Covenant Holy City High Charity
Chamber Of The Hierarchs
The Prophet of Truth hovered three feet above the floor in his anti-gravity throne, gently bobbing up and down in the centre of the vast chamber. Empty rows of bleachers that would usually hold hundreds of Sangheili and Shan'Shyuum surrounded him on all sides as he conversed with the holographic form of Regret.
"What of the campaign against these separatist humans?" Truth queried. "We were supposed to have dealt with them after finishing off the other vermin and gathering our resources."
"Yes," Regret's image nodded back. "An accidental encounter with one of their vessels forced me to accelerate our plans for them. The initial assault went well, but the humans returned with overwhelming force. I fear that their resource base, technology and infrastructure is far greater than we anticipated."
"How will this affect your schedule in dealing with the others?"
"So long as we keep contact with the separatists to a minimum for the time being, we should mostly be on schedule," Regret answered. "The loss of so many ships, however, has weakened our overall force critically. I request a vote be cast in favour of diverting forces from our blockade fleets so that we may crush these creatures."
"I will submit your request to the council," Truth said, craning his neck. "However, I must insist that these separatist humans be destroyed with due haste, they know of us now and will undoubtedly prepare for our eventual arrival. We must destroy them while we have the chance. And what of this new development that was reported by Ship Master Noranee?"
"More humans," the hologram spat. "They infest this area of the galaxy like a virulent disease. They too appear to be a completely separate faction; the vermin are even more divided than we thought. We've little information about them thus far."
"Indeed. The unclean must be dealt with swiftly," Truth murmured. "We cannot allow them to disrupt the Journey. In the time it takes for the council to decide whether to send reinforcements, I will speak with Mercy about sending some of his fleet to aid you."
"Understood. Thank you," Regret bowed his head slightly. "There was some kind of self-destruct mechanism on the captured ship. As far as my specialists can tell, it was activated only after an unusual human in a tub of fluid was slain. Brother Truth, I must return to my duties. Expect further updates at such a time as more is understood about the enemy."
&&&&&
Covenant Battle-cruiser Righteous Fury
Orbiting cleansed world
Eating hall
Manawa, fresh from the frontlines and temporarily reassigned to the Fury, grunted anxiously as he waited in line for the food nipple dispenser. The eating hall of the battle-cruiser was immense and each race had their own designated sectors where they could sit and consume their rations.
Manawa's stomach rumbled quietly as his turn finally came up, he stepped forward and plucked his ration from the dispenser before scurrying away to find a place to sit. He opened the nipple and carefully placed the tip to a small receiver in his mask, greedily gulping the thick creamy fluid.
He passed a mixed table of Unggoy and Sangheili wearing the white and black armour of Special Operations; such teams were often quite tightly nit and it was not unusual for them to congregate together outside of their assignments. He went through the dedicated Kig'Yar section next, the gibbering bird-like aliens flinging insults and chunks of food at him as he passed.
Manawa scowled as he stepped into the next section, occupied by Jiralhanae. He turned and made rude a gesture with his hands, cackling softly as the Kig'Yar screeched back at him. Turning back around to continue on his way, he slammed head-first into a simian, his food nipple spilling all over the beast.
"Watch it worm!" the brute snapped, whipping its paw down and cracking its knuckles across Manawa's face. His mask tore off and skittered across the floor. Gasping, Manawa bounded after it as the Jiralhanae laughed and came after him.
He knelt to retrieve his mask, lungs burning and nose running with blood and was kicked in the side for his troubles. The brute laughed again, picking up Manawa's mask and holding it up.
"Want this?" it taunted, raising it out of Manawa's reach. "Well? Come and get it!"
The brute and several others laughed as Manawa leaped off the ground, reaching for his mask and coming within inches of grasping it only to have it snatched away at the last moment. His mouth gaped as he struggled to breathe and he made another half hearted attempt at the mask before collapsing to the ground and grasping at his throat.
The brute was still laughing when the loud crack of flesh on flesh echoed across the eating hall and it suddenly stumbled back, dropping the mask to the ground. Cloven feet stepped into view and another crunch sounded as Manawa's saviour attacked the Jiralhanae that had been tormenting him.
Wheezing, Manawa dragged himself over to his mask, gripping it tightly and reattaching it to his face and inserting the methane nozzle into the receptacle. Sweet, cold methane flowed into his mask and he gulped it down into his lungs greedily, feeling strength slowly return to him. He turned to face his saviour and watched, stunned, as Zora Zomanee struck the brute again and again in a rapid-fire series of punches.
