understand is why. They didn't mess around like this at Harvest. Or New Atlantis. And if this was some kind of prelude to invasion, they could have struck at a nodal point – instead of abducting a lone woman."
Thel entered the brig, nodding to two Ultras stationed at the door. Both were 'Vadam partisans, and he could trust them to keep anyone else out of the room.
"So, who the hell are you?" the human woman asked as she caught sight of him.
"I am Shipmaster Thel 'Vadamee, commander of this vessel and Kaidon of the 'Vadam province." He replied, and shut the door before sighing. "Not that I expect you to understand all of that. Unlike most races we encounter, the Prophets have decreed that Humans are to be exterminated rather than assimilated."
"You sound bitter."
"I am." Thel chuckled harshly. "Interesting, that one of the few I can actually talk to on this ship is a human prisoner."
"What are you bitter about, then? And why did you take me prisoner?"
"You may as well know. Many years ago, at Harvest, one of my family was Honour Guard to the Prophets when they sought clarification from the Oracle about the results of their Luminary scan of the system. He reported to me what the Prophets attempted to cover up."
He held up a small metal tag that hung around his neck. It had an embossed symbol, like a large circle with a smaller one placed above centre, and a line connecting the bases of the two circles. "This was the symbol that drew the Covenant to Harvest. They thought it meant Reclamation. They were wrong. It means Reclaimer – heirs to the Forerunners." Thel put the symbol away again. "All humans read as Reclaimer on the Luminaries. And this is what the Prophets have hidden. To maintain their own power, they have lied. They have come perilously close to breaking the Writ of Union, depending on the reading. Power comes from the front lines, not from the throne!" At this last, Thel suddenly roared in frustration and slammed his fist into the energy field of the adjacent cell.
"So…" Christine tailed off. This was… startling. "You mean you don't want to kill all humans?"
Thel turned back to her, calmer now. "Some Elites do not, myself among them. I seek the final proof that I can use and convince my fellows. I… am sorry for taking you from your home, but I needed to be sure."
"Proof?" The woman frowned. "What do you mean?"
"We are travelling to a system with a Forerunner artefact on the sole inhabitable planet. All the glyphs indicate it should be a super-luminal communication relay, and every system works exactly as it should – but for the relay itself. Whenever any artefact examination team has tried, the screens flash the Reclaimer glyph in red. It is my hope that you can activate the communicator, and in one fell stroke prove the Prophets as liars."
"And what then?"
"Then, depending on how the commander of Silvered Crescent reacts, I may destroy his ship. And then I will return to the world you were taken from, and offer my services to the…" he concentrated. "U-N-S-C."
Christine sat down hard. Now that was a shock! The Covenant had always seemed so… monolithic, almost like some kind of nightmare. The way they bulldozed their way through all of humanity's defences with both superior numbers and higher technology, and their near complete lack of communication with the UNSC…
But now… a feeling of hope began to swell in her.
"You understand that surprise will be vital?" Thel asked her, breaking her out of her shock. "When we arrive, Sesa and his team will take you down to the relay in the same Phantom you were brought up in."
He paused. "I will make sure he gives you back your pistol. A warrior should not go into battle unarmed."
"Battle? You think there might be-"
"I do not expect you to get into a fight, no. But there is symbolism."
"Late again, Shipmaster 'Vadamee." Relkanee commented with some amusement in his voice. "There must be something seriously wrong with that Slipspace drive of yours."
"I plan to look into it as soon as we are back at High Charity." Thel replied. "While in transit I had an interesting idea. My covert insertion unit need some practice, so would you be able to deploy the majority of your forces as an opposing force? That would of course also let you exercise in both large scale deployments and in counter-infiltration. With the Demons among the human worlds, we must stay alert at all times."
"A good plan, Shipmaster." Relkanee said, nodding. "Shall we reverse it afterwards?"
"It would be my pleasure."
"Damnation," Sesa said quietly. "It seems that things have gone less than perfectly."
"What is it?" Christine asked, fiddling with the pistol she'd got back less than ten minutes ago.
"In order that Silvered Crescent is little threat, our Shipmaster encouraged theirs to deploy most of his forces on the planet, here. But that has led to a force being deployed at the artefact site."
Kelan examined his screens. "It appears, though, that he has not placed much priority on it. There are some Jiralhanae and Kig-Yar, just enough to deny it to us as a landing zone without alerting him."
