A/N Remember to review on your way out!
Disclaimer: Edited by Imsi. Halo is owned by Bungie, it isn't owned by me
Imsi, die! Pathetic wimp! She shall fall to the mighty power of the… Humans!!) She is such a Covie lover… Go Sergeant Johnson! May he rest in peace.
How very excellent
"Excellent! I believe I see assistance approaching…"
A towering ship approached. Purple and sleek yet oh so primitive, it was obviously of the Meddlers' design. A research vessel, with two powerful thrusters and elementary weapons system. Most of the design was startlingly similar to Spark's creator's technology. If Guilty Spark did not know any better, he could very well have said somebody had been stealing Forerunner technology. The Monitor, 343 Guilty Spark, bobbed impatiently as the ship continued on its slow progress towards what remained of the Installation. Finally, the ship hovered near the broken pieces of Halo.
Guilty Spark floated to where the gravity lifts were established before sending a signal. In response, the ship's gravity lift activated, carrying the Monitor into the great vessel. Excellent.
Spark hovered along the corridors. Corridors that were as sickly purple as the ships interior.
Sesa 'Refumee was the ships commander. At the moment, he was examining what remained of the Holy Ring. Prophet curse the Demon who committed such sacrilege. Wrecked pieces of Halo drifted lazily in the stars. Even broken and ravaged, it still held such unearthly beauty. He stared for a moment and mourned the loss of such a great Holy Relic when the ships alarm sounded.
"Excellency!" It was Tkum 'Funamee, his second-in-command and one of the youngest aboard the vessel. An Aristocrat, 'Funamee had no mate but already fathered many children. "There has been an unexpected usage of the Gravity Lift and an impostor is on board. We suspect it is the Demon as sensors are unable to identify the intruder. Sensors have managed to identify one thing however. There is an Associated Intelligence absorbing our database. We also believe that might be the Demon's AI."
Ah, finally. Rightful revenge upon the Demon. 'Refumee clicked his mandibles in anticipation. "Get a Special Operations team ready. Kill the Demon! Show no mercy upon its filth!"
"Your Will, Excellency." 'Funamee began issuing orders as 'Refumee lay in wait for sweet vengeance.
Quite surprisingly, 'Funamee came back trailed with the usual admiring eyes a lot faster than 'Refumee would have expected. Sesa prepared himself for Tkum's failure that he had expected. But if he was still liked and admired by the younger Sanghelli, could he have failed? 'Funamee certainly did not seem sorry. In fact, he seemed elated, jubilant. So much, that he curled his mandibles inwards in an outright grin, for once heedless to his 'fans'. At first, 'Refumee could not understand the younger Sangheili's behaviour until he saw who followed behind.
"The Oracle!" the Sangheili gasped. In all his years, he would never have even dreamt to meet the Oracle. In an act of respect, he bowed along with the rest of the bridge members. The Oracle hummed cheerily, a strange background song, much in contrast to the solemn environment.
"Oracle? Why do you Meddlers always insist on using such inaccurate terms?"
'Refumee was confused… 'Inaccurate terms?' Was the Oracle not who the Prophets thought he was?
"I am a genius!"
"Are you not the Oracle, the one in charge of the Sacred Ring?"
"Oracle? Good gracious me, how inaccurate, in my dictionary, the word 'Oracle' really means a prophesy. My designation is 343 Guilty Spark, the Monitor of Installation 04, a relic of the Forerunners which you so inaccurately call the 'Sacred Ring,' or 'Halo'." 343 Guilty Spark was ecstatic. For over 100 thousand years, he had nobody to talk to. Nobody except his Sentinels, which were constantly at a loss for words. He giggled. He made a joke. Finally, there was a whole group of sentient beings, eager to hear him preach. He might even stop them from using such inaccurate terms! "Installation 04 was built to annihilate the Flood. There is only one way— to starve the Flood to death. To deprive them of food. Their diet is everything that has sufficient biomass to maintain them. In order to starve them to death, we must first kill their diet, which is everything. To kill their diet, Installation 04 was invented by the Forerunners. It will kill all life. Ingenious!"
The Flood? The Oracle probably means the Parasite, 'Refumee thought.
In spite of the eccentric, happy tone of voice that the Oracle used to explain the function of the great ring, the ominous meaning was clear in a few minutes as 'Refumee bended his mind around the new truth, no. New possibility. The truth, if it indeed were, was harsh, as most truths are. At learning this so abruptly, naturally the Zealot's feeling of ecstasy at meeting the Oracle drained away.
No, it could not be true. The Sangheili refused to accept that. Surely the Oracle was referring to something else. Had it gone unchecked, driven to madness throughout its years in isolation? Impossible. However, if it had not gone insane, then he would be forced to accept the Great Journey was false. Two improbable choices. Humming, the strange voice that shot through three octaves in a single sentence, the longwinded speeches. Insanity was a possibility. The Oracle, however, knew truth, could see through lies. It was practically a god. Truth was a possibility. The others wrestled with their minds as well. This was not like any honourable battle where the fittest survived, any mêlée that the crew and captain had ever experienced. The Zealot forced himself to consider both choices. If they could be thought of as choices.
'Choice' One: The Oracle was insane. Driven to a corner of its mind from isolation, separation of other beings. Its teachings were what it believed to be true, but were actually false.
