The Wail of the Grunts

It was madness; brutes were roaring and elites were screaming in fury. Grunts were running wildly around looking for shelter, shooting at random and tossing grenades in all directions. Palab looked around the battle field and tried to gather his bearings. He looked around and tried to find more Insertion Pods from the Knight and Piercing Arrow in order to find his team, but there was too much commotion and too much chaos. He could barely stand sill long enough to look around, he couldn't worry about his team right now; he had to obey his orders. First he had to find the tram station and secure it.

Palab darted from his cover position at the first opportunity and began to run to higher ground, he had to locate the station. As he ran, a brute suddenly fell toward him and grabbed him by the shoulder. Palab wasted no time in pulling away from the brutes grip, and emptied a round of crystal shards into its chest. The brute barely had the time to scream as the crystals created a massive creator in its chest. Palab strapped the needler to his back and broke down to all fours. He turned and saw a sign written in two languages; covenant, and elite. It said 'Tram Station', and he quickly ran toward it. He darted under brutes, and around elites. Palab knew that his team had their orders and that they would meet him at the Station. He ignored everything around him, but he wanted to help the other grunts that were fighting around him, he knew that the base had to be secured. There was no point in fighting amidst the chaos if there was nothing to fight for.

- - - - - - - -

Etah exited his Orbital Insertion Pod and noticed that he was cut off from the rest of the battle. Two other Pods hissed open near him and the elites leapt from the thick mist inside. Their dual single blades roared in their hands and each of them gave a deep 'Wort' as they sniffed the blood in the air.

"These buildings have been toppled over." The elite shouted. "The Insertion Pod must have altered a landing zone for us. The rest of the team must have landed elsewhere."

The other elite quickly acknowledge the statement. "No matter brother, we shall find brutes to slay." Etah quickly looked the field over for any sign of other pods. His best guess was that all 29 pods landed in various positions. He wished his Personal Com worked, he desperately wanted to call Palab, to make sure his leader was ok.

"What say you brother?" The Mirratord Elite stated to Etah. Etah was stunned to hear the words, but then remembered that he too was a member of the Mirratord. Unlike the Elite's that struggled against him on the Command Deck of the Knight and Piercing Arrow, these warriors had seen him and his team fight; they recognized his talent. "Are you ready to avenge your kin in battle?" Etah's first thought was that he was teasing him, like most elites tend to do, but there was a serious tone in the elite's voice that gave his words merit.

"Me ready." Etah replied with an aggressive tone. "We get to base and defend, kill any brute in way."

"Alright then." The Elite roared. "Follow me. The Tram Station isn't far. I'm sure you can keep up with us, brother." The elites quickly began to run around the crumbled ruins of what was once a building, Etah strapped his Plasma Pistol to his armor and quickly fell in line behind them, running on all fours.

'Brother'. The elite had said it twice and it was still echoing in Etah's mind while the three of them quickly, but cautiously, made their way to the tram station. Things were different now, thanks to Palab; his little brother the Messiah and king of the Grunts. Etah grinned softly at the thought, but the sound of battle was growing louder and louder as the trio sprinted over bodies and rubble. Soon they could see the ocean of bodies ahead of them. Elites, brutes, drones and grunts were massed together in a free for all of carnage. Explosions and plasma bursts scattered in all directions.

"There, look to the large central building!" The lead elite pointed to Etah and the other Elite. "Weave through this battle and get to the Tram Station!" The roar of the battle was deafening, but it wasn't a concern, Etah knew his orders and he was going to follow them; Palab would be at the Tram Station and he had to get there and help his brother.

A plasma grenade exploded nearby and three elites in the battle were killed, sending their lifeless corpses toward the trio of Mirratord warriors.

"Our brothers!" The lead Mirratord elite shouted. He roared and charged the two brutes that had taken shelter behind a smoldering wraith tank. The brutes were watching the battle in front of them and were tossing grenades at elites that were trying to rally together. "Cowards! You hide and kill from a far!"

