Through the Eyes of the Enemy

by HypotheticallyTrue

When I was young I would look up to the sky with wonder in my eyes of what was out there. To me the stories of genocidal aliens was nothing more than stories. But now as one of those aliens I can only feel contempt for a brutal, unforgiving universe and the hand it dealt me. SI-OC as a Sangheili

12. The Fall

CRS Lament of Sacrosanct Woes, Orbiting Teegarden's Star b (Vulcan), Teegarden's Star, 02/11/2526

By the time our phantom settles into the hanger, having squeezed our way into the suddenly chaotic docking schedule of the Lament of Sacrosanct Woes, our presence is already forgotten. The phantom touches down, nearly wing-to-wing alongside other docked phantoms. Ours is rather intact compared to the others, metal wrenched in unnatural angles, deforming the like tumorous growths. The inhabitants aren't much better either. On our right, a squad of unggoy, scorch marks, dirt and other bodily fluids marking their recent departure from a battlefield. On our left, a squad of jiralhanae shooting glares at us as we stare.

"The squad leader," Zoya bends down from behind as we exit the ramp into the hangar, her voice purrs in my ear as she watches the jiralhanae, "His left leg, he's limping, trying to hide it, poorly of course. He was injured by a human. Small arm ballistics, see the lack of surrounding damage. He's weak, even for his kind. I bet I could take him in a fight."

I face her as she stares, the squad leader meets her gaze, grunts and turns away. Zoya grins predatorily in response. I swallow, my next words sluggish and heavy in my mouth, "Fight him all you want, I need to take a nap."

"Sleep is for the dead, weak and cowardly," she steps past me, twisting around to look at me as she does so, "I'm thinking the third. Or, perhaps, possibly the second."

"Move," Khore pushes past me, running into my shoulder in a very 'not an accident' way. A levitating cot, supporting Brok's motionless form hovers past, streaking a path of blue blood along its journey. "Fine work on saving Brok," Khore says, shoulders held low and mandibles lazily trailing along with his words, "But in return for what?" He gestures into the paper-black void of space beyond the hangar, the planet Vulcan somewhere in the distance. "Compassion means nothing. People will die, you best get used to that. We could have saved countless lives in the future, and given Brok an honorable death. Now we have neither."

I give him a tired glare, "Are you done?"

He snarls, swivels around and follows Brok's cot. "You irritated him to the point of preferring the non-company of Brok," Zoya notes, "Very impressive."

I bite down a retort. "Do you think he'll live?" I ask. Watching the cot inch away.

She shrugs. "Perhaps," she replies, monotone and bored, "It matters little anyways. If he does survive he'll be stripped of his honor and rendered a cripple. Perhaps he will toil away in the depths of High Charity, trying to regain his honor. Perhaps he will kill himself by the next cycle."

Her words, the way she says them. Uncaring as if he was the enemy, it surprises me. It more than surprises me, "You act as if you couldn't care less about him?" I pry, "What gives. You grew up together right?"

"You're too naive for your own sake," she drawls, "He would have left us if it meant his own advancement. By the gods, he would kill us if he could if it meant becoming a shipmaster. You trust too easily Vol."

"It's true," Tyrh now speaks, exiting the phantom with Brok's equipment held under his arms, "I would rather him live than die. But… our youth was just as much brutal competition as it was camaraderie."

I shake my head, "Are you two listening to each other? We're in a war and you guys couldn't even care about each other, seriously?"

Tyrh shrugs and brushes past me. Zoya leans in, "Look around us."

Despite how stupid it sounds, I give her the benefit of the doubt. Unggoy menials slave away, carrying materials to some destination somewhere or fixing some equipment with safety procedures practically non-existant. Sangheili warriors bark orders from the far wall, keeping their distance from the menails yet close enough to exert an air of superiority. On the far other side jiralhanae whisper and argue amongst themselves, keeping most of the hangar between us and them. "The war is what keeps us from killing each other," she says, "You've only seen High Charity. There they maintain the willful ignorance of the true nature of the Covenant. You know what we did to nameless jiralhanae that wound up on Hylde?" Zoya leans in and whispers, staring at the jiralhanae on the far side of the room as she does so, "We hunted them down for sport."

"We?"

"It was good practice. Now," she leans back in, "Do you imagine I could take the squad leader?"

I take a step away from her, avoiding answering her question. I fucking hate this place.

---

"You're supposed to be dead," I stare at Elkh, who returns the gesture with a dismissive wave of the hand.

"Yes," he deadpans, "I'm in fact deceased, and I've returned here because you caused me an extraordinary boredom and I'm here to enact my revenge."

"I'm serious."

"Oh and believe me, so am I," he taps on his arm rest, "You are coming to the debriefing. Your squad leader has been indisposed and the replacement…" he snaps to himself, "Ah Khore! That's his name. He made it known that you would attend in his stead."

"You were on the Elegy the last time I saw you," I press, "The Elegy is gone."

He rolls his eyes, "Last we met, you were also on the Elegy. Am I supposed to go on long unhinged rants about how you're alive? No, I'm not. Because I'm reasonable and know that duty carries us to new locations, outside the Elegy," he pauses for a moment, his previously jovial demeanor wrung out of his face. I open my mouth but he speaks before I do, "The death of the Illuminite Elegy is a horrific tragedy, any two-celled amoeba could figure that out. However, do not presume to think that because I was fortunate enough to escape death that I had something to do with it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes."

"Excuse me?"

"Yes, sir."

He stares me down, directly in my eyes. I return the look but say nothing, hoping he sees neither my frustration nor my shame. "Good," he slowly says, his next phrase back as if nothing had happened, "Now, if you will, we must return to the debriefing. The shipmaster of the Lament is not a patient sangheili, and we want not anger him."

He leads the way, floating rather quickly for being in a… floating chair. He carves a path through another endless maze of tunnels that I will quickly have to memorize, ending on a curved door that opens like guards lifting their axe, to the helm of the Lament of Sacrosanct Woes.

The shipmaster, a hulking sangheili with numerous dents in his armor, argues with another shipmaster on a hologram in front of him, arm held out in an accusatory fist. "The line of succession is clear," he says, slow and deep, "Leadership of the fleet falls into my hands. Cease this insolence and I will view this as nothing more than a simple lapse of judgement."

The other shipmaster, a shorter, more slender sangheili with immaculate glimmering armor responds, "Judgement is what warrants my caution," he argues back. His voice is more skittish and focused, "The humans obviously line themselves with traps. We disarmed one and detonated the other, what else may thay have in store?"

"Their graves to crawl into," the hulking shipmaster responds, "This is my last warning. Stand. Down."

"Technically," Elkh pokes in, floating around to the shipmaster's side, "The regulation are clear. Shipmaster Satom," gesturing to the towering sangheili, "On the ever unfortunate death of the Illuminite Elegy and her shipmaster, is to become the Fleetmaster in his stead."

The other shipmaster glares at Elkh. I wonder if somehow he will reach through as a hologram and strangle him but the holographic shipmaster nods and says, "Understood san'shyuum," he curses as he turns to the now Fleet Shipmaster Satom, "I await your next order."

The hologram vanishes. Satom turns to Elkh, taking a step over to him, imposing over Elkh, "My fights are mine alone to deal with. Don't interfere yourself in matters that are not yours to interfere."

"Pardon myself fleetmaster. I was not attempting to discount your position nor your aptitude. I merely wanted to inform Shipmaster Kasov of the matter of things," Elkh responds. His chair floats back an inch. The shipmaster doesn't pursue him, "It's only natural after the death of our leader that Kasov's judgement be clouded by his emotions. It is my duty as your advisor and liaison to inform both you and those under your leadership."

The shipmaster deems this satisfactory, snorting to himself in amusement as you would watching an animal. He catches me in the corner of his peripheral, swinging in my direction and examining me. Even from the couple paces away he still towers over me, "Is this is the one?" he asks, tilting his gaze to Elkh.

"Yes," Elkh responds, "Rather successful, if I may say myself. Took it upon himself to lead the mission after the incapacitation of his leader."

"I would rather hear it from him," the shipmaster orders, stern yet not angry. He fully focuses his gaze on me, "So?"

"I, uh," I quickly take a breath and calm myself, "I wouldn't say I took leadership, fleetmaster. My squad leader was injured and I did what was necessary for the mission's success."

"The explosive. You selected it instead of the original ploy, why?" he demands.

"The humans had irreversibly damaged the engines, using the same detonation that injured my squad leader," I pause, thinking how to tell this, "I hunted down the escaping humans while my squad planted the antimatter bomb in response. We left and were attempting to return to the Elegy, that's when, uh. You know."

He slowly nods, as if taking a second after I finish to digest what I said. He leans down, his voice quiet yet rigid. "What about the escaping craft? I was told it was under your order that you let it escape. Is it not prudent to hunt down the vermin that almost killed your squad leader?"

My dual hearts skip a beat, and I pray that for a moment this fleetmaster hasn't developed the technique of smelling fear. "Fleetmaster, I killed all the humans myself, I made sure of it," I quickly lie, "Whatever it was, it was no threat. I will stand by my judgement on that decision."

He takes another second to examine me closely. Slowly chuckling to himself a moment later in a deep rumble, "There may be competence in you yet child."

An unggoy stumbles up, coughing to himself trying to get the shipmaster's attention. The shipmaster ever so slightly turns his head to the unggoy, the offending crewmember nasally starting, "Well sir. The heretics are gathering in what little defenses they have left. Their numbers are puny and Shipmaster Kasov has advised caution. Shipmaster Kasov wanted to do a low-orbital bombardment. I told him I would ask you for your opinion."

