A/N: This is an interesting opportunity following the release of the current two Forerunner saga books and the Halo 4 terminals. In my research, I've noticed that there's an extreme lack of stories that follow Ancient Humanity, and I wanted to try and dip my toe into that brand new environment, especially in the technologically heavy society in which Forthencho originated from. This has a very rich opportunity for me to explore what happened at Charum Hakkor and get creative with their societies, since very little of Ancient Human culture and military is explored in either the books or the games. I think it would be fun to envision the Lord of Admirals participating in these battles with named crew, expanded upon ship, and locations on Charum Hakkor proper before its destruction and rediscovery by the Didact and Co. nine thousands years later during the events of Cryptum! Read and enjoy! I would appreciate any criticism about this since this is a brand new direction I have never taken with the story! Did I do a good job? What could I have done better?

Last Days of Charum Hakkor
C.R.V.

Many, many years ago…

I was once a man who commanded thousands of ships. I was a man who had the fate of Humanity in my hands. I pushed my enemy to the very brink… but that was not enough. I fought for fifty years if not more in defense of our capital! The orb of Charum Hakkor would not fall! I told myself that Humanity would endure! We would survive!

But… these were optimistic thoughts. I was not thinking as a tactician… not as a warrior, but as a man who saw defeat and wanted to deny the inevitable.

My name was Forthencho. They once called me The Lord of Admirals.

Just recalling the title alone would make my chest swell with pride. I can recall the vessel I stood in command over… yes, yes, I can. It was the Grand Cruiser Tara-Neede, the pride of Charum Hakkor. With it were the finest warriors I could ever hope to serve with. They fought valiantly as we stared down the barrels of Forerunner weapons that were bearing down on us. The pilot, a distinguished man named Podom Domed ducked and weaved us under their hard light weapons. He was a natural, as if the ship was attached to his very body.

We were full of energy. We were full of morale. Even the navigations officer, Deckmaster Lodemathan, Chief of Signals, whom was usually stone-faced, smiled as he reported the apparent retreat of our enemies.

"My Lord, the Forerunners are pulling back! We've held the line!"

"Calm yourself, Deckmaster!" I growled to him, "The Forerunners have pushed for decades against our defenses, as constant as a tide. They wouldn't pull back now without throwing something more powerful at us."

My wisdom was to be heeded, for as the tide pulls back, there is always the danger for a monstrous wave that dashes against the rocks, tearing up homes, and sweeping away your loved ones. It was like the tsunami that the Forerunners threw one last attack at us. Lodemathan spotted them and barked their presence to me.

"My Lord, Slipspace ruptures appearing outside the Great Debris Field!"

That was the name the other Admirals gave to the ring of trash, metal, and bodies that circled our capital world. For fifty years or more, the Forerunners dashed themselves against our planetary defenses, and we kept them at bay. Occasionally, our ships would join the Great Field too. There were others encircling Charum Hakkor, but only this one was bright enough to be seen from the surface.

"Fifteen hundred Promethean vessels making a run for Sector Five! By the Ancestors! They're coming in full force!"

"I the Second Prime Fleet to move into position guard Sector Five!" I ordered, professionally of course. "Seventeenth Assault Picket remains behind the Tara-Neede to provide long range firing support!"

"This is the Chudad! A second fleet is approaching the polar regions! They've got us surrounded!"

"Lock down that area!" I barked. "Coordinate with lead vessel and fire at will! Push the bastards back! Don't let them set foot on our world!"

"It will be done, My Lord!"

Again, I spoke with the air of a much younger man. I saw thousands of lances of energy fly into space over the edge of the world, and I saw flashes of light where they lanced the Forerunner ships. I smiled as I thought of the Prometheans burning to death, knowing they came all this way to die."

The Deckmaster sounded off to me. "Lord of Admirals, the Weaponsmaster has informed me we have a lock. Shall I instruct him to fire?"

"Let them see if their Mantle can protect them against the fury of the Tara-Neede! Fire!"

"I will obey!"

So we sent them a beam as a means of welcoming the latest group of Forerunners to our capital world. I stood soundly as I waited for a report.

"Scans showing a hit." Lodemathan reported. "We've crippled fifteen ships in the beam's path."

"Order the rest of the fleet to engage at their discretion, Deckmaster."

"Yes, my Lord!"

Particles and plasma boiled in the void spreading in all directions. The Forerunners themselves fired back, blowing twelve Prime Cruisers to atoms. I realized with horror that some of their shots were intentionally missing the Fleet, instead, they were aimed at Charum Hakkor itself. My heart was within my throat as I brought up an image of the surface. Fires raged across the Djudalos Great Forest, which was slowly becoming a legend. The city of our ancestors, Parad Hakkor was alit from the fire of our enemies.

So, it had come to this.

