All the Stars

by BlueWay

When the Long Night of Solace is evaporated over Reach via the weaponized usage of a Slipspace Drive, it ferries with it in its swallowed sections the Covenant Empire and, more horrifyingly, the desperate measures that the UNSC used to fight them. When they are found in a universe on the precipice of their own history, the meaning of the term "Mass Effect" will change forever.

4. 0-4: Sins

A/N: Oh god handling two timelines at once is terrible. Also keeping track of what's happening the goat rodeo that is October-November of 2552.

---

"It's not something I'm telling anyone, JD, and I think I've told you enough for now."

"Fair enough."

She had shared what she had done as a Spartan, and that was the most that she had shared with anyone that didn't have the clearance.

"Some of the colonies I gave them are because of that… they weren't lost to the Covenant. At least, not initially."

"I was always advised that the Insurrection had been brought in line to at least they weren't hurting the war effort." JD had aired out his sage shirt, the burn beneath it had still stung when the fabric touched upon it.

"Do you believe that Spartans never actually die?"

The ODST pursed his lips. They were only human.

The colony locations that Mai had given the Alliance as a sampler had been colonies near Altis, or, at least, along the Attican Traverse as they understood it. She knew the locations well because she had been deployed to those worlds, and given that the astronomy was still correct, those planets would still be there. The reason being that as the UNSC rule faltered over the outer colonies as the Covenant moved in and they were beaten back, some of the colonies had flatly just faded away from UNSC jurisdiction. That was when Mai had been tasked to move in and kill any Insurrectionist groups would use this newfound independence to attack the UNSC. JD had been disturbed, clearly, at the thought that the Insurrectionists had gone to such lengths. By 2552 at least, the once 800 colony spread of the UEG had dwindled down to 200 that had been firmly in their grasp, that number going down week by week as the Covenant invaded.

To imagine that even fellow man still fought, it had caused JD a moment of anger that had been the first real emotion Mai had seen from him.

"You get used to it, you know." For the brief moment of confusion and anger that JD had on his face, Mai was able to read it. "To betray mankind in this war."

She'd spent more time silencing Insurrectionists than Covenant, at least, statistically. Any day she could kill Covenant was a good day, but Insurrectionists came with the job. Whereas the rest of her Spartan comrades had gone off to die underneath plasma fire and Assault Carriers, she was chosen specifically because she knew how to fight men and women who flew the flag against Earth. What that meant was that the Spartans, save her, were mostly clean in their service records.

JD only breathed a solemn breath and shook his head as he sat on that table, back against the cold glass separating him from space. The urge to close his eyes and sleep came, but the conversation with Six- no, Mai, had kept him grounded.

It's not that he was always tired, but he knew how to shut off on command, though this time in particular had tired him so.

Mai on the other hand, she hadn't been affected by tiredness or sleep. She just seemed bored, worried, calculating as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her fingers, still covered by her undersuit, kept gracing over the fabric.

He figured if she had it as any good as him on UNSC ships (which is to say, he hadn't had it good), she had probably slept on hard cots and terrible mattresses for the entirety of her existence.

Was she born into the Spartan Program? Could he have become a Spartan? Questions that prodded at JD so much, it had only been becoming more and more apparent that he had been dealing with something he understood even less than the Covenant.

"You keep looking at me like that." JD had been staring, if only because he had lost himself in his own mind. He had shook his head as fast as he could, mouthing an apology. "It's fine. It's not often you'd get to see… one of us like this."

He'd never operated with Spartans before, but he heard the stories from other ODSTs.

"Why'd you take off your armor?" He asked, concerned.

Her eyes had opened in clarity for a moment, surprised.

"How do you know that my armor can detonate?" She asked back, catching JD with knowledge he shouldn't have already have.

JD looked behind his back, to the space and the stars and the missions of years gone by. He answered first. "Few years ago, I was tasked with S&D of highly sensitive materials during an Op on a planet that was in the processing of being glassed. I thought it was a captain's neural lace or some highly sensitive intel that the Covenant could find. An ONI Spook who wore a helmet a little like yours tagged along on that drop."

"It wasn't intel, was it?"

JD shook his head. "Crate of armor, like yours."

Mai heard enough. The ONI Agents who were attached or had knowledge of the Spartan Program's inner workings often acted in support, and she could imagine some had the detonation codes for the armor failsafes.

"Not all Spartans wear that armor." As a Spartan III she was supposed to have donned an SPI originally. She was given the special treatment however, and it showed in her bones.

"Don't they?"

"Not all Spartans are equal." She drifted off, her eyes becoming distant as she remembered JD's original question. "I didn't activate the failsafe because I didn't see a need. We didn't ident them as Insurrectionists and they were more interested in cataloging and observing than researching it seemed, as if they've never seen something like me or it up close."