"Shipmaster Kasov is a naive fool," Satom growls, "The vermin already played their petty parlor tricks. How much of our force is combat ready?"

The unggoy frantically checks with some datapad he's carrying, tapping away to find whatever data he needs, "Sir, all our fleets are combat ready. Fighter squadrons and bomber squadrons are on standby and ready to…"

Fleetmaster Satom growls, "To hell the aircraft. I want to know about ground troops."

More tapping, "The Lament of Sacrosanct Woes stands at 90% combat readiness. We are ready to launch a full scale ground invasion at any time."

"What of the Horizon Focus and whatever troops remain of The Illuminite Elegy," the Fleetmaster demands.

"The Horizon Focus' limited troops are available and ready. The surviving units from the Elegy are still planetside."

"Good," Satom stares off in thought for a moment, "Let the jiralhanae feast. They have been restless, the simple apes they are."

"Understood shipmaster, I will relay the orders to our troops," the unggoy awkwardly bows as much as he can with a hulking methane tank on his back and fades back into the chaos of the bridge.

Fleet Shipmaster Satom turns back to me, "Join them, or not. I blame you not if you want avoid associate yourself with the jiralul. Positively barbarous bunch," he compliments the motion with a jerk of his head to the side, spitting non-existent spittle to the ground in an over-exaggerated anger-filled motion.

"As much as I want to continue my service," I start, careful with my words, "I would rather if I rest, in preparation for the next battle. With your express permission of course."

His response is immediate and carefree, almost antagonistic to the manner he carried himself when dealing with the other shipmaster just a moment ago, "Stay, if you must. You've brought glory and honor, a rest is acceptable. Nevertheless, don't let a single victory cloud your judgement."

"Come," Elkh orders from right next to me, his voice nearly free of emotion. He turns to the shipmaster, "I will show him to his quarters. With your permission of course."

"Go," the Satom orders, "Return once your finished."

Elkh drifts away, out the doors to the bridge. He glances from behind him, the chair not stopping, however, obviously waiting for me to follow him without slowing his pace. As we exit the bridge he leans in close, whispering, "Satom. I'm sure you got an impression of him, not that it would be difficult otherwise. He hates the jiralhanae with a burning passion, most likely the reason he was placed in charge of a ship filled with them. He gained the position of shipmaster from dueling a rogue jiralhanae captain, weaponless, of course the fool," he pauses and stares at me, "He won, by some stroke of luck. Do you know why I'm telling you this?"

"Because you have no one else to talk to and you're starved for conversation," I drone.

"If I was starved for conversation, a childlike sangheili with delusions of intellect is the last I would come to," he drawls nonchalantly. "Alas, you don't. See, Satom is blinded by his arrogance for glory, even beyond himself. He is a sangheili supremacist, through and through, believing that only his kind has the brain and brawn to lead the Covenant. Even if you lack the explicit knowledge, you are aware of this, manipulating him by his weaknesses to gain what you want."

"I don't understand…"

"Yes you do," he interrupts. "You could at least do me the courtesy of respecting me as another thinking individual. I'm unsure if you simply don't want to kill humans or if you have some sort of vendetta against the Covenant, but I would be a fool to see otherwise."

The realization, of his realization, stops me for a second. Something he obviously notices, "I wouldn't worry," he turns around and stops in place, "Your secret is safe with me, for the time being."

"What do you want?" I plainly ask.

"I want a lot of things," he starts, "But I think the question is what do I want from you." He continues down his path again, "The truly simple answer is nothing. If, possibly when you die. Nothing will happen, the universe will move on as if nothing happened. But as long as you are alive, you think, you feel and you react. More than I can say than the thoughtless brethren you call family."

"I don't…"

"I'm not done talking," he interrupts yet again. "You are a threat, from the mere fact that you will not conform to normality. If the time were to come where you would be a threat against the Covenant," he chuckles to himself, "I would have it be that you aren't against me. Or simply aren't alive to do so."

He stops his chair, this time not for me. Along the wall, in front of Elkh, stands another non-descriptive trapezoidal door, exactly the same as every other place I've been, "Your quarters. It is supposed to be for officers, Satom seems to have a soft spot for you. Try not to do anything stupid, or at least something that would get me in trouble. I will see you in the near future."

He doesn't even give me a chance to respond, floating away in his chair in a manner that seems anything but intimidating. I find myself cursing him under my breath, nearly silent in the minute fear that he, or someone else, will hear what I say and punish me for it. Once he is out of sight, I leave the area. As much as everything that has happened recently, the last thing I want to be is alone by myself.

---

"So…" Zoya slowly starts, as if the words she is speaking are alien to her, "After all that you just did, you lack the will to fight?"

"I never knew you cared so much.

She shakes her head to the side with disbelief, "After the last mission I got the impression that you were to be respected, if only a bit. The gods deemed it fit to prove me wrong yet again."

I look over to her from my sulking spot in my quarters. Her back is against the wall, arms crossed, yet she's calm. "You know," I turn my gaze from her to the ceiling above me, "I was trying to leave all the humans for you. Thought I would do you a favor for a change, give you a chance to demonstrate your prowess. Imagine my surprise when you come crawling to me in fear, begging me to fight with you."

She feigns a gasp of irritation, one I double check by looking in her direction again to guarantee she isn't about to throttle me where I lie. "Common sense had me assume that there would be a modicum of respect, especially from student to teacher. Little to my surprise what you lack in skill you also lack in equal amounts of civility."

Right. She was teaching me to be a ranger, before other stuff got in the way. "Being nice was too boring. And Khore, what's he doing?"

"Joining me at the battle below," she answers, "He could likely use the release. After you undermined his authority, as much as he pretends otherwise, he's been harboring a childish grudge."

"Should I be worried?"

"If he didn't have the humans to kill I would be worried for your safety." She absentmindedly fiddles with a protruding metal flap on her gauntlet, "As it stands, your covering fire might be a bit too close. In the near future."

"Too close? Is that what he will say when he accidentally shoots me in the back?"

"To backstab is to dishonor yourself," Zoya condemns, "If Khore does such a thing. Then I was a fool to ever have trusted him."

"Does that mean you are a fool?" I ask, trying to figure out the implication of what she just said, "Or am I paranoid."

"It doesn't mean anything," Zoya replies, "It's a statement. One I don't expect to come true."

"That's encouraging."

Silence falls between us. It's calming. No threat, no danger, not even an inflammatory remark. Part of me is happy it can be this way. Zoya, the one always on edge, the one always having to get in some insult, now happily sharing the space with me.

"You know," I start, "When Yr died. I felt like I betrayed him. How..." How can I grow to trust you, or anyone, when I'm working against you. "I didn't trust him. But he trusted me, and now he's dead and I'm alive."

Zoya hums to herself, a tuneless song that she silently dances. "Trust comes not easily. It is wise to be cautious."

"Should I trust you then?"

"You…" she stops, biting back her answer as she contemplates what she is going to say. "I can't answer that, especially when I'm unsure of the reverse."

"You can trust me," I say.

"I've heard that from many courtiers who viewed me as nothing more than a tool to pass on their bloodline. Everyone always wants something from others."

"Well then," my tongue hangs heavy in my mouth, "I don't want someone to bed. I want someone I can trust. Everyone I've talked to is always so caught up on duty, honor and all that bullshit."

She bristles at that remark, but lets me continue.

"You. Well, to be honest you're a lot of the same, except possibly even more inflammatory. But you see reality perhaps more clearly than almost everyone I've met. You see the problems in our life, and know they exist. I want to believe that you're not playing with me, that you enjoy my company and respect me as an individual. Regardless of my accolades."

"Vol," she starts, her voice low yet soft, "I don't know what happened to you. And, I'm sorry that it has to be this way, but you don't know me. I enjoy our companionship, as foolish and naive as you are, but we're just acquaintances. Once we part we'll never see each other again."

Her response hurts, but part of me was expecting it. She pauses, "What I want is irrelevant to you. I want to make a name for myself, prove those who doubted me wrong. Mothering you is not part of that."

She takes a deep breath, with a gentle calm that I have not seen from her yet, "When this is all over. When we both are uplifted on the Great Journey, find me then. Then we can talk. Until then, I wish you luck."

She starts to leave, "Wait," I say. "I… At least make me a promise."

She hesitates, but says, "I can do that. On my honor as a sangheili."

"There will be a time, when all you've known is brought into question. Promise me that then you will objectively look at what's happening. Reference what's the truth, with what you've been told. Promise me that you've seen injustice, and will recognize it when it's visible. Promise me that. Please."

Confusion, but she doesn't question me, "I promise. On the blood of my forefathers, on my honor."

And with that she's gone. Fading into the bloodied depths of the ship. I don't know why I did that. Thankfully I didn't open all the way to her. Or else she might have ended me here and now instead of this sort of meek compassion. But it hurts. I'm envious of the time I was human, when I had the ability to share with friends.

Humans.

But they killed my brothers, or so I'm supposed to tell myself. Using their mass driver to take out the Elegy, hell if it weren't for us stopping the asteroid it would have taken out most of our ground forces… And, whatever human survivors were left.

Maybe I'm just not meant for this world. I'm too soft, too human.

