Chapter 7: Comfort Zone
In the hangar was gathered a crowd of Covenant warriors, surging in and surrounding the Phantom as it landed. Among them was Yarna 'Orgalmee, using his crimson armor with pulsing golden flashes to push through the excess of onlookers. The Arbiter's mission had returned, and to the great surprise of the Hierarchs the Arbiter had survived his ordained task. Apparently the Forerunners had another purpose in mind for him. Now all crowded around to get a glimpse at the Holy Warrior of the Sangheili.
As he descended from the gravity lift, wild cheering broke out from the Elites that had assembled. Startled the Arbiter looked around, but his face became stoic once more and he moved out of the way of the gravity. Yarna made to approach him, but was repelled by the sight of what next came out of the Phantom.
Tartarus, the Alpha Chieftain of the Jiralhanae, dropped down to the deck. Immediately the cheers died and turned to a simmering pot of murmurs. The white-haired Brute merely looked around and grunted disdainfully, then rotated to show what he had in his hands. It was small and spherical, with a single blue light upon the front.
A collective gasp rose from the crowd. An Oracle. Even Yarna found himself speechless. Only one was said to have existed, within the confines of the large Forerunner ship that gave its power to High Charity, but at one point it had gone rogue and attempted to leave when the first humans were discovered. That had been the start of the war, the indicator that this species was so offending to the Gods that their own creation attempted to flee at their mere mention.
However, it had been long believed that there was but one Oracle. Now there was another.
Finally recovering himself, Yarna moved towards the Arbiter. When he drew close, he bowed. "Arbiter," he said as he raised himself back up, "your presence is requested at the Sanctum of the Hierarchs."
Tartarus smiled. Jagged unclean teeth were visible as his lips peeled back. "We were on our way this very minute, Sangheili."
Yarna pointedly ignored him. "I shall escort you," he said.
The Arbiter nodded his assent, and the pair walked off, followed closely behind by Tartarus, who still held the Oracle beneath one arm. Glancing back, Yarna took note of the disrespectful treatment of the Holy One and snorted.
"Carry that with honor, Brute," he growled, emphasizing their client title, "or you may never have the ability to carry anything again."
Tartarus scowled, baring his filthy tusks. "And I suppose you would understand better, Hatchling, how to handle it?"
Yarna bristled and was about to bring his spear to bear when the Arbiter placed a hand on his shoulder. "Cease," he said. Abashed, the Honor Guard stared for a moment before turning and resuming his walk. The rest of the trip was made in silence, and upon reaching the Sanctum, the pair entered, leaving Yarna outside with his Honor Guard brethren. He turned and departed after nodding his greeting to their captain.
As he walked, he thought. The Arbiter should not allow such heresy to go unpunished. It should have been him to raise the complaint, not me. He stopped and looked out a window at the expanse of stars beyond, at the still-burning ruins of Halo. Fires spun out into space where they were choked out by the lack of oxygen.
He snorted and resumed his pace. He pales against Grandfather.
——
Kasa 'Yonomee grunted slightly, trying to fight his own dismay and discomfort as he lay on the gravity bed in his room. Confined to quarters after his outburst on the bridge. It was unjust, his actions had been justified. Their hasty retreat, as "necessary" as the Prophet had deemed it, resulted in the death of many of their own soldiers on the ground, not to mention the dishonor in simply abandoning the human home world. And indeed he had called the Holy One some ungainly things, which he truly regretted, but the force with which he had been removed from the bridge seemed unnecessary. Even now, the bruise on his head still ached.
His chest heaved and fell in a deep sigh. The armor and dermo-suit that had so often brought him comfort in training seemed far too heavy now, even though he had removed the helmet and gauntlets.
Oriné, he lamented. His commander had been a hero, a true Sangheili warrior worthy of a ballad; he had survived Halo, the Parasite, even the Demon! But one of his own Hierarchs, one who had awarded him with the Etching of Glory, had turned his back on him and left him to die in the inferno of the Slipspace eruption. He knew he should be ashamed of these thoughts, of the words he said, but he could not bring himself to feel it. Was he a heretic? He almost didn't care, but a subtle shiver ran its way down his back.
A persistent beeping entered his consciousness, and he lazily rolled an eye to look around the room. The entrance request button flashed insistently, alerting him to a being wishing to enter his quarters.