It had gone against every censor in ONI procedure to even hint at that: that not every Spartan had been the same. The IIIs were still classified, even to Halsey up until Noble Team had straight up been introduced to her point blank during the Sword Base defense. It was a fact that JD had tuned into too fast, and she was surprised at his intuition.

"What kind of Spartan are you? Are you not like the Chief?"

Mai had looked to the faucet, with a motion of her head JD had moved over, his own head tilted, asking if she needed anything. She had joined him. It was the closest they'd been with her out of armor, but there was a reason as they stood in front of the sink. Water turned on, and her head brought near the level as if she was going to drink from it.

They were well aware that there were bugs in that room. Couldn't prove it, couldn't see it, but they knew this apartment was meant for diplomats and politicians. If humanity had been the same as it was, it would've simply meant that there were still intelligence services going on.

This was how they supplanted it: the sound of rushing water.

JD recognized the trick. Drug dealers all the time used to sit by the fountains and artificial pools in order to not be listened in on.

What that meant now was that they were almost cheek to cheek, leaning over the faucet, loud enough.

She smelt like death and he wasn't much better. Her first words were interrupted as her tongue hit the tooth that the Elite had kicked loose. It was fine, this was her fourth tooth in that socket, spit into her hand and into her hoodie's pocket. JD wasn't that put off by it. Living with Marines had been more obtuse.

Finally, she started, washing her hands with that same running water.

"I'm not… like the Master Chief." JD looked at her confused. "I'm only about half his age and I've been active not that long."

"I thought all the Spartans were decorated combat veterans, brothers and sisters in arms long before they donned the armor?"

UNSC propaganda, same as most subject matters related to the Spartans.

"Different versions, different classes. I'm the newest…" She bit her chapped lips, feeling blood from the socket fill into her mouth before she swallowed. Her thoughts wandered as she remembered her own digging into information, talking with ONI agents who would entertain her between missions. "I might've been the last Spartan trained, and that was eight years ago."

She knew that more IIIs like her were being trained, and she knew the time that it took, but even with Ambrose, Kurt-051...

JD tilted his head at her to respond.

She wouldn't as her face tightened, her jaw clenched.

The chime to the door was heard as the two snapped around.

A pizza had been delivered to their room. Authentic as they come as far as JD could tell just by smell alone, Mai more confused as to what a pizza smelled like, she had never been exposed to one. Who had come had been a little more surprising.

"Normally delivering pizza is something that I left behind in medical school, but in this instance, I feel that it is warranted." The English voice of a woman who cared for those that did not exactly care for themselves, flanked with two pizza boxes and a familiar blue armored soldier: Alenko.

JD had flicked the faucet off as he saw Six harden before them, her stance going rigid. The two had made themselves right at home, plopping the two pizza boxes down on the coffee table of the room across from the kitchenette.

"Now according to my estimates it's been about a day since you two have last eaten, and only now I believe we've neglected to feed you, and I know the human body can go only so long without eating."

Technically it'd been about four days since Mai had eaten something at Carter's request, Jorge not so subtly implying that he'd force feed her if she refused. For JD he had forgotten. Perhaps it had been two drops ago when he had shoved some calorie bar into his face.

The two had been off put by the pair showing up with food, blankly staring, unsure of what to do.

Chakwas already had her plan of action, a piece of pie in her hand and just shy of taking a bite.

"It's up to you if you want to eat. It'd just be a shame for a pizza to go cold."

---

It's not that Shaw was, at all, xenophobic. He hadn't any ill-will against the Turians, nor any true hatred of the Batarians that went past the entire Hegemony having an outright hatred of anyone that hadn't four eyes (no more, no less). In fact, his name had been on a list that Ambassador Udina had put together in regards to military attaches to the Citadel. The fact that every Turian ship that had been allowed in Alliance space and a handful from the other Council races had crowded themselves over Altis didn't help his sentiment however.

The debris field pertaining to this "UNSC" as understood by Shaw had been covertly taken by the Alliance ships able, and, failing that, had been exposed to Shaw's two brightest engineers and their ideas:

"What if we attach several Kodiaks to the underside of that thing and control its descent away from the action. That way we get it out of sight and preserve what we can."

Shaw had heard crazier things, and as far as they could tell, the Salarians hadn't picked up their ploy as it was pulled off. That being said the Salarian ship hadn't been a known STG asset to Alliance intelligence.

"Send my regards to Engineer Adams and Donnelly." He had echoed into his comms as Object Charlie, the so called "UNSC Savannah" had been dropped to a part of the planet no one had been looking at and currently being dissected through by them (albeit slightly underwater).

The rest of the Alliance Fifth Fleet had jumped in to join Hackett, and, somewhere along the way, it had become the largest gathering of Alliance and Turian ships in the same relative "airspace" since the First Contact War. The comparison was made early by the Turian Admiral who had taken hold of the Turian personnel and ships not directly connected with the Council Task Force, and, oddly enough, he saw it as a sign of the trust between Humanity and the Turians. This time, fairly enough, they weren't going at it. Still the Turians were just short of bombarding Object Alpha back to the stone age.