"We no time for this." Etah shouted. "Need to get to station. Follow orders!" It was far too late to stop the enraged elite. He had already darted through the crowd and was making a strategic assault on the cowardly brutes nesting behind the smoldering tank.

The other elite turned to Etah. "Look at this carnage and look at your fellow grunts. Tell me how this can not bring you anger? We will get to the station, but we will slay these brutes first. They have no honor for this battle." The elite followed his Mirratord brother into the fray. Etah watched as brutes slaughtered grunts by the masses, and despite his urge to find Palab, he quickly felt the need to fight. He dropped to all fours and darted into the battle behind the two blood thirsty elites.

- - - - - - - -

Lieutenant Simyaldee exited his pod and glared at the brutes that stood before him. He had landed in the very thicket of the battle, and was surrounded by brutes. He stepped to the ground without any show of concern or fear, and extended his arms. In the Palm of his hands were his single energy blades. He squeezed the hilts and the blades roared to life, exploding with a blue hiss of forged energy. Simyaldee heard a deep roar and quickly recognized the voice of his Mirratord brother, Ladme Balmaeda. The two elites stood in almost the same battle stance with their arms extended, their blades in each hand, and their knees bent. They slowly backed up toward each other until they bumped. The only cover they had was the two Orbital Insertion Pods that sat up beside them. They were completely surrounded and there was no way to escape.

"Eleven of them, do you think they have any clue as to what is about to happen to them?" Balmaeda questioned.

"I seriously doubt it." Simyaldee replied. The Brutes began to raise their plasma rifles and needlers, as they practically began to drool with anticipation.

"Good." Balmaeda added. "I want the shock on their faces to be the last thing they see."

One of the brutes roared, "kill them!" A barrage of blue plasma and pink crystals streaked toward the two elites but were quickly absorbed by the elites' shields. The two elites stood motionless, letting the brutes hit them until their plasma rifles overheated and needlers were empty. The elite's shields finally failed just as the last crystal needle exploded. "What?" The brute roared. "Their shield should have failed!" The brutes struggled to reload and cool off their weapons but there wasn't enough time.

"Our turn." Simyaldee roared as he sprang forth. The two elites split up and vanished in front of the brutes' eyes, as they engaged their active camouflage. Streaks of blood soared through the air as one by one the brutes were sliced by swift unseen killers. In a final act of desperation, the brutes began firing in all directions hoping to kill the cloaked assassins, but no matter where they shot, they hit nothing. The brutes fell one by one until only a lone brute was left. The two elites appeared before the beast and gazed at him, as the blood of the dead brutes dripped from their armor.

"How…" The Brute began to question but Balmaeda raised his blade into the Brutes chin. His eyes rolled down the length of the glowing blade and at the elites face.

Simyaldee stepped forward and began to gloat, "We are the Mirratord. We are the right hand of the High Council, and the best of the best. You stupid brutes never stood a chance!" Balmaeda then split the Brutes skull from front to back. The brute's lifeless husks crumbled to the ground and the elites ran toward the tram station.

- - - - - - - -

The entrance to the Tram station was now guarded by dozens of elites that had survived the fray. Grunts waddled around the station checking to make sure that none of the brutes had made it inside, but none of them could escape the sound of the battle outside. The battle had been going on for what felt like hours and the brutes were still pushing the elites back, even with the aid of the Mirratord.

The young elite member of the Mirratord glimpsed over the crowd that had amassed inside the station, and he felt a sense of comfort knowing that he wasn't alone anymore. The warriors that had gathered inside the tram station were injured, or part of medical teams, but he was still happy to not be alone. His eyes quickly focused on the entrance as three brutes ran into the station. However, they were quickly put down by two Mirratord that had chased them inside. The two Mirratord warriors were elites that the young warrior had never met in person, but knew them none the less. He quickly addressed the Second with a nod and exhaled; thankful that a leader had returned.