"Enter," he called out, making no attempt to conceal his frustration. The door parted with a small hiss and allowed two Unggoy to enter. Kasa recognized them as Nunot and Opom, the medic and psycho of his unit. With a heavy sigh Kasa lifted himself into a sitting position and faced his friends.
Opom approached him carefully. "Excellency, are you all right?"
The Elite shook his head. "No, I'm not," he muttered bitterly. "Oriné is dead, and we have left the humans' home world unconquered." He glanced up and looked around the small room. "Now I am confined to my quarters!" With a roar he slammed his fist against a wall. The gesture accomplished nothing, aside from helping his ego and bruising his hand. "That damn Prophet... is a fool."
He expected the two Unggoy to blanch at his words, expected them to go running to the Deck Master and report him for heresy. He almost wanted a squad of Elites to march in, raise their rifles and execute him on the spot. If his legacy was to be an unglorified stain on the wall, so be it.
However, Kasa wasn't expecting what happened next. Opom simply nodded and turned back to Nunot, who gave his own timid sign of approval. Then the diminutive soldier turned his attention back to the Elite.
"Come with us," he said simply, motioning for Nunot to open the door. "There is much to discuss."
——
Yarna entered the meditation gardens in order to escape his own mind, but found another within. Rtas 'Vadumee was sitting in full armor sans helmet beneath the shade of a halli tree. His eyes were closed in deep thought; not wishing to disturb him, Yarna quietly walked up to him and took up a similar posture nearby.
It wasn't until a few minutes later that the silver-armored Ultra opened his eyes and turned to regard his latest company. "It is good to see you again, friend," he said, "but I doubt you are here for a social visit."
Despite himself, the off-duty Honor Guard smiled. "Peace of mind, perhaps."
Rtas nodded. "Have you spoken to Oriné recently?" he asked after a moment.
"No, I'm afraid not," Yarna replied. "Why?"
The Ultra closed his eyes again. "It is no matter," he muttered. "Just some family business for him to consider." Though Yarna was overcome with curiosity, he kept his mandibles shut for a while longer.
Finally, he broke: "What do you make of the Arbiter?"
"A fine warrior," Rtas began, "but not concerned with the tangles of morality or honor, it seems. Several times he acted against the code of fair combat, but when fighting against heretics, there is little call for such considerations. There was great skill in his hands as he wielded all manner of weapon against our foes, and his sharp mind won us the day. I would say that I know of few better than he."
Yarna ground his teeth against each other, but endeavored to say nothing. "That sounds... unbelievable."
Rtas regarded him for a minute before rising and stretching. With a sigh he lowered his arms. "You seem to take this news heavily," he said. "Why does it concern you?"
Yarna kept his riveted to the tree. "Family business," he muttered.
——
The Prophet of Regret's ship, Sublime Purity, was one of the many vast carriers in the fleet. Each of these impressive ships was designed to be both warships of the highest caliber and very livable, comfortable places for the inhabitants. Priests and priestesses of the Covenant lived in it alongside the soldiers, though their quarters were separated. A grand arboretum, bearing the vegetation of the Elites' home world of Sanghelios, was often trafficked by soldiers, especially this time of day.
Kasa, led by the Grunts Nunot and Opom, walked idly through the gardens. A large transparent ceiling stretched out above them; usually it would be filled with stars, nebulae, or views of planets, but during Slipspace travel it was just black. Artificial lights illuminated the trees, shrubs, and flowers, casting lights over groups of clerics as they meditated and prayed to the Forerunner.
The group of three settled themselves beneath a halli tree, the Elite folding his legs beneath him while the Unggoy merely plopped down. Together they sat in silence for a moment, allowing a group of conversing priestesses to pass before Opom began speaking.
"You are not the first to realize that the Prophets have faults," he said in a hushed voice. "There are others, Excellency, many others."
For a moment, Kasa seethed. "Heretics," he hissed.
"You are one too," Opom pointed out. "Every so-called 'heretic' has a reason to question the Covenant. Your idol, the commander, has been killed by the Prophet of Regret." The Elite wanted to stop him, point out that the Prophet wasn't the one to actually fire a weapon and kill him or sink a blade into his flesh, but withheld the comment. Opom continued: "There are many who share your pain and your confusion and doubt. You are not alone."