"Respectfully General Tailus, the last time Turians ships opened fire during a First Contact scenario, you had a war. I'd advise you to stand down any idea of opening fire on them." Hackett had been on the open comms yelling at the commanding Turian officer, who of course would not have anyone fire upon his men without equal return.

"We've been abiding by your ROE for the entire duration of this situation Admiral Hackett, and despite this we have very sporadic still going on as those aliens continue to recover their strength. We need to land and show them that we will not be pushed around like this. First impressions are what count after all."

"They have to be alive in order for those impressions to last."

Shaw was fine with having Hackett brawl it out verbally with the Turians, at least with the Salarians and Asari they had been less on a war path and more in the interrogation mood.

"This is the SUS Havasai to SSV Perugia." The comms tung out again for Shaw, and it had been the fourth time that hour. He knew who it had been.

"Go ahead Havasai, and again, we're not allowed to fork over our telemetry for our engines. I know that you would have no ill will in acquiring this information, but I'd like my engines to stay under the military secrets category."

"Ah. Had thought that maybe circumstances have changed. Will not keep you any longer Captain Shaw."

Shaw had smirked to his XO in her seat next to him. "Salarians are always persistent, aren't they?" he smirked. His XO could only breath tiredly. While he had been up in the bridge she had been running up and down the decks making sure damage control had been in order, and she was quite frankly, beat.

"Anything for them to know, of course. Get an upper hand on an unknown." She slouched into her chair. Tired, though far from out. This was all very exciting. "Unfortunately, what's being fed back to us from Arcturus doesn't seem to corroborate that these first contacts are in our sphere of influence."

"These "first contacts" have a name, you know." Shaw had rattled off. He had learned the name without the two VIP debriefs from Arcturus from a "Lieutenant Gul" and "Private Durante". The prisoners, in between making threats, had name dropped the same organization that they were a part of that threatened to burn humanity as a scourge against the universe: The Covenant.

His XO adjusted her cap. "Eh. Sounds a little too menacing, you get me sir?"

"Of course." The console in his arm rest had been still feeding details about ground operations as far as Alliance Marines were concerned, and controlling the area and making sure that no one had made a move was still their prerogative. Survivors had been plucked from the sea: the dead arranged neatly in Altis's main convention center, while the survivors were kept in containment in their fish market. 450 survivors and counting, and soon enough containment cells would have to be out in the streets that were still being cleaned up.

"Marine teams are reporting the last of these aliens have been forced out of Fishing Port Derry, which means any colonist made property and land has been cleared of them." One of the comm officers reported triumphantly.

No one wanted to state the fact that this felt a little like open war, but no real counter attack had come from the Covenant, almost as if they were allowing such actions to take place. It wasn't as if the Alliance had come in and wiped them. Hardly. Many of those locations that had been cleared were given up as transports ferried those away in a fighting retreat. Anyone left behind had been too injured to travel or had a death wish.

For that the Alliance had its casualties, but there was restraint shown. Maybe it was because it was to be expected that every first contact had its casualties that everyone held themselves back, and as the Council ships deployed their own forces and caught the tail end of that combat, they were wise to do so.

The effort of those who had attacked them spelled warfare and tactics that could only come with veterans and training.

"Secure positions." Shaw said once. "Keep blasting our diplomatic message, we know that they can hear it. This is a staring match I'd rather not give up on."

"Aye sir."

---

Usze Tahamee couldn't believe his eyes. He had been up and down the front with the humans, been everywhere in the name of warfare in the expanses of the Covenant Empire, and what he had seen that day from beyond the glass of his cell spelled revelations that would've changed the very nature of the war. Sure, he had known of the Covenant Fringe species, of the Yonhet and the Talkaki among them. Species which the Covenant had come across but judged them, in every matter, insignificant to warrant full integration. They were subjects alone, but that at least meant that they were known.

A full day had passed since he had been in captivity, and he and his Sangheili brethren had refused to speak or even regard the humans that had kept him and the rest of his comrades locked in. The Brutes had behaved similarly, save for the occasional swipe at one of them whenever they were attempted to be talked to by the humans. As far as Usze could tell, none of the Prophets had been captured, and the Mgalekgolo had been far beyond anything they could contain. In fact, only the frontline force species had been captured: and the Yanme'e had been, given their ability to take flight, able to escape themselves if they were in combat.

That left only the Unggoy, and the Kig-yar.

He would've been upset that they had talked, and, when he got back to the ship, he would kill one out of every ten Unggoy as an example.

