Engineering their Fate

November 25, 2553

Yacy System

The battle raged in front of him and the rest of the bridge crew. All around them, on tactical battle maps and large display screens, the camera feeds showed the battle over the planet of Yacy. Forty six Covenant Separatist ships battled against the small defending Loyalist fleet with numbers only in the teens.

Fleet Master Uja Mortumee let his lower left mandible drop and moved it side to side in an effort to alleviate the itch somewhere in his throat. It did not work, so he sighed and raised his hand to fix it instead. "Bring us around," the Fleet Master ordered.

The newly renamed CSS-Class Battlecruiser Honorable Rebel opened thrusters to swing itself around and open its heavy weapons batteries to face the battle. "Obtaining targeting vectors," the weapons officer, Rhas 'Oolan, spoke with a deep baritone voice. The second-most senior officer on the bridge, 'Oolan had been on the Rebel since before it had been christened a few days prior, and back when it had been part of the armada in the Yoleni system. Mortumee thought back with a bow of his head.

The Yoleni system battle had been a disaster. It was a Kig-Yar controlled system, and when the Rebel, then the Just Victory, had been alerted of the dissolution of the Covenant and the schism between the Jiralhanae brutes and the Sangheili elites, the Yoleni system was a battle front and one of the first theatres of the new war.

At first, there had only been six Sangheili ships in the system and only eight Jiralhanae, but within hours their numbers had doubled. Mortumee had taken control and eventually eradicated the Jiralhanae from the system, but not before they had lured the Kig-Yar jackals to their side. Most of the Kig-Yar escaped to another system and had disappeared with their large 30-ship fleet. Mortumee and his battle group had searched for them for weeks, but to no avail. The jackals were nothing like their namesake, Mortumee reflected, but instead scavenger rodents that his and cowered in corners where they could not be found.

Eventually, the Fleet of Moral Vengeance gave up and instead focused on the destruction of Jiralhanae and Loyalist fleets instead. The Fleet's numbers swelled under the command of Uja and only Uja. Nobody else could have led them, he knew. He was ruthless and was a tactical genius. He had been told so often enough growing up, and had proven it time and time again. Some of the fleet had wanted to salvage some of the damaged ships they left behind. Wrecks and husks of Jiralhanae or Kig-Yar crafts that could have been repaired, if Mortumee had wished.

Instead, he deemed them as "Tainted" and had labeled them beyond redemption. They had managed to recover a sizeable amount of Huragok, though, and that really helped his fleet. They occasionally got word from other fleets in other systems, doing similar work against the brute, jackal, and prophet armadas. They were falling apart; ship masters everywhere had become reliant on San Shy'uum leadership and guidance. Without their prophets, some ship masters had no drive to go forward, and even some of those that did wish to fight simply did not have the resources they were used to. Huragok were disappearing, they reported. Some they found dead, some just vanished. The engineers were numerous on the Rebel.

Because they were numerous and able to constantly repair and upgrade the ship and the rest of the fleet, Mortumee's battle group was in a better position than most. Over the last three months, the Fleet of Moral Vengeance swelled to number over thirty strong, and upon the arrival into the Yacy system, had absorbed a smaller task force and grown to number 46. It was the largest armada Mortumee had ever commanded, and it seemed to have an obvious effect on both his body and soul. He had noticed it a few days ago; he had noticed his reflection on a standby screen, and noticed his height seemed to have increased dramatically. He was thicker, stronger, and felt power coursing through his arteries in a brand new way. Things came to him more quickly; his brain seemed to be firing on full throttle at all times. He was never caught off guard, and his decision making skills were unparalleled.

And the fact that he knew it only seemed to make it better.

"Twelve ships remaining, sir," the communications officer, Jeel 'Dejonk reported.

Mortumee looked down at the officer sitting on his control console. It had been modified to allow the officer to stand at all times, which the junior officer claimed allowed his leg circulation to flow better. Even so, 'Dejonk's head was at the same level as Mortumee's waist, and with a single turn of his head, Uja could see the three sided display in its entirety.

There, a tactical map shined brightly. Small red holo-projections battled against the blue representations of his ships. There was nothing that showed actual shots or explosions, but occasionally, the model-scale projections winked out and Jeel would report those ships as lost and destroyed.