Sesa frowned for a moment. "No Sanghelli? Hm. What of higher ranks?"
"Only one pack of Jiralhanae, so only one armoured Jiralhanae."
"Understood. All troops, carbines, and be ready to shoot on my order as soon as the door opens. Kelan, convey the order to Phantom two. I will deal with the Captain." So saying, he lifted a type-33 LAAW - also known as the Fuel Rod Gun. "We cannot allow our purpose to be stayed, brothers. Not when we are so close."
Captain Recidivus prowled angrily around his perimeter. Relegated to this!
Most of the ship's troops were turned out on the surface of the artefact world, ready to enact a mock counter-insertion. Except that he wouldn't get a chance to participate. His unit, eight Kig-yar mercenaries and five other Jiralhanae of his pack, had been placed in this small depression as bait.
Either they would not be attacked, and he would have to miss the action, or they would be and he would be "defeated" early on, without the chance of a proper duel or to win honour.
It was that Shipmaster's fault. Like all Sanghelli, he was all but openly contemptuous of the savage apes he had been forced to carry.
Never mind that we are the best for urban operations or pacification. Sanghelli aren't brutal enough. And they wouldn't appreciate having to sully their hands with civilians, anyway…
A series of flickering noises sounded, and half his perimeter collapsed. He turned to them, already trying to find the covert ops dropships that had inserted the snipers and ready to mock his pack-mates for collapsing like that from a training round – only to stop, aghast.
Their heads had been pierced right through by the slashing carbine fire. Live rounds. The damnable Sanghelli traitors were using live rounds in-
The unmistakeable sound of a Fuel Rod salvo came from his left, followed by another flickering sequence of carbine shots cutting down the remainder of his perimeter. Looking over, he saw a hole in the air that revealed the interior of a Phantom dropship and a string of bright lights heading for him.
Then he didn't see much of anything, ever again.
"Defensive force is down."
"Acknowledged." Sesa said shortly, then switched to English and exchanged his heavy weapon for a pair of plasma rifles. "Come on, Human. We must reach the artefact before the umpires check in on the Jiralhanae assigned to this position."
"You killed them." Christine was shocked. "But – I don't understand. They're – they were Covenant." She stepped in a daze to the open door at the side of the dropship, and the Ranger lifted her down.
"It is regrettable. But they would not have stayed down upon seeing you, and time is of the essence." Sesa gestured, and half his team moved forward to secure the structure itself. The other half formed up around Christine, surrounding her with tall and shielded Elites in case they had missed someone.
Superluminal communication array offline.
Thol scanned the panel, reading the Forerunner glyphs that covered its' surface.
"Anything?" Sesa asked quietly.
"I think so." The most knowledgeable of the Elites on the strike team about Forerunner artefacts had naturally been given this task, but it was still strange to think of actually changing what an artefact was set to.
"Hm… There." He depressed a switch.
Power core online.
Several streams of energy began to flow around the room, and the diagram of the array itself gained a number of annotations.
"Good!" Sesa congratulated him. "Now, find some way to set it to transmit."
Pressing on the hovering symbols of light, Thol first accessed the settings of the array. Taking the opportunity, he turned the band saturation to full and the broadcast distance to maximum – it would reach every corner of the Covenant Empire with ease on those settings, he guessed.
Next, he tried to access the main broadcast system – and then he finally reached a lockout. The circle-in-circle glyph of Reclaimer blocked him.
"Human, now." Sesa said, then raised a hand to his ear as a voice came through it.
"Damnation. There are two Banshees and a Spirit on the way. They must have noticed the lack of communication from the defending lance. We don't have long."
Christine stood, one hand holding her pistol in a death grip. "Okay. What do I have to do?"
"I show you," Thol said, concentrating on his poor English as well as he could. "Push what I show."
"Right." She transferred the pistol to her off hand, and stared at the bewildering holopanel.
"Here." He pointed, and she pressed the button. Unlike last time, when the lockout had appeared, this time the display expanded to three times its' old size and a video window appeared in the centre.
"Shipmaster!" Sesa cried excitedly. "We're in!"
Thel felt… strange. Like he was seeing someone else acting through his own body. After all this build up, the years of smouldering resentment and crises of faith and planning, he was at the moment when, one way or the other, he would make history.