The issue had been who the Unggoy talked to after the humans:

At first he could stomach Blue Humans… until they got close to the cell that is and saw the leathery tentacles that ridged the back of their heads. They looked into the cells, speaking across with the humans in a language that they'd never heard before. The humans had responded naturally, and both parties understood as those Blues looked at them back with wide eyes. At the very least, maybe a genetic subset of humans unseen by the Covenant until this point. That's what Usze rationalized as he calmed his more erratic brothers from thinking.

"The humans are unholy, surely other alien species would see this."

Apparently not. Not when shortly after the Blues had come by and looked, aliens outfitted for battle came by to look them at them all the same. As if they were on display. No. It was a two way exhibit now as even the Brutes stayed their wrath and incessant ruffling, and looked and saw a very new, distinctly alien species walk them by shoulder to shoulder with the Blues and the Humans.

Their heads were scaled with plates, talons on their hands very similar to the Sangheili's, their mandibles moving in a very familiar way as they conversed. The sounds from their mouths were like that of birds, flanging from what they could hear as some of them still in their cells were taken out and marched off. A carapace had been below their greyed skin neck, eyes dug into their skulls, beady like, a crest and fringe sleeking back their heads.

"Birds." One of Usze's cellmates said. "I recognize their facial features as that from raptors and other birds of prey."

"How do you know?" Usze asked silently. The Elite had been sitting on the bench provided.

"I was a hunter once."

"Hmph."

The small talk couldn't prevent or stave off the impressions that swept them all of their understandings of the human race. There had been a new species and it had floored all who saw. To see them work in relative concert with the Humans had been… troubling. Had the humans created a Covenant of their own when no one had been looking?

The last to come around had been another bipedal species that had, oddly, been similar to the Sangheili. It was only a trick of the fact that their skin seemed of the same texture, and therefore, the same ancestral background in terms of ecological development: amphibians of some sort. Their large eyes placed near the top of their bodies that seemed stretched too thin, fingers padded like-

"Frogs." The Hunter commented again lowly.

Their eyes had been the most intruding, big and black, prodding at them. Doing what they could not yet do with their hands and instruments.

Again, they had spoken in complete amity and cooperation with the humans.

What had happened without them knowing? Had the Prophets not known of the human's alliance with these new aliens? Something had been wrong before that however. The ships that they had seen above which had been carrying humans were still vastly different, and the arms and armor they saw before them hadn't matched any known human makeup.

"Human splinter faction perhaps? I doubt a species who has been at war with us for so long would have any trust in any other species." The Hunter had spoken aloud the thoughts that Usze would not allow himself to bear. The scar that formed on his face scabbed over, and what had once burned now had numbed. A thin line: the mark of a demon.

It was by that mark he was identified as a procession of that group of human-aligned aliens came to in front of his cell.

For a moment, he wondered what had happened to the Demon and her Imp a day earlier. He had thought that they simply were reintegrated into human forces after being "saved". Though he had replayed the events of the past day in his head. They were treated no differently than he, and even in the known human splinter groups a Demon was often engaged on sight, not captured or handled as the one that had made that mark on his face.

One of the avian-like aliens had moved his hand to open the sliding door to their cell, and the eight Elites in them, Usze included, had all stood ready to do anything to make a break for it. Before that however he had pointed out to Usze alone. The Blue alien with them had nodded, and all at once everyone but him had been either floored or sent against the wall as her hands flamed with a warping fire.

Before the Spec Ops Commando had known what to do, looking to his brethren in awe of this telekinesis, the door had opened, and a talon reached out to him and dragged him out.

They were all dressed as scientist as far as Usze could tell bar the Avian, the metallic suit he wore not unlike his own combat harness which had been seized from him much like his sword.

"Don't hurt him. The Unggoy say that he's the only one with any significant rank." The human that had accompanied this group had spoke. Usze had understood the human language. Enough of it to know what was being said down onto him as he was dropped on the floor at gun point in front of the cell, his Elite brothers having been let go from their unseen grip, banging at the cell door.

On his knees, he was ashamed. "How dare you subject me to this incessant demeaning, human, would you not just end my life before I end yours?"

The avian alien with a rifle aimed down at him had spoken shrill nonsense, but the human had looked at it and nodded his head, fully understanding.

"We have no idea why they hate us this much." The human said as the Blue alien had an orange tool on her arm going, wave forms seen in its transparent display. She spoke to him something more identifiable as some sort of human speech, however still Usze couldn't make heads or tails as the human affirmed again. "Look here, just keep talking to me in my language and we can clear up any hostilities as fast as we can. We don't mean to do this but you don't seem to want to cooperate."

"Cooperate?" Usze had laughed as he sat on his knees, looking up at those aliens. They all smelled so different, so unknown. "You would have me communicate with you in a language that does not end in your death, or mine?" His arm had twitched, and he had tried to make a move to raise his arm up to take the man's neck in his own hands, but the avian shook his head, barking at him.

"I don't want to kill you." The human said. "None of us do."