But it's the same humans who would kill of their own kind. For nothing! Just to get back at us. Destroying their own city, infrastructure, even the space elevator…

The same one that we got access to, the one with the AI. But the asteroid had to have been planned far before we arrived here. They knew it would have decimated the planet, leaving nothing but dirt, blood and death. Nothing, not life nor information would have survived.

But… now they did.

Because we, I, stopped it from happening.

I need to get down there.

I launch towards the door, it opens just in time to stop me from getting a concussion. An ultra, one that is painfully familiar stands in the way. I skid across the ground as I come to a stop in front of him. I don't recognize him. The ultra one from the Elegy? No, he's gone. Dead. Bridge crew? I don't think so. His armor is damaged, not consistent with someone who would spent all their time on the bridge.

There's a being in the back of my head, one that recognizes him. It seems so familiar yet so far off. Distant. Ah. "Father," I mutter under my breath, the realization confirming itself with a slow yet intentional nod by him.

"Vol," he says, compassion covered with a strict veneer, "May we talk?"

"Good to see you too," the rebellious, dickish nature of myself wants to argue with him. I settle for niceties, "I, uh. I heard you were aboard. I should have visited you sooner, my apologies father."

He smiles, hidden to anyone else but me, "It's of no matter. Truth be told, I had heard of your presence as well. A young, hotheaded, respectless ranger, carving his path aboard the Elegy. By the prophets, I knew it couldn't have been anyone else."

"I'll take that as a compliment, I guess," he smiles. It just feels off, "How's Taso doing. Last I heard of my brother he was off on the front line, fighting humans where combat's the thickest. Truth be told, I would have imagined you would be closer to him."

"Taso is doing well for himself. Bringing honor to the family name," he repeats the same regurgitated phrase I've heard numerous times, "I'm proud of him. I'm proud of both of you."

"You're proud of me now?" My emotions stand on the precipice of relief and anger, threatening to bubble over to one side, "You don't even know what I've done."

"I've heard stories," he continues. "Tales of honor and bravery. Especially with the squad you have. The female. A fine specimen she is. I can see why you've set your eyes upon her."

"We're not…" I interrupt myself before I say anything too rude. "Thank you. She's… good at fighting. I guess we all are. It's all we ever do."

He stares at me, the same authoritative yet gentle eyes he's had ever since I've been a childling. He picks up on my displeasure, "Vol, are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" I chuckle to myself, it feels hollow. "Now there's a good question that really doesn't matter. I'm doing amazing, better than ever. But it really doesn't matter."

"Vol, if you need something I am here," he starts. "But remember what you are. You are more capable than ever, the guiding arm of the prophets. It's natural to be plagued with self-doubt. Faith and duty keeps us strong. Remember that."

"I know exactly what you are," I growl, "And I know exactly what I am. The point I am afraid of is when I can't tell the difference anymore."

"It's tempting to fall upon the path of trying to be someone else," my father consoles, "Yet you can only ever be yourself. Do what you do correct. Do it well. Do it honorably."

If he knew what I wanted to do, what I needed to do, I doubt he would be as encouraging. I can't afford to be nice to him. The Covenant has no place for me, when I betray it, I can't afford to be close to anyone affected.

He releases my arm from his grip and I pull back. On one side I get a momentary burst of what I would say is 'humanity', one that has been sorely lacking in the last 20 or so cycles of my life. But with the grip, the same controlling nature that I hate. I massage my wrist with my free hand, as if he has wrenched my entire arm from the socket. "Thanks," I mutter.

It's a lie, like everything else I've ever said here. It pains me more than anything my father could ever say to me.

"Remember what you are Vol."

It's supposed to be reassuring. "I know. I know what I am," I reply.

---

The shipmaster was no help, too busy organizing the planetary invasion to spare a transport for me. Everyone else on board is already planetside.

Leading me here.

"Vol, right?" the same timid pilot from our previous mission happily steps away from the phantom to talk to me, "To what do I owe the pleasure sir."

Sir. He called me sir. I almost want to laugh. I stifle my amusement and focus on the task at hand. "You wouldn't by chance happen to have space to ferry me planetside?"

"To the front lines? My apologies sir but I have my orders," he grimaces, "However. I am transporting equipment to a FOB on the outskirts of the city. I'm sure no one would question if I were to include you and just so happen to forget about it."

"Does it work like that?"

"You're overthinking this. The upper brass don't really care as long as the supplies get to their destination. Provided you don't steal, there shouldn't be any problem."

"Then when do we leave."

He smiles, turning his head and looking at the interior of the phantom, loaded almost all the way full of weapons and other disassembled machinery. "On your command sir."

"Well then, let's go. And stop calling me sir."

"Yes s-," he corrects himself, "Of course."

We enter and depart. The ride is a lot more calm than before.

The hatch to the rear of the phantom opens with a near-silent hiss. The camp in front of me is alive with activity. In front of me stands another major with a handful of unggoy menials at his side. He's barking orders, telling them to unload the cargo, stopping mid-sentence when he lays eyes upon me.

"The manifest didn't mention a stowaway," he says.

I ignore his statement, "Where is the leader of your camp?"

He stares at me, a silent challenge of authority which I return. He scoffs to himself, muttering some annoyed curse under his breath, "Complex there," he gestures behind him to a makeshift command center constructed in the middle of the field, "Vindictus should be inside. If the jiralhanae prove to be unhelpful, come find me."

I nod in thanks and follow where he pointed. There are numerous guards ranging from jiralhanae, kig-yar and unggoy all mounted on top, or on the ground next to the compound. They look at me with varying degrees of disinterest or hate. I ignore it and pass by them, having to squeeze against the wall as a squad of jiralhanae rangers pass by me, one snapping at me in a wordless insult.

I enter the map room. A jiralhanae chieftain inside, with a spiked gravity hammer on his back, hunched over the map display with his back to the entrance. His black armor blends in well with the lack of light in the interior of the room. The only real source of illumination is the hologram table he bends over, giving the impression of camping ghost stories enhanced by a flashlight under the chin.

"Excuse me," I start, worming my way around the room to get a look at him.

"Fuck off," he growls.

I stop in place, not expecting the vitriolic response. "I won't take up much of your time. I just need to talk."

"Fuck. Off." he repeats, tilting his head up just enough to glare at me with a scar covered face. Returning his gaze to the map a moment later, pretending I'm not there.

I mentally debate trying to argue with him. But with how tense relations are between our two species, I really don't want to test my luck at the end of his gravity hammer. I leave the room, bumping into a figure as I exit.

The same sangheili major from the docks. He studies my face, "I expected as much," he says, "Vindictus isn't known for his amiability."

"I couldn't tell," I respond.

He motions out of the compound, waiting for me as he says, "I overheard your request. What is it you require?"

"I need to get to the space-elevator."

He frowns, "You may be out of luck, Shipmaster Satom requested that the jiralhanae squads avoid the human space elevator."

"I'm not a jiralhanae though."

"That's where the caveat comes in," the major says, "Fleetmaster Satom assigned me here as a sort of guard for the jiralhanae."

"I was wondering why I didn't see any other sangheili."

"Well, there were," he starts, "There was a squad here. Two minors, five kig-yar and a shy less than a dozen unggoy. Things were getting tense, I was afraid brawls were going to break out. Brawls might turn into actual fighting, and I can't have that. Orders were no one was supposed to go to the space elevator. At least until I found why."

He steps out on a balcony and gestures to the rising shaft of the elevator, "Besides the planetary high command the space-elevator is the most important structure on the planet. It was cleared before the asteroid almost impacted. The stationed squads were evacuated since they were at ground zero. Since then supposedly humans have returned there. Fleetmaster Satom is afraid if he sends in jiralhanae as expected they will destroy any useful information that could be accessed."

"So you send the two squads away," I surmise, "They stop causing problems. You can live free. I'm assuming there's a catch for me."

He chuckles, "Calm down. You're close. I can't authorize a mission. Only a commanding officer can, which you just talked to." He gestures back down into the complex, "Luckily enough. Vindictus isn't stupid, he saw the logic and gave in. So we sent them on a 'scouting mission' with the pretense of preparing the later secondary clearing. All was well until they actually found humans and got into a fight. Last I heard from them they pursued them into the space-elevator."

"Not very surprising, right?"

"I should have recognized that," he glares at the ground, angry at himself, "A scout squad led by two minors, they would have looked for a fight. Which reflects upon me, which I can't have. Whatever you need, I'll grant it if you find the two squads and send them back."

"You trust me with this?" I ask. I probably should have taken his suggestion at face value, but for all he knows I could just join the squad in the fighting and cause more problems.

"You're a major, you're one of our kind, and you need something. Three reasons to trust you," he looks around, "Jiralhanae would only complicate matters, hence a need for a defter touch."

This works out rather well for me. At least I hope, I can find the scout squad send them back and then possibly figure out what's so important in the space elevator. Maybe even communicate with the humans there, if they aren't feeling shooty.

"We have a deal."

---

The path leading to the space elevator was almost creepily silent. On the edge of the city, with numerous roads leading up to the towering building that reached up into the heavens and beyond until it was nothing more than a speck in the sky. Cars, and all manner of vehicles line the roads creating a silent traffic jam, without any people. The sounds of warfare, something becoming uncomfortably familiar, sounds in the distance, echoing on the open fields but silent enough to fade into the background. Along the road, every hundred of meters or so, lies a stick with a shirt tied, fluttering in the silent breeze.