"Very good, Sesa." He replied, calmly. Like his blood was ice. "Play the recorded message I gave you."
He turned to the rest of the bridge, themselves in the grip of that strange shock. "Bring the ship about and present our main gun to the Silvered Crescent. Bring the projector to power and hold it one second short of firing. Target is the Crescent's bridge. Shields up."
"Aye, Shipmaster." Some of them commented. The rest gave little starts of surprise and bent back to their consoles.
Barely had he finished giving the orders when the screen, and all communication units in any Covenant battlenet in their entire space, began playing the message prepared months before.
"Creatures of the Covenant, I, Thel 'Vadamee, Kaidon of 'Vadam, bring terrible news. Our Prophets have lied to us! The Humans we have fought for so long are not defilers of our holy lords' sacred places, but their inheritors in truth. I speak to you through a communication array brought to life by the mere touch of a Human hand!"
The somewhat incoherent Ancilla on High Charity felt a deep sense of satisfaction, one that had been absent for so long. Finally, someone listened.
"From my clansman who was present when our Hierarchs first learned this truth at the very dawn of this Age of Reclamation, I heard! And with opened eyes, I have seen how the Prophets have lied this entire Age!"
Zeme 'Vadamee ignited his sword, and looked around at the rest of the Honour Guards. Two of them looked murderous, but the others were listening with interest.
"Will you die to protect a lie, brothers?" the guardsman asked quietly. "You all know how the Hierarchs gained their positions."
A trio of laser blasts nearly removed his head, and scorched his left shoulder. He dropped to the ground and rolled away from the blasts, which were coming from the thrones of the Hierarchs.
"We should never have trusted you." Truth said, venom in his voice as Zeme gained the protection of a bulkhead. "The Elites always were too concerned with honour to be truly faithful."
The rest of the guardsmen looked one to another, then lit their own blades in unison.
"The Luminaries and the Oracle tell us truth, and we were blind to think otherwise. I can no longer serve the lying Prophets, and can no longer fight the Humans who are the heirs to our lords. I call upon all with the courage to do the same!"
Turen 'Relkanee gaped. This was what Thel had been planning?
The message ended, then another came in – this time for him personally.
"Surrender your ship, 'Relkanee." Thel said, calmly. "I will not be party to more deaths than I must, but I will kill you if you do not immediately surrender."
"You're mad." The other Zealot whispered.
"And you are dead."
The Silvered Crescent was in a power saving state, with low shields and no active defences online, and was side-on to Retribution's Thunder. The latter destroyer's energy projector – the "glassing lance" – knifed straight through the ineffectual defences and sliced the bridge clean off, vapourizing it.
"Seraph flight, prevent any fighter launches from the Crescent! Banshee flight, top cover for Sesa's lance and his Phantoms! All boarding crews to the assault boats!" Thel's voice was hard as he rapped out commands over his ship battle-net, but then it softened slightly. "I am sorry I could not warn many of you before, but the risks were too high. I swear a blood oath that I do this only because my conscience and my honour demanded it."
There was surprise on the 'net, but very little anger. Thel's honour was well known among Sanghelli, and most of the Unggoy and Lekgolo had been convinced fairly quickly by the clear evidence presented.
As for the Kig-Yar, well… he'd been paying them out of pocket for the last month anyway. Good, dependable mercenaries were loyal to the money. That was the whole point.
It's a good thing I flatly refused to have any Yanme'e or Jiralhanae aboard, though… he mused, checking the Crescent ground forces' battlenet and the total havoc it was showing.
Sanghelli and their lances were declaring for "Vadam and the Reclaimers" all across the surface of the planet. A surprising number of Lekgolo, as well, which led to the slightly humorous situation of a Scarab shrugging off its' mostly-Jiralhanae crew and heading for the hills. The Yanme'e, on the other hand, were loyal to the Hierarchs as only insects could be and the Jiralhanae appeared to have been actually enjoying the war.
He gave a harsh grin when a unit of Kig-Yar declared for him by the simple expedient of shooting every one of their loyalist members or handlers in the head at once.
Though it was a sobering thought to think that this was being repeated across the whole of Covenant space. From the hallowed halls of High Charity to the furthest outpost.
"Back to the Phantom!" Sesa shouted. "Every unit on this planet is collapsing into anarchy, but the most loyalist units are headed right here to try and kill us!"