The brute regained its footing, swinging a hairy paw at Zomanee's head, but the smaller alien ducked under the blow and slammed a closed fist hard into the brutes ribs. Manawa was gratified to hear the cracking of bones from the impact.
A large crowd had gathered now, cheering and baying for blood, who it belonged to didn't matter. Zomanee's fist crunched into the brutes jaw, sending a spray of blood and spittle across the screaming crowd. The brute rocked back on its feet and Zomanee leaned back, connecting a kick to the brutes chest with his powerful digitigrade legs.
The offending alien flew back off its feet and landed in a heap on the ground. Two more simians leaped from the crowd, aiming for Zomanee. A meaty fist connected with Zomanee's jaw, breaking one of his mandibles. Roaring in pain and anger, Zomanee ducked beneath another blow, weaved in between his attackers and spun about quickly.
Locking his fingers together to form a double-fist, Zomanee drove it into the nearest brutes spine with all his might. The simian in question shrieked and collapsed forward, its chin striking the corner of a table and knocking it unconscious. The other turned, roaring gibberish and dropping to all fours and charging Zomanee.
The elite whipped to the left, side-stepping the charging Jiralhanae and observing as it turned sharply around, feet losing traction and skidding on its side into another brute. The brute rose, cried a challenge and advanced more slowly as Zomanee dropped into a defensive stance.
"Enough!" a powerful voice bellowed from somewhere near the back of the room, punctuated by the sound of an igniting energy blade. The crowd silenced and parted to reveal the gold armoured form of Ship Master Noranee, sword ablaze in his hand.
"What is the meaning of this?" Noranee growled. "You are warriors of the Covenant, act like it."
The enraged brute snorted, but stepped away from Zomanee. Manawa waddled forward to stand beside his leader as the Sangheili relaxed his stance.
"You two," Noranee gestured to Zomanee and Manawa. "Come with me. The Jiralhanae involved here are to be escorted to the brig."
Zomanee and Manawa shared a look between them, then stepped forward, giving the Jiralhanae a wide birth as Noranee deactivated his blade and half a dozen armed Sangheili seized the three brutes. As they neared the Ship Master, he turned and strode slowly from the eating hall, entering a wide corridor and turning right.
"Excellency," Zomanee said. "I apologise for-"
"There is no need," Noranee said, raising a hand to forestall the apology. "I saw everything. Your risked much to save this Unggoy. Why?"
"Excellency," Zomanee struggled to find the best words with which to explain. "This one has proven himself trustworthy and honourable in battle against the Unclean at my side. As a member of my unit, I am honour-bound to take care of his well-being."
"That rule applies only to Sangheili," Noranee observed, glancing back at the two following him. "What makes this Unggoy so special that it deserves such treatment from you?"
"I…I cannot explain it, Excellency."
"You cannot explain it," Noranee repeated. "Perhaps I can. I knew your father well; he was one of the greatest warriors of recent history."
"I trained under him studiously my entire life," Zomanee said, admiration and respect for his now-deceased father evident in his voice. "He taught me to be brave, strong, intelligent. He taught me the ways of the warrior and the ancient art of Kot'sam'ba."
"The martial art of the Highlanders," Noranee nodded. "All of this made your father a great warrior, but he had another quality to him that made him truly excellent; he cared for those under his command."
They turned a corner and emerged into one of the training rooms, pausing to observe initiate warriors practising hand-to-hand techniques.
"It is not something that can be taught," the Ship Master continued. "Do you know what it is?"
Zomanee shook his head as Manawa listened intently to the conversation. "I do not, Excellency."
"Compassion," Noranee answered. "Your father truly cared for those under his command, from the lowliest Unggoy to the mightiest Sangheili. You have inherited this gift. Because of this, I am giving you an opportunity. Both of you."
Manawa perked up at that. "Me, Excellency?"
"Yes," Noranee flared his mandibles into a grin. "Meet me in my private quarters immediately after your next tour of the frontlines, all will be prepared by then."
"It will be done," Zomanee said, tilting his head and slamming a fist into his chest in salute.
"Yes, Excellency," Manawa offered his own salute as Noranee turned and strode away, heading in the general direction of the brig on this deck. Whether it was to speak with the Jiralhanae from the eating hall or to oversee the interrogation of the human prisoners, he did not know. "Thank you, Leader. You save me."