The avian sneered at this, however the frog had been silent the entire time, his own data pad rolling through lines of information. It wasn't a feeling Usze had appreciated, to be on his knees as nothing but an animal to be observed. He was a proud Elite warrior, an Ascetic who had upheld Sangheili tradition in the Covenant! The Frog had, perhaps, seen this misgiving, looking over to the Blue, its mouth curved into a pucker.

Blue nodded, her orange tool around her arm ceasing activity. It emanated from a metallic strap that wrapped around her forearm, unrolled as her hands went to blue fire again, Usze frozen solid in his own body. When the Blue had touched upon him he would've lashed out had he not been locked in his own skull, but she had, wrapping that armband around his wrist and then down and activating it again. He thought it would burn his arm off, but it didn't. From what he could see from his peripheral it had been a screen: a personal assistant or device that he had been recently educated to use as an officer.

"That should do it." Blue had said.

She said. That was one of the more immediate facts that Usze was exposed to as she backed off and the tool dissipated into thin air, leaving nothing but its presumed emitter on his right arm. A translator? He thought.

"The Humans right, Sangheili, I'd rather not put a round in the back of you if you resist, so please don't." It was the same flanging tone of the Avian, but spoken in Human tongue.

"Human language good stop gap. Nearly a dozen individual languages to translate soon. Still, curious as to circumstances of human language being known by every species here to extent." A high voice, too fast, rushed.

When the grip on him had been let go he had immediately stood up as those around him had backed off. All around them had been more and more of their type: and still watching had been those in the glass containment cells, their faces shoved against the doors to see Usze, for once in his life, be stayed into silence and reflection as he fought his body to bite back at everyone around him. His own feet stepped him back to cell he had just left, back to the glass.

"Protective of others. Assuming defensive stance. Reasonable suspicion that this one is indeed a leader." The Frog was the one that had been speaking, Usze haven't been able to see while frozen. "Can understand, yes?"

Usze gave no answer as he had squared his feet, his hands closing into the Sangheili equivalent of a fist. "He's a fighter." The Avian spoke again, rifle held at his hip, dead at Usze. "Aren't you? I see it in your eyes, you've been places haven't you?"

"I've gone to war far beyond your comprehension, do not test me Bird."

The Avian looked to the Blue somewhat apathetically. "Is our heritage really that apparent?"

Frog had spoke before she could quip back. "So it-… He does understand. Male correct? Any other biographical details you can provide?"

It was heresy to even speak to Humans, however the Hierarchs had never said anything about the menagerie before him.

He narrowed his eyes, voice growled through a throat worn from yelling and roaring. "What are you? Why do you stand by as these Humans take us prisoner?"

The Frog had dressed in a white and red, metallic coat, a device along the back of its neck there for some unknown purpose. Whereas the other Frogs had rather symmetrical cranial horns, this one had one cut short. Scars had been on his cream-colored face evident of combat, a scar not unlike his own worn on his cheek. He pointed at the Blue alien, then the Avian, than at himself.

"Asari, Turian, Salarian. Species name, in that order." His webbed palm had been held on his chest, indicated himself again. "My name is Mordin Solus. Professor. Lucky enough to have been in transit with Council ship when alerted to situation here."

"Wha...?"

"Lucky to meet you. Knows human language. Not obscene thought that also have knowledge of human customs. No intended harm otherwise if gesture is offensive. Handshake."

A hand out from the Salarian was prompt.

This wasn't how First Contact was supposed to be. A lot more screens, a lot more mutual objects of identifying, stumbling over language barriers, caution and weary.

Though this was how it was. Any pretense of the unknown cast asides: just an awkward middle ground that had to get over or else more had to die. The only problem with that was that one side wanted more to die.

"Not shaking." Professor Solus said aloud, Usze still wary. "Suggests noticed amiability and cooperation with human species not good in view."

His hand was pulled back, and Usze had spoken lowly still. "Do you not know who we are?"

Professor Solus shook his head once. "As is why many questions to be asked. For our safety, and that of your men. Will. You. Cooperate?"

A threat. Plain as day. Or rather, not a threat, but a suggestion. That much Usze could tell as he laxed his form. No harm wanted to be done to him, and he had answers they needed. To rationalize or communicate with the enemy was heresy, but slowly it dawned on them, they hadn't been the enemy. At least, not one he had known.

What choice did he have anyway? Naked as the day we was hatched, a gun pointed at him.

He slacked his form and Professor Solus smiled. "Logical at least. Not like Rachni. Good."

At the corner of Usze's vision, a shift in the light, a slithering line that only he caught in that fishy smelling market, hidden by both the run of water and the occupation of those who would be otherwise looking for any abnormalities. It ran across the ceiling, and, as if telegraphing its presence only to him, had stopped for a fleeting second before moving on to an open vent.