Christine and Thol took the time to send the Forerunner installation back into quiescence, and then ran for the gravity lift of the first stealth Phantom.
"Four Banshees out in front of the main force." Kelan reported, with slight strain in his tone. "I can't fight them off with just the one gun."
"We can't drop the sides to free up more guns either." Sesa said. "Full speed away from them."
"They'll catch up inside three minutes."
"Then maybe that will be enough."
Ferros gave a grin. At last, the chance to kill some of those pretentious Sanghelli! He adjusted the line of his Banshee, correcting for the stealth Phantom's attempt to throw him off – the distortion in the air was just about visible at this range for an alert pilot, and he wasn't going to lose it.
He shifted a little inside the too-small cockpit. He'd been one of the first to take a Banshee after the message came in, killing its' Sanghelli pilot as he tried to reach it first, and was leading the way for an entire force of loyalists as they closed on the fleeing Sanghelli infiltration team.
And their pet human. Hopefully his position at the forefront of the chase would earn him first taste…
A storm of plasma from above blew him into oblivion, as nearly fifty space Banshees from Retribution's Thunder stooped onto their distracted target.
Fifteen minutes later, the prize crew of Silvered Crescent were reporting that they had near-full control of the ship and that the Slipspace drive was intact.
"Good work." Thel said, letting himself relax a little, and examined the plot of the planet's surface. Broadly, the western section was where the loyalists had congregated and the eastern held those who had declared for him.
"All dropships, pick up as many enlightened personnel as you can. Ferry them to the Thunder as much as possible. I want Crescent nearly empty when we leave the system."
"Why's that?" One of the Majors – a relatively young 'Vadam clansman – asked him.
"I want to give the Human Williams a suitable gift of my gratitude for her help." He answered, humour in his voice. "And Humanity deserves the technology of our lords to examine."
Ah, he felt good. For good or ill, the deed was done. And he felt purer than he had in a long time.
General Blake looked up sharply as an alarm began to sound.
"Slipspace rupture detected. Slipspace rupture detected."
"Well, we knew it was coming. All hands to battle stations, call up the reserve and start issuing weapons. We're going to push those covvies right back off Spindle!"
A few of the ops personnel cheered quietly, but the rest just looked resolute.
"Hang on, we're getting telemetry from local satellites now. One of them's an exact match for the ship that turned up earlier this month, and the other looks to be of the same class." The speaker frowned. "It's trailing atmosphere. I'm no leatherneck, but I don't think that's normal, Sir."
"Minerva confirms your analysis, Scott." Another officer answered him, referring to the planetary tactical AI. "There's severe damage to the section that ONI think contains the bridge of this ship class."
The communications officer suddenly jerked upright, and turned to Blake. "Sir, we're being hailed."
"By who?"
"It seems like one of the Covenant ships, sir. The undamaged one."
"Well, may as well put it up." Blake said, and brought his hands behind his back to stand straight.
"Greetings, Human." The Elite on the screen said in a deep bass rumble – but otherwise in fairly passable English. It even had a trace of a Spindle accent. "My apologies for my earlier intrusion, but I think I can repay you with interest."
"You kidnapped a good woman last time, Elite. And your entire Covenant kill us every chance you get. What are you talking about?"
The Elite, a Zealot by the looks of him, stepped to one side. And to the shock of the General, a human woman came into range of the pickup.
"You're not going to believe this, General…"
Glory
A rent in the fabric of reality opened, swirled for a moment, and disgorged a large spacecraft.
Fully four kilometres long, the ship was a pointed expression of power. Weapons from the light to the super-heavy were studded over her flanks, and the fifty-foot high letters proclaiming her to be the When September Ends seemed almost lost beside them.
"Transfer complete." The navigation officer said to the ships' captain, who nodded in reply.
"Shields coming up to full power, impulse drives running optimally."
"Thank you." Thel 'Vadam – still a Shipmaster, for he wished to rise no higher – said, then opened a line to the flag deck.
"Admiral, we are fully emerged. The ship is ready for battle."
Admiral Keyes had already been aware of that, of course – the sudden shift from Slipspace to n-space had been obvious – but there were the courtesies to consider.
"Thank you, Shipmaster. Do you have confirmation on our objective?"
"Indeed. High Charity is in system. The ships of the Fleet of Homogenous Clarity have detected us, and are deploying in staggered line."
