1250 hours, May 8th, 2542
High Charity, remote sector

"A crew."

The thought stuck in Vado's mind as he walked out of the Minister of Discovery's chamber. He had to put together a good crew for their mission.

It had to be small, so that they could move quickly, using just a single Phantom dropship. At most, he wanted a strike team of just four or five individuals, with a wide and varied skill set. He had an Ultra and a Huragok on his side. He trusted that he and the Ultra would be able to handle most heavy enemies when working together, without a doubt. But that still left other parts.

They needed a sniper, someone who could take out high value targets without being spotted. The simplest solution would be to take a Kig-Yar with them, but Kig-Yar were rarely trustworthy unless you paid them generously. He decided that that would be where he'd start his search. He had a week before he was due to leave. Plenty of time.

And in any case, he already had an idea about what he'd need.

It was time to visit a smuggler.

-

The pounding of industrial machinery, the heavy rhythm of fusion reactors, the smells of a billion people. This was the lower levels of High Charity. This was where the war industry of the Covenant was located. The weapons and ships of the righteous fleets that would one day unite the entire galaxy in preparation for the Great Journey were created in the mighty Assembly Forges of High Charity. It was breathtaking to say the least.

What looked like a thousand thousand artisan-armorers moved through the narrow hallways and gravity lifts that connected the many Assembly Forges with the shrines and rest areas. Hidden loudspeakers and San'Shyuum on floating gravity platforms filled the air with sermons, quoting scripture and exhorting the workers of the Covenant to pursue ever greater productivity.

As Vado 'Mavamee travelled down the elevator, he was impressed by the scale of what was just one of High Charity's industrial districts. There were many more like it, each dedicated to manufacturing hardware of one kind or another, and all were connected to the great Unbreakable Spine, from which the Spires of Gifting extended to welcome the thousands of ships that were docking at any one time.

For every elevator or cargo barge that brought a shipment of war material down the great spine, another would come up with a great cargo of gas for the plasma reactors, feedstock for the assembly forges, Subanite crystals, and more skilled laborers.

The Ministry of Fervent Intercession was buying more and more war material than they'd had in ages, and it was hard not to notice, most shipments he'd seen so far bore its mark. It was said that the Hierarchs had decided to invest greatly in anti-piracy measures and were pouring funds into the Ministry.

Normally the shipmaster would approve greatly of such improved security, but as he saw more and more shipments marked as containing ground weapons, he began to wonder why anti-piracy forces needed so much equipment. Surely a dedicated war ministry would be more suitable if the humans were such a threat?

The lower levels of High Charity were a far cry from the Middle City or the high towers of the ministries, but they were still mostly safe to traverse if you stuck to the factories, shrines and the lights.

Poverty was non-existent in the Covenant: all who could work, would work, and if there was no work, work or services would be found for them. The Covenant was founded on working towards the Great Journey, and even a one-armed Unggoy could assist in bureaucracy. When there were too many people and not enough work, more work would be created. This left the Covenant with a great surplus of ships and war material.

He noticed the San'Shyuum he'd seen the day before talking to an Unggoy, holding a data pad and noting something down. She was wearing heavy body-covering robes that covered her fully, with only her head being visible. She looked to be the pinnacle of grace and tranquility in her every movement.

"The methane supply was cut off, you say? For three hours?" She said in a soft womanly voice. "I'll bring this matter to the Ministry of Concert immediately." There was fire and conviction in her voice.

He bowed. "Your grace, I did not expect to see you here. What brings a San'Shyuum so far into the lower levels of the Holy City, to these temples of industry?" He gave the traditional salute, putting his fist across his hearts.

She turned to smile at him as the Unggoy walked away. "The Ministry of Concert is always at work, especially this far down where heretics and radicals think they are free from our grasp." She gestured at a methane tank dispenser. "This Assembly Forge is owned by an Unggoy merchant family, and is currently being harassed by a gang of Kig-Yar that have been sabotaging it. I'm trying to get to the root of things."

Forgetting his earlier task of finding the smuggler, Vado struck up a conversation. "Surely such a task is too dangerous for a San'Shyuum, your grace? Kig-Yar are vicious and would kill you if given the chance. It's not unknown for those of your stature to disappear this far down." He cautioned.