And the squad I was told about? Nothing. No clues or hints to their presence. I can only hope that whatever the humans are trying to hide they haven't found yet. The surrounding landscape is rolling, covered in small gorges and minute mountain ranges. It would be easy to hide somewhere. But I was told there was fighting, and I don't hear anything.

There's an entrance to the space elevator wide ajar, emblazoned with big white letters spelling "TOBIAS FLEMING SHAW SPACE ELEVATOR". I enter, and immediately I can smell it. The smell of something burning, ashy and acrid. Plasma weaponry on flesh, a distinct smell that is becoming all too commonplace.

From there it's easy to track where the fighting is. The foyer more closely resembles a battlefield than a building. Bodies and luggage cover the space, creating a second layer above the blackened refuse. Some bodies are older than others, but all of them rot and stink. Among the incinerated remains it's even difficult to tell what is what. Is the ashy stick over there a suitcase handle or an arm? The whole thing smells like something I've never experienced before, rot, charred flesh, fecal matter and every other horrible thing grotesquely frankensteined into a single putrid scent. It's one that will never quite leave me.

I push on further, my air filters the only reason why I'm not vomiting. I'm wary. I'm heading into darkness. My visor is able to compensate slightly, but each step deeper into the labyrinthian tunnels makes it feel like it's only getting darker. Part of me wants to turn back and leave, whatever is up ahead, whatever I will have to do, is not worth it. Or so I tell myself. It dampens my pace, makes the hallway seem longer. Every turn, every corner I think I will be just there at the fighting, the echoed sounds of gunfire ear-splitting even from however far I am away.

But I eventually come upon the fighting. The hallway opening into a large room, only visible because of the gunfire being traded between both sides. The orange muzzle flashes fighting against the neon plasma waves.

The blue outline of a minor shines several paces in front of me. Bullets impacting his shields and giving me a source of light for just a moment. We're at the heart of the building. Two elevator shafts in the middle of the room full of cargo. The room is a bloodbath. Bodies from both sides litter the room, some intact, others completely blown apart.

In the darkness the Covenant scout squad have formed a bastion. The unggoy and kig-yar on the outer perimeter and the two minors towering over them and shouting orders mid fire. A couple corpses line the ground from both sides, staining the ground a bloody rainbow.

The near continuous barrage keeps the room illuminated enough to fight. Two floors, a balcony hanging overhead. All the fighting on the first. No one knows I'm here yet, hidden in the darkness. It is so easy in my mind, to do what I was told, to join the scout team and wipe out the humans.

But… now. I can't. I won't.

I was a fool to ever think I could deceive my way into peace. No more running, no more cowardice.

Focus. 2 sangheili, 6 unggoy, and a kig-yar. I only have the element of surprise once. I better make it count. One motion and a plasma grenade is off my waist and stuck on one of the minors. With him fighting the humans he never expected it. For one last moment, before his death, he turns to look at me. To see who sentenced him to die. I can't bring myself to meet his gaze.

Focus. I ignore the death wails of the minor, laying down a stream of plasma fire at the other. The explosion happens, blinding the room in blue. Just as it fades I can see the other minor pointing at me with one hand, and readying his dual needlers with the other. The surviving members of the scout squad reposition under the new minor, covering the gap that I used and now returning fire.

Focus. I move further into the room, just as a barrage of blamite hits where I was. I take cover behind one of the elevator shafts, taking the moment to let my shields recharge. I peek around the corner, two surviving unggoy watch their flank ready for me. I round the corner, and using both hands, fire a steady beam of plasma at the unggoy. They fall, and I push up without cover, hoping that the humans can apply enough pressure to keep me alive.

The scout squad is obscured by the second elevator now. I round the corner just in time to come face to face with the other minor. His eyes focus on me with laser accuracy, "BETRAYER! TRAITOR!" he shouts, "I won't give you the luxury of a clean death!"

He reaches for an energy sword. I push into him, grabbing the hilt just as he does and trying my best to wrestle it away from him.

WHAM

His other gauntleted hands comes around and strikes me right in the face. My helmet absorbs most of the blow but my head still thunders and my vision dies. As I come to focus, the blaze of another explosion flickers around us. The minor's shields flare and die. He wrenches away his energy sword, ignites it and thrusts. I throw myself to the side, landing on the ground but level my plasma rifle and fire some shots. They hit and his strings are cut.

He slumps forward and I scramble to my feet. I search the room, peering through the darkness and trying to find another enemy. The room is now silent. I can hear… something. Movement, shuffling. The smell, salt. Sweat. Someone else is present. Humans.

"Uh. Hello?" I hold my plasma rifle to my chest, using one of the elevators for cover, trying to defend myself from the noises.

More shuffling. No response. A click on the other side of the room. Gun bolt maybe, hopefully not a grenade.

With the anger of a star the lights turn on and blind me. When I can see, I peek around the corner and see a group of humans approaching. A rifle is leveled at my head. I pull my head back just in time to avoid the shots that whizz past.

"Hey," I reposition, turning around the corner and using that as cover, "Let's not fight please. I helped you during the fight, now let's talk."

Silence. "You wouldn't happen to be the same alien we met on the asteroid, would you?" A male voice rings out. Upon hearing his voice it rings the bells of familiarity in my head.

I sneak a glance, their weapons are still locked on me but they don't shoot. It is the same people. "Yeah, it's me," I slowly round the corner, making sure to keep my weapon visible and not aimed at them, "Long time no see."

"God damn it," the lead one curses. The only human in the group taller than me. "You weren't supposed to be here."

I look at them. 3 of them I recognize from the asteroid. Balthazar, Helena, and one I never learned the name of. The last one, is a young guy I don't recognize with nose piercings. Behind Balthazar, who is severely under armour for fighting, is this rectangular box, electronic in some manner, and obviously fragile.

"Don't worry. I dug myself into a hole as deep as you guys are in," My vision turns to the minor, dead on the ground with plasma wounds. "Are you guys going to tell me what you are doing here? Or is that off limits?"

The nose piercing guy snarls, "We don't have to tell you anything."

Helena, from the asteroid, swats him on the arm. "Don't antagonize him," she glares at me, "But yeah. Go fuck yourself, we aren't telling you anything."

"So what now then?" I exasperate, "I leave, go back and do my own thing. Lie about what I saw here and you go on your own way?"

Helena grins, "Yeah, pretty much. We don't want you here. Get the fuck off our planet."

Balthazar creeps up, stepping in front of Helena. There's an earpiece on his left ear, with someone one the other end saying something I can't understand, "I wouldn't say that," he puts his hand on Helena, calming her down, "Let's talk." He gestures to the back side of the room, where they were defending from just a moment ago.

We head over there.

He sits down on a chair, worn and flaking, presumably used by work crew in between loading cargo. He takes out a disk from his pocket, connects it to a wall and sits it down on the ground. On it the golden form of a human appears. She's young, with curly hair and an immaculate face and a toga dripping down to her feet.

"My name is Opis. UNSC AI service number OPS 7010-4" she says immediately, "It is a pleasure to meet you," the AI bows on the platform, "We have met before, albeit under different circumstances."

"The space elevator," I surmise.

"And the asteroid," she smiles, nodding ever so slightly. It's a distinctly sangheili gesture, a deference of respect. "I am glad that you happened to find your way here, I think there is much to discuss."

"Is there?"

"Yes there is," she looks down and straightens her toga. "Simply put I calculate a high statistical probability that you are genuine with your actions. If that is so, I understand that you would have trouble getting in contact with us, is that correct?"

I nod.

"So then I am here to help you. Measure your actions and what you tell to determine if you are genuine," her holographic eyes twinkle and her smiles never wavers, "To put it bluntly, what is the reason why you want to help us? I can't imagine it was an easy decision."

I could tell them the honest truth, but that would just open more questions than I want to answer right now. "The prophets, the uh leaders of our government, are using this war as a justification to empower themselves. I can't stand by and fight a war I know is wrong." I'm telling the truth without telling the truth, an answer as good as any.

"But why is it that you care?" she continues, "Going as far as to betray your own species when you've only met us a handful of times, it doesn't seem likely. Even if what you said is true, it doesn't explain the whole truth."

I think for a moment. "The apotheosis of our religion lies with the Halo rings. Giant weapons constructed by our gods that our people have been searching for thousands of years. They think it will uplift us, the truth is that it will be the end of us all."

Opis' smile fades, "Elaborate."

"There's nothing to elaborate on. If they activate it, it will kill everyone in the galaxy."

Balthazar focuses, leaning forward with his soot covered face. It's not everyday you hear doomsday prophecies. He hisses, "All we're doing won't mean anything if they just pull the trigger and kill everyone."

Opis doesn't move, her form looking right at me. I can get the feeling she's examining my every movement, every word and intonation. She most likely is.

"Would it be I thought you are lying, then it would make our situation a lot easier," Opis eventually says, "However, I cannot ignore the facts that lead me to believe you're telling the truth."

A weight is lifted off my chest. "Fucking finally. You don't know how long I've been waiting for this. So where do we go from here?" I ask, "I want to do something. But I'm such a small force compared to the entirety of the Covenant that all I can do is keep my head down and pray they don't look too closely."

"Information," Opis decides, "We need information."

It's slow, but I recount basically anything I can remember about the Covenant that might be of use. I share the history of all our species: the Jiralhanae, Sangheili, Kig-Yar, San'Shyuum, Unggoy, Mgalekgolo, Yanme'e and Huragok. I tell of the basis of the Covenant. About their cultures, the people, leadership, how they fight, everything. I brief them about High Charity, the High Charity Defense Fleet, our ships, the classes we have, the weapons on them and everything in between. I inform about the three prophets, what I know of them, and what makes them tick, anything that may help in the war.