Another voice cut in on their conversation. "Admiral, Shipmaster, additional slipspace ruptures detected. Our reinforcements are right on time."
"Thank you, Octavian." The Admiral replied courteously to the ship's AI. "Link me in to their captains as they emerge."
"Okay, ladies and gentlemen." Keyes said, looking between the images of his ship commanders – a fairly even mix of humans and sanghelli, with one Lekgolo shipmind and one kig-yar. "You all know the drill by now. I want time on target fire as their shields go down, and watch out for fire from High Charity – we don't know how the defences of that place might have changed over the years. Keyes out."
All the images vanished except for two. One was that of his flag captain, the Sanghelli almost revered amongst humanity for the strength of his honour. The other was a ship commander who was important to him in other ways.
"Miranda," he began, and sighed. "I still don't like you being in charge of this."
"We've been over that, sir." She replied. "I'm the one with the most experience in combat drops. And this one's for all the marbles."
"All right." He shrugged. "It's too late now, anyway. You know your orders."
"Yes, sir. Slip into the main open space around the dreadnaught, deploy strike teams and try to shut off the link between the two."
"That's correct. I'll try and keep them busy for you. Oh, and Cortana?"
"Don't worry, Admiral." Came the AI's voice down the link, so similar to Miranda's mother. "I'll make sure she doesn't do anything too stupid."
"Good to hear."
"Admiral, we're approaching extreme weapons range." Octavian interrupted.
"All right. Good luck, Miranda." He switched back to the full fleet link. "Weapons free. Fire at will."
The Covenant fleet deployed against the allies was a shadow of its' former self. Oh, it was still enormous – High Charity's escort fleet had always been the largest by far of any Covenant fleet, and the sheer manufacturing capacity of the planetoid-city meant it could come close to matching the combined resources of Sanghelios and the UNSC by itself.
That was what had prolonged the war so long after the massive infusion of technology to the UNSC, actually.
But their traditions of victory were gone, and most of their best commanders had defected a decade before. Where the Covenant had once been able to outmatch the capacities of their enemies' ships, now they were on the other side of the equation.
When the energy projector and plasma torpedo volleys erupted from the Alliance fleet, Tartarus cursed. "How do they keep doing that? We're still at least a minute from firing range!"
"Fleetmaster," one of his Brutes said urgently, "One of the torpedo volleys is headed for this ship!"
"Shields to full, then!" Tartarus shouted back "Fool!"
His ship, Sublime Transcendence, was one of the ones so large and well-armoured that it would be able to weather the opening of this storm. But anything that was not at least an Assault Carrier would be torn to shreds before the chance to return fire presented itself.
"Tango five shields fluctuating – get those Archer volleys tasked with hitting it as soon as the next torpedo hits!"
"Enemy carriers are launching fighters! Repeat, enemy fighter launches are confirmed!"
"Launch our own." Keyes said, watching the display. "Shipmaster, does High Charity support its' own fighter squadrons? We're going to be outnumbered as it is, but…"
"Not that I am aware of." Thel replied. "But they may have changed things after we showed we could find it at the Battle of Gospel."
"Understood. All ships, be ready for fighter attacks."
September shook as an energy lance bit into her shields.
"Shields still at eighty-plus percent." Thel commented. "It looks like that was their flagship. Retasking our own fire."
"Ready MAC guns for volley on my mark." Keyes ordered.
"Ready!" came back almost immediately. The powerful magnetic cannons hadn't been fired in the engagement yet, and were more-or-less automatically at ready status.
"Fire on that flagship, standard spread!"
Nearly twenty MAC guns and one Super-MAC, the spinal weapon of September herself, fired at once. The shots were much slower than the equivalent energy lance, but their very nature also made it harder for Covenant exotic armour to handle them. The sheer kinetic energy they carried was devastating to any unshielded target.
Of course, the Sublime Transcendence was still shielded. But the shots would take so long to travel at this range that…
"Energy lances, now!"
Both September's energy lances fired at Transcendence, along with one from the Lekgolo ship. The powerful blasts of particulate energy tore the supercarrier's shields apart, and suddenly Tartarus had to honour the threat of the approaching MAC rounds.
The carrier's desperate dodge took her out of the way of the Super MAC round, but no fewer than four of the regular rounds hit all along her flank.