---

The Jiralhanae had a name which both the Humans and the Covenant agreed on: Brutes. Forty at a time they would send Jiralhanae clans into the breech, and forty more after that, and forty more after that. The blood of Brutes had watered the tree of the Covenant, and, for some, that was nothing more than their destiny. Even a technologically superior empire needed its cannon fodder, and, for as useful as the Unggoy were, the Brutes at least could do some real damage.

Usage of that forty at a time tactic had of course, halted. As for why the Covenant leadership would never state why, but the Brute Clans had been far more connected than any of the Prophets or Elites would suspect. When Atriox had emerged from those suicide missions three years ago with his clan, he had arisen by providing the Covenant the war that was retribution for all the blood spilled by those that the Covenant had seen dispensable. It was an inner war, a guerilla war, which had caused great concern among the inner Covenant territory where Atriox led his 'banished'. For three years thousands have joined his crusade and taken the attention of the Covenant away from humanity.

Mercaius had often considered finding Atriox.

To join him, or to kill him, he wouldn't know.

As a Brute he had craved the challenge, the combat. War was his birthright and thus he had entered this war to kill. His blue power armor was as battle worn as it had been for a reason. For all his rage, he knew when to keep it canned, to keep it held back. There were two beasts inside of him, constantly fighting, one an animal, and one an enlightened being due to the Covenant. Whoever had won mostly was the one he had fed the most.

"What ship was this brother?" One of his comrades had said in their husky breaths as beasts.

They were in a Phantom that had been dispatched by the Shipmistress in order to survey any of the debris that had landed in their operational range. There was more that had fallen outside of it, but that had risked butting heads with the humans. The fact that these humans, this "Systems Alliance" hadn't opened fire on them spoke more to the peculiarity of this situation. All that meant that they had been able to fly and not get shot at for once.

Corvette size to them. Frigate size to the humans. It floated, as no damage was done to it during the slipspace event or the time before. They didn't know, wouldn't know, but Operation Uppercut had no intention of damaging this ship.

"Ardent Prayer." Mercaius said. His voice had been deeper than most, prone to making the glass around him, seemingly, vibrate. His fingers held tightly a long hammer, energized on the face that enemies were expected to be smashed upon. He was only a Captain Ultra, and yet he had been given that Gravity Hammer, bestowed upon him by Tartarus himself. Not as a weapon of reward however. It was a weapon of grief.

Forty at a time, the Covenant had sent his clan. Mercaius was spared by pure chance, and for that, he was made chief of his clan. Not out of skill, our tenacity, but because he had been the last one.

He rectified that by battles won and lost since then.

Ardent Prayer, in the morning light, was as graceful as any Covenant ship. Though its fine lines was not what made it so alluring. What made it so alluring was the fact it was intact, battered surely, but intact. Far more than the Solace at this point.

Several other Phantoms and Spirits had descened on it, however his own had stayed over orbit in the light of the morning.

The night that followed landfall had been tense, nonstop activity from adjusting defensive positions to be set up on top of the Solace to on the surface of the waters had been tumultuous, but needed. The Brute Chieftains of A Long Night of Solace had been deployed on the surface of Reach, laying siege to some fortress or another planetside, all raring to fight. With them had been most of the Brute leadership also trying to gain their distinctions. When Solace had been attacked and robbed of itself, brought to this watery world, the highest ranking Brute of the million and then some population of Jiralhanae had been the Decanus: Mercauis. To the Sangheili's military understanding, he was a Captain Ultra. To the dire situation of Solace, it meant he was now heir to Chieftain across the many clans within her berths.

His first act had been to hold them all back in their fits of rage and confusion, despite the appearance of humans.

Brutes would kill for themselves gladly, whether or not it was a blood worth spilling was another, so he had gone into the Brute habitat of the Solace and spoken aloud the promise of a great battle to come, and now, simply, was simply their time to bide and to build and to pay respect to the Covenant and what that meant in their situation.

What had impressed Shipmistress Karonee as the Section Chiefs were gathered for the first time before they were given their orders, was that Mercaius had given these orders on his own instead of the Sangheili or the Hierarchs pressing down on him.

"You are tempered for your pack, Decanus."

"When witnessing your clan get sacrificed into a battle, an inch at a time, it lends perspective Shipmistress."

With that Karonee had trusted him enough to deploy him with a force to a location of an important planetfall.

Now he had still shown that temperament. "Sir, the Kig-Yar want to pick apart what's usable above water. They say the ship will sink eventually and it is best to simply scavenge what they can." He heard in his ear from the Battlenet."

Mercaius snorted roughly behind his helmet, his eyes red, but not fiery at that moment. "Tell them I would fry and feast on every single one of them if do so. This is not another wreck for them to plunder."

"Yes Decanus." Even his subordinates had a hint of fear from his threat and orders. He was okay with that as he regarded his Gravity Hammer. He had only used it to kill against insubordinate Grunts and Jackals, and it had wanted, much like his people, a fight. Today would not be that day if he could help it, thumbing the radio in his helmet to the command frequency.