Whatever composure I had was gone. The weapons of our enemies had now tasted the ancient cities of our forefathers. Now that they saw a break in our defenses, they were ready to sink their claws into our home.

I wouldn't have it.

"Instruct Lord Captain Fathacolor to move his shield ships to encase areas over their attack vector! I will NOT accept anything other than loyalty now, Deckmaster!"

"Working as hard as I can!" the Chief of Signals said. We were only twenty minutes into this latest wave and we were beginning to falter. We sent out distress calls, please to any of our neighboring fleets that were not here. We needed help, and we needed it fast.

The ship's computer indicated that we lost twelve additional defense platforms. The Forerunners had opened up a corridor over twelve hundred kilometers long in one particular area. That was unacceptable!

"Pilot, move us and the First Fleet towards the breach in the sphere! Weaponsmaster, order all batteries to fire at will on Forerunner smallships!"

"Aye, my Lord! All batteries answering to your command!"

The rumbling within my ship became even louder as shots from every single gun on the Tara-Neede fired at whatever was closest. I saw the massive Fortress-class vessels that the bastards commonly used. It was one of the largest in their fleet, fifty kilometers long with cannons that fired light itself. I saw it blow an entire Attack Column away. Fifty thousand men died in a blink of an eye, and I was helpless to watch.

In my ignorance, I didn't feel the deck lurch at first. I didn't feel my head slam off the deckhands. One of the guards helped me up. "What happened?" I demanded.

"We have been hit, Lord!" a deckhand responded. "We're losing atmosphere three kilometers aft! We're working to repair the leak now!"

"What hit us?"

"Forerunner Fortress-class vessel, the Daring Advance."

"That's one way to put it!" I growled, rubbing my head. "Order Group 2 to fire on that ship!"

"Firing!" one of the ship commanders responded. An antimatter barrage was all it took to bring one of the biggest ships in the Forerunner fleet down. It cracked amidships and spun in space, slamming into smaller picket cruisers. I laughed at the violence.

For the first hour it seemed we were holding our ground. The first Forerunner fleet was holding position around the twentieth parallel, but I was not prepared for the second massive portal to open up not far from where the first did.

The voice I heard over the communications was that of a friend, Captain-Admiral Judod Bashadanu. "Another Slipspace portal! This one's bigger! I want the Subprime group behind me at all times! Stand by to-" his voice cut off as a faint beam of hard light streaked from the gash in space. It didn't take long to get the report. The Captain-Admiral's Grand Cruiser was destroyed the instant his instruments determined a lock had been placed on them. No less than ten Fortresses crossed into our space spilling smallships over our slowly dwindling fleet. I could not find a place where I could see the stars anymore. All I could see were energy discharges, and the free-floating hulks of our spacecraft. I couldn't bear to look at the every-growing list of casualties that had numbered over a million now. I wondered if we were able to inflict the same numbers on their side. I don't think I'd ever know then or now.

"Orders, my Lord?" Pilot Podom asked. He looked at me with distant eyes and with a sweaty face. I could see him trembling in his harness, but I could not let myself show the same insecurity. I could feel it though in the bottom of my heart that we might lose this day. It was a real possibility that we could lose Charum Hakkor.

No. I wouldn't let her fall, dammit!

"They want to charge? We'll give them a charge. Order First through Twelfth Subprime sections to push up and meet the advance!"

Lodemathan met my eyes. "That's suicide, my Lord! There's no way that even twelve sections can match almost twenty Fortress-class vessels! We'll need Behemoths!"

"We have no Behemoth vessels closeby." I said longingly. "Will the sections do damage to the enemy."

The Chief of Signals ran the numbers. "Yes. I count five losses for the Forerunners, but I am showing a complete loss for the attacking Sections."

"What if we add more?"

"Then we ourselves will be unprotected. Lord of Admirals, I do not suggest this."

"Give the order. The men are prepared for this."

Lodemathan looked at me for a second, but then steeled himself. "It is done, my Lord."

I saw the ships' engines flare at once. Twelve sections, over a hundred vessels made for the attacker's line. Along the way they fired every weapon they could, and when they were out of weapons, brave commanders sped their ships forward and detonated their drives, taking out dozens of Forerunner picket craft in the process. For forty long minutes I watched their advance while dealing with smaller craft in my region, but another Slipspace rupture opened.

By the third time I sensed the pattern. Always an hour apart; always a set number of ships piling through, but this portal was on the other side of the planet, where we did not have as many ships! I barked commands to as many commanders as I could, and their starships peeled in orbit over the edge of Charum Hakkor to meet the new waves of Forerunners.

Then I received a disturbing message.

"My Lord, one of the ships is attempting to contact you."

I scowled. "Which one?"

"We're tagging the ship as the Mantle's Approach."