Much of this chapter is a write-up of the mission where you first play as the Arbiter to kill the Heretic leader. However, it is not my exact intention to simply recount the events but to give insight into the Arbiter's mind. It is indeed simplified because that mission was just too long and boring to put in one chapter.
Here goes.
Chapter 5 – Hindsight
The Arbiter stood motionless on the bridge of the Luminous Scepter and stared blankly at the endless stream of navigational data that scrolled on the ship's central holographic projector. The three main cameras remained off as the ship shot through Slipspace. As per tradition, the Arbiter and the high ranking officers stood guard on the ship at all times. While performing this honorary duty for his race, the Arbiter's mind began to wander from the task at hand. The hypnotic droning of the ships reactors lulled the Elite into a semiconscious state. He attempted to stay awake and alert, but he felt himself drifting between reality and the tortured memories of his final missions as a Covenant soldier.
He was back there again. Back on Halo 04. The bridge of the of the Luminous Scepter faded from his vision and he once again was standing on a bare platform, his face being stung by the dust-laden winds blasting past him. Around him, the sky was lit with a bright orange color from the explosion of the human ship. At his side stood a small group of commando Elites and Grunts. Their rapid breathing, the way they gripped their weapons tightly, just radiated nervousness. In all his experience as a commander and now as a dishonored suicide soldier, this fear was never seen before in the notoriously confidant Covenant Special Forces. To complete his disgrace, his name was stripped from him as punishment. As the ultimate servant of the Prophets, he could only be known as the Arbiter, the name that struck fear into the enemies of the Covenant.
"Prepare to locate the Heretic leader. He must die so that no more will ever dare to doubt the great Prophets. Your lives, your deaths, are insignificant. Even to your dying breath, know that you have died for the word of the Prophets. Now let's move out. We don't want to be here when the storm hits," reported the Special Forces Leader of the Covenant from his personal Phantom that hovered above the entire battleground. The Arbiter remembered when he was in command of the entire Halo Fleet. Now, it was him on the ground, fighting as a simple infantry trooper.
"Alright, we will enter the installation here. Crush the Heretic and his blasphemous followers. Make an example of his abuse of the Ring of the Holy Ones!" Motivated by the confidence of their leader, the Special Forces Team gathered their resolve and followed the Arbiter to a small door at the end of the platform.
A few of the Grunts drew back as if repulsed by a horrible odor. The Elites, with a less sensitive sense of smell, ignored the quivering of the often-terrified creatures. One of the shouted out an old religious proverb to the group:
"When we fall in the name of the Holy Ones, we will join them!" The rest of the Elites roared out in unison.
The Arbiter reached into his explosive sack for a plasma charge to break down the locked door. He planted the charge, which was designed to deliberately throw shrapnel into the interior of the room, clearing out any forces that waited on the other side. The red symbols began to count down rapidly on the display of the bomb. Gripping his Carbine tightly in one hand, he waved to another Elite to take the point. All the digits on the timer stopped and the Elites raised their arms to cover themselves from the light of the blast.
"Go, go, go!" The Arbiter thundered. He rushed into the room, with the others close behind. A Grunt marked with the strange armor of the heretics struggled to rise from underneath a piece of metal. The Arbiter fired three times, spraying the walls with light blue blood. Two Heretic Elites rounded a corner into the room with confused looks on their faces.
"It is the Arbiter! Tell the Leader that the Prophets have sent their best troops to kill him! Our message must not die!" One of the Elites ran off down a hallway, but the other remained, pointing his plasma rifles at the Special Operations team.
"You make take my life, but your blind slavery to those false beings you call Prophets will be exposed. Whether it will take me or thousands more of us to give our lives, we will make YOU SEE THE TRUTH!" The heretic stood in front of the hallway, blocking it with his body. His hands barely touched the triggers of the dual plasma rifles when a dozen of radioactive Carbine rounds tore into his shield and punctured his armor. The Elite crumpled to the ground, still convulsing from the shock of the impacts.
"There will be thousands more of you to pay for your sins, fool." The Elite that landed the killing blow walked up to the dying heretic and kicked the body over. When the rest of the team walked on the next hallway, the Arbiter remained behind to look at the body of the heretic.
"You… You… will see the truth…" The heretic's voice trailed off as the life force slowly faded from him. The light of life slowly dimmed and faded away, growing weaker as the seconds passed. Then with a final brilliant flare, it was gone. Silence replaced the heretic's labored breathing. For a second, the Arbiter kneeled down and examined the strange armor of the heretics and reflected on the last words of the Elite. A doubt grew in his mind, although a feeble one, it was a doubt that had never existed before in the Arbiter's long service in the name of the Covenant. It was the very existence of his skepticism that evoked confusion in his mind. His devotion to the military through loyalty and discipline had been only enhanced by the strict religious code of the Covenant. If he was to reveal that even a trace of hesitation in his actions, the Prophets would have him executed.