Full-on race wars between the Unggoy and the Kig-Yar in High Charity were rare, but they still happened, and so did small skirmishes and clashes between the servants of different ministries. Whenever they happened, whole districts of the city would be turned into a warzone before the Sangheili could put an end to the fighting.

"I know the danger, Sangheili. But if I am to guide my people as a Prophet, I need to know their plights. Should I not? It's the duty of the Prophets to guide the people of the Covenant, and I can't do that sitting on a gravity chair in a ministry, playing with the wattles of ministers and whoring myself out as a concubine because I'm on the roll of celibates and can't pop one out." She practically snarled it out, sounding like she'd been suppressing those particular thoughts, and they had just burst out.

Vado was speechless at that kind of language coming from a noble Prophet like her, but her guards just snickered at it. Eventually he started laughing too.

"But what brings you here, Shipmaster? Personal vendetta perhaps? Or are you negotiating a deal personally for… extra weapons? Subanite crystals are always hard to find." Her soft voice changed to a more serious and sinister-sounding, conspiratorial one, one which resonated with the respect for the San'Shyuum that had been bred into him. He could not lie to a Prophet, especially not one as kind as her.

"I am searching for a T'Vaoan smuggler who operates in this area. Sek'Telapa. I have need of his services." The shipmaster gave a short bow to the San'Shyuum. Obedience was mandatory regardless of which Prophet it was, but he wanted to serve this one. "He is a skilled smuggler and a fighter, and I have on several occasions used his services to provide my forces with additional materiel."

The San'Shyuum nodded and motioned for him to follow her. The streets were starting to clear as the next work shift started.

"I have heard of him, yes. He used to run a protection racket in this district in exchange for keeping the gang violence in check. He kept the Jiralhanae packs away, as well as Unmutual Yanme'e who stalked the tunnels." She shook her long delicate neck. "He recently got forced out by this new Jackal gang. In all honesty, I miss the T'Vaoan. He liked to keep things orderly. They also didn't eat the Unggoy."

"I can understand." Vado nodded. "For the Covenant to thrive, we must all do our part to achieve the Great Journey. Did the Arbiters not teach us that the Unggoy have great courage and valor in them? For years I saw them as lesser races, but I now firmly believe I was wrong. They should have the safety and privileges all members of our most holy Covenant deserve."

"I hope to become the Minister of Concert one day." The San'Shyuum said. "I'd love nothing more than to elevate the Unggoy and the Kig-Yar to their own positions on the High-Council. We are at the height of our glory, are we not? But we barely let them interact with the faith, and we let them live in squalor. It goes against what the gods taught us. Should we not all be industrious and intelligent? LIke his most divine excellence, Faber."

"Hallowed be his name." Vado and the two Sangheili guards said in unison. "And blessed be his work, the Maethrillian."

"Do you have a weapon, shipmaster?" The San'Shyuum suddenly said.

"Always. What is amiss?"

"The Kig-Yar gang is lining up a shot on us. I saw the reflection of Subanite crystals in the distance. Quickly, we can make a stand in that alley." She seemed undeterred, and neither were her guards. They turned the corner and headed into a narrow alley with an overhang. There'd be only two entrances; a good place to make a stand.

"It's a good thing they do not speak Sangheili." The shipmaster said. "For if they had a lip-reader, they would have fired already." He felt the reassuring weight of his plasma pistol in his robes, as well as the gauntlet-mounted energy daggers on his forearms. Beneath the robes, Vado 'Mavamee was armed for bear, his shipmaster's armor hidden under thick layers of cloth and padding.

There was a skittering sound, and a pack of Kig-Yar appeared at the other end of the alley.

"How many are we facing?" The San'Shyuum asked.

"Most likely a few dozen, with improvised or stolen military grade weapons. They could have some Jiralhanae mercenaries. Maybe an Unmutual Yanme'e or two to keep their weapons maintained."

A Kig-Yar appeared around the corner and casually walked up to their group, making a mocking bow. "What brings such 'esteemed' company to the personal domain of Hrig-Yek, leader of the-" The Kig-Yar made a few shrill incomprehensible noises in his own language. "- crew?"