The entire time the burning dagger of betrayal pierces just an inch deeper. I won't stand by and let the humans die, but to sell out my own people? The sangheili. I can't help but think as to the numerous lives I will take having shared this information. Will anyone I know die as a result of my actions?

"Vol," Opis says pulling me out of my thoughts. In my thought I forgot I told them my name, or the best English approximation.

"I…" I pause, pursing my mandibles, "I'm sorry. That's all I know."

"That's okay," Opis smiles once again. "You've already done more than enough to help."

"How will this even help? You can't fight back, you just don't have the resources or manpower to do so?" I ask.

"We don't," she says, "Most of us will die, me included. But this may help for those who will live afterwards. People will die, but the information, the knowledge, we gained. We will get that back home."

"To Earth," I mumble, the name of what once was my home sounding so alien.

Balthazar freezes, Opis frowns. "Is Earth going to come under attack?" she demands.

"No," I shake my head, "At least not for a while. I'm the only person that even knows of Earth. The, uh, nature of the war means that it's going to take decades. Who knew extermination was so difficult?"

They don't find my joke funny.

Opis visibly sighs, "I was afraid that you learned the location of Earth. That Earth was the next step in your rampage."

"No. You have by far better counterintelligence than we do."

"But you already have access to the system. With potentially dangerous information available. That's how you figured out about the MAC Cannon, right?"

"No," I shake my head, "We found out about it when…"

The device I attached in the space elevator.

"Is there something I need to know?" Opis asks.

"Fortunately not. It's just something… personal."

Opis doesn't reply for a moment. "Good, the impetus we gain from the knowledge here, may change the war years down the line. On the off odds it might even give us a fighting chance."

"So what now?"

"You are safe to return to the Covenant right?" Opis asks.

I nod, "I hope so."

"The communicator. Do you know how to work it?"

I nod.

"Remember this. Frequency 150.775. Code Phrase: Gamma Echo Gamma - 1944 "Upon Still Dusk"." She repeats that once, and I force myself to repeat it mentally until it's burned in my memory.

"It was an UNSC insurgent frequency," Opis explains, "Normally used by UNSC spies hiding in the insurrection with some emergency. It won't be used much now, but protocol has most UNSC AI constantly reading the frequency. If our plan works I will also send a message letting the UNSC know that you exist. They may not greet you with open arms, but it will be better than starting from nothing."

"Thanks."

"I also downloaded a basic cypher to your communicator. Given your grasp of our language I will assume you can figure it out. If the frequency I gave you doesn't work then this may help if you send a message on open channels. I can't promise the Covenant won't be able to decrypt it, but it's better than nothing, as any more complex cypher would need constant updating."

"Thanks," I brush my hand against the communicator. What else has she already hacked into? "Anything else?"

"Unfortunately not," Opis bows her head, "I am only a Shipping Operations AI. I only know of the frequency due to exceptions granted in circumstances like this. I thank you for what you've done, lay low. Try to get into contact with some actual military presence, the only ones left here are a mere fragment of a full force. They will have contacts and know what to do."

She nods, "I enjoyed our conversation. Would it be that our situation was different, I would have enjoyed conversing more. However, good luck. I will thank you for all those who may not."

I nod in return, "Thanks. I thought I was going insane, now I can feel like I'm actually making progress."

We depart. Us making our way through the conversing group of humans. As we pass Balthazar tugs on Helena's arm, whispering, "Join us. Apologize."

They don't realize my sense of hearing is far better than theirs.

She grumbles but stands up and joins us, keeping her assault rifle carried in her arms. As we pass she gives a low glare at me, "I don't care if you are trying to help. I've seen what's happened, the people you've killed…"

"I didn't kill anyone," I protest.

But she continues, "...Bullshit. I know you've killed one of us."

Balthazar comes up behind her pulling at her arm and angrily whispering placating words. It obviously doesn't work. "Adrian. Elias. Your squad is personally responsible for the death of my friends. And I won't forgive that."

The rest of the humans look on, but don't intervene. "I'm sorry," I respond, "I've lost a friend of my own. And you almost killed our squad leader, so that's that." My joke falls flat.

But she laughs, maybe at my poor attempt at humor, "Ah. Go fuck yourself. I don't give two shits about your friend, don't pretend to care about mine."

"That's true," I admit, "But I do care about ending this war, and stopping countless deaths."

"There will be a lot," she seeths, "People who did nothing wrong. Innocents who will die because of you."

"And I'm sorry, but I'm doing everything I can. I'm not about to get myself killed in some fruitless attempt to assassinate the prophets. I killed my own people to help you, and I will do it again. I'm sure of that."

There's a break to her anger, the eye of the storm, "Hah. Maybe if this war wasn't here, then we could be friends."

The anger returns, she swings her rifle and for a second I think she's going to shoot me. Instead she swings it around and rests it on her shoulder, "Nah, you're a little bitch."

There's a little bit of sangheili to her. Evident from all my past experiences with my own kind. She wants to hate me, really does with all her might, but there's a part of her that respects me. And she can't drown that part.

"And you are weak" I drawl, "Are we done?"

It's rude and I pray it isn't too far. But a devilish grin immediately sprouts on her face. "Likewise. Now get the fuck out of here, before I shove this rifle up where the sun doesn't shine," she pokes.

"Not so fast," Balthazar jumps in front of me. He's sweating, there's something wrong. "I'm glad we could get all lovey dovey, but we have a problem." He looks directly at me, "Another one of your kind is coming."

The implied question is laid bare: Do you have something to do with this?

They still don't completely trust me. Figures, "I don't know. Just a single person?"

Balthazar nods.

"Could be checking on the other squad we killed. But they wouldn't send one person," I think as I talk, hoping it will placate the humans, "Could be an officer, but again wouldn't be a single person."

"Whatever it is, it's getting close," Balthazar stresses, "There's another exit if you want to leave. But we'll always appreciate your help."

I pause, think and then respond, "I'll help."

"Good," he responds. We all retreat into cover, as the figure approaches, following the same trail I did.

"Khore!" I shout, jumping out from behind cover and surprising my human allies. I walk past them, placatingly patting a chair softly to try to get them to calm down, "What are you doing here? I thought you were fighting in the main city." I walk up to him, hoping that he doesn't walk further into the room.

He stares at me for a second, unmoving. It's now that I realize that he can see the fallen squad behind me, as well as the blood on my armor. He then replies, cautious but not outwardly hostile, "I could ask the very same of you. Last I heard you were still remaining on the Lament."

His question is pointed enough for me to understand the meaning. You're not supposed to be here.

"Ah," I sigh, feigning some displeasure, "I wanted to, but duty brought me out here."

He seems to relax a bit, turning his head to glance around the room, "I see. Orders from the new Fleetmaster?"

I nod, slowly.

He focuses back on me, "I thought he said no one was to come."

I make a pointed move of focusing on him and then the bodies behind me, "Clearly his message didn't hold. But," he seems disarmed enough to ask, "What brings you here?"

"Orders as well," he walks past me. I pray he doesn't notice any of the humans hiding right beside him.

"From the shipmaster?"

"You mean Fleetmaster."

"My apologies, yes."

He chuckles, "No, actually. From the san'shyuum, the one you also commune with. Elkh."

That takes me off guard. "Why do you take orders from him?"

That seems to put him off. He walks past me and focuses on the dead bodies, "Irrelevant. What's important is that he was concerned that the humans might attempt something in the space elevator. Clearly his fears were not unfounded," he bends down and examines the wounds on the minor, "I assume that is why you are also here."

I nod.

He turns back around in time to see it. He looks at me for a second, "Tell me have you found the humans who did this?"

I shake my head.

"Ah. I see."

Before I even have time to react his needle rifle is aimed at me. A flurry of shots ricochet off my shield, the very last of which bouncing off a bench that I manage to take cover behind. In response to that my human allies open fire on Khore, who in turns retreats back into the hallwawy. "I thought you were abnormal! Little did I realize that this extended all the way to heresy!" he shouts.

A plasma grenade lands behind me. I leap from cover to cover, doing my best to avoid his potshots while my human allies try to surround him. "Allying yourself with the apes! If it were the jiralhanae then I would only be vexed. But these humans have no honor, have no fight!"

I hear his thruster pack ignite. He flies over to the second floor balcony. Using it to keep us all pinned with his needle rifle. "Show me a fight! Show me that you're something more than a coward pretending to wear our skin!"

My shields ding, letting me know they are fully recharged. I peek out of cover and let a volley of shots in his direction. He fires back but I let my shield take all the damage, using my thruster pack to get on the same floor, only across the room. "Nothing? Fine. Cower behind your thin walls. Honorless!"

I creep around the balcony. Once I close the distance I open fire, pushing him back… Only for my plasma rifle to chirp, indicating it's overheating. Over the frenetic action Khore hears that and rises to take some more shots at me. Only for a thunderclap of rounds to slam into him.

He glares over the balcony down at Helena who dared shoot rounds at him. "You pest. Let me show you the err of your ways." He throws his second plasma grenade down, jumping over the balcony and using his thruster pack to rocket over to her. By the time I'm just over the balcony, trying to stop him, he lands right on her, thrusting through her with his energy sword and pinning her body to the ground.

