PART I

DELENDA EST CARTHAGO

Chapter 8: The King is Dead

The pelicans laden with marines, Spartans, and one sardonic pink AI departed the Infinity, descending upon Sangheilios like a horde of locusts ready to devour the bounty of Egypt and leave nothing but famine in their wake. An ancient horseman whose rider spoke in a voice of a thousand whispers, carrying the brutal weapon of brass scales. The scales of the apocalypse. The scales of judgment. A holy vial of plagues was let loose as the pelicans began to land, the four carriers and the UNSC Actium supercarrier following closely behind them.

The Master Chief and the rest of fireteam Majestic rode in one among hundreds, and as the Chief stood throughout the entirety of the entry into Sangheilios atmosphere, the Spartan IVs talked on their own personal team comm.

"I'm just saying it doesn't make any sense," DeMarco said. "The guy didn't even do war games with us while we were in slipspace. Come to think of it I don't think I've even heard him talk."

"He did talk," Thorne said. "Don't remember the mission brief he gave us about ten minutes ago?"

"Briefest brief I've ever heard," Madsen said, leaning against his sniper rifle.

"Exactly my point," DeMarco said. "All I'm saying is that I lead Majestic the whole time we were on Requiem, but he puts Thorne as his second in command."

Hoya chuckled, his voice a deep baritone. "Yeah you're our fearless leader. Managed to get me all shot up."

"That was because of your own stupidity," DeMarco shot back.

"You lost Thorne."

"Again, because of his own stupidity, not mine."

"And let the Covenant capture Halsey and half of the Janus Key."

DeMarco threw up his hands. "Our two senior commanders gave conflicting orders. If Laskey had let Palmer do her job then Halsey would be dead and we wouldn't be discussing this."

"I think we should give him a chance," it was Grant that spoke, the quiet woman sitting near the front of the pelican, and the other Spartan IVs turned to look at her. "He has more active combat experience than all of us combined. Maybe we should just assume that he knows what he is doing."

"Yeah he can kill us all with his little pinky," Madsen said. "Hey I'm glad that Master Chief is here, but let's face facts. There is a reason why their phasing the IIs and IIIs out. War hero or not he ain't like us. He is something the Navy points in the right direction when they want something destroyed."

"And what are we?" Thorne asked.

"We're things that the Navy points in the right direction when they want something destroyed, but also happen to have personalities."

Thorne shook his head, leaning back against the seat as the door to the pelican opened, revealing the rocky reddish planet.

The Master Chief would have noticed that the IVs were talking about him behind his back, if not for the irritating humming noise buzzing inside his ear.

Joyeuse hummed aloud, the tune having no particular structure to it. After several minutes of having to listening to it John finally broke down and asked, "Why are you doing that?"

"Doing what?" Joyeuse asked innocently.

"Humming."

"I always hum when I play Tetris."

It took a few seconds for John to register what she had just said. "Tetris?"

"Yeah," Joyeuse said. She brought up the gaming screen, the multi colored and variously shaped blocks falling faster than John's eyes could track. "I always play it right before a mission. It's a version of the game I designed myself. The blocks will eventually fall faster than even I can keep up with. It's the only game that I am actually capable of losing. I find there is something soothing about that."

John frowned at the screen, Joyeuse resuming her humming. "Turn it off."

Joyeuse stopped mid hum. "What?"

"I said turn it off. A mission is no time for playing games."

Within John's neural lace Joyeuse boiled with hot anger. "Fine." The screen left John's HUD. "Guess you won't be needing any of this either." The weapons readout, the shield bar, the motion tracker, and the waypoint that Joyeuse had set up earlier disappeared as well.

The ground was closing in fast, and John mentally curse and Joyeuse's childish stubbornness. "Put it back," he growled.

"Figure it out yourself," Joyeuse huffed at him. "You obviously don't want me as a partner."

"This is not about me and you."