Mortumee saw the ships as well as anything on the bridge, but he did not care to count their numbers. "How do our ships fare?" he asked.

Jeel seemed to calculate the numbers quickly. "We have four ships severely damaged, sir," he paused for a moment. "The Prevalent Certainty and the Salvation's Veteran have both moved in to provide defensive cover and rescue service," he reported with a quick glance over his shoulder up at the hulking mass that was the Fleet Master.

Uja brushed his throat with his finger again. "How are the Certainty's medical facilities?" he looked across the bridge at the weapons station. Rhas was hard at work with firing solutions. His orders had been simple, if any Loyalist ship strayed too closely to the Rebel, he was to reign the fires of hell upon the said craft.

No, it was not what Uja's Rebel was accustomed to, and it was not what the ship and its crew typically did. In every battle until today, the Fleet Master had led the assault himself. But, he reflected, the handful of ships they had picked up that morning had to prove themselves some time. That, and the fact that over two thirds of the entire fleet's Huragok engineers were onboard the Rebel, busy making repairs and upgrades that would push their Battlecruiser into the realm of a flag ship or super carrier, spec-wise, at least.

Jeel glanced over at another junior officer, a transfer from another ship that was supposed to use the Rebel as a vessel to a promotion. Uja was well aware of it. Sangheili officers unworthy of command were stripped of their duties often enough that some of his best officers were sent to replace them. He constantly ordered in new crew members, and knew for a fact that because of it, his ship was full of the best and brightest the Fleet of Moral Vengeance had to offer.

"Above average," the junior officer, Moll Vatamee replied quickly. "The wounded should be in good hands," he shot in.

Uja flicked his eyes between Vatamee and a display. "They are not to waste supplies on those that cannot be saved," he ordered. "We are running thin as it is," he looked at Jeel, who nodded and got to work relaying the orders.

"Sir," a voice called out. "I've got something here," Uja turned around to face the navigations officer, a veteran warrior that had been demoted and had worked hard to rise back up through the ranks. He had been dishonored in the past, and though he should have been dumped on a backwater planet long ago and forgotten, Mortumee could not help but admire the strength and will power of the religious elder. "Long range scans are picking up a small battle group attempting to escape from the opposite side of the planet," Kal 'Skiram announced.

Mortumee moved to the screen that Kal watched. In the center of the screen was the large circle that represented the planet Yacy, and on one side was the battle above it, while on the other, three small red dots were quickly climbing out of the atmosphere in an attempt to flee. The computer quickly identified the three ships, and lines leading away from the small representations led to small three-sentence blurbs about each ship. A carrier, a destroyer, and-

"Cut them off," Uja barked as he turned to face 'Dejonk. "Any ships that are not otherwise engaged are to come with us," he clenched his fist. The deck beneath him began to vibrate as their thrusters powered themselves to full throttle. They quickly climbed over the northern pole of the planet and blistered their way toward them. "Who joins us?" he asked the communications officer.

'Dejonk consulted his charts. "Five ships right now, sir. Seven more have committed themselves to us when they finish dismantling the brutes they face."

Uja nodded and looked back at 'Skiram. "How long?"

'Skiram checked his charts. "In nine minutes we will be within firing range, sir."

Rhas quickly spoke up. "Shall I begin with targeting solutions on the three ships?"

The Fleet Master waved his hand. "On the carrier and destroyer, yes," he faced the officer and narrowed his eyes to small slits. "But not on the Super carrier," he turned to face the center of the bridge, and the large display mounted there. "We are to capture the super carrier Thriving Purity. Jeel, fetch commander 'Ziralai. Have him bring his senior-most officers."

Special Operations commander Nima 'Ziralai was the both the oldest and smallest Sangheili on the Rebel, and possibly the entire fleet. What he lacked in size, he more than made up for in proficiency with a wide array of weapons. A veteran of a hundred ground battles in the long war against the humans, 'Ziralai was a leader in every sense of the word.

He walked into the bridge covered head to toe in his exo-atmospheric jet black armor. Two plasma sword hilts were latched onto his armor, giving him easy access to his preferred weapons. Nima was flanked by two large, bulky Sangheili soldiers, both of whom wore armor similar to 'Ziralai's own.