The Grunt stopped talking and let his words and the implications behind them sink in. All in all, the whole ordeal left Kasa with a funny tingling in his mandibles. His whole life he had been raised to serve the Covenant. Since his time as a hatchling, he had been shown the glorious life of a soldier in service of the Prophets. He had striven for it in the academy and in training, where his combined high scores and combat prowess had earned him a position as Prophet Blessed, worthy of wearing the jet-black armor that adorned his body. Yet all this had always left him
with a feeling of uneasy emptiness, one that he just couldn't fill no matter how much he devoted himself to scripture or combat.
But he had seen Oriné when watching the ceremony where the Etchings of Glory were delivered, had heard the tales of his modest bravery and survival abilities, and had clung to him as a hero. Finally, someone who did what the Covenant asked of him and was rewarded justly! Perhaps, should he ever reach that level of greatness, he would himself be a hero.
The hero, however, had been stranded on the human home world, left to die by the primates' hands if not from the massive Slipspace explosion caused by the atmospheric jump. Had the Covenant really loved him as much as they let on? Evidently not. So, if he were to become a hero like Oriné 'Fulsamee had been would they carelessly abandon him along the road to the Great Journey?
Of course.
Quickly the hesitation he had felt hardened into certainty. This was his path to survival, the only way out. He faced the two Grunts who had sat regarding his facial expressions, tuning out the thunderous footfalls of two Hunters in full armor as they lumbered down the trail. "What must I do?" Kasa asked.
Before Opom or Nunot could reply, however, a light above them drew their gazes upward. The void of Slipspace peeled back, revealing an expanse of stars and a large blue planet.
We have arrived at our destination, Kasa thought, scrutinizing the planet, but where are we? His reverie was interrupted by the blaring of a klaxon and a general alert that had been put out over the ship. The black-armored Elite climbed to his feet, followed by the Grunts.
"We shall talk later," Opom said, hurrying off with Nunot in tow. Kasa remained for a moment longer, studying the planet and fighting off a chill that passed through him as he caught a ring-shaped silhouette against the blue light.
——
His own experiences on Halo far too fresh for his own comfort, Balask 'Zakamee had to rethink his preparations for this deployment carefully. On the first Halo, he had been so overcome with religious zeal that it had blinded him to the real danger present on the ring: the Parasite. For that mistake he had nearly died. Now, though his desire to follow the Forerunners to godhood was as great as ever, he dearly wished he could simply glass the whole surface from the comfort of space and have it be done with.
However, the Prophet of Regret's orders had to be carried out: he wished for a base of operations on the sacred ring, somewhere close to the landed carrier. Scouts that had been sent in Phantoms reported that a series of temples that jutted out from a vast lake would make fine locations; Regret had listened and deployed Oriné's... no, Balask's team to ensure that the structures were secure. With the death of both the Unit Commander and sub-Commander, the responsibility of
leadership fell upon the Senior Officer, Balask. To say he was comfortable with it would be incorrect.
When last I was on a Halo, he thought to himself as the Phantom loaded with his team and a second with a regular infantry squadron prepared to deploy its gravity lift, I was simply following my orders, not giving them. As the lift came online, Balask was the first one out and onto the surface of the temple. Immediately he brought up his plasma rifle, scanning the area and stepping away from the ship as his comrades descended too.
Once the entire unit was on the ground, he began issuing orders. "Kasa, take Opom and scout the main chamber," he barked, sending the Elite and Grunt jogging towards the temple. "Sesep, round up a couple of Grunts and Jackals from the infantry detachment and set up a secure landing zone for the Prophet. It'll also act as a fallback point, just in case." The black-armored Grunt nodded and waved at a couple of Covenant soldiers that had just disembarked from the second Phantom. I doubt we'll need it, Balask noted, but it wouldn't hurt to be safe.
"The rest of you!" he bellowed towards the remaining four Grunts, two Jackals, and two Elites of the infantry. "Secure the temple, and report to me every five minutes via COM. Be wary of the Parasite!" he added the last part as an afterthought, hoping it wouldn't come up. They filed into the building, and the small team he left behind started setting up a couple of defense turrets and lay down the landing lights.
The black-clad Sangheili strode into the structure, passing through a grand foyer and entering the primary chamber. It was certainly grandiose enough for Regret's taste, and he could immediately tell where the recording devices would be placed to broadcast his sermons. He could see Kasa and Opom searching every nook and cranny, ensuring that aside from the main door and the two smaller ones there were no breaches or possible intrusion points.