"Shipmistress, this is Decanus Mercaius. I have a report on the Ardent Prayer."

---

"Shipmistress, this is Decanus Mercaius. I have a report on the Ardent Prayer."

"Very good Mercaius. Please secure the ship and make arrangements for it to be secured and brought back into the fold." Karonee had said in her floating captain's chair. One had been recovered during all the commotion, and only settling into it had made her feel just a momentary relief of normalcy.

Still in that tilted bridge Shipmistress Karonee, she had been awake for more than 24 hours, landfall having taken the Solace down almost that long ago. She could weather it however, all Sangheili in command had once been through far worse: especially one who had been a Fleetmaster such as her. She'd missed the old days, the old assignments, that had required her to put her foot on ground and ignite her long unused energy sword. She looked upon them with fondness: from days when the war with the humans had been simple, and they hadn't yet adapted to their type of warfare. Nowadays the victories against the humans had been great of course but getting to be increasingly costly. The victory over that human planet of Reach was to be her greatest yet in support of A Long Night of Solace. How brilliant it had been: to cloak one of the largest vessels in all of the Covenant and land it on one of humanity's fortress worlds. Yet the humans had been capable of brilliance themselves.

Supreme Commander Thel Vadamee had warned the Shipmaster of Solace, Supreme Commander Barutamee, to stay his assault until the Fleet of Particular Justice had arrived. Unfortunately, Thel Vadamee never came in time for the humans to pull off some sort of devilry that destroyed the Solace over Reach. Barutamee was lost with the frontal sections of the ship, and the only Shipmistress left, the only individual that would be able to exert complete command of all those millions of survivors, was Seylu Karonee.

Quite frankly she loved the challenge, not so much the fact that she had been getting reports of several hundred survivors getting rounded up by the humans.

"They entered orbit a few hours after we landed, their ship designs do not match this "System Alliance" or any documented by our computers."

"And yet they've been working in concert with this alliance all the same."

Of the 300 or so section heads and leaders that A Long Night of Solace had embarked with to invade Reach, only 13 had remained, and they had all occupied the bridge after being found and recovered, in a circle around the Captain's platform in the secondary bridge. Most Sangheili, a Unggoy Deacon, and two Kig-Yar rounding out the affair. The only representative missing had been the Decanus that Karonee had spoken to: Mercaius. Right now, they had been the command staff, and what that meant was that they were severely unprepared for the situation as presented to them. Contingencies had been in place for lines of successions and the order of command, surely, but the Solace was still in as much chaos as when the slipspace event that had whisked them away had started. Only now was any work being done to get the ship back in order, as best they could when partially submerged and facing off against the unknown.

The two Kig-Yar that had been present had their arms crossed and glaring at the proverbial round table they were at. "Never seen these designs." One of them had said. "My Scavenger groups have brought back much of this human tech on planet."

Diagrams of the captured human tech had been displayed on consoles that the Section Chiefs could see: weapons, armor, equipment, and the bodies that used them. All humans.

The Sangheili Surgeon General, in charge of medical facilities on the ship, had thumbed over one such photo of a body. The Elite had only one arm, which had relegated him to support roles, however his skill with the blade in battle had translated well into medicine. "One of these humans we put down before we acquired his corpse, he combatted us with… unusual abilities."

"Unusual?" Karonee asked.

The Surgeon General nodded. "From his form he was able to manipulate objects without direct physical contact. Now as the Kig-Yar once assumed, the human was using some sort of matter manipulator, similar to levitation devices used to send cargo across this very ship's corridors. However upon further biopsies his physiology was… different. Chemically different."

"How so?" Karonee urged on.

One of the Section Chiefs had been one of the Bridge Crew that had been on site when Usze showed up: he was one of the appointed Engineering staff and translators for the Huragok. Said Huragok had still been overhead them all, floating, sending its tendrils into the electronics of the bridge and repairing what it could. He continued for the Surgeon General. "Earlier it was observed that these "System Alliance" ships were giving off anomalous readings that our sensors were unable to identify. We still haven't been able to ascertain the nature of these readings save that it is highly correlated to readings of object mass. Those same readings were detected here in at least one body recovered."

"In all of the human bodies we recovered?"

The Surgeon General picked up again. "No, only one. And that body had additional implants. More then we see with typical soldiers of the humans… even then," he was cautious. "We know it is near heresy to study the humans as close as I personally have, but albeit, I have seen their heads bashed open on occasion, and most of the soldiers of humanity have chips near the base of their skulls used for identification on their motion sensors. These soldiers did not."

Then it was settled. These soldiers were not of the UNSC, not even of their splinter groups. Their gear alone, the fact that none of their equipment transcribed had matched any of their databases had only solidified this point.