"Fleet Master," 'Ziralai bowed his head. "How may I be of service to the fleet?"

The deck beneath Uja bucked, and he looked to see Rhas 'Oolan hard at work at his weapons station. The destruction of the fleeing battle group had begun. "Do you feel that?" Uja gestured to the steel floor beneath him. "We have entered the battle," he looked at the three special warfare operatives. "Against three ships attempting to flee the system. One of which is the super carrier Thriving Purity. I want it captured."

'Ziralai's mandibles opened and closed in an expression of amusement. "And you want me and my forces to do so?"

Uja nodded. "Yes, commander. And do not tell me it cannot be done. You have heard the tales of the battles over Earth. The demons took a ship to Onyx. There were only a meager handful of them. Your legions number over 100," Uja's voice rose in pitch and volume up until the last word. "The shields will be disabled by the rest of our fleet and then you will lead your forces aboard. Is this understood?"

'Ziralai nodded and bowed his head. "I was never going to say that it could not be done, Fleet Master. I have never done such a thing, but I am more than willing to try it," he opened and stretched his mandibles as far as they could go before he continued. "Taking a capital ship like that will take more troops than I have, Fleet Master." He looked over at one of his companions. "A ship like that…its crews number in the thousands. If they have a decent sized ground force…it will be a battle."

"I can have troops routed to the task," Uja agreed. "Jeel, contact the ships that travel with us," he looked back at the Special Operations commander. "Prepare your men. Alert me when you're ready."

Nima looked the Fleet Master up and down. "You are going to have their weapons and shields disabled, no? I would hate to lose a few ships full of fine men just because of an oversight on your crew's part."

Uja grunted in response and waved his hand. Nima took the hint and led his procession down the ramp of the bridge and through the doors behind it. Two large Mgalekgolo hunters flanked the doors and fidgeted in their heavy armor as the trio passed them. Uja paused in his pacing and watched the guards for a moment. He had never seen the two of them use the arm-mounted cannons or the thick body-sized shields they carried, but he had seen other Lekgolo colonies cut humans in half with their shields before destroying heavy tanks with the cannons.

Those two were one of seven pairs the Rebel had on board, and were one of two sets that rotated the guard of the bridge. Uja snapped his fingers at Jeel, who turned to look. "Have Nima track down the non-guard Lekgolo. I want them on the trip as well." Jeel turned and bent over his console to complete the task.

"Sir," Kal called out. "The Departure is reporting a slip space anomaly forming near the outer part of the system. Multiple entry vectors, as far as I can tell. We are going to have company."

Uja sighed deeply as he checked the battle charts. Reports came in about the battle on the far side of the planet, where his fleet had suffered a handful of casualties, but the majority of the battle group was disengaging to face the new incoming threat. "The Purity and her escorts were making a break for that new fleet," Uja observed with a click of his jaws. "Any estimates on enemy numbers?" he asked the crew in general.

A junior officer that had been transferred onto Uja's bridge only that morning spoke quickly but confidently. "Between twenty and thirty, sir," he told them.

Uja nodded. So enough to match the remains of his fleet. "Route our twenty eight best to where the fleet will come in. Have the rest join us. Tell them we are trying not to destroy this ship. Disable shields and weapons batteries." The crew flurried with movement in attempts to fulfill their designated missions.

Uja paced the bridge and habitually clicked his jaws to and fro to pass the time. Reports periodically came in from the rest of the fleet. The enemy ships that had arrived numbered twenty nine strong, and were a hybrid Kig-Yar and Jiralhanae fleet under the command of an old and wizened San 'Shyuum. The armada that defended the planet of Yacy was destroyed, and the Fleet of Moral Vengeance was now split between two battles now instead of three.

He reflected sourly, however, that nine of his ships had been destroyed while dismantling the defending fleet and that number was going to increase as the war raged on the far side of the system. Someone called out that the shields of the Thriving Purity were disabled, and a moment later displays around the bridge showed the triumphant roars and faces of five ship masters. "Nima," Uja looked at a nearby screen. The elder elite soldier appeared with a look of amusement on his wrinkled face. "Honor light your way."