The young warrior raced to meet the two blood soaked elites, "The Gods be praised. Lieutenant Simyaldee. You made it."

"This isn't how we had planned to induct you, young one." Simyaldee smirked. "But trial by fire is a trial none the less. You've done well."

"If you say so, sir." Simyaldee could tell that the burden he was left with had mentally drained the young one. The main entrance was once again active and the elites turned to see groups of Mirratord elites and grunts stumble inside, exhausted. Palab then ran into the station with two brutes in close pursuit, but he quickly stuck them both with grenades before any of the elites could tell what had happened. He walked up to Simyaldee and nodded respectfully.

"What situation?" Palab eagerly questioned. The young elite warrior was stunned to see the bar of the Mirratord upon the tiny grunts shoulder but after seeing and listening to Palab, he didn't second guess it. He was quickly impressed by the grunts aggression and grace on his feet. He moved unlike any grunt he had seen, and despite the battle outside, he didn't seem nervous at all.

Simyaldee returned the nod, "Sergeant, glad you made it. So far, we're alive. Balmaeda and I just arrived. Young one, my team will gather at the Tram Station entrance. I will recall the rest of the Mirratord that were stationed with you, and you will all guard this Tram Tunnel. If we fail then it is up to you to destroy the tunnel. Maintain your position." The young warrior exhaled as the stress of being the one to destroy the tunnel quickly began to recoup upon his shoulders.

"Palab, where are the other members of your team?" Balmaeda questioned. Palab turned and looked to the battle beyond the tram station's entrance and prayed for one his teammates to run through the door; especially Etah.

"They come." Palab stated with heavy doubt. Palab had landed alone in the midst of all the fighting and barely made it through. If any of his other Grunts had the same scenario their chances were slim. Palab wanted to call out to his pack brother. He wanted to shout his name as loud as he could, but emptiness was beginning to swell within him. His last pack brother was out there somewhere, alive or dead. "Me know they… they will come."

The station door parted and a grunt fell in. "Palab!" The grunt shrieked in its native tongue. A nearby medical grunt quickly ran to the wounded grunt at the door as he fell to the ground. Palab dashed to the door as quickly as he could. He recognized the grunt as one of his team. Simyaldee and Balmaeda ran along side Palab and as they came closer they quickly noticed the severity of his injuries.

The Grunt's chest was exposed and his methane tank hissed from a leak. His face was covered in blood and his right arm was gone. It was obviously the result of a plasma grenade at close range, but unfortunately the grunt survived the explosion. The nearby grunt quickly began to aid his wounded kin, but he knew that there was little that could be done.

"Palab… Etah and the others… " The grunt gargled as oxygen began to leak into his methane re-breather. "They're pinned down… drones and brutes have them pinned. I got away, to get you… they need you."

"Where?" Palab asked in his native tongue; his voice cracking with anger and sadness. "What's their position?" The grunt was slowly dieing but he managed to raise his hand and point in the general direction that he left Etah and the rest of the team. Palab looked up and saw the blue smoldering smoke of a plasma flame in the distance. He looked back to the grunt's lifeless body and lowered him softly to the ground.

"Young one, hold this station with your life!" Simyaldee shouted back to the young Mirratord warrior. "Palab, tell us what happened, no matter what, we're with you!" Palab snarled as two brutes stepped into his vision. His grunts were being killed in a war that was not theirs. They were dieing to fight for the elites, because that was all they knew how to do. His elbow spikes exploded outward and anger crept over him. His brother was out there, his kin were dieing, and now he was going to make it stop. With a harsh snarl Palab exploded through the door with a quick burst of speed. Balmaeda and Simyaldee eagerly followed; their energy swords hissing at their sides.

Their was nearly two hundreds yards of fighting between Palab and his Brother, and anything that got in the trio's path was instantly mowed down. The two elites pulled up the rear; their energy swords quickly slicing, and stabbing any nearby brutes that hindered their progress. Palab led them; cutting and jumping at any brute, jackal or drone that came near. With every move he made, something died from the slash of his spikes. Palab was incredibly elusive. His explosive jumps and rolls were acrobatic in quality, and with good reason.