Just a moment ago. She was alive. And now, she's gone. Never had a chance.

"Holy shit! Holy shit!" nose ring screams, crawling away on all fours.

Meanwhile Khore, he looks like he's having the time of his life. "Come on! Just you try to stop me!"

"She's fucking dead! Oh my god," nose ring cries.

Khore turns to him, "Cowards. Like the rest of your kind," he stalks over to him and ends him on the ground.

I land on the first floor, half the Concourse away from the group. Khore turns to me, adrenaline running high, and him looking ready to attack anything that lives.

"Come to defend your pathetic allies have you?" Khore questions, "I've been looking for an actual duel. You will have to do."

He lunges at me and I dodge. What follows is a duel that travels through the floorplan of the entire space elevator. Me dodging whatever attacks I can, and using my shield to take the brunt of the force of whatever else. Khore's better than me, simple as that, I've always used my intelligence and general skill over the average sangheili to win fights. This is not the case, Khore's been fighting longer than me, and against better and smarter opponents. Every move I try to make has already been accounted for.

He stalks around a corner, carefully looking for me after my previous retreat, but unsure of where I'm hiding. "Your human allies have abandoned you," he whispers, "How does it feel? To know that your allies wouldn't stand for you. Die for you. You will lie on the ground, broken and alone."

I strike from my hiding spot. He parries my thrust and strikes me with his fist, returning with a flurry of strikes the last of which would have decapitated me if I had not dodged it at the last second.

As I gain my bearings he watches me from the room over. "Before I am to kill you I intend to know why," he growls, "Was it me? The humans? Something I don't know? Give me an answer and I'll make your death swift."

I take a deep breath. I can't keep this up for much longer, I'm running out of stamina. "You don't understand," I reply, buying myself a few precious seconds, "If I have to burn it all down. The Covenant, High Charity, the Prophets. Then I will."

That seems to anger him. "I see. You won't join us on the Great Journey," in his voice I could hear the raw vitriol, aimed directly at me, "You aren't worthy of the worms who will devour your skin."

"You will perish, honorless, as you've always been. Destined for your body to rot on the ground and the insects who will tear your body apart like grain," he says with deadly focus, "And as the seasons fall upon your death, I will stand alive."

That seems to be the end of this conversation indicated by him shooting at me again with his needle rifle. I duck below the shots and charge at him with the energy sword I looted from the minor, Khore readying his own in return.

Just as I reach Khore I grab a plasma grenade from my waist. I go to strike him again, which he dodges this time. I follow through with my momentum, igniting my thruster pack to barrel past Khore, throwing the plasma grenade on the ground right as I pass him.

The plasma grenade detonates in a cerulean corona just as I fire upon Khore with my plasma rifle. His shields flare and break, and one of my shots even glances off of his waist, but he finds cover, countering with a grenade of his own, forcing me to retreat further down the hallway.

"Is this all you do? Run!" I hear him shout as I disengage.

I gain some distance but I can hear him approach from behind. Just as it feels like he is about to touch me I duck into a dark room on the other side, only to realize I'm back where the two elevator shafts are.

The remaining humans have gathered into the left elevator, with the dead body of Helena and nose-ring. They look at me, barely recognizing me before they shoot. "Go! Get out of here!" I yell, waving at them.

The door shuts and the elevator flies up.

Khore follows, sees the elevator rise and rushes to the other elevator, "I will deal with you later." There's a glass case hiding a red handle, on the back of the elevator. I enter behind him. Khore turns back to me, "All you do is run. But now you look for a fight. You are a demon, the culmination of all that is wrong, a curse upon me and our people."

We circle each other. It's a mistake, as he reaches the door he grabs it, slamming it shut, the latch shutting with a metallic click. With nothing else to do, I ready my energy sword. "Good," Khore says, readying his own, "Show me how you apostates fight."

And like that our swords met. Clashing blows sending arcs of lightning through the room. Duck, parry, counterstrike, riposte, dodge. It's harrowing, dangerous, yet I feel alive all the same. My blood roars with anticipation, and every second that I continue living, just fuels me further, knowing that each and every moment is earned.

This is the moment that I realize what it is to be sangheili. The apotheosis of individual skill, a fight to the death where you live by your competence alone. It's exhilarating in a way I've never felt before. The fear of death retreats, countered by the knowledge that I gave it my best. Our swords clash.

We separate for just a moment, eyes locked and still feeling the heat of battle. He gingerly reaches down to his waist grabbing a plasma grenade and priming it. Before I even know what I'm doing I rush into him, striking his arm with my own, sending the plasma grenade rocketing onto the ceiling, it sticking to the thick skylight made of glass.

We retreat as the grande detonates, sending molten shards of glass through the room; luckily fast enough for my shields to protect against.

"You can't beat me," he says, stalking me in a circle, "Honorless, baseless, faithless. Weak. High Charity broke you, and made you less than sangheili."

We meet once again. Our swords meet and… mine fizzles out. I fall backwards, narrowly avoiding being bisected. I futilely try igniting the sword once again, only for a sad hiss to respond.

"A good swordsman would have taken care of his weapon," Khore gloats, stalking towards me, "A failure of an individual reflected upon his own weapon, how poetic."

"Die," he says.

Something happens first, before he can strike me down. We're both slammed into the ground, some invisible force pushing down on our entire body. Light enters the elevator and I realize what's happening. We're ascending.

My helmet blares an alarm, something. Numbers. It's hard to focus. I need to focus. It's not sangheili standard. It's…

3

2

1

And then the acceleration stops. Rocketed back into reality, the blood rushing back into my brain, I feel dazed for a moment, as if the world has inversed. Khore shares my predicament, stumbling trying to regain his footing in what feels like a floating container.

Khore readies himself, ready to continue our duel. Or the execution.

"You won because of a difference of tool," I say, "Kill me if you must. I could have beaten you, I would have beaten you. We both know that."

He steps pacing towards me. His free hand clenches as he growls, "A fool until the end. Spouting lies and heresy."

"Am I lying? Or are you too cowardly to figure out."

Khore growls, guttural and angry. But it slowly morphs into a chuckle, "Clever. A last bid for survival. Drawing my ire, equalizing the odds, hoping I make a mistake," he sheaths his energy sword, "But let it be known that I have integrity."

He enters a fighting stance, arms extended into fists. "I could have given you a swift death, but if this is what you prefer," he says.

He throws a punch, igniting this thruster pack as he does so, insothat when I block I'm nearly sent flying into the back of the elevator. He rushes forward and sends his knee into my chest, causing me to spit blood in my visor. He goes for another punch, I go to block, and he feints. He ducks down low, goes in to grab and…

I push away from the wall. Khore's inertia pushes him past me, our armor sparking as they scrape. My jetpack roars as I push it up, crawling on top of the elevator as Khore recovers.

"Nice trick," he says.

I ignite his energy sword. His gaze races towards his waist, where the now missing tool once lied.

For just a shy moment, my mind takes in the view. Easily miles up, I have my suit to thank for not dealing with oxygen deprivation. Normally this would be a deathtrap, but with my thruster pack it only turns into a really really dangerous situation.

"You know," I say, unsure if Khore can even hear what I'm saying over the wind, "You were right about one thing. I can't beat you."

I toss the dead energy sword into the elevator, a shot from my plasma rifle hitting it as it lands. It explodes, sending wave of energy bouncing around the interior of the elevator. As it fades, Khore looks up at me. His armor is dead, nearly destroyed and what's left disabled by the emp. I can't see his face, but I know the sheer hatred behind the visor.

"I'm sorry it had to be this way," And I turn his energy sword to the cable suspending the elevator at our position. It's tough and thick, but between the tension and the sheer heat generated by the energy sword the cable breaks in nary a moment.

And just like that we are in free fall. My armor screams out warnings about my imminent collision with the earth below me. My thruster pack is running dangerously low on fuel, but I have what I need to survive the fall. Angling myself along the shaft I time my impulse thrusters, waiting for the moment between the titanium ruts.

I leap, praying I timed it correctly. Considering my continued existence, I find myself in freefall, now separate from any building. I'm still plummeting too quickly. Way too quickly. My mind runs approximations at my height and speed, wondering if there's even a reason to attempt survival.

My mental answer comes out inconclusive, which is good enough for me. My thrusters roar at over max power, the heat quickly radiating through my armor and turning the inside of my armor hazardously blistering.

There's a lake, at the speed I'm falling I'm unsure if hitting water is any better than land, but it's better than nothing. Minute adjustments to my trajectory and now I'm heading for water. I just hope it's deep enough. Please be deep enough.

The impact happens and the world vanishes.

I come to, unsure of how long has passed. My mind is sluggish, my entire body burning with agony. But I'm alive. I'm lying on the bottom of the lake, silt obscuring my view around me, and settling on my armor. From the numerous lacerations my armor has obtained, my suit is flooded with water, but my helmet remains airtight. Thank the gods.

The water is nice though. There is something very very wrong with my left leg. Wounded to the point of being unable to feel anything else but pain. The frigid cold water numbs it a bit, but it's a reminder of how barely I am hanging on.

I can't walk, comfortably at least. My jets and suit are water logged, and my armor is too heavy to swim in. Luckily enough the weightlessness is enough to sort of hop across the ground, but without anything else to guide me than my internal compass I have nothing else to do but pick a direction in the endless murk and hope it will lead to shore.

Injured, delirious, exhausted, but alive.