Nima bared his fangs and let out a low rumble deep in his throat. "Our blood will forge a thousand generations."

It was an age old tradition between warriors parting ways. Nima completed it to the letter, and it did nothing but fill Uja with glee. He knew he could trust the veteran with taking the new flag ship of the Fleet of Moral Vengeance. There was no other suitable candidate. And none better. "Can we spectate on the commander's progress through the ship?" he asked.

A junior officer scrambled through a set of commands, and suddenly, on the second largest screen of the bridge, a first-person-perspective of Nima 'Ziralai suddenly popped onto the display. "Excellent," Uja clicked his mandibles. "Set up three ships in a defensive formation and send the rest to the outer system battle-," he was cut off by an embarrassing squeak from a junior officer.

"Sir, the outer system battle is all but lost," he reported.

Uja's nostrils flared as he turned to look at the battle progress charts. Half of the ships sent to engage the hybrid Kig-Yar/Jiralhanae fleet were destroyed. Five were missing, more than likely coward runners that fled from failure. Nine ships remained in a futile struggle against the armada of twenty one ships that they faced. Uja grunted and checked the progress of the reinforcement ships he sent to bolster their strength. They were a few minutes away at best, and even still, there were only ten.

"We capture this super carrier and lead the battle ourselves! We rout-," he was again cut off, this time from the weapons officer, Rhas 'Oolan.

Rhas snapped his jaws open and shut. "Fleet Master, that is not possible. The Thriving Purity's shields and weapons are heavily damaged. They simply cannot be repaired in time for a battle. Not today, at least."

Uja looked down at the officer in disdain. "Have all Huragok aboard this ship readied for departure. Message the other three ships on defense and tell them to do the same. As soon as Nima is confident that the Purity is ours, they all will be sent."

Rhas shook his head. "Sir, send as many Huragok as we have in our entire fleet, and we still would not have the numbers or the time enough to sufficiently repair the ship's defenses or firepower. Our only chance is to abandon this ship to leave it for later, and lead the charge in this, in the Rebel. Otherwise we will be overrun!"

Uja narrowed his eyes and held back a roar of fury. "Do not tell me how to run this ship, officer Rhas. Know your place." He eyed the front display again. Nima floated down to the ground inside the well of a gravity lift. Uja would give anything to be part of such an assault again.

Fluorescent blood sprayed up toward his face, and Nima 'Ziralai happily opened his jaws to allow himself the joy to taste the dying Unggoy. He looked up and down the hallway to see two more of his squad cut down a trio of the heretic vermin.

A garbled roar of an enraged Jiralhanae pack leader echoed down the passage. Nima spun on his heel and saw a quartet of the brutes standing in in a loose diamond. The rear-most of them, the largest and more than likely leader, roared again and brandished a small package. It was a type of carrier bag that humans often wore when carrying extra gear in battle. The Jiralhanae could not see the special operations squad in their active camouflage armor, but Nima could tell that they knew his team was there. If not from the dead bodies strewn about their feet, but from the slight shimmers in the air wherever they walked.

"Leave it to Jir'a'ul to steal from humans," one of Nima's squad mates grunted into his ear. His second in command, Loa 'Lepimee, roared in response. Nima raised his arm and growled an order.

The brutes broke into a trot, not toward Nima's squad, he saw after a moment, but toward a nearby doorway that led to another maze of hallways. The squad of four Sangheili warriors chased after them, barely breathing heavily as they sprinted in a line. Eventually, they emerged into a large room with what looked like a large engine in the center of it.

"Those are the slip space capacitors," one of his soldiers announced. "What are the brutes doing here?"

Their answer was a flurry of plasma rounds that splashed harmlessly across their private shield units. Their active camouflage systems failed in unison, and suddenly the four elite warriors were dropped into the easily visible plane of sight. One of the brutes charged at them with fangs bared and arms outstretched. Nima calmly stepped forward and turned on his energy sword with an explosion of white-blue light. He lunged forward just as the Jiralhanae came within arm's reach, and the sword cut through the brute easily enough to send Nima stumbling forward on his feet. A roar sounded from his right, and he saw that two of his warriors stood victoriously over the corpse of another Jiralhanae.