Palab only had one advantage over the brutes; his quickness. If the brutes hit him or grabbed him then their strength would certainly be the end of him. He had to keep moving at all costs.

Palab stuck brutes with grenades with such speed and grace that it looked as though he hadn't done anything. Every few feet he would scoop up more grenades, but he never slowed down. A brute jumped into his path but Palab spun around in mid air; spinning his elbow claws and slashing the beast's throat. By the time the brute fell to the ground, gasping at its throat, Palab had already stuck two other brutes with plasma grenades. A brute shot grenade exploded nearby, knocking Palab off his feet, but he rolled with the pressure and kept running. He felt something moist on his back, and wondered if he had been wounded, but he didn't care, he pushed on. A stray plasma blast struck his shoulder, and it stung him for a second, but it wasn't severe; he had to keep moving.

Keeping closely behind Palab, Balmaeda spotted two weary Mirratord warriors; soaked in the blood of brutes and drones. They were exhausted and Balmaeda could tell that they had been swinging their blades for quite some time.

He shouted to them; "Fall back to the station, and regain your strength, brothers." The two elites nodded and raced back to the station. Balmaeda and Simyaldee pushed on with Palab in front.

Simyaldee, on the other hand, show no such concern for his kin. This was battle. This was war. This was his element. His swords cut through the air swiftly, killing anything they touched. Heads rolled behind him as he made his way through the crowd and behind Palab. His speed was remarkable and his determination was unrelenting. Anything that Palab didn't kill, Simyaldee made sure to see it dead. The Mirratord Second in command had to slow his pace or he would have passed Palab and not known were to go. However, the destination was not the goal for him, killing the enemy was. So many battles he had seen, so much death that he had long ago learned to tune out the cries of pain and suffering from his enemies, and even his Mirratord brothers. Death was a natural part of the battlefield and to survive it, Simyaldee learned to accept it.

As the trio came closer to the smoldering tank, they quickly looked over the area and saw the carnage. Several elites and Mirratord warriors were pinned in an alley. There were many different units of elites taking cover in the shadowy side alley, ranking from simple soldiers to rangers. The Mirratord warriors seemed to be the ones doing the most fighting. The other elites were clearly exhausted and wounded. The brutes pressed the small group defending the tram station with every thing they had, and the elites were slowly loosing ground.

Palab led the group of a pile of smoldering ghosts and brute corpses. He glared ahead and saw several grunts cowering in a corner, just behind the demolished tank. Palab ran closer and spotted Etah out of the corner of his eye.

Etah wasn't hiding, he wasn't even taking cover. Palab's older brother was standing side by side with three Mirratord elites and three other Mirratord grunts. The six of them were holding off wave after wave of brutes and drones. Etah was tossing plasma grenades with deadly marksmanship, sticking brutes that were more then twenty yards away. He held a brute plasma rifle in his free hand and was giving the brutes everything he had. The six Mirratord warriors had setup an extensive perimeter around an alley, behind the tank, and were holding the brutes off with plasma fire; loosing ground only when necessary. The grunts supplied the cover fire, and any brutes that came to close instantly meet the single blades of the three elites.

A sigh of relief crossed Palab's mind as he came closer to the battle and he quickly turned his attention toward the advancing brutes. The brutes never saw the three of them coming. Balmaeda worked his way from the rear, cutting the throats of unsuspecting brutes without hesitation. Simyaldee was more aggressive. The Second of the Mirratord roared and leapt into the midst of the beasts, catching them off guard. He planted his left hoof on the ground and never moved it. From that position, he began swinging his blades at anything nearby. He pivoted on his left, and changed his attack posture. The brutes couldn't get close enough to attack, and they couldn't get away fast enough to avoid the searing energy blades. By the time one brute would take aim at Simyaldee, Balmaeda would take them out with his speed and stealth. Palab raced to the front line, weaving between the confused brutes, and stood between his brothers of the Mirratord and the advancing brutes.