---

"By the gods," the same sangheili who told me about the space elevator. I had trudged what felt like the entire world back, having found a particularly large stick to support what is obviously a broken bone.

Still soaking wet, and dripping blood out of my armor, I must look like a creature from the deep back from the dead to haunt them.

The sangheili, I should have bothered to learn his name, presses his mandibles together. "Brother, what happened?" he comes over to support me, which I gratefully accept, yet he holds himself at arms length from me.

"Humans," I mumble, the words coming out of my mouth like sludge.

He doesn't like my answer, but doesn't want to press further; especially in the state I am in. He helps me through the camp, towards the back end where makeshift dwellings have been erected.

Even in spite of the fact that this is a military camp, everyone we pass by stares at us. As it happens the jiralhanae chieftain with jagged teeth and the spiked gravity hammer, who previously told me to 'Fuck Off', locks his gaze on me as I stumble by. There is almost a silent victory, despite his lack of help I obviously found and fixed a problem. Just no one knows that this problem 'fixed' was for the humans.

We drift into the dwellings, beds lined in cots are set up, obviously prioritizing quantity over quality. I fall on the nearest one. It's hard as a rock and cold as ice. I fall asleep instantly. It's the best sleep I've had in a while.

---

The dim hum of the control room was driving Colonel Marino insane. Her caffeine fueled mind absentmindedly tallied up the amount of hours she has been awake, it fell somewhere between the 35-40's. Probably. How much longer must we stay awake for the sake of the mission? It was a redundant question. Sleep meant death, if not for her then for someone else. She exhales, letting the pleasant burning feeling crease her lungs. Her fingers and clothes are yellow with nicotine stains and the room is smoky.

A loud over pronounced yawn brought her back into reality. To her right the spunky Insurrectionist data analyst who she unfortunately has the displeasure of having as her assistant, focuses on the screen in front of him. He leans back in his chair till the thing creaks with displeasure, resting his feet on a nearby rust splotched deck, using one of his hands to adjust smudged glasses while the other prattles away on his keyboard.

God, how much Marino missed the sleek futurism of the UNSC. Instead of the outdated junk the Insurrectionists use.

Luca Carusa, combs his right hand through his hair, sliding it back like a cat. "Alright! I'm getting some data. Tight beam, encoded in UNSC standard. It's from Opis."

"Play it on the center console," Marino growls.

"Heard ya, and… done!" He's quick to silence himself, already having experienced a couple exhaustion fueled rants for making too much noise.

Balthazar and Nikolas are safe with the data, everyone else perished. They used a space-elevator escape pod, I will send you their tracking data. Pick them up once the Covenant has left. The elite 'friend' of ours is alive by my hand. I cannot guarantee his intentions, but with the data I have I suspect it to be genuine. Take care, in spite of his surprisingly human mannerisms I only have a tangential grasp of their language and culture. My work is complete, my use is over. One of the lifts will strike as this message goes out and my core, as well as all the data and evidence in the space elevator, will vanish. It is a personal shame that I could not see this war until its end, but duty calls. I hand the fire unto you. Addio.

Colonel Marino lets out a sigh. Luca picks up on it, peeking over her desk and quietly asking, "Is it done? Is it over?"

Marino ignores him. Her left hand subconsciously drifts down to her leg, or where it would be. The survivor's guilt would stay with her, she already knew that. Almost everyone she knew on Vulcan, gone. She steadies herself, takes a deep breath, and remembers the strength that her father always wanted from her. She looks down at Luca, gives him a small smile and says, "Yes. We're done. Shut everything down, leave essentials like life support and… I don't know why I'm telling you this. You know the plan already."

Luca grins, flying his chair across the room and back to his station. He's awake, more so than he's been in the past several days.

They would become another lifeless asteroid in the tens of millions in the system. Once an insurrectionist black ops base, now converted to a rock terrarium for the about hundred thousand humans they managed to save. Alex, the guy with the refugees from Blue Sky, had a map of all the bases, and a direct line into insurrectionist communication. All it took then was the incessant pleading of all of them to listen, and even then Colonel Marino was one of the few people who paid enough attention to understand what was coming.

It was a testament to how horribly shitty the situation is that it fell upon Colonel Marino to take charge. Most of the UNSC command in the system was holed up in a fortress hundreds of miles away from New Rome. They thought it would protect them, it only put a target on their backs. They were the first to fall.

This system will become dead, in time. As the last thousands of humans still on Vulcan are picked off. Even now Marino can still feel the effects of the emotional rubberbanding, having sentenced almost everyone on Vulcan to death via asteroid. Only to realize it wouldn't happen, but that almost everyone was still doomed, and all she could do was watch.

The aliens would have their vengeance. The mass accelerator turned planetside dreadnought killer trick only worked once, and that card has been played. It's a miracle that it even worked after having been used at Harvest. It was supposed to be a one-two punch. Shoot down the ship and then crash an asteroid into the planet. But they wiffed the first hit, and the second only made them more angry.

So only they, the couple hundred thousand humans aboard the asteroid, and the double digit number of humans who had a full map of the endless mines on Vulcan would survive. But survive they would. And they would have to be the ones to carry the memory of everyone dead.

"And message away Mama M!" Luca slinks over, resting himself on the center console much to Marino's displeasure, "Anything you want to say for the history books?"

"History books?" she scoffs, "For what?"

"For our victory of course," Luca seems unaffected by her negativity.

Marino leans forward, pushing Luca off her computer. "We didn't win. We barely even survived. You think I'm going to be making quotes for this?"

Luca gives a cheshire smile. "You UNSC types are always glamorous like that anyways. Big speeches! Rousing commands!" He raises his fist and lowers his voice a pitch, "Never give in! We shall not falter!" He morphs back to his usual self, "That kind of stuff."

Why is he even so happy? "No," she plainly says. "Speeches like that only work if there is someone to listen."

"There is."

"More than the populace we have here."

"There is," he nods, resting again on the center console and leaning in towards Marino, "The entirety of humanity is listening. There will always be costs, but the win is what matters. It means we have a chance, that we can fight. The speech isn't about looking at pros and cons, it's about looking at the days ahead. Convincing you that they exist. You get me?"

Marino leans forward and pushes him away with a single finger. "Luca. Go to sleep, take a shower, change your clothes. After that if you really want a speech," she smiles, "You can give it yourself.

---

The human space elevator towered over me once again. In the distance, it almost plays tricks on my mind. To have an artificial structure that appears so small, take up all the space in the sky. Almost like a gray block leeching onto my vision.

Fleetmaster Satom towered on a nearby hill, facing the same structure. He had a predatory glint to him, a kill earned, a trophy showed. He had lost the information, but he wasn't one to spread tales of losses. The space elevator is nothing more than a tower to fall, and fall it will.

I wander through the crowd, for no other reason than to do something while I wait. Elites chatter around me, telling tales of honor and victory. I don't know any of them.

A familiar voice, Zoya. I follow the sound, coming upon her chatting with a minor I don't recognize. She catches me in the corner of her vision, striding over to me, in perfunctory motions. "Greetings," her voice is soft, "I haven't seen you for a bit."

The minor watches as we talk, "Trying to get away from a suitor?" I ask.

Her mandibles clench themselves into a grim grin, "Yes but," she frowns, "I heard what happened to Khore…" she trails off, unsure of where to continue, "...And that you were with him when he died."

I nod, "I did my best. I made sure his killers will never see the light of day again."

"Good," she mulls, "If you let them go I would have to garrotte you and then the humans."

That takes me off guard. "I never thought you cared so much about Khore," I respond, "Every time I saw you two together you were arguing."

She sighs, "Yes. But… I still cared for him. He irritated me to no end, and there's many times I wish I left him to his own devices. However, we grew up together. We were siblings in all but blood, and like siblings we argued."

She shakes her head, "No matter. He's dead. It was only a matter of time," she snorts, "Now it only falls to Tyrh and I."

"That's morbid."

"That's who we are," she replies, "Were you able to recover his body?"

I shake my head.

"Unfortunate. He wanted to be buried on Santhuv's Demise. Highest peak back in Hylde," she chuckles lowly to herself, gazing up at the sky as she does, "It was wishful thinking. Us rangers know that death comes often and fast, often times we're never seen again."

"What will you do from here?" I ask, "Brok's incapacitated. Khore's dead. It's just Tyrh and you now."

She wipes blood off her shoulder with a gauntleted hand before it can seep into her armor, "Our squad was only held together by nostalgia and non-existant camaraderie. I've never enjoyed being on this small task force anyways. Maybe I will seek the front lines, they always are in need of more rangers and I've heard that there are some humans who actually put up a good fight." She flexes her arm in a way that indicates it's injured, but the armor's fine. "These humans here only scream and die."

Part of me wished she asked what I was going to do in turn. Help me organize my thoughts in turn. Not that I would actually tell her what I am thinking about. But she doesn't. She's anticipating the space-elevator falling, just like everyone else here.

An aery ethereal hum. An anti-gravity chair. Elkh floats up behind me. "A fine day, wouldn't you think?"

I don't respond, Zoya eyes us with amusement and gives us space. Elkh doesn't seem to care, "I wonder what it was like when you last came here? Lost the lives of two squads and your squadmate."

He's priming me for a response. Even the truth he thinks he tells annoys me. I suppress that, "Was a good day, just like this."

"Ah," He drums his armrest, "So you do talk!"

"What do you want?" I exasperate, refusing to meet his gaze.

