CAS-class assault carrier Song of Retribution

July 7, 2561

"Fleetmaster!"

Jul 'Mdama, leader of the Storm Covenant, Hand of the Didact, walked over to the sensor operator who had spoken. "What is it?"

"Take a look."

The holographic display showed a circular section of space where the stars were blotted out by a shifting field of violet splotches of energy. "What is that?"

"I was hoping you would know."

Jul mulled that line over for a second. "Get the human. She may know what this is. In the meantime, what do the sensors say?"

"The anomaly is ninety three thousand units in front of us. Diameter is estimated at one unit, but its energy output is greater than some stars."

At that moment, the anomalous splotches warped, almost as though they were painted along the inside of a tunnel. "It's a portal! Bring all ships to high combat alert! Be ready to engage whatever comes through."

The bridge went into a flurry of activity as orders were passed throughout the ship and between ships. As they worked, Jul mentally tallied up the Storm's fleet. Aside from the Song, there were two armored cruisers, two destroyers, and a half-dozen corvettes. Of them, both of the cruisers' shield generators had stopped working, and none of the ships had a fully-functional weapons complement.

A tense minute passed before the first vessel appeared in the portal. Once he saw it, Jul knew that his fleet was outmatched and would be destroyed. Unless…"Engage Slipspace drives. Get us out of here. We'll come back for our families."

"Fleetmaster, we aren't going anywhere. Slipspace drives have been shut down. Cause unknown."

The Hand watched as more and more ships poured through the portal. The computer finally stopped counting the arrivals at one hundred eighty nine, eighty four of them armed. "All cruisers, concentrate fire on their flagship. Everyone else, choose your targets."

With that, the first volley of torpedoes was launched. They were joined by three of the fleet's four energy projectors, one of which died in the middle of the shot.

To his shock, Jul saw each projector's beam appear to diminish before it struck. He looked along the line of enemy ships and watched as the same scenario played out against the torpedoes directed at a half a dozen other ships. The one exception was the smallest enemy vessel, which was also apparently the oldest as its armor was streaked with corrosion, which was instead protected by heavy shielding. Its shields wavered and finally collapsed under the battering of an energy projector and nearly a dozen plasma torpedoes. Two additional torpedoes boiled away the ship's command center, sending it drifting. "All ships, full ahead. Get to pulse laser range."

At that moment, the enemy fired. A massive beam weapon mounted beneath the flagship's command center targeted the cruiser to the Retribution's right, which simply ceased to exist.

The cruiser on the left was blown apart by several torpedoes that moved nearly too fast for the ship's computer to track. He could only watch as both destroyers were pounded into melted scrap metal by similar barrages.

Then the bridge was overwhelmed with tortured screams for a second as beams of violet energy tore the corvettes and their crews to shreds.

"Bring us in close."

"The flagship is turning toward us."

"Get us above their targeting plane."

The assault carrier was quick, but not quite quick enough. Four blue beams speared the Sangheili ships. "They just destroyed our engines. We're drifting!"

"Were our shields even up?"

"Yes. And they are holding at ninety one percent. Whatever that was, it bypassed our shields, entirely."

"Sir! A dozen transport shuttles are approaching, escorted by two dozen fighters."

"Blow them to a thousand hells. Transports first."

However, the fighters ensured that that didn't happen. They intercepted pulse laser blasts intended for the shuttles. Then those that survived returned fire, reducing the laser batteries to slag.

"And now we are defenseless. Link me to every crew station." After the order was carried out, he continued, "Crew of the Song of Retribution, this is Fleetmaster 'Mdama. Our brothers are dead. Our weapons and engines have been disabled. And there are boarding craft are bearing down on us. I want a complete data purge. Navigational, technological, historical, everything. Ensure that the enemy cannot destroy either our families or the gifts of the Forerunners. Fight well and kill as many as you can."

J'Rin Vadam rushed to cover and slumped to the deck, one hand clutching his Storm rifle, the other pressed against the hole in his abdomen. He keyed his radio. "Fleetmaster." He coughed. "We're being overrun. Mgalekgolo can hold them off for a few moments, but the enemy is too many." One of the enemy troopers rounded the corner of his cover. J'Rin primed a plasma grenade and tossed it against the other warrior's chest. "Plasma grenades will adhere to their armor." Then the grenade exploded into a blue sphere of misery, killing both warriors.

Jul paced the bridge, listening with growing frustration as report after report indicated faltering defenses and advancing invaders. From the reports, he was able to piece together a rough description of the enemy.

They wore suits of powered armor that were as tall as Jiralhanae with strong shields and stronger plating. They wielded plasma and electrical weaponry that stripped shields and incapacitated warriors in single blasts, respectively.

The distant ka-whump of fuel rod cannons signaled that the battle had nearly reached the bridge. "Fellow Sangheili." Once he had the crew's attention, he drew his energy sword and activated the blade. "It will be an honor to fight by your side, once more. Let us show these bastards what the Storm is capable of."

He walked toward the door, motioning for the other warriors to form a semi-circle around it. The next few minutes were tense as was always the case with impending battle. The only sounds were the warriors' breaths, occasionally interrupted by explosions as every ordinance in the Covenant arsenal was directed at the invaders. A moment later, the pattering of plasma joined in, showing how close the battle was getting.

Then all weapons' fire ceased. "Be ready. This is where they will die."

The door was blown off its rails, giving the bridge crew their first good look at the invaders…all three species of them.

The largest were taller and broader than even Jiralhanae with wide faces, short, blunt muzzles, and short horns.

The next-largest were the only ones the size of Brutes. Their faces seemed to be lengthened versions of Elites' under the helmets, and they had long, thick tails.

The smallest were as tall as the human Demons. They had longer muzzles than the largest ones as well as calf-length thin tails and lithe limbs.

All had four-fingered hands consisting of three fingers and a thumb.

"Have at them!" Jul charged at the invaders. A weapon swung into line with him. He batted it aside and cleaved his opponent's torso in two. A punch burst his shield. The offending arm was severed by the energy sword. Jul's muscle's locked up as electricity arced through his veins. The pain caused him to black out.

There was no way to tell how much time had passed before the self-proclaimed Hand of the Didact regained consciousness. He was in a sterile white room, chained to a wall by a set of energy manacles.

His armor had been stripped away, replaced with a skin-tight gray bodysuit that left his hands, head, and hooves exposed.

Taking stock of the room again, he realized that there appeared to be no doors, unless they fit seamlessly in their frames, which was impossible. Not even the Forerunners were capable of such a feat.

"I must commend your ability to lead, 'Mdama."

Jul could not find the source of the voice until its owner walked in through the center of the wall opposite the Sangheili. The being was small, only the size of a human. That was where the similarity ended. This being was covered in gray-brown fur from head to toe. The tail and muzzle told Jul that this alien was a member of the smallest species that had boarded the Retribution. One arm and been amputated just below the elbow and a strip of red cloth covered one eye. Taking into account the uniform vest and leggings the being wore, he had had military service at one point in the past, but was now too injured to fight any more.

"While fighting our way to your command center, I lost twelve men to death, and another twenty were injured. Of them, seven will be lucky to be able to perform strenuous physical tasks ever again. Then we reached your command center. Nine more dead, four more injured." He gestured to the stump where his right arm once was. "Your handiwork."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, 'Hand of the Didact,' all of that bloodshed could have been avoided but for a tremendous lapse in your judgment. Why did you fire on my fleet?"

"You invaded Covenant space. Honor demanded that we drive you off."

The alien shook his head. "This is no invasion fleet. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Admiral Mukirr, commander of the Mrrshan Refugee Fleet.