The brutes didn't know what was happening around them. An elite was coming up from behind, another was in the center of their ranks, and a lone grunt was snarling at them in the trench of the firefight. The Mirratord warriors sighed in relief at the sight of Palab and the two senior warriors of the Mirratord. Etah raced up beside his brother and glared at the brutes. The other Elites quickly began to assist, leaving the safety of the alley. The other non Mirratord in the alley gazed out at the spectacle. They didn't know what to make of the little grunt staring at the horde of brutes.

Palab dropped to all four and started to growl toward the brutes, but his pitch dropped and a massive base exploded from within his mask. Etah sided with his brother and their pitch began to sync. The brutes were stunned with disbelief at what they were hearing. Even the Mirratord warriors had to stare for a second, but their gaze quickly re-fixed on the Brutes. The other two grunts ran up to Palab side and joined in the growl, the sound became almost deafening, drowning out the sound of the battle around. Four grunts had stopped the advance of ten brutes. Simyaldee stabbed another brute, but noticed that a chill was running down his spine. He then awakened from his battle meditation and looked the brutes around him; all of which were gazing at the four grunts. Simyaldee looked to Balmaeda, and the two of them glared at each other in shock. The brutes were completely engulfed in the sound.

Soon everyone began to pause as the sound echoed off of the surrounding buildings. The brutes and elites that scattered the streets, slowly and cautiously, pulled away from each other and began looking around, trying to figure out where the sound was coming from. But it was the grunts that seemed to not mind the sound, it was quite the opposite.

Every grunt that heard the sound began snarling into the air, as if driven feverish by the sound. As the echo entered their ears, they began gazing into the air as if attempting to find the source. Through their methane masks, each of the grunts was struggling to match the sound and join in. The harmony continued to grow louder as grunts fell into the pattern of the wail, but this was not a peaceful song being sung, this was a blood curling roar that every grunt was yelling, and the brutes felt a fear begin to consume them. The elites were also shocked and nervous as they watched grunt after grunt toss aside their fear. But even while the brutes seemed to tremble, the elites seemed to not be affected. It became more evident as the elites looked to the tiny grunts at their sides. What was striking fear into the hearts of the brutes, were the grunts' eyes.

As they roared, each of the grunts stared deep into the eyes of the brutes. Every eye gazed at them, and consumed them with intimidation. Several of the brutes roared back and tried to frighten a nearby grunt, but the aggressive behavior only seemed to enrage the grunts more. Where a brute would roar at one grunt, four or five grunts would snap back; glaring with soul crushing stare.

Simyaldee stepped close to Balmaeda, "the Wail of the Grunts."

Balmaeda looked at him with a confused expression. "But… it is merely a legend."

"I think not, my brother." Simyaldee watched as several brutes tossed their weapons aside and placed their hands upon their ears, feverishly trying to stop the sound.

Palab and Etah's roar had lasted for nearly a minute, each taking a deep breath when needed and continuing the roar, but the brutes shock and fear would only last for so long. One of the brutes worked up the nerve, pushed aside his concern and took aim with his plasma rifle.

A bolt of plasma pulsed from the rifle and impacted a nearby grunt in the center of his head. The grunt tumbled backwards and the wail stopped.

Every grunt's eyes squinted, and a low growl boiled from within them. They all felt the pain of that single grunt that had just died, they all felt his heart stop, and they all heard the sob of that grunt's pack brother. Palab stepped over the body of his fallen brother, and placed his head next to his.

Etah lay silent on the ground his lifeless form grew cold, and Palab could feel it through his own skin. Palab wanted to mourn, he wanted to cry and scream, and he wanted his brother to say something, but nothing came from his mouth. He pushed his head into the crook of Etah's neck, feverishly hopping his brother would stand, but he pulled away from Etah and turned his eyes toward the brute that had fired. He stepped ahead of the grunts beside him. It seemed that a minute had passed since the brute shot his brother, but it had only been three seconds.