The Arbiter collected himself and jogged up to the rest of the team. He was careful to conceal his expression in front of the Elites, who could detect the slightest change in attitude. The hallway ahead was filled with large protrusions that allowed for excellent cover for the heretic troops. A direct path to the door ahead was blocked by a metal plate directly in front of the entrance.
Without warning, a group of heretic Elites appeared from behind the metal plate. They immediately began firing at the Arbiter and his troops. The Arbiter ducked to the ground to avoid a plasma grenade and returned fire with his Carbine. He waved forward an Elite carrying a stationary light plasma turret.
"Move! Suppressing fire! The rest of you, take cover and fire back at them!" roared the Arbiter. The Elite carrying the turret was hit three times in his shields by a plasma rifle as he set up the gun, sending him stumbling backwards. Another three shots burned through the Elite's skull instantly, leaving him no time to scream from the pain. A fuel rod shell tore into the headless corpse and sprayed purple blood all over the Arbiter's armor.
Another fuel rod shot arced gracefully through the hallway only to explode into a superheated green sphere on the metal plate in front of the hiding place of a Spec Ops Grunt. The fragmented metal turned into thousands of shredder rounds that embedded themselves into the Grunt. The mutilated body parts of the unfortunate creature were blown backward and thrown everywhere from the force of the explosion. A bluish colored chunk of meat covered with torn armor landed back in front of the Arbiter. He pushed aside what had once been the Grunt's torso and began to crawl under heavy fire towards the plasma cannon.
The Arbiter had just reached the cannon when a heretic opened fire on him with a Carbine. One of the rounds ricocheted off the metal floor and impacted into his shields, causing them to flare up in a purple scintillating light. Another of the radioactive shots missed completely and shattered on a side wall. The Arbiter grabbed the grips of the plasma turret and depressed the firing triggers of the gun. He hosed the width of the corridor with the superheated material and caught the heretic in the stream of fire. The Elite's shields faded and the twitching body was suspended in midair for a split-second from the stun effect of the plasma.
He threw aside the overheating plasma turret and reached for his Carbine. The heretic forces were in total disarray. A heretic Grunt began to flee from the battle when the Arbiter took careful aim with his Carbine. He pressed the trigger once and the gun flew backwards from the recoil. The Grunt was hit in the skull and it instantly dropped face-first into the ground, its methane breather still hissing.
The Arbiter prepared to fire at a retreating heretic when the Carbine clicked empty. He hastily switched to his plasma pistol, but when he was finished, the enemy had retreated.
"It's all clear! Let's keep moving! We have to get the Leader before the storm hits!" The surviving members of his team emerged from their cover at hearing the voice of the Arbiter. Although he only lost one Elite in the firefight, over a dozen Grunts lay dead from the fierce attack. One of the Elites was wounded severely in the chest by plasma. His armor was twisted and seared by the intense heat. He clutched the wound and purple blood seeped out from between his fingers.
"I fear that I do not have much time before I join the Holy Ones. If I die, you must continue the mission and silence the heretics in my name!" screamed the dying Elite. The Covenant did not use medics in battle because it was seen as denial of self-sacrifice for the Prophets. Without medical treatment, the Elite had little less than an hour to life before he slowly bled to death, yet it still obediently followed the group.
When the group turned to leave the room, the heretic Elite that wielded the fuel rod cannon stepped out from behind one of the protrusions. His armor was scarred and the shield apertures on it were all darkened and overloaded. He barely had time to gurgle out a surprised screech when the Arbiter stepped forward and shot the heretic three times in the in the head with his plasma pistol. Shreds of armor mixed with flesh sprayed upwards from the decapitated Elite. Its body crumpled to the ground with a smack. The Arbiter nonchalantly looked away from the gruesome scene and ordered his team onwards.
"Let this be a lesson to all who dare to abandon the Covenant! We shall cleanse this installation from their filthy sins. No mercy shall be given." Despite speaking those inspiring words, he barely believed them himself. Was this the first time he actually questioned his orders? Or was this the first time he truly thought for himself instead of always listening to a commander? The Arbiter's suppressed doubt now rose again to the top of his mind. He now acknowledged it, but in a combat situation, there was no time for it. If he survived this insane mission, he would address it later. Now, for first time in his lifetime, he would not fight for the Covenant, but for his survival.
It was only a short walk to the next doorway. For once on this mission, the electronic door was not locked. The door glided apart to reveal a narrow open-air catwalk spanning the distance from the current structure to the central area of the complex. The howling wind tore at the Arbiter's exposed face and flared off his shields as the team slowly began to make their way to the exit.