Several minutes later, they reported back to him that the chamber was clear and secure. Balask still felt twitchy, almost as if the Flood were in every shadow, but accepted their report. Periodic reports from the infantry squad filtered in every so often, but nothing interesting: no Parasites, no Sentinels, nothing but empty corridors. Aside from finding a series of platforms that could move between the structures in the lake and also link to the shore, no further discoveries were made.
A meager hour later, a fleet of dropships arrived, several veering off to the sides and going beyond the temple, undoubtedly bound to set up outposts along the edge of the lake. As two flew escort, one came to a halt above the designated landing site and deposited its passengers: one Prophet and a contingent of Honor Guards.
Balask stood waiting for their arrival. "Holy One," he said, bowing before the Prophet of Regret, "I am honored to declare your temple to be secure."
The Prophet nodded. "Very good, Commander. You have done well to find me this location. The view is splendid and inspired, clearly the best our Gods could offer us." Something inside Balask twinged. This was the self-same creature who had ordered the deaths of so many of his brothers
on the surface of the human home world, yet here he was, floating comfortably in his gravity throne, speaking of what the Gods could offer him.
Were I he, the black-armored Sangheili decided, I would be on my knees praying for forgiveness for a week straight. Instead, he nodded his thanks for the praise which was offered. "The chamber within awaits your inspection, Exalted."
"My Honor Guards are quite capable of accompanying me," Regret said with a dismissive wave. "You and your unit—Blessed, was it?—may return to the ship for rest." The robed creature then proceeded to float up the stairs, flanked on all sides by red-armored guardians, as the rest of Blessed Unit walked down. They took the appropriate amount of time to bow as the Prophet passed, receive his blessings, and report to their commander.
"The ground is secure, Excellency," Kasa said.
"Let us rest, then," Balask said, turning towards the Phantom.
——
Yarna was still meditating in the gardens when the Arbiter interrupted his peace. They exchanged the necessary greetings, though the Honor Guard couldn't keep all the bitterness out of his voice; the holy warrior seemed to ignore it, though, and settled on the ground.
He was able to stomach his intrusion for all of five minutes.
"I must go," Yarna said suddenly, standing up and giving a curt bow. "I have business that requires my attention. Excuse me." He exited the gardens, trying not to show that he was fuming within. His thoughts were dark and his intentions foggy, but no matter what he knew he had to leave. His deception must have failed, as a few minutes later he heard the rapid footfalls of an approaching Sangheili.
"Hold." It was not an order, but the force behind his voice made it clear that it hadn't been intended as a polite request. Turning to face his pursuer, Yarna viewed the Arbiter with his own face set in stone. I must not betray my inner feelings, he thought. To do so would be improper.
The Arbiter's face scrutinized the Honor Guard, and in a flash Yarna realized who he was looking at: the Supreme Commander who had been dishonored before the Council and nearly the entire Covenant. But he had been declared a heretic; why was he now the Arbiter? It made no sense, and only served to infuriate Yarna further. That a proclaimed heretic could hold the office of the Arbiter, a holy warrior, seemed to devalue his grandfather.
Clearly his agitation must have shown on his face, as the Arbiter cocked his head to once side. "My presence clearly irritates you," he said in his husky voice. How he was so reminiscent of Oriné! "Why is it? Are you put off by the claims of heresy? By the fact that I am the one who lost the sacred ring to the Parasite and the Demon?"
Yarna could not help his glare. "I do not despite you for that. I fought on Halo with my comrades and barely survived the blast. I have faced the horrors of the Flood and the humans in the same breath. My blood still stains the rocks and soil of that holy place the same as yours, so do not think for a moment that I judge you a heretic. To do so would be to judge myself." He turned to leave, but the Arbiter stepped in front of him.
The warrior's brown eyes were blazing with intensity. "Then why?"
Fighting back his own growl, the Honor Guard stood straighter. "Because, though I do not believe it, the Council called you a heretic and wish you to be executed, yet here you stand, not only still breathing but wearing the mantle of our most holy of warriors. I do not believe you deserve it, given the shadows of greatness in which you stand. Excuse me." Believing the conversation over, Yarna gave his elder a shove and stepped haughtily past him.
Childish as the maneuver had been, he had not been expecting the retaliation he received. Immediately the Arbiter grabbed him from behind, but with a twitch and roll of his shoulders he sent the warrior over his shoulders. However, he landed upright, leaving Yarna to take more drastic action. Lunging, the Honor Guard struck for the Arbiter's face with his fist.