"This is not your property, Kig-Yar." The San'Shyuum said. "This belongs to the Fliplapyap merchant family and their bonded menials and servants. And you have been causing a lot of trouble for them. Leave before I inform the Ministry of Concert and have them force you out." She said, a righteous fire in her words. "You disgrace your kind, as well as the Covenant, by damaging our unity. You will confess your heresy and seek atonement, or I will punish you accordingly."

The Kig-Yar looked taken aback and blinked at the harsh words. He evidently hadn't expected this kind of language.

"You obviously don't understand, then. It's best for you to leave, before someone does something they regret." The Kig-Yar said, composing himself. "Don't you worry your pretty little neck about some Unggoy."

Vado 'Mavamee wanted to rip off the Kig-Yar's head for speaking to a Prophet like that. He had never heard one talk down to a Voice of the Gods, and especially not one as kind as her.

"We outnumber you, but we don't wanna spill blood there. Let's not do something we'll both regret."

The san'shyuum pulled a plasma pistol out and put it against the Kig-Yarr's face in the blink of an eye. "I never regret doing my duty." She said, giving the Kig-Yar a kind smile and then shot him in the head.

There was an awkward silence, broken by skittering sounds and soft squawks in the shadows around them.

"Let's hope that got the point acro-" A carbine bolt hit her, bouncing off a shield that appeared around the San'Shyuum. "Apparently not."

The rest of the Kig-Yar gang stormed their position from both sides, firing their plasma pistols and needlers at them. One of the bodyguards grabbed the woman and put her safely in cover between two methane recharge stations. It was the only cover in this alley.

Vado 'Mavamee lit his energy sword and charged the nearest entrance to the alley, his shields absorbing the criminals' undisciplined fire and allowing him to close the distance. He was a whirl of motion, expertly cutting through the Kig-Yar with each strike and slash of his energy sword, while his plasma pistol shot off limbs, vaporized chests and reduced heads to a fine mist.

They had expected him to be some simple lowlife, not a skilled shipmaster, and they died in droves. The gang almost immediately broke and began running, but not before a volley of grenades flew overhead. His eyes widened in horror; he hadn't expected them to have military-grade plasma grenades. Especially not so many! The shipmaster whirled around to see that the San'Shyuum had been hit by one.

"No!" He screamed in horror.

The San'Shyuum tried to pull off her robes, only for the grenade to go off part way through, igniting the methane tanks and causing a massive explosion that consumed the alley.

Vado roared and chased the Kig-Yar, intent on following them to their lair and avenging the death of the Prophet. He fired his plasma pistol into their backs as they ran, each shot being a killing one. The shipmaster growled as he saw them all enter an abandoned Assembly Forge and followed them inside.

He shrugged their return fire off and charged through a clump of the Kig-Yar, breaking bodies with the impact and cutting through a score of them in a furious rage. They fell in droves to his onslaught, and it felt like nothing could stop him.

Suddenly a stream of carbine and needle rifle fire opened up on him from one of the overseer's gangways above the Assembly Forge. His shields dropped under their sustained fire, and he had to leap aside and take cover behind a large crate.

'Mavamee reached for the weapon of one of the dead Kig-Yar and examined it. It was an old model plasma pistol. It would be difficult, but he could still take on the remainder of the gang.

Then he heard screaming and the sound of plasma shots impacting flesh. It was so fast, he barely had time to register what happened before it stopped. He peeked out of cover to see that the Kig-Yar snipers had all been killed. He got up and cautiously looked around, searching for the culprit.

Then a slender armored figure in deep purple armor landed next to him. It was equipped with a gauntlet of hardlight around its right hand and a plasma pistol in its left. It holstered the pistol, and reached for the helmet, taking it off with a hiss of air.

Vado 'Mavamee's eyes widened in recognition. A Prelate, one of the Covenant's holiest warriors, standing before him.

"Thank you, Shipmaster. I couldn't have done this without you." The female San'Shyuum said, standing straight in a form-fitting suit of armor, her head taller than him.

"You… you are a Prelate!" The shipmaster said, immediately falling to his knees and bowing. "I am not worthy of being in the presence of one. Please forgive me for being unclean with sin!"

"Rise, Shipmaster. I may have been enhanced by the gene-forges of the Ministry of Preparation, but I am no Prelate." She offered a hand to pull him up to his feet. "My name is Len'Vellana, daughter of the vice Minister of Preparation. You helped me today, so let me help you find the T'Vaoan you've been looking for."