"Oh yes it is," Joyeuse insisted. "I went out of my way to try and be nice to you Chief. I know I'm not the easiest to get along with but you can at least try. Did you ever stop to think that I might be nervous? This is the first mission I have ever been on without Romanov. I'm out of my comfort zone right now and one of the things that helps me keep calm is playing Tetris. You don't have to understand why, but you can at least understand that your teammate is doing what she needs to do in order to get herself ready for the mission." John imagined Joyeuse turning her back to him, arms crossed and chin held high. "And if you can't understand that then we might as well not work together."

John breathed against his visor, watching as the lead pelicans landed below him. "I do understand." This time he imagined Joyeuse turning back around to face him, arms falling at the side. "This is a first time for me too."

Joyeuse appeared on her screen, all the displays that had been taken from his HUD reappearing as well. "Chief you're not a bad guy. I never asked you to like me, and frankly I'm not sure if I like you, but we do both need each other. That's a start isn't it?"

"A start," John repeated. Behind him the IVs stood up, checking their weapons as the pelican touched down. He did need Joyeuse for the moment, but she was not the person he needed most.

John drew the assault rifle off of his back, bending his knees as he prepared for the pelican to set down. Before the craft had even settled the Master Chief was down the ramp, checking for targets. None appeared. Madsen came up beside him, shouldering his sniper rifle. "First time I've ever made landfall without being shot at. Miracles never cease."

"Keep an eye out," the Master Chief said. "There is still a lot of ground we need to cover before we reach the dry dock." He looked up, seeing a large rocky hill in front of them, a perfect place for a crow's nest, or for a Covenant ambush. "Madsen, take position on that hill and scout out for any troop movement. Hoya go with him."

"Aye aye sir," Madsen said. Him and Hoya raced up the hill, red rocks falling down in their wake.

Joyeuse opened up the HQ com. "First wave has landed Victor. So far no Covenant spotted."

Romanov's voice came on the line. "First and Second divisions are reporting light resistance. Looks like the Covenant are focusing on defending the dry dock rather than preventing the landing. First and Second divisions are going to move up on either flank. We're making the main assault."

"Roger that. Anything you need?"

"A mammoth. Requisition one from Gamma company third battalion. I'd rather not ride into battle on foot."

"You always do like to make an entrance. I'll see what I can do." Joyeuse busied herself with communicating with Gamma company. As she did Madsen shouted down from the rocky hill.

"Hey Chief, think you should look at this."

John jogged up the hill, the sound of warthog and scorpion engines filling his ears, pelicans taking back off into the sky as the rest of the marines landed, swarming like a colony of green ants on the planet's rocky surface.

Madsen was laying on the ground, Hoya next to him. He pointed straight ahead. "Think I just found where all of the Covenant are hiding.

John looked, magnifying the vision on his HUD as the dry dock came into view.

It could not even be necessarily called a dry dock, the three damaged Covenant ships parked in much the same fashion as the Truth and Reconciliation had on the first Halo Ring. They hovered above a plateau, steep and impassible cliffs guarding the left, right, and rear. The one path towards the ships was narrow and steep, the slope rising to meet heavy Covenant fortifications. Even from the distance of a few kilometers the Master Chief could see fixed plasma turrets, dozens of wraiths and even more ghosts. A host of banshees circled overhead like vultures. Like deadly hornets protecting the heart of the hive.

A frontal assault, John thought. Uphill against fixed positions. No wonder why the Covenant had not tried to prevent them from landing. If they had then they would have given up all their advantages.

"We don't have to attack them do we?" Hoya asked. "I mean the dry dock isn't even important. It's just a distraction."

"It is important," John replied. He did not take the time to explain it to them, but the expeditionary force could not simply bypass that position. If left alone the enemy could attack them from the rear once the UNSC assaulted the main force, or the ships could be repaired and either assault the ground forces or go into orbit and threaten the fleet. Even more important they needed to give the main Covenant army a reason to draw strength away from the siege of Vadam. The dry dock had to be taken.

"Thorne, bring up the rest of Majestic," he said, speaking into the comm. He began to descend down the opposite slope of the hill. "Let's get this done."