He continues tapping. D-r-r-rum d-d-d-rum d-d-d-rum. "Only a terrifically trivial question answered. Yet I've found myself strangely lacking. Perchance could you inform me of what happened here?" He strokes his wattles with his free hand. He's trying to be serious, but… not.

"I gave my report. I'm sure you've read it," I say.

He nods, "Oh yes I did. All the business about coming to the structure only to find the squad dead," he feigns shuddering, "Horrible business I say."

"They were killed by the humans," I respond, "As I said in my report."

"To avenge the scout squad!" He exclaims, "How noble. Terrible shame that you were too late to save them in time. Next time, I'm sure. And Khore? What happened to him."

I give him a look. "Killed by the humans. As I said in my report."

A shrill shout in the distance. The shipmaster focuses, preparations are almost complete. Excitement courses through the gathered sangheili like lightning. Elkh reaches behind him, stretching his wind-torn limbs while waiting for the noise to subside.

"Ah yes. You two banded together to combat the humans," he works his way around me, the dried grass wilting under his chair, "Right?"

He's calling me out that the story I gave isn't true. I could try to explain away my supposed gap in logic, but to what end. I'm not going to convince him otherwise. "What do you want," I say, focusing on him this time.

He stops his drumming. The tension builds within the crowd, any second now. He's motionless, paradoxically predatory yet peaceful. "What I want is unnecessary. In spite of your resistance to progress I am trying to help you. However, in order for that to work I need you to cooperate with me."

"Cooperate," I repeat the word as if I've never heard it before, "No."

Elkh sighs. "Little do you know that it isn't even my want. Yr, your friend, was the one that requested this. He saw how aimless you are. Do you really want to continue down this path? How many of your own do you have to get killed before you learn this? Do you value the lives of your own so little?"

"How do you know Yr?"

"It is my job to know people. Just as I know the names of everyone lost with you. Do you even know their names, who they are? Or do you value their lives as little as you value courtesy?"

If only he knew the truth.

"Okay." I say, "I said this before, I'll say it again. What do you want? You're building up to something, get to the point and be done with this."

"I want everything," Elkh drawls, so nonchalantly that it takes me by surprise. "But as it stands, everything is out of reach. High Charity. I'm sure you're aware of it. After we finish we are to return. I'm putting you forth for Special Operations candidacy."

"All this conversation, just for you to tell me you're putting me back in school," I drawl, "You could have just sent me a letter."

"But a letter won't convey what I want next," he rotates a bit, staring me in the eyes, "Once you're finished you will work for me. You will still be doing whatever missions you are assigned, you will have the honor your kind loves so much, but you will do what I say. A small price for glory."

Aha. He's building a network of sleeper agents. What for, I can't say. His offer is nice, in theory, and I'm half-hesitant to take him up on it. But I have plans of my own, as non-existent as they are. But it makes me wonder, how many people I know are under his thumb. Khore was, Yr might have been, probably was. Who else? Zoya, Tyrh?

All the while Elkh is watching me, examining me like a soldier to a rifle. "No," I respond, "Thank you for the offer, but I am already booked."

Elkh doesn't respond for a second. He's trying to read me. "You are? What is it, pray tell?"

I laugh. I now realize. He's good at what he does. Convincing sangheili to side with him, it's only a shame that I'm not. It's hard to tell when I'm lying when I'm virtually always lying, hard to anticipate the movements of someone who thinks entirely differently. The question is why he's so interested in me. He's threatening, obviously, any attention on me is bad. Albeit it's my own fault for being so conspicuous.

A horn, artificial, played by some speaker I don't see. But it has the same intents as if it was real, rallying all the sangheili. It's time. Everyone basks before the space elevator, branding the sight down in memory, not out of loss but out of victory. It's time for me to move on.

"You're awfully kind," I respond to Elkh, "But this is where we part ways. I apologize for my actions, and what I've done to offend you, and I thank you for your assistance," I put on a smile, "Now would you be as kind as to share the space and honor the sacrifice of our fallen."

Elkh freezes, "How easy it would be to spin a tale, telling how you've betrayed us all. It wouldn't be difficult. Would it?"

"I can't imagine so," I slowly respond, measuring out each and every intonation, "But if that were the case, know that I wouldn't be the only one to fall. I promise you that."

He clenches his fists. "You think you're so clever don't you."

"Thank you for the compliment."

He growls, "But I see you for what you truly are. Spineless, weak, cowardly. Unfit to bear the sangheili name."

"And that is why I must go my own way, to earn my place."

"You were born lucky, with every opportunity available to you. And look at how you've squandered it."

That actually strikes a chord, "I wasn't born lucky." I respond.

"Hah!" He guffaws at me, "You were born at the apex of the caste. Conceived fit and ready. And you have the gall to dare say that you were born unlucky. You weren't born on the List of Celibates because your genes are wrong. Or were birthed confined to chairs because your ancestors were too weak to walk on their own two legs."

He tsks to himself. "Loss. You're acquainted with it now. I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but your father died during the fighting."

He takes a smug satisfaction from my look of surprise, "You want your peace, so be it. It won't last long. Our galaxy is a dangerous place, growing ever more so by the second. Be careful Vol, you will need it."

"Is that a threat?"

He smiles and floats down the hill. Leaving me next to Zoya. She scoffs, having witnessed the entire conversation. "San'Shyuum," she says, "They talk a lot. Never have much to actually say."

My voice dies in my throat. My mind caught up on the death of my father. Am I surprised? No. But it's unexpected. We finally had the chance to actually talk to each other, to converse. And he's gone. I'm not sad of a loss of what was, I'm sad because of what could have been.

"Vol," Zoya grabs my shoulder, pulling me so that I can look in her eyes, "I'm sorry about your father."

I expunge the thoughts from my head. "Don't be. Just like Khore, my father's dead now. There's no use dwelling on it."

Zoya lets go, "Maybe you will survive another cycle."

Another break of silence. A flock of alien birds flutter by, heading towards the space elevator. Zoya watches them boredly, "Let this planet die, and all the humans with it."

I wince, "I don't think we'll even manage that." Fortunately.

"It doesn't matter," she responds, "They killed Khore. They killed your father. Before it was just… rampant fun. Now I will see to it that they die. Slowly."

A shout, an alarm, a yell and roars of cheering.

I see it before I hear it. An explosion, dusty and gray, centered at the bottom of the space elevator. Shards of metal are sent flying out, flashes of blue plasma echoing out of the center. I can see the shockwave emanating out, a ring of mirage charging at us.

BANG

The sound rips past us, shaking the ground and trees alike. For a moment I'm back in a fight, grenades tearing up the space around me.

I blink and it's gone.

The space elevator cambers. Looking like the entire destruction is in slow motion. It bends downwards, as the base is pulled down, while the rest of it still remains suspended, yet unmarred by gravity. It hits the ground, running through it like water, sending debris everywhere. I lose sight of the base, clouded under refuse.

It falls, and something inside me follows.

I look at Zoya. I can't trust her. "Let me know when you find him. The person who killed Khore. I want to watch them die."

She smiles, "You'll have to beat me to it."

I nod, "Good luck."

---

One last thing before we leave. Not an order, nor something necessary, nor a fight I don't want.

It's liberating.

But not joyful.

A grave, deep enough for me to stand in chest deep. It took hours of backbreaking labour, directly in the sun as the heat of glassing burns around me. I had to take multiple breaks, drinking the rich supply of water I brough to make sure I don't suffer from heat stroke. All in all, it was nice.

I crawl out and give Khore's body one last look. It's mangled, broken almost everywhere and the parts still distinguishable carrying plasma wounds. I start filling it in, with the sangheili equivalent of a shovel, a subak. It's heavy and unwieldy, but it gets the job done.

Eventually the ground is level, the only evidence of digging being the now lifeless overturned dirt rectangle on top of the tallest mountain on the planet. I grab the subak and stick it into the ground. A wordless grave, in the middle of nowhere, on a planet being glassed, of a system of dead humans. It's the most I could give him, and far less than he deserves.

I crouch on the ground, next to his grave. "I'm sorry. Again."

My mind runs over the funeral rites. "Oh brother, silenced. May this prayer guide you in the great beyond. Oh brother, lost. May your spirit join us in the Great Journey. Oh brother, honored. I will… They will fight for you, remember your name. Oh brother, sanctified. I... I can't remember the rest. I'm sorry."

I can't even give him a proper death.

"Maybe when this is all over, when I die for my sins it will be vengeance for what I did to you," I stand up, "But not now. I have a war to end. Tell everyone I'm sorry, to all the brothers and sisters I'll send to hell."

I climb back into the ghost I traversed here in, time to leave this planet behind. Part human, part sangheili. Ally and enemy to both. Something horrible, something new.

---

"Covenant Common"

Thoughts

"English"

---

Wassup. Another extraordinary amount of time for me to write a chapter because I'm lazy as fuck. Y'all know how it is at this point.

I could probably talk endlessly about my thoughts on this chapter, but I think it's better left unsaid. This is probably the hardest I've worked on a single chapter, so I hope y'all like it. It's not perfect, obviously, but that's why I write here.

Also: There's a discord server with me and a bunch of other Halo fanfic writers. (Among other people as well), if you want some people to talk to, enjoy reading Halo fanfics, or just want to help us write, send me a PM and I'll hook you up with an invite.

The game OST for the day is: Ludwig, The Accursed & The Holy Blade - Yuka Kitamura (Bloodborne) (And one of my personal favorites)

See y'all next time.