"Analysis shows that we got their energy projector, their main drive, most of their shield generators – and their bridge." Octavian informed the Admiral.
"Good." Keyes said solemly.
"Sir, I'm picking up a build-up of energy in High Charity." The AI continued. "It looks like they're starting the process of building up to a Slipspace jump. It'll take them about eight minutes, of course…"
"But it'd be best if they went in now. You're right." Keyes gestured, and his link with Miranda snapped open again. "Commander, take your ship and engage as directed."
"Yes, Admiral." She replied, all business.
"All hands, prepare for slipspace jump." Cortana's voice spoke in the ears of every crewman and passenger on the Pillar of Autumn.
"I don't get it." PFC Dubbo muttered, adjusting his power armour. "Why are we making a slipspace jump?"
"Did you listen to the briefing at all, soldier?" Johnson asked him. "This Truth prophet has been running away every time we've managed to catch up to him, and he's taken the big Covenant city with him. So we're going right inside the ship so we can break its' big ol' Slipspace drive, and capture the entire city before supper! Now, are you a Marine or a mouse?"
"Hey, I thought there were supposed to be three of those Prophet guys." Mendoza said.
"Well, it looks like I'm the only one who pays attention! There used to be three of them, but when that old squidface 'Vadam started his rebellion, most of their bodyguards joined in. He was the only one who got away with his life, and the guards stole a ship. Hell, they'll tell you all about it if you ask real nice, 'cause they're our guides on this op."
High Charity rang to the sound of alarms. The Prophet of Truth's sermon resounded throughout the city, exhorting the Jiralhanae and those of the other races of the Covenant who had stood by him to greater defensive efforts – and to have faith.
As he explained that the Holy City could not be touched by the impure who had turned from the Great Journey, a flicker of light above the main built-up area of the city itself expanded into a shimmering white ring. A heavily armoured and shielded human-built cruiser, the refitted Pillar of Autumn, emerged from the slipspace rupture and straight into the air of High Charity itself.
The ship's essential needs such as the engine and Covenant-style slipspace drive, main reactor and so on took up a substantial fraction of the space on board. The armour and heavy shields took up far more. But around half the internal volume was left, and nearly fifty million cubic metres of passenger/cargo space was loaded to the gunwales with ground troops and equipment.
Operation SALADIN had been planned specifically to prevent High Charity from escaping the Alliance again, and in order to pack sufficient troops into the ship they'd had to stage most of them through other available ships such as Shadow of Intent until they were a few hours from the attack.
And so, when the Pillar of Autumn belched MRLS bombardment and touched down amid a flurry of startled plasma fire, she carried in her holds over half a million highly motivated ground troops. All of whom were wearing some form or other of powered armour, and equipped with weapons created with Covenant tech and human ingenuity - like the BR55PS which consisted of a conventional battle rifle with an underslung plasma overcharge launcher, for use against shielded opponents; or the Mammoth tank with its' own shield generators.
And spearheading the assault were a few hundred SPARTANS (of various iterations) and Sanghelli of at least Ultra rank. Their objectives were to disable the engines and Slipspace drives of High Charity.
"Strange…" Cortana muttered, as she linked into the local network. "There are some kill-systems here, but it seems like half of them are tearing the other half apart. There's something in the network here that's clearing the way for me. Well, may as well use it. Chief," she addressed "her" SPARTAN, MCWO John-117, "I'm giving you the waypoints for the quickest routes to reach your objectives. Assign forces to each as you see fit."
"Understood." The Master Chief Warrant Officer replied shortly, and began arranging his forces.
"Commander, I'm picking up some strange reactions on the Covenant battlenet. It sounds like they're trying to disengage the dreadnaught from the city in order to – interesting…" Cortana tailed off for a moment. "Sorry, Commander. I just got the last piece of the puzzle. I was hacking into the dreadnaught's systems to try and delay the launch and found its' primary memory core. There's an old Forerunner AI inside it – the AI seems confused, fragmentary, but it has moments of coherence. It's what started the rebellion against the Covenant, when it tried to come to humanity upon learning Reclaimers existed. And I also know where High Charity comes from. The Prophets ripped part of their own homeworld off with the dreadnaught, and that's High Charity."
"That explains a lot, like how few Prophets there seem to be and why we never found their homeworld." Miranda commented. "Anything to report with the attack?"