'Choice' Two: The Oracle was speaking the truth. The Prophets were lying. The Great Journey was simply suicide. The 'Next World' was not godhood, but death. There was no Great Journey. The Prophets would sacrifice them all for nothing, leading them into slaughter.
He did not like either choice, but as he thought about it, he realized both choices involved the Prophets being deceits. Deceitful in Choice One by hinting the Oracle was totally sane, and practically an almighty god. In Choice Two, they lied. The Prophets… Their will must be done. Yet, he could not shake of a feeling, this feeling of foreboding off. Their Will, a beacon of light to his eyes. A single goal, shared common by countless others. Before, that gave him a sense of comfort and belonging. A sense of connection. A common light in the darkness. Now, he was uneasy. All his buildings of reason and faith… It was as if it had been warned of an earthquake, a phenomenon found on the human world that shook the ground. That shook the ground like the Forerunners' wrath.
The Forerunners… Who were they but shadowy figures of the past with only the Prophets words on their true beings?
The Prophets had taught him about the Oracle as well. A mark, another milestone of the Great Journey. It was a milestone for him, but not in the same way. It could either build his already strong faith to something invincible, or break it to nothing. In any case, the Oracle had obviously chosen something. Had chosen a side. The Oracle, guardian of the ring… Perhaps a little eccentric, but its knowledge was unlimited, had to be true. The Oracle had chosen. The Prophets had chosen. Now, he had though unwilling to even make a choice, wishing to stay ignorant of the cruelty that befell him. But that was the truth, was it not? Possibly. Always possibly. He chuckled derisively though nothing about this was funny. He had chosen, but was still choosing… Or not.
As soon as he thought this, his world, his sanctuary in his mind, felt as though it had been glassed. Like on a glassed planet which surface was reflective, he felt as if he was staring at himself, looking down at the glass. Staring at his reflection, the Sangheili that was made up of himself and the lies of the Prophets. But on a glassed planet, there was also dust. The dust that blurred his mirror image. Who was he now?
Sesa 'Refumee, where do your loyalties lie?
He stood up fully now, and clicked his mandibles for attention. His body trembled, not with rage and that was something that rarely, or even never, happened.
"Brothers! What is this you ask? This 'treachery'? This 'heresy'? I do not know. Yes, I do not know. But all must choose, as must I. All must choose what they think, for whatever reason. All must choose the honourable choice"—the Kig-Yar shifted uncomfortably—"All must choose the truth, or at least what they believe is true. We must choose, not for benefit, but for change. We must choose, not for 'old times', but for true times.
"I have chosen. I do not know if I am right, or someone who has chosen otherwise is right. I am unsure, on a path on my own. For now. By saying this, I imagine you know what I have chosen. I am unsure of my choice, but even more volatile, though by little, of the other. I will tell you my choice.
"The Prophets' words ring false in my ears now. However, the Oracle's ring true! Follow me, brothers, the rebellion begins!" Sesa 'Refumee was unsure of his decision, but there was no stepping back. He knew he would be hunted down by the Prophets. He drew his sword and roared in rebellion against all the lies he had once believed.
"Stop! Lies and treachery are all you have? 'Refumee! Traitorous mind, once brilliant. Are you rebelling against the Great Journey? The step to the Next World?" his second-in-command furiously and disbelievingly interjected.
"'Funamee. I suspected you would choose this. You are blinded by what you once believed. There is no Great Journey. The idea of it, however, is what I am rebelling against. They will drive us to our deaths. You have been well deceived, as have I. But now, surely you see the truth!"
'Refumee's second-in-command, Tkum Funamee, ground his mandibles angrily. "If you cannot see, we shall sort this out in battle! Come now, all who are loyal to the Great Journey! The rest will burn in the Forerunner's wrath." Tkum glared at 'Refumee, clicking his mandibles in frustration.
The crew was unsure. Several Unggoy ran in circles as they would have in combat with the Demon. The Sangheili, twenty-six in total excluding Sesa and Tkum, paced around as their buildings of reason and beliefs toppled. Huragok hovered above the rest, level with the Oracle, oblivious of the drama unfolding. They floated around on gas bladders, contently fixing the equipment some hysterical Unggoy was wrecking. After 'Funamee fired a few impatient shots into the air, the Unggoy decided. Most joined 'Refumee. For too long have their kind died for the 'Great Journey' the promise of eternal warmth. Their natural fear be damned, this was something real to fight for: Truth.
The 15 Kig-Yar decided next, seeing the Unggoy move to 'Refumee, immediately joined 'Funamee. Besides, the Covenant was paying them for their services. The Sangheili were the last. They thought until their clouded minds became ever more muddled, thought until all had made a decision. Ten to 'Refumee and sixteen to 'Funamee.
"All has decided, then. All has chosen their sides. Some betraying me, their captain—"
"—and some betraying the Great Journey!" Funamee growled. "We will fight to the end! You are no true Zealot."
Trotting to the ship, Tkum's division followed loyally. The battle was obviously to be in the vessel. 'Refumee and his section stayed poised outside, hands and claws on the holster of their weapons. They were, however, still honour bound. They would wait until each side was ready for battle. The opposing division sank into the darkness of the ship. All except 'Funamee. He paused, turning to face the rest on the structure and the Oracle.
"There will be a battle. And I will win it." He paused once more, then cried out.
"Death to the traitors!"
A/N Please Review! 'A tank's a tank, lightbulb.'