"Where are the others-?" one of his men began. He was cut off by the sound of a discharging fuel rod cannon, and a moment later the elite exploded in a shower of brilliant neon-green light. Nima watched his two remaining warriors sprint after the attacking Jiralhanae.

Nima turned to face the large block of components in front of him. He had not been trained in any portion of the machine, and literally had no idea what he was looking at. "Jir'a'ul coward!" he called out. "Show yourself and die like the warrior you think you are."

His only response was a low roar, followed by a thunderous, guttural laugh. Nima's eyes followed along the path of sound, and he soon found the pack leader standing in the shadows of a large tube. In its large, hairy, and heavily muscled hand was the bag from before, only this time it was unzipped enough for Nima to see what was inside.

Human shaped explosive charges. He had seen them wreak havoc on doors and valuable goods at checkpoints throughout his many years fighting them. And the Jiralhanae stood next to the slip space engines-

Nima had no other option. He spread his mandibles and roared as loudly and as ferociously as he could. He leapt toward the Jiralhanae pack leader, but the distance was far too great. The last thing he ever saw was the most intense and bright light he could imagine, as well as an unimaginable heat. Then, blackness.

Uja's eyes narrowed and he flashed a glare at his communications officer. "What was that?" the Fleet Master's only reply was silence. He slammed a clenched fist on a nearby surface. "What just happened?" he demanded.

Weapons officer Rhas spoke first. "I'm picking up energy readings from inside the Purity, Fleet Master. Consistent with-," the officer was cut off by a high pitched bark from Jeel.

"I have special operations on a secure line-," he announced. Uja turned to face a display, and a still picture of an unknown Sangheili warrior popped onto the screen.

"State your name," Uja ordered.

There was no stream for the conversation, so the picture did not move. "Loa 'Lepimee, Fleet Master," the deep voice replied. "Commander Nima's second in command. Nima is dead, sir." The soldier paused to let it sink in, and then repeated it. "The Commander is dead, and the Jiralhanae have disabled the slip space capacitors here. Some of my teams are reporting that other critical systems have been similarly destroyed."

Uja roared a curse and then narrowed his eyes at the display. "Is the ship beyond repair?"

Loa was silent for a moment, and then spoke slowly. "It is not my place to say, sir, but from what my teams are telling me, it will require a lot of work."

"And a lot of time," Rhas said. "Fleet Master, we must pull our forces out of that ship and help our brethren face the heretic fleet."

Uja turned to face the weapons master. "Are you not a junior officer? Are you the leader of this ship? Of this fleet?" Uja clicked his mandibles together. "Jeel, send our escort ships ahead. We no longer require their service defending us." He turned to the display. "Loa, clear the bridge and find out what exactly is destroyed. We have Huragok incoming. I want escorts for each and every one of them. Commander Loa, I put my faith in your hands. Out." He slashed his hand through the air, and the picture of the newly promoted warrior disappeared.

"Report of the battle," Moll Vatamee called out. "Four of our ships have been destroyed. The other fleet is down only two. They have successfully split our fleet in two, and are in the process of splitting them up even further."

Rhas 'Oolan grunted and jumped from the lower bridge to the upper area, where Uja stood alone. "Sir, we must move now. Aid our fleet or stay here and flounder in our failure to take that ship."

Uja's fingers twitched at his side, yearning for the hilt of his energy sword and the chance to use it. "Step down, now." He ordered.

Rhas glared at his superior officer and shook his head. "It is well within our rights to strike down a commander that does not fight for what is right for his people. You have gone over the deep end, Fleet Master. If we do not leave to aid our fleet right here, right now, then our only other option is to run with our tails between our legs. I am not a coward, Fleet Master. My clan raised me to fight. Now let us do so!"

Uja saw a flash of movement to his side, and suddenly Kal 'Skiram had a plasma pistol drawn and pointed at the young officer. "Step down, Rhas. The Fleet Master has led us through many battles. It is not your place to question him."

"It is all of our places," Rhas insisted. "You have commanded us well, Fleet Master. But your time has come. Your commanding privileges have come to an end. Step down with dignity, and your life can be spared."