"It is nothing," Zomanee said, watching the Ship Masters receding form. "You would have done the same for me."
Manawa was fairly certain he wouldn't have, at least not before. Now, though, Zomanee had won the little aliens loyalty for life.
&&&&&
March 23rd, 2525
Harvest, Firebase Alpha
Confused, Admiral Schweiger looked at the woman in her environment suit oddly. Bad enough that she was human, for all he knew this could be some elaborate Insurrectionist plot.
"Yes," he answered, choosing not to elaborate further.
The woman behind and to the left of the speaker talked quietly, seemingly to herself, behind her faceplate. Probably using a built in radio to talk to the others. Using his Command Neural Interface, Schweiger sent query to Cassandra. The AI responded instantly, sending orders to the assorted Marines in the base as well as the fleet in orbit to be ready for a possible trap while at the same time starting to hack into the radio transmissions.
An older man stepped forward from the rest of the group, piercing blue eyes keenly observing Schweiger from behind a pair of thin wire-rimmed glasses.
"Commander William Adama, Colonial Defence Force," he introduced himself. "I bid you greetings in the name of the Twelve Colonies of Kobol."
The translation subroutines that Schweiger had had uploaded into his CNI instantly made the words understandable. Those without CNI's would have to make due with a small ear-bud transceiver and throat-mike to be able to understand these 'Colonials'.
The woman stepped forward next. "And I am Ambassador Eva DeSenta, representative of the Twelve Colonies to our cousins of the Thirteenth."
Schweiger frowned ever so slightly as he felt a headache coming on. Thirteenth? What was that about? If this was an Innie plot, he didn't really see what advantage could possibly be gained from it. And those ships were of an unknown design, not to mention their undetectable FTL travel.
"This is my aide, Sally Manson," DeSenta introduced the young woman had been speaking to herself.
"A pleasure to meet you," Schweiger nodded to the young lady with a soft smile. Then waved his hand to the transparent form of Cassandra.
"This is my…aide," he said a after a moment. "Cassandra."
Adama raised an eyebrow as he watched the holographic woman smile and bow. "No last name?"
"No," Cassandra replied. "Most of us don't choose a last name, sticking solely to single names. If you're really curious, my full designation is Task Force AI 009-917-573-810-Charlie."
Adama felt panic claw at his chest, heard Manson gasp behind him. He quickly opened a private channel to his contingent, Marines included, trusting in the sound-proofing of the helmet.
"Everyone be alert," he said. "I think this thing is some kind of Cylon construct. Don't trust anyone, but don't blow this for us; this could still be salvageable."
"What's a Cylon?" Cassandra asked innocently, and Adama balked and paled at the question. The damned thing had heard them, probably hacked their communications.
Schweiger shot the AI a disappointed look and the hologram pouted and shrugged. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."
"Do you have any idea how dangerous that thing is?" Manson said aloud, sounding angry.
"Excuse me?" Cassandra looked confused, placing her hand son her hips.
"Shut up!" the aide snapped, stepping forward and prompting the UNSC Marines to whip their weapons up into firing positions. The Colonial Marines did the same and Schweiger felt the tension ratchet up several notches.
"That's enough!" Adama snarled at Manson as Schweiger raised a hand to ward of his Marines from firing.
"What the hell is this?" Schweiger scowled, glaring at the Colonials. "I think before we go any further, an explanation is in order."
"Shut that thing down and destroy it now!" Manson shouted. Adama whirled a round, fixing her with a glare that had set many a junior officer quavering in their boots.
"Sergeant Colton, place this woman under arrest and detain her inside the Raptor until further notice," Adama said in a low voice. The Marine sergeant nodded, removing a set of plastic ties as two of his men grabbed an arm each and held them behind Manson's back.
"You can't do this, Commander," Manson said. "You can't make deals with Cylon lovers!"
"Enough!" DeSenta shouted, very much aware of the fact that the other Marines still had their weapons trained on her group. "I will deal with you later, Sally."
The woman spat a handful of obscenities at the ambassador and the commander before one of the Marines had the presence of mind to deactivate her helmets external audio. She was dragged back into the Raptor and had her bound wrists also tied to a small metal loop in the floor of the craft designed for such eventualities.
Adama nodded in satisfaction that the woman had been detained, then turned to look into the furious eyes of Admiral Schweiger.