The Arbiter had reached the halfway point when he heard an object whistle past his head. He turned toward the sound when another purple needle appeared out of the swirling cloud of dust that perpetually hung over the installation. To avoid being hit, he dropped flat onto the ground, but the motion tracking needle abruptly changed direction and impacted on his shield. An overwhelming overpressure wave from the explosive impact sent the Arbiter spinning sideways into the railing of the catwalk.
"Not again," he muttered to himself. He had barely finished speaking when twenty more needles rocketed out of the haze.
"Sniper on the central structure! Get down now!"
The needles scattered and locked on to individual targets. An Elite was hit by three that brought his shield down, and then another two mercilessly scattered millions of tiny microshrapnel fragments into the Elite's flesh, resulting in massive internal hemorrhaging. The Arbiter tried to ignore the screams as he slowly crawled forward toward cover underneath the overhanging structure. In the raging dust storm around him, it was impossible to discern the position of the heretics firing upon him. Nevertheless, he fired several random shots into the distance to distract the enemy forces shooting at him. A misfired needle sent a shudder running through the flimsy catwalk that nearly shook the Arbiter off the edge.
A loud clang of his helmet hitting the wall in front of him signaled to the Arbiter that he had made it to safety. When he turned back to look at his team, he saw terrorized Grunts running around in circles, Elites trying to push their way through to him, and needles raining down everywhere. A needle nearly struck a Grunt right before it leapt in panic off the side of the catwalk and disappeared into the maelstrom below. The Elites had almost cleared the slaughter when another volley of needles headed right toward the hapless group. When the explosions cleared, only two were still standing. Purple blood stained the entire length of the junction and mixed with the blue blood of the Grunts. The wounded commando the Arbiter had seen earlier now lay dead with numerous needler puncture wounds. A cracked helmet leaned precariously on the edge of the platform in the wind.
Without any intervention from the Arbiter, the door leading into the tunnels of the complex abruptly hissed open. Armed with a Carbine from a fallen Elite, he crept into the darkened chamber beyond the doors. The entrance was shielded from the rest of the room by a wall that only allowed for the Arbiter's remaining two Elites and two Grunts to pass through single file. A heavy odor pervaded the room and filtered its way through the Arbiter's exposed helmet. He was about to comment on the smell when another Elite spoke up.
"That stench. I've smelled it before."
"Acknowledged. Stay alert. The parasite lurks in the shadows," commented the Arbiter.
As if on cue, a Flood combat form tumbled lifelessly from the upper platforms of the room and landed in front of an unfortunate Grunt. Several seconds passed as the creature lay on the ground. The Grunt fired its plasma pistol at the parasitic organism, but the shots splashed harmless off the twisted armor plates of the infested Elite. In the millisecond, the combat form rose up and wrenched the plasma pistol from the hands of the helpless Grunt. It quickly squeezed off a series of bolts in the Arbiter's direction.
There was not enough time to duck from searing superheated material. Two of the shots reflected off his shield, dropping it to half power. The others narrowly missed his head and left several molten craters in the wall. While dropping to the floor to avoid several poorly aimed shots, he sprayed the combat form with his Carbine. Despite the numerous holes torn through the torso of the reincarnated Elite, it was not stopped by the furious assault. Limping on a damaged leg, the combat form continued to waddle towards the Arbiter. He fired one final time to put it down for good.
He walked up to the downed creature and observed its bizarre features. A mass of tentacles protruded from the corpse's chest. Those tentacles seemed to have taken the place of the now destroyed sensory organs of the Elite. He also noticed that while the Elite's body structure remained the same, its muscles were considerably larger than a normal warrior's. The Arbiter had never seen the Flood with his own eyes as a ship commander, but had examined several dead specimens before. Each of the strange mutations a Flood infection bestowed on its host was very fascinating to him. He could not afford to underestimate these efficient killing machines. On the surface, they seemed like strange walking masses of organic material, but they had the power to smash even the strongest armor and shields.
The Arbiter noticed another door at the opposite end of the room. He determined that it must lead deeper into the structure. With great caution, he approached the door in a crouch, his Carbine raised to his shoulder. The plating of the door rang with the impact of a Needler round. He quickly rolled out of the way of the metal portal right before it exploded, sending infection forms flying everywhere. One floated right in front of his face, but it exploded in a cloud of green dust. He primed a plasma grenade and waited for the right moment.
A gap in the infection forms gave him the chance to sprint through the damaged door. He threw the grenade at the seething mass of parasites, and then ran from behind his cover. The Arbiter decided that it would be better to continue alone and let his team deal with the Flood instead of wasting further time. This central room was a giant cavern open to the outside. A Seraph fighter sat atop a makeshift launch pad directed into the dust storm below. Atop the Seraph hovered a strange glowing metal ball, which looked at the Arbiter with a curious metal eye. Next to the blue metal sphere stood an Elite clad in the armor of a heretic and equipped with a rocket pack.