Palab's elbow spikes, the mark of the Grunt King, extended outward and he shouted an ear piercing scream that only the grunts understood. But with his scream came the scream of hundreds of brutes and drones as every grunt converged on them. The grunts grabbed, clawed, bit and stabbed brutes anywhere they could. Three or four grunts at a time were jumping onto the backs of the brutes and dragging them to ground to be clawed and gutted by the ravenous grunts.

The brutes were overwhelmed and tried to retreat but the blood thirsty grunts had massed together, and swarmed like an army of ants. The brutes fought as best they could but terror had consumed them. Dozens of grunts pulled brutes apart; tossing their limbs freely into the wind. The brutes tried to flee but there was no where to run to; the grunts were everywhere. The grunts tossed plasma grenades at or near any brute controlled vehicles and when the brutes lost control, they were quickly swarmed upon.

The drones also felt the rage of the grunts. The drones would fly into the air, well beyond the grunts reach, but they were quickly shot down by elite piloted Phantoms or Banshees. The drones were afraid and wanted to flee, but their flying ability within gravity was limited, and when they became tired of flying they had to land, and were quickly slaughtered.

It had not dawned onto the brutes that they were completely outnumbered by the grunts. With the elite forces scattered about the galaxy, the brutes believed Dorenth to be an easy target, however they never anticipated the grunts as a factor. The brutes were outnumbered by the grunts ten-to-one. The odds had always been in the elites favor, that just had not utilized their sources affectively; thinking the grunts were nothing more then cannon fodder.

Simyaldee and Balmaeda turned their attention to Palab, as the snarling grunts overran the brutes around them. They walked up to the grunt Messiah and watched as he tearfully stared at his brother's prone body. Palab sat quietly next to Etah and lowered his head. The grunts were taking care of the fight and he didn't need to help. His elbow spikes retracted and his only focus was on honoring his fallen kin and making sure that he never forgot his older brother. He quickly drifted off to sleep, and in his restful state his mind flowed free. He thought only of his kin and his brother, and in his dreams he could see them all. This war had cost them their lives, but he could still honor them and mourn for them in his dreams.

This was the way of the grunt, even in rest they would offer up homage to the spirits of their dead. Long ago they put away burial rights, or burning the corpses, the body was merely a vessel containing their spirits and they were honored in the communion of their minds. Sleeping fooled the Covenant overlords into thinking that grunts were lazy and useless, but the grunts had a higher calling then even the prophets could understand. In their restful state they were together, the dead and the unborn mixing with the living. This was their connection and their way of honoring the fallen. But the grunts also used the moment to rest, whenever possible.

Balmaeda sat quietly beside Palab and watched closely not knowing what Palab was actually doing. Grunts had always been able to sleep at the weirdest times, he thought to himself, but he saw a single tear roll from Palab's eyes as the little grunt snored softly. He quickly stood and gave Palab the privacy he needed and looked over the battle field.

"I will stand and watch over the Sergeant and make sure nothing happens to him while he… rests." Balmaeda stated as he gestured toward Simyaldee.

"Very well. I'll go back to the station and send for the High Council, they will be delighted to hear that we have retaken the city. But this war is far from over. Thankfully, the grunts are on our side."

"Since our arrival Palab has not said that he will join his grunts with us." Belmaeda stated with a confused tone. "What makes you think that he will continue to fight at our side? We can't force them, not now that he leads them all."

Simyaldee quickly retorted, "His brother was just killed by a Brute. Palab may want his kin to go home, but there is nothing that will give him more satisfaction then revenge against the brutes. He's not like the other grunts. He's a warrior, like us. The grunts will continue to fight with us. Unfortunately, that is the way it must be, if we are to win." Simyaldee began to walk away, but turned to Balmaeda one last time. "Before the Prophets turned on us, you were next in line to join the council. Your son was going to take your seat upon the Mirratord. Do not forget his death, you who was once known as Balmaedree. The brutes shall not be spared any quarter."