It was a mistake to put all of his force behind one blow, he realized too late as the Arbiter sidestepped, grabbed his arm, and proceeded to flip the younger Sangheili in much the same fashion as he had been flipped moments before. Yarna landed heavily and cried out, half out of pain and half out of indignity, but he swept his legs to attempt to topple the warrior. Though he did not fall, the Arbiter was forced to leap back, giving Yarna the time and energy he needed to recover. As soon as he was up, the fight began anew. The Arbiter rushed forward, but just before landing what Yarna was expecting to be a very forward blow hung back, forcing the Honor Guard to over-extend himself and landing several smart blows.
Yarna recovered and mimicked the move, but his more experienced opponent easily caught his arm and twisted it, straining the sinews and tendons, threatening to pop the limb from his shoulder. Yarna let out a terrible shout and fell to his knees, the pain too much to bear.
The Arbiter leaned down. "You are not fit to know this," he hissed, "but those who wear this armor are heretics, being punished by glorious death for some horrible crime. Whether you believe me or not is your own prerogative, but know that whomever you knew that wore this armor, they deserved their fate." With that, he released Yarna's arm and stormed off, not intending to return to meditation. Climbing to his feet, the Honor Guard rubbed his aching arm.
Floodbait, he thought bitterly before proceeding to limp away. He would not hear such lies, especially coming from so dishonored an individual. Yet every step he took the idea sunk further into his mind, and he was forced to wonder at the idea that perhaps the holiest of warriors was also the darkest of sinners.
——
Comfortably slumbering in his bed, Balask had not been expecting a messenger, and thus when the Kig-Yar entered unbidden the Special Operations officer reacted on gut instinct. Remembering the intrusion on him in High Charity by the Jiralhanae, the Sangheili wasted no time in setting upon the intruder, landing two solid blows before he noticed the Lumidex clutched in the pitiful creature's hands. Mumbling an apology, the Elite took the unit and read over the report. When he finished, he shoved the Lumidex back into the Jackal's arms. "Wake the rest of my unit," he growled, "and be more careful about it!" The properly humbled and bruised creature retreated.
Soon after, the entirety of Blessed Unit was in a Phantom bound for the surface of the ring.
"Excellency," Kasa said, exiting the cockpit where the Brute pilot was guiding the craft down, "what is our mission?"
"The Prophet fears that we were followed during our... withdrawal from the human world," he said, careful to avoid calling the escape a retreat. "Several outposts have gone silent since a few scouts reported seeing what looked like a human ship above the ring, so we must investigate and afterwards conduct threat aversion detail."
The assembled squadron groaned. Threat aversion detail meant going in closer to the Prophet and conducting a painstaking search for anything out of the ordinary; the questioning of several Covenant soldiers would entail, as well as further patrols. It also meant that it would be many hours before their next rest cycle.
Upon landing at the site, the situation didn't look very promising. It had been a smaller outpost, one looking over a valley and river. With only a small contingent, it hadn't been declared a very important spot to begin with, which is why Balask had immediately suspected it to be the source of any human intrusion. Individual human atmospheric entry vehicles were found here and there, with supplies and one or two dead human soldiers dressed in sealed black armor. Dead Covenant, however, were found in droves. Two dead snipers, four Elite Majors, and several Jackals, Grunts, and Elite Minors were among the deceased.
"No survivors," Kasa murmured, examining the wounds of a clustered group of bodies. "These must have been cut down while descending from a Phantom, probably from that turret up there." He pointed up towards the top of a small structure, where a damaged plasma turret occupied an open-air ledge.
Balask shook his head and pulled out his COM unit. As he thumbed a switch, he found that it had automatically defaulted to Regret's endless sermons. "We will be the first of the Covenant to venture forth," the Prophet spoke excitedly several kilometers away. "I shall light this holy ring, release its cleansing flame, and burn a path into the divine beyond!"
The Senior Officer switched the channel over to a military one and keyed in Regret's carrier. "Blessed Unit reporting."
"Reading, Blessed," the reply came from the Ship Master on the bridge. "What is your status?"
"We can confirm the presence of humans on the ring," he spoke. "Their entry point was in sector eight."
He imagined the Elite on the other end to be nodding. "Affirmative, Blessed. Units throughout this part of Halo report similar findings. Return to the carrier, but be ready to move out. Rumor has it that a Demon is on this ring as well."