"So, the Prophets have sent an Arbiter after me. They must be more afraid than I thought. Your death shall prove to them our power," boomed the Leader. He nodded to the floating metal piece. To the Arbiter's amazement, it began to speak in the common tongue of the Covenant.
"I, 343 Guilty Spark, Monitor of Installation 04, have enlisted the aid of a new Reclaimer to help cleanse the Flood from the structure," announced the AI in a bizarre mix of enthusiasm and interest. The Arbiter was puzzled by the strange vocabulary used by the Monitor and did not respond.
"The heretics must die for their abandonment of the Covenant," declared the Arbiter, but he knew that the Leader did not waste time for religious propaganda. With a powerful throw, the heretic released two mobile hologram projectors into the air.
Each of the projectors blurred from vision and formed into flawless replicas of the Leader. The Arbiter leapt off the landing platform in surprise and stumbled back several paces. He squeezed the trigger of his Carbine straight at the chest of a hologram, but the round passed harmlessly through the shape and shattered on the wall. It retaliated with dual plasma rifles, yet the Arbiter knew that holograms could not cause real damage. To his surprise, the real plasma shots flared on his shield and blasted him backwards.
He then realized that these holograms were the work of the Gods. The Monitor was telling the truth when it mentioned its support for the heretics. The mere fact that a servant of the Gods would support the heresy stunned the Arbiter. Why would they abandon the Covenant for the heretics who disobeyed their very word? No answers came to his mind. Instead, his thought was interrupted by the roiling heat of a plasma bolt burning away at his shield. All three of the images of the heretic Leader had gathered and were hosing the area with plasma.
The thoughts of contemplation vanished as the desperate struggle for survival took precedence in his mind. The Arbiter backpedaled away from the heretic while constantly providing suppressing fire against the Leader. He swept the scope of the Carbine over the figure on his left and the shot reflected off the shield, indicating that this Elite was not a hologram. He continued to pump shots into the armor plating of the real heretic leader. The constant barrage wore away at the shield, and then began to drill rapidly through the inferior armor plating of the heretic.
A powerful shot blew the Leader backwards from the recoil. Another three shots followed, knocking the heretic off its feet. The Leader lay on the ground, bleeding and immobile from the numerous wounds inflicted by the Arbiter. He approached the heretic and for a second stared into its dying eyes. It looked back with hatred and fury before the Arbiter raised the Carbine and fired the finishing shot.
As the heretic leader slipped away from the final moments of life, a horrible scream echoed through the chamber, droning out the sounds of the Arbiter's shot. The screech grew louder and louder as the seconds passed, forcing the Arbiter to involuntarily back away from the scene. A brilliant flash of white light erupted from the holograms, blinding the Arbiter and enveloping the entire room. The subsequent quiet was broken by one of the Monitor's nonchalant remarks.
"A pity that such technology had to go to waste. The quality of these Reclaimers have declined. Only fools get involved with this hegemony known as the Covenant and its religious insanity-" From behind Guilty Spark, a being activated an electromagnet and pulled the surprised construct away in mid-sentence.
The Arbiter turned to look at the wielder. A group of Brutes stood at the doorway, headed by their leader, Tartarus. Tartarus raised the Monitor in one hand and called out to the Arbiter.
"I will be praised for the destruction of the heretics and the discovery of an Oracle. You, Arbiter, will be despised by the Prophets for your failure to accomplish the simplest of missions," roared the primitive Brute. The Arbiter realized the trickery of the crafty creatures and directed the Carbine at Tartarus's head. Tartarus laughed in the face of the Arbiter, spraying spittle into his eyes.
"You may have my head, but my race will exact our revenge on you. The Elites are no longer the race favored by the Prophets. They will not save your precious race anymore." The Brute extended a fur coated hand and clamped down on the Arbiter's windpipe.
Tartarus tightened his arm muscles and drew the Arbiter so close to the Brute that he could smell the horrible stench of the unclean body. Light from the outside world grew dimmer as Arbiter's empty lungs screamed for air. He tried to pry the thick fingers off of his windpipe, but the powerful creature only tightened its grip. The Brute screamed, droning out all other noise in the room. The Arbiter ignored the horrific sound and focused on the desperate beating of his heart trying to supply oxygen to the rest of his body.
He continued to focus on this sound even as he felt himself fade out from consciousness, turning his vision to black.
The Arbiter abruptly awoke and leapt up in fear. He nervously turned to look behind him, but the bridge was empty. This surprise over, he shifted back into his previous position. In the inky darkness, the status holograms took their place like stars scattered in the vast sea of space. After returning to a sense of normalcy, the Arbiter's mind again became bored and again returned to world of haunting dreams.