"My child died in combat. With that knowledge I can gladly accept his death. The name Balmaedree has no meaning for me anymore, and soon I will join the council and help lead our kin into a peaceful future." Balmaeda nodded his head to the Mirratord Second and returned his gaze upon the resting Palab.

Balmaeda sadly knew that Simyaldee was right, about everything. No matter what, the Grunts had to continue fighting. If the grunts didn't, then the tide of the war would surely fall to the brutes; the elite forces were scattered around the galaxy. Simyaldee was also right about his son, Yammaeda. How could he ever forget that the brutes killed his only child? Never would he forget, but he knew that anger would not bring him tranquility. Upon the council, he could make changes, he could show all of his kin how to rebuild and defend. No, his place was no longer as a warrior, but as a member of the High Council of Elites. For far too long he had been fighting, secretly killing for the council, but now it was time to change. Balmaeda stood tall and brushed his feelings to the side.

A few minutes passed and the grunts in the area began to return to Palab's side. The brutes near the station had been slain and one by one they sat next to him or as close as they could. The grunts that had never met Palab instantly felt his presence and eagerly awaited his leadership. They sat quietly, some slept, and some patiently waited for their Messiah to speak. Soon Balmaeda was surrounded by a sea of grunts, all encircled around the resting body of Palab, and his departed pack brother, Etah.

The other elites began sorting through the bodies of their fallen brothers. The elite's numbers had been severely reduced, but there were survivors scattered all across the planet and numerous smaller cities that hadn't been attacked. The brutes had been stalled for the mean time, but surely the prophets were not going to give up. More brutes, jackals and drones would be coming, and the elites were well aware that they didn't have much time. But something began to gnaw at the back of Balmaeda's mind. Why Dorenth?

For decades the Prophets were obsessed with humans and killing them, but now, they seemed split between attacking the humans home planet, a world called Earth, and the elite world of Dorenth. Balmaeda knew that this was a pointless strategy. The goal for the prophets, for the Covenant, had always been the Great Journey. Why now were they splitting their forces? Why focus on the elites, his kin? At this stage of the war, humanity was a far greater threat.

Balmaeda's thoughts were interrupted as several ships began to lift off from the perimeter of the city; the very ships that the brutes had used during their initial assault. The Covenant was in full retreat, but the elites knew that they would be back, and the Prophets would surely bring more forces then before, but again Balmaeda thought; why?

Balmaeda smiled as he watched several of the ships begin to accelerate into the sky, but then explode as they reached upper orbit.

"I wonder how many of their ships the Knight and Piercing Arrow will shoot down?" Belmaeda questioned to himself. He was happy to know that the Knight and Piercing Arrow was still fighting and hopefully several other elite controlled ships had survived as well.

Ship after ship began crashing back into the atmosphere and burning up as they tumbled through the sky. The brutes were so desperate to retreat that they didn't prepare for ship to ship combat; the elite cruisers made short work of them. Streaks of debris soared overhead as the Covenant ships were sunk one by one, but some escaped the elite's attacks. Eventually some of the Covenant ships slipped by, but the Knight and Piercing Arrow didn't pursue. The massive carrier slowly entered orbit and made a barring toward the City of Jogrennilee, and made preparations to hover over the city. Balmaeda sighed softly as the ship came into view and began to block out the sun.

"We have won this battle, but the war isn't over." Balmaeda mumbled to himself. Survivors needed to found, defenses had to be rebuilt, and the elites as a whole needed to understand that things must change. The grunts had won this battle, and if the elites could not learn to respect Palab and his kin, then they would eventually turn on them. In the eyes of the other elites, Palab and his kin were only grunts.