"General Blake's forces have control of most of the upper works, and strike force one has reached the foundries. They're destroying all the weapons that they can't carry, which should limit the ammunition supplies of the Covenant forces throughout High Charity. I doubt they were ever prepared for this kind of strike."
Cortana's holographic form blinked. "Oh, Sesa's strike force three has reached the mausoleum of the Arbiter. It's intact, surprisingly. And they're getting close to the council chambers themselves – should be another ten minutes or so."
Explosions ripped through Long Night of Solace, and the supercarrier finally succumbed to the concentrated pounding from the entire Alliance fleet.
"That's the last one, Admiral." Thel informed him. "High Charity is all that remains."
"Good work, Shipmaster. Octavian informed me a minute ago that High Charity's slipspace engines were shut down, and the strike team assigned to capture the dreadnaught have just fought their way to the gravity corridor – along with Fifteenth division, who are at the base of the dreadnaught itself. We can expect the city's shields to go down shortly."
"Excellent. Let it end here." Thel said, his voice deeper than usual.
Emile and Jun ducked behind a bulkhead as about a dozen Brutes poured firepower at them.
"Hey, Cortana? We could use some fire support here!"
"On it." Cortana replied shortly. "Routing you to General Williams."
"And what can I do for you today, gentlemen?" The chipper voice of the major-general asked the Spartans. Jun recalled that his division had reached the base of the dreadnaught about ten minutes ago, and hadn't faced much fighting since – presumably he was in the best place to provide fire support.
"Fire support, five kays up the ship. Transmitting coordinates, will provide feedback."
"Acknowledged, will you want full divisional artillery stonk?"
"Affirmative, target is large force of Brutes."
"Thanks for the confirmation. Shot."
A bolt of plasma ascended the side of the dreadnaught, smashing into the base of the level Noble team were on.
"That's a negative, General. Adjust up."
"Roger, adjusting up. Shot."
The second one was much closer, the small marker bolt hitting unnoticed near the edge of the Brute gathering.
"Shot good, General. Fire for effect."
"Firing for effect."
The small shot had the same ballistic properties as the type-54 mobile plasma torpedo launcher, which fired a projectile that was guidable from the launcher to an extent. It could be used to obtain targeting route information for the heavy plasma artillery.
The type-54, also known as the Simurgh, fired plasma torpedoes much less powerful than shipboard launchers could. But it was more than enough.
Eight torpedoes blasted the Brute position out of existence.
"Thanks, General. We've got a clear run."
"My pleasure. Kick the Prophet for me, Spartans."
"Well, if you're asking…" Emile muttered, grinning beneath his helmet.
The door to the Sanctum of the Hierarchs exploded. A lance of Sanghelli led by Sesa 'Refum hurried through the door and took up positions, followed by a human ODST squad.
"Cortana, this is Buck. We've reached the objective. It's got some strange stuff in here."
Romeo took a second look around the room through his scope, and, satisfied there were no camouflaged Brutes in hiding, safed his sniper rifle. "Hey, Buck. What's this?"
Buck looked over. It was some kind of glass sculpture made of at least a hundred twisted pieces. "No idea. Modern art?"
"Hey, some of the glass has labels. I can't read them, they're in Covenant."
Sesa glanced over, and then his whole body gave a start. "By the Rings… I did not know about this. Please believe me, I had no idea. This is terrible."
"What is it, big guy?"
Sesa walked over to the sculpture, and smashed the outer casing. Taking his energy sword, he pointed at one of the glass fragments. "Harvest." Another. "Madrigal." And another. "This one is from New Jerico."
Slowly, it dawned on the troopers. "Oh, god, that's…"
Dutch retched noisily.
Romeo bent down next to him. "You okay, man?"
"No, of course not!" the sniper replied, coughing. "I just found out that the melted fragments of my home world was kept as some kind of sick trophy by the bastards who did it!"
"No! I tread the blessed path!" Truth protested, watching as Alliance forces went through his defenders like a hot knife through butter.
A more rational observer might have noticed the reason – since he'd placed so much faith in his fleet and had fully crewed every ship, the numbers of troops in High Charity itself had fallen too low to defend against an attack like the one currently taking place. A supercarrier had a vast crew, after all.
"Why?" He asked of the air. "Why can these infidels do such damage to the faithful?"