Someone stepped up beside Rhas with a plasma pistol of his own. It was Jeel 'Dejonk.

"So we have split in two yet again," Uja glowered. "Was the Great Schism not enough to quench your thirst? Why do you insist upon breaking us apart a second time? We are already at odds with most of what was the Covenant. The Arbiter and his faction refuse to support or aid us. Do you do this for him? To gain his trust?" Kal climbed from his station to stand beside Uja, much to the Fleet Master's surprise and comfort.

"No, Fleet Master," Rhas flicked his wrist and a sun-bright blue and white energy sword flashed into existence. "I do this for the good of the Fleet of Moral Vengeance. For the good of all the Sangheili that serve under that banner. But most of all, I do it for us." Two junior officers stepped up behind 'Oolan with weapons in hand.

Uja shook his head and snatched the hilt of his sword off of his belt. "No, Rhas. You do this for yourself and nobody else. The glory in commanding a fleet of this magnitude has eluded you and your clan for generations. If you do this successfully, you would be hailed as the greatest of the Clan 'Oolan for a dozen generations. I understand exactly why you do this. Do not fool yourself into thinking otherwise. You do this for yourself and no one else." Moll Vatamee moved to stand behind Uja and nodded as a plasma pistol appeared from behind his back.

The doors in the back of the bridge suddenly opened, and two Mgalekgolo entered. They paused, mid stride, and took in the sight of the divided bridge. One began to raise his fuel rod cannon, but Uja waved his hand to stop them. "Do not interfere, hunters. This battle does not concern either of you," his gaze fell from the rebellious Rhas to the pair of Lekgolo. "Support whoever comes out on top and follow their orders. But do not enter this battle." The pair stiffened and then took a step backwards to displace themselves further from the battlefield.

Rhas bared his fangs in what passed for a show of amusement. "There is honor still in you," he said. "I congratulate you. But your honor will die with you. Here, on this bridge."

Uja turned his energy sword on with a blaze of light. "Okay then," he looked to his left, at Moll, and to his right, at Kal. Both of the officers nodded in reassurance. Uja gestured with his sword, and a moment later ferociously lunged forward with a roar of anger.

Ship Master Mar 'Relemee wiped the blood from his eyes and slammed his other fist down at a nearby console. Around him, the Prevalent Certainty was falling apart. Emergency klaxons blared with sounds that made his already-bleeding ears burn. Most of the lights around the bridge were off, and sparks danced across the large room in showers of brilliant light. Half of his bridge crew were dead or dying, and most of the other half were unfit to fight.

Something moved to his left, something biological, and he looked to see his navigations officer scrambling at a terminal. "Kra, what is it?" Mar managed.

The officer turned to look over his shoulder. It was only then that Mar saw that the young officer's shoulder was impaled with a long metal pole. "It's the Rebel, sir," he told him. "They're…I'm…" he breathed heavily and nervously clicked his mandibles. He pressed a button on his console and suddenly the flickering image of a long-range external camera feed popped onto a nearby damaged screen. The ship around them rumbled, still taking plasma bombardments from the enemy ships that surrounded them on all sides. The battle was lost. There was no other possibility.

The image popped in and out, a camera feed from a hallway just outside a command bridge. The bodies of two Sangheili officers lay motionless. Flashes of blue-white light sparked off to the right of the camera feed, bathing the bodies in light every few seconds. "A duel?" Mar asked himself. He looked over at Kra, and a moment later the officer slumped to the floor with eyes that stared off into the darkness beyond. Something flashed across the bridge; a report that the engines were past critical. They were going to overheat and possibly explode any minute now. Mar swore, but looked back at the screen. A new body fell on the ground, but Mar could only see the feet of the Sangheili warrior. He could almost see what type of armor it was. Was it the ornate armor of a Fleet Master?

The screen blackened, and a second later a camera mounted on the outside of the Certainty showed the Rebel turn away from the battle and disappear inside a slipspace portal.

"Cowards."

Something deep inside the ship groaned metallically, and distant explosions rumbled through the many decks. Mar kept his gaze on the display that showed the space where the Rebel had been the moment before it left the rest of the fleet behind. He watched that point until the explosion reached the bridge and white-hot light overtook him.