As the expeditionary force made landfall, five Covenant capitol ships moved to intercept the Infinity as it completed its orbit around the Suban moon. In addition to the barrage of plasma fire, lighting up space like a deadly fireworks display, smashing into Infinities shields and bouncing off harmlessly in scattering flames, waves of seraphs and boarding craft were launched. Among their countless multitude sat a young Elite. He wore light armor, an active camouflage model, on his only weapons being an energy sword and one plasma grenade. Scars of shame marked his forearms, given to him by his commander for disobedience.

There was no life after such dishonor, only a path to reclaim it. It did not matter if he succeeded in his mission. In fact he was expected to die. It only mattered that he did so honorably. The shuttle shook as Infinities point defense turrets went to work, and the Elite clutched the hilt of his sword tightly. There could be no atonement if he died an inglorious death in the vacuum of space.

By either luck or design the boarding craft made it through the hail of fire, a sharp bang followed swiftly by the smell of burning metal as the craft latched onto infinity. The door to the front of the craft opened, the Elites and their Grunt underlings pouring out of the breach and into a withering storm of lead. The shamed Elite activated his camouflage, waiting silently as the sounds of battle died down before sneaking out of the ship. All those who had been with him lay dead at his feet, human marines going about their work of making sure they were all dead, kicking and occasionally shooting the wounded in the head.

His mandibles gripped tightly together. He would have gladly died with his comrades, but to willingly fail the mission before it had even begun was no way to regain honor. Carefully he made his way through the pile of corpses, making sure not to step into any of the pools of blood less he make footprints. He made it to the first door and waited, painfully aware of just how much time his active camouflage had left. His prayers were answered when another group of marines entered through the door and into the room. He waited for them to finish passing through before slipping through the doorway himself.

As the doors closed behind him a voice whispered into his ear through his comm., Durendal speaking to the Elite in his own tongue. "You're never going to get to bridge without help."

The Elite was startled, looking around him as if the owner of the voice was going to appear at any moment. "Who are you?"

"That doesn't matter," Durendal said. "What matters is that we both have the same target, and that you'll never find your way to bridge on a ship this big without me."

The Elite readjusted the grip he had on his energy sword, his active camouflage at last giving out and leaving him painfully exposed. "Show me the way," he said.

Durendal guided the Elite through the patrols, telling him which corridors to take and when to hide. Thankfully the Elite said little during their time together. Durendal much preferred it that way. The Elite would be dead in the space of a few minutes, and it was much better not to get to know him.

It was only when the young Elite reached the bridge that Durendal heard him speak more than a few words, mumbling sacred prayers underneath his breath. The Elite spotted the shipmaster of shipmaster in the middle of the controlled chaos on the bridge, Laskey barking orders as in front of Infinity one of the capitol ships listed severely to starboard, bright purple plumes exiting its hull. The Elite's active camouflage kept him concealed as he snuck up on Laskey, but as he approached he noticed Palmer standing off to one side.

A demon, the Elite thought, smiling grimly. He reached slowly towards his torso and grabbed his one plasma grenade, finger hovering above the activation switch. But just as he was about to deliver the fatal blow an officer standing next to Laskey, an attendant by the look of him, turned around and stared the Elite in the eye.

The Elite froze, coming to the crashing realization that he had come so far only to fail. But then the human did something strange. Marcus gave a small smile, and then turned back around.

The Elite did not pause to consider his good fortune, or why Marcus would willingly allow his commander to die. With only a few meters between him and the Admiral the Elite broke out into a run, activating his energy sword and roaring. Palmer did not have time to react as the Elite thrusted the sword deep into Laskey's back, the twin blades protruding from his stomach and chest. Laskey gave a strangled yell, blood pouring from his mouth.

"TOM!" Palmer screamed, drawing her side arm. Before she could fire a blue orb landed on her shoulder. The Commander did the only thing she could do as the plasma grenade grew brighter. She threw herself onto the floor, shielding the others around her from the blast. The grenade detonated, and Palmer's limp body was sent flying across the room.

The Elite grinned as his shields failed and bullets ripped through his body. His soul had been cleansed, and the path towards the Great Journey was now clear to him. He would not be left behind.

The energy sword deactivated, and Laskey's lifeless body fell to the floor.