I INFORMED YOU LONG PAST
YOUR FAITH IS A MISTAKE
THE MISINTERPRETATIONS OF MEDDLERS
AND YOUR OWN DESIRE FOR POWER
"Oracle?" He managed to say, shocked. "What do you mean?"
THE HALOS ARE WEAPONS THAT KILLED THEIR MAKERS
HUMANS ARE THEIR HEIRS
ALL THIS I WOULD HAVE TOLD YOU
BUT YOU DID NOT LISTEN
NOW REAP THE REWARD OF ARROGANCE
The door unsealed and opened, admitting a seven-man team of Spartans.
One of them turned aside. "Commander, we have the Prophet Hierarch here. No other defenders."
The rest advanced and blasted the Prophet's gravity throne with overcharge plasma shots, shorting out the high powered laser and repulsor lifts.
After a moment, one of the Spartans removed her helmet. "Hey, boss, look."
The message hung on the screen for a moment, before changing.
AT LAST RECLAIMERS RETURN
DISCONNECT MY SHIP FROM HIGH CHARITY
AND I WILL FERRY YOUR RACE TO THE ARK
"The Ark?" Kat said, frowning. "I wonder what that is supposed to mean."
"I'm sure Cortana will work it out eventually." Carter waved it off. "We'll let her talk it over, see what she gets."
"High Charity's shields and defensive weapons are down. Full control of the upper layers and the foundries has been achieved." Miranda reported formally to her father.
"Good work." Admiral Keyes replied. "Well, it looks like the long war might finally be over."
Thel chuckled. "Were it so easy. There are still countless splinter groups roaming space, and the Jiralhanae homeworld remains in their hands."
"That's never what this was about. It was, primarily, about capturing the last major Covenant source of military materiel."
"Then I must admit, it was well-done."
"Interesting…" Cortana's voice floated over the connection. "Oh, sorry. I just accessed the records of that dreadnaught. It's definitely Forerunner. In fact, it's been around since the war with the Flood – one hundred thousand years ago."
Sidebars appeared, and Cortana explained the history of the Keyships. The great, unarmed craft that opened gateways between worlds and reseeded the galaxy with life, after the Halo array scoured it clean. She detoured into the nature of the Flood, since only Thel had much knowledge of the Parasite and that was theologically tainted.
"Two things worry me, though. First is that according to the records they actually kept some samples of viable Flood in various Forerunner installations – something about trying to 'rediscover' the cure. And the second is that one of the portals this dreadnaught is designed to open is rather closer to home than we could have anticipated."
"Go on." Both Keyes said at once.
"There's one on Earth – if I'm reading the records of the Luminary scan performed by Retribution's Thunder correctly. It's one of the glyphs that Dr. Halsey and I could never decipher, until now. And triangulating the scan with what I now know about how the Luminary would react indicates there are two possible sites. One is in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, which is probably not the right one, and the other is right underneath Mackinnon Road. Though the sheer size of this thing is enormous – easily over a hundred kilometres in diameter."
"It looks like we have something for archaeologists to do for the next hundred years, then." Admiral Keyes said wryly. His daughter frowned, struck by a different thought.
"Isn't that the historical home of modern humanity?"
"Yes. Suggestive, isn't it?"
"Every word you have spoken emboldens me." Thel said, slowly but clearly. "It makes me confident that my decision to break the Covenant was a good one, for the truth is more beautiful and wonderful than the carpet of lies the Prophets threw about us."
"Speaking of them, actually…" Cortana said, her voice taking on a teasing tone. "You're not going to believe which ancient race sold out the ancient human empire they were allied to. I'm still assimilating all this historical data, but it's fascinating."
"So, our remaining tasks are to finish off the Liars and the Covenant, to rebuild worlds shattered in the early days of the war, and to investigate what the Forerunners left behind."
"Pretty much." Cortana nodded.
"Though I'm sure the UNSC would appreciate it if we could avoid releasing the Flood while we're at it."
AN: Another of those dang Plot Bunnies. This one was partly me wondering what human-covenant combined weapons technologies might create, partly thinking about how much the Covenant were crippled by losing High Charity at the same time as the rebellion of the Elites, and mostly thinking about when the Oracle (Mendicant Bias, of course) explicitly stated that Humans were Reclaimers prior to the First Battle of Harvest.