DECEMBER 12th, 2559
INSTALLATION 07
After the disastrous final mission of ROYAL FLUSH, Group Seven would spend the next year on the run from the Created. As a state-of-the-art stealth frigate, the Molon Labe was more than capable to evade detection, and quietly slip away even when Cortana managed to catch a whiff of them. However, after one of their own AIs went rogue, and the other deleted itself to ensure that it would not be tempted and jeopardize the crew, Group Seven could do little more than survive. Not daring to reach out or link up with the UNSC Infinity, should the Created follow them. Duty and honor were tested to their breaking point, until finally the day came for the Labe to rejoin with what remained of the UNSC, and destroy Cortana once and for all.
The meager fleet of hopeful ships would not survive the morning. Like that day over a year ago, Humanity was laid low all over again.
I wish I could tell you we put up a good fight.
But we didn't.
MARAUDUS
In the Covenant of old, you did not truly possess anything. Your ship, your weapons, even your flesh and blood, all given to serve the gods. A privilege, the Prophets insisted. A "privilege" that could be taken away with a wave of their triple-digit hand, if they so chose.
When Maraudus and his clan would break the human resistance and lay waste to their worlds, there was glory, and trophies, to be sure. But little else. The worlds they had fought and bled for was not theirs to claim, nor its riches or the humans themselves for thralls and meat.
Those belonged to the gods as well, the Prophets said. And the cleansing fire. For it was only by divine right that victory had been granted to them in the first place. But Maraudus had never seen any gods, in truth. He did not see them amidst the clouds of ash, rivers of red, or the crunch and pop of hammer against helm. He did not hear their roars amongst his battle brothers, in the thunderstorm of human gunfire or their pleas for mercy.
And he did not feel them, when the Covenant's day of ruin came. Some mourned its passing at first. Or perhaps, they simply feared what the future would hold for the Jiralhanae, who had gone and made enemies of the humans and Sangheili both, with no allies of their own.
But that was when Atriox and his Banished had appeared, to deliver their people from such uncertainty. His name had been spoken only in hushed tones and whispers as to avoid the wrath of the Prophets in the days of the Covenant. But now, his name was cheered and honored by the tribes. The sound of it alone never failing to set Maraudus's heart aflame.
He had never seen the Covenant's gods. But he had seen Atriox.
In the Covenant, all you owned, all you were, belonged to the gods. But in the Banished?
You keep what you kill.
"The human flagship, the 'Infinity', is no more, Captain." Said the communications officer.
A combined chorus of celebratory Jiralhane howls, Kig-Yar squawks, and Unggoy chittering reverberated inside the troop bay of the Phantom dropship, before being cut short by the thumping of Maraudus's pommel against the floor. None dared to make so much as a peep when their Captain did this. Even the notoriously unruly Unggoy did their best to remain as still as stone. The tiny creatures had seen too many of their friends made all the shorter by the Captain's maul.
This was good news, to be sure. The humans' greatest weapon had been removed from the playing field. And what pitiful ships remained would be but an afterthought. By all rights, the Captain should be joining in on the celebrations of his soldiers.
But it was hard to find joy in the whole affair. While his brothers in the Banished would be picking apart the immense riches from the human flagship, Maraudus and his men were left with taking care of the scrap heap that was the remains of the human ship designated as the "Molon Labe".
It was a frigate-class vessel, he recognized. It had a slightly different silhouette and signature than the rest of the Infinity's spawn, but it fell just as easily. He doubted there'd be much to salvage after it struck the ground, be it weapons or meat. But every shred of steel to feed the Banished war machine was worth it, he supposed.
And who knows. Maybe a few survived. That'd at least provide some entertainment.
He felt a lurch as the Phantom came to a stop.
"We have reached the first drop zone, Captain" The communication officer reported. Maraudus nodded, and turned to face his men.
"Bartium!" He bellowed, clacking his pommel against the floor.
A Jiralhanae youth, beardless with bright blue armor answered with a yelp. A few of the older Jiralhanae in Banished red and black threw their heads back and laughed- but stopped when the pommel clacked again. Even through his dark brown fur, his face reddened in embarrassment, but the Captain ignored it all.
He had best never let this happen again.
"Take three of the Unggoy, and Kit as well, and scour this sector." He motioned towards a Kig-Yar clad in red. The Captain never bothered to learn the names of the Grunts beneath him, but he liked the Jackals well enough. They were cruel and cowardly, yes, but they had a nose for riches, and the marksmanship to take it. And Kit especially was one such Kig-Yar that Maraudus had found most agreeable- for he feared the Captain, and would dare not betray him. Nor allow Bartium to fall to harm, if he could help it.
The Kig-Yar's eyes widened even larger in surprise, but his beak dared not follow to protest. He only eyed the beardless youth, and made a mock bow.
Bartium was perhaps a bit mismatched amidst Maraudus's men, but the others knew better than to question his importance to the Captain. For he was Maraudus's last nephew. The Captain's brother and the boy's father, Ravitis, had been everything one could want in a Brute. Strong, tenacious, generous to his tribe and merciless to his enemies. But he was taken from this world far too soon, slain during the dying gasps of the Covenant.
And even though the young Bartium was half his size, he was his father's son, to be sure. There was no mistaking his steely gaze, or dark brown fur. In ten years time, it'd be as if Ravitis had never left, the Captain was certain.
I only need to have him blooded, Maraudus thought. And today is as good a day as any.
The wreckage of the Molon Labe was freshly smoldering in the distance when Bartium, Kit, and the three Unggoy hit the dirt. Bartium looked over his shoulder at the Captain, his mouth hanging open as if he wanted to say something. But Kit clicked his tongue at him, and the youth hurried along to his task. The Unggoy waddled after them, struggling to avoid being left behind by the larger creatures' strides.