Palab awakened from his dreams and looked away from his brother's body. He was surrounded by grunts on all sides. They sat patiently and eager to hear his words; his leadership. Palab stood to his feet and every Grunt gave him their immediate attention, waking from their sleep and prayers. He was bewildered for a moment, realizing that all eyes were set on him. He looked to his side and spotted Balmaeda, and noticed that the elite had not left his side the entire time.

Balmaeda stepped closer and questioned "Sergeant, your orders?" Palab looked up and could hear the commotion amongst his grunts. He had forgotten that only the members of his team knew that he was a Sergeant. It also shocked the other grunts to hear an elite speak to him with such respect. Balmaeda and the Mirratord warriors were the only elites that respected the grunts but it was a good sign. Palab knew that if the best of the elite warriors could respect his grunts, then perhaps things could change.

Perhaps the elites and grunts could one day be considered true allies and friends. That he could take his grunts home to live on their world in peace. But as long as the prophets still controlled the Covenant fleet then he knew there would be no time for peace. The galaxy and all life were in danger. No, going home now would be pointless. This war needed the unlimited resources of his grunts. His grunts, Palab thought to himself. At what point did he start thinking that way?

Palab stepped forward, looked at his Grunts, and began to speak to them in their native tongue. Balmaeda stepped back, and let the grunts have their moment.

- - - - - - - -

Simyaldee walked toward the tram station and suddenly realized that he had forgotten to put away his energy sword hilts. He quickly affixed them to his harness and sighed as he stretched his fingers. He walked into the tram station door just as the tram parked at the station dock. The doors to the tram parted and the High Council members as well as elder Vornaldea appeared.

Vornaldea jumped down from the Tram platform and glared through the door to the battle torn city beyond. "It appears we have been victorious."

Simyaldee could only shake his head in disapproval. "No, elder, we have not. The grunts won this battle. We owe them our gratitude."

"You speak nonsense, second." Vornaldea barked. "No grunt to kill a brute."

"It was their vast numbers that granted them victory in.."

"Again you speak of the grunts. Surely it was you and the Mirratord. I will not give the grunts …"

Simyaldee stepped closer to Vornaldea. "If I am out of line, then remove my rank, but I know what it is that I have seen. Out there, amongst the bodies of our fallen kin, and the corpses of our dead enemies is the new Grunt King."

Vornaldea stood in shock, "another has been born?"

"Elder, let me tell you of my newest warrior within the Mirratord. His name is Sergeant Palab, and he is the King of the Grunts."

"But the last king, he killed…"

Simyaldee cut in, "...an Arbiter. Yes, I remember my studies of the Grunt Rebellion. But before you panic, let me tell you more about this new leader of the grunts, and why we must embrace them as our allies… and not our tools." Acceptance of the grunts would not be an easy task. It would take time to convince his brothers of the Sangheili to change their views of the grunts, but Simyaldee knew that the change needed to begin.

End.

"Stand, five feet high"
Written and Created by Soulguard
Characters based on the characters from Halo, Halo 2
Based on the Video Game Halo, Halo 2
Halo© Bungie Microsoft Game Studios
Halo 2© Bungie Microsoft Game Studios

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So we come to the end of Book 1. This will be ready for PDF format soon enough and available at my website within a few days. Now for those of you who have yet to read it, book 2 is already available. YUP... it is here and you can read it at your disposal. It has all new characters as well as a few from here, but no worries, the grunts are still king. click on my name at the top of the page and read "If I Were Your Hero". It starts of well enough, and don't worry too much about a lot of the grammer misques, they will be corrected eventually.

Book 3 is still in the works. I have the idea in my head, but I can't do much until I'm sure of the Halo 3 plotline. Hopefully we will get a new game or books before the fall so that I can get started on it, but currently that is all I'm waiting for. Well.. that's it for now, more info soon enough. I will also be posting a few more side/short stories to this triliogy, so you may want to add me to your "Author Alerts" list, that way you'll know when I post a new story. Til then... see round the web.

soulguard