"I think it would be best to take this to a more…private setting," Schweiger said, watching the Colonials suspiciously. "And you'd better have a good explanation."
"I understand, Admiral," Adama said, cursing inwardly; he'd been ordered to not reveal the existence of the Cylons under any circumstances, not until the Admiralty had decided how best to approach the subject. Now, he had no choice.
Admittedly, he was wary of the pinkish AI himself, having fought in the Cylon War and seen first hand how dangerous such things could be. It could be that these people had found a way to control them and make them do what they were told, but Adama would be reserving his judgment on that until he had all the facts.
"I'll do my best," he continued. "I just hope that this incident hasn't already caused damage to any future relations."
"Please, come with me," Schweiger said, turning from the group and striding in the direction of squat two storey building about fifty metres away, gesturing for them to come after him.
"Admiral," DeSenta said, walking briskly to catch up. "I want to apologise for my aides behaviour. We simply weren't expecting…well, you can rest assured that I'll be having a few stern words with her when I get the chance."
The group paused momentarily to allow a rail-gun equipped Warthog to pass by, then moved on toward the entrance to the command centre. Thick titanium doors disappeared upwards as they approached.
"We've prepared a briefing room for the occasion," Schweiger said as they made their way through a short corridor and turned left. "I'll have my Marines waiting outside; I'd like to request that you do the same."
Adama thought it over a moment. They hadn't exactly done a great deal to earn the Earthers' trust so far and the simple fact that Adama was even here told him that they were trusting him at leat a little.
"Very well," he finally replied. "I'll have my men posted outside the door."
"Thank you," Schweiger said as they came to another titanium door, this one sliding across and into a recess hidden behind reinforced concrete to allow them access to the room. A low, long table dominated the centre of the room, a dozen chairs arranged around it and a device not dissimilar to the one the AI had occupied outside rested in the middle.
A small cart stood to the right of the door, undoubtedly there to hold any number of beverages and foodstuffs. It was devoid of any such thing at the moment. The room was dark until Schweiger stepped inside and lights flickered on overhead.
"Please, make yourselves comfortable."
Adama and DeSenta each took a seat near the far end of the table as Schweiger lowered himself into the chair at the head of the table. It was subtle, but DeSenta and Adama both recognised it as a show of dominance; they were in his domain and he wanted to make absolutely certain that they understood that.
"Now then," the admiral leaned back in his seat. "Where to begin?"
"I would like to thank you for agreeing to see us firstly, Admiral," DeSenta said. "And I would also like to state that as representative to your people, I have been given the authority to offer anything from resources to technology in the hopes that our two people can unite against the Covenant."
"You make an interesting proposal," Schweiger replied. "However, these proceedings are preliminary talks only, and I am here only to learn more about you so that I can provide my recommendations to a diplomatic envoy that should arrive some time in the next few days."
"I understand," DeSenta said as Adama nodded to show his own understanding.
"I have a question, if you don't mind," Adama said. "How is it that we speak the same language?"
"That's simple: we don't."
"I'm not certain I understand," DeSenta's bro furrowed in confusion. "How can we understand each other if we don't speak the same language."
"Cassandra can answer that better than I can," Schweiger tapped a small button on the table in front of him and the holographic display in the centre of the table came to life.
"Yes, Admiral, I believe I can," the AI stated matter-of-factly as she appeared before them. "A colleague of mine was able to make a lingual connection between your language and an ancient, long dead language that originated from the area now known as the Southern European Protectorate.
"I then formatted all known files on the language and transmitted them to personal data receptacles carried by all UNSC personnel and Command Neural Interfaces used by command staff."
"Command Neural Interface?" Adama queried, hoping that his discomfort with the AI was not too evident.
"Essentially a data port surgically implanted directly into the brain of every starship commander within the UNSC," Schweiger answered. "They can be used for a great many things, primarily aiding a commander in receiving telemetry about their ship or for storage of NAV codes."
DeSenta schooled her features quickly as a chill ran down her spine. Such technology was far beyond the Colonials, but even if it weren't she doubted it would see any use; it sounded like the perfect way for Cylons to gain control of a ship without even boarding it.
"Now then," Cassandra said. "I have a question for you: why did that woman go mental and what is a Cylon?"
A/N: Damn thing is still screwing with me. Everything was bolded, italicised and underlined and every paragraph break had a bullet point, of all things. Everything was doubled as well, as in there were two of each paragraph stacked on top of each other. Is FFN trolling me?