In the 2185, mankind made their first "slipstream" faster than light travel, now, due to over population, they have moved out of earth and are creating a vast network of colonies, the primary one being Reach; their first. Under the command of the UNSC (United Nations Space Command), they have prospered under general peace. But, just outside the frontier a fanatical Alien race, the Covenant, are watching the human race with envois, yet vigorous hatred, they moved their ships nearby a human small outer colony called Harvest. And waited… This is the story of the origin of the Human-Covenant war, the part that was never told…

Prologue

1425 Hours, 08 February, 2525

(Military Calendar)/

Centurion System,

Colony 36-D Planet Harvest,

Military Compound

The arbiter looked over the smouldering ruins and charred human corpses, the wounded he could still hear from the hills above the facility where he'd began the assault. He could see his Elites in their glistening armour sweeping the compound, mopping up the wounded remainder of this "army"; he felt no remorse, only disappointment. He was let down by his new enemies weakness in combat; he held his own against 10 of them and took out 7 of them with no help and no problem; the squad leader took the rest.

The Elites were the backbone of the Covenant military and society. Long ago they swore their allegiance to follow and protect the Profits. And in return the Profits promised they would be great strengths on the Profits path to salvation. They had wiped out many a race the Profits deemed "an affront to the gods and the great journey"; no enemy ever withstood their might.

'This camp is secure,' the squad leader told the Arbiter, 'the reminence of their troops are fleeing into the forest.'

'Good,' the Arbiter said 'were ahead of schedule. The Hierarchs will be pleased.'

'Shall I tell my Elites to suit-up for the final hunt?' The squad leader wanted to go on an unnecessary slaughter; and the Arbiter felt had seen enough blood to last a lifetime.

'No,' he said firmly, 'were pulling out know, prepare the drop ship and tell the ship to fire the plasma torpedoes.' He looked around his enemy's grassy plains and rolling fields one last time before completing his order, 'I want nothing but glass left in 4 hours.'

The squad leader scowled at the Arbiter, then conceded; he signalled his Elites back to the Drop Zone.

'I'll take one last sweep, see if there's any thing that might be useful.' The Arbiter said jumping down off the ridge and through the pastures. He walked right through the melted perimeter fence that had been blasted through with Fuel Rod charges; the ends of the fence marking the epicentre still glowed red-hot, even after 2 hours.

The arbiter felt tired of war, for most of his life now he had been obliterating species and lying waste to worlds, ever enemy he ever faced had fallen. Just as he was sure to receive another honouring from the Profits and council, for carrying out there will.

And what then, what will become of him when there are no enemies left to fight? His purpose fulfilled what would the Profits decide to do with him and the rest of the Elites. He tried not to think about it. With luck, this next enemy would take years and years to destroy; the translations of enemy software showed them the locations of nearby colonies, the Arbiter had already sent a frigate look for a planet they called Chi Ceti 4. It would be a while before they would find anything as their engines were damaged.

The Arbiter walked through what was an open green; once used for running and exercise it was now scorched with craters and burning corpses. He both marvelled and despised what he'd done, but he couldn't let anyone else know; particularly the Profits, else his contentious objections destroy the Arbiter chain and plunge the Covent into civil war. This was worth the mindless slaughter by far.

He knelt down and took off his gold battle helmet and cast it aside; meaning his shield was essentially disengaged. He picked up a metal Dog Collar necklace; he didn't need a translation to understand what it was. Someone's only means of identification lost; suddenly he felt pity, but it was to come too late.

A silent bullet cut clean through the side of his chest, it was happened in the blink of an eye; he suddenly felt no pressure to secure his place in the Covenant, just to change it. He collapsed to the side next to his helmet; he remembered what he forgot; his shield only worked with ALL the armour; it was completely useless otherwise.

He saw his killer in the distance, a human lay in the grass atop a tall hill with a single shot sniper, and he was reloading another shot to finish him off.

'Arbiter!' The squad leader exclaimed as he saw blood trickle in a puddle around his commander and chef. The Arbiter signalled the Squad leader not to come any closer, and he didn't out of respect for the command structure. The Arbiter struggled for a moment, and then he found the words to convey his last message to his Elites, to his Covenant.

'We must…stop this killing…' He said pausing every few seconds out of pain, 'The Profits…have asked us to kill, and they must pay the price…we owe it to every race we killed in the name of the covenant…' He felt he had to change the course the Elites were taking, '…That's an or-' A bullet went clean through his head before he could finish his order; the squad leader knew what he going to say, but didn't believe he meant to say it. He concluded that the Arbiter must have been delirious from the wound.

There was no doubt in his mind that that's what it was.

He saw the sniper on the hill get up on run out of the area. He felt he owed it to the Arbiter to carry out his last sane order; there would be nothing left of this planet but glass and fire.

He went back to the drop zone, carrying the Arbiter's lifeless corpse. His team stood to attention in shock; who was in command now? What were their objectives?

'What happened?' a medic Elite asked the squad leader in a frenzied hurry to see the extent of the Arbiter's injuries; he was long gone.

'A human…' the squad leader said coldly, 'there was nothing I could do…'

An Elite roared, 'We'll crush whatever parasite did this!' The others cheered.

'No!' the squad leader commanded, 'I'll take care of this personally.' He told the medic to but him in stasis for the journey back to High Charity; he would be buried in the Mausoleum of the Arbiter along with every one of them before him. Don't worry; the squad leader thought to himself as he looked at his commander for the last time, your legacy shall remain intact…Arbiter.

He went over to one of the Elite pilots with a banshee.

'I need to borrow this.' He ordered.

'Do you have authorisation?' The pilot asked; the squad leader didn't have time for this.

'I need this to find the human parasite that did it.' The pilot looked shocked and immediately stepped out of the way.

'I'll also need an atmospheric suit.' He said as the first drop ship took off with a flat roar.

'Why?' the Elite pilot asked.

'I'm going ahead with the Arbiter's order, in 4 hours, whether I'm onboard or not, you must destroy this planet, understood?' The pilot nodded and handed gestured a crate with a suit in.

The squad leader hadn't ever doubted what he was doing; he was young, his faith was strong. And as long as he was true to himself and the great journey, he would never fail.