One of the Kig-Yar had scratched with its throat, gaining attention again. Its attire had spoken toward one of the raiding groups that operated out of the Solace, pirates, if nothing else. "What's strange is that, from the data we've recovered, this planet is well behind our current frontlines. If nothing else, we made it past this planet nearly two years ago."

The Section Chiefs erupted in murmurs.

"Did we miss a colony?"

"Nonsense. You know how it goes, when one planet falls siege we follow the trails left by those that have escaped, and eventually all the refugees lead us to that sector's bastion."

The two Kig-Yar were closely connected. While one had been the Chief of Raiding Parties, the other had been the ship's cartographer. The Kig-Yar were noted adventurers alone, and often tread paths that the Covenant only now walked too. Both didn't work out of pure charity however.

The Kig-Yar's relationship with the Covenant was that they were indeed a part of it, but not for the same reasons as the Elites or the Brutes. There were finances behind it: money and scratch. The two had conspired with each other on it, Karonee knew. "Normally, shipmistress," the Pirate asked. "Our arrangement with Supreme Commander Barutamee was my groups would be paid for any salvage they came across from the UNSC."

"I don't see why you would think I would deviate from this arrangement." She had shrewdly said, not wanting to be bothered by such arrangements at the moment.

"Then I think then, it should be of note that much of what we're coming across makes no reference to the UNSC or any entity that we know of within the humans civilization."

"What do you mean no reference?" One of the Sangheili Section Chiefs asked, a finger up.

"Logos, typefaces, typical human procedure and warnings. None of that. Even the farthest flung colonies have some hint of standardization."

Even that blasted message from the "Admiral Hackett" that was still being broadcasted all lead credence to the idea that these were not the humans they were used to dealing with. The Kig-Yar went on: dates didn't line up, organizations, formatting of data pads and clothing, norms and products seen elsewhere not present.

"And, most of all, I'd like to be recognized as the one who coordinated the search who-"

"Out with it Kig-Yar, you will have your pay." For a Grunt, the Deacon who had been assigned to Solace's Hydroponics had been feisty.

The Kig-Yar Cartographer had sniffled once at the Unggoy, but carefully considered his words as he went to one of the free consoles. "Of all the information we were able to collect from any technology or data holding devices we came across, we have now the location of a planet that has eluded our Covenant for this entire war."

There was only one planet that the Covenant ever looked for that belonged to the humans. The Covenant looked for planets, yes, but those imbued with Forerunner heritage and secrets. They searched all the galaxy and then some for the temples of their Gods, spoken through the Prophets. Vaults, Shield Worlds, artifacts that were all the greatest of existence save for the sum that had been the Halos.

And yet the Covenant searched for one human planet that every human had called their own: Earth.

"This is the human homeworld. This is Earth, and we have its location now."

And on the holographic projector in that secondary bridge, a blue and green jewel of a world was displayed alongside exact coordinates, just left of Antares. A goal, a hidden world, that if sieged would've ended that Crusade.

Humanity's greatest secret now laid bare: its homeworld.

They all marveled at it. The pause that gave them all was befitting. In the hundreds of human world that they had laid siege to, every single one had been carefully purged of the information of where the human homeworld was. Every single one, a protocol was followed by the UNSC to make sure the Covenant would not find their home. Thousands of men, sometimes a million, had sacrificed their lives to make sure that secret was kept for nearly thirty years.

Now they had found it.

More specifically, a Kig-Yar Scavenger before it had evacuated back to the operating range of the Solace, had picked up a digitized brochure that had advertised Earth as a tourist destination.

No torture, no questioning, no pain or death. This was how the Covenant had found Earth: by a fluke.

"We need to get this information back to High Charity immediately! We could end this war tomorrow!" One of the Sangheili Section Commanders had screamed from his knees, in jubilation and anxiousness.

"We should send this information off into space, every probe left we have, broadcasting its location as far as we can. Surely one of our recon pickets or comm buoys will be able to pick it up."

Karonee had stared at that world in all of its beauty and grace. It looked like a world the humans would call home, often the most protected of their planets were those that had qualities similar to Earth, and, for a moment, she too was imbued with information she felt was integral to the Great Journey. That her place in it was secured and made holy. She had realized however, that she did indeed have this information, and that was wrong as the voices of her crew faded out, her inner monologue arguing, considering, wondering why that it was she.

The humans would've given up entire worlds to preserve this information, and yet here… surely, they had guns aimed at them from space, those ships above, if they had known, if they were UNSC, would've laid waste to them all admittedly.

Here, they hadn't raised one finger. Hadn't given one damn save keeping them occupied and contained in that space of ocean and reef.

This was Earth, and yet another secret had been revealed to her then.

In what world would the humans let this information up so easily?

Not the one she had come from.

She looked back to the view screens of the ships above from the System Alliance, and then to those that showed their shuttles and activities at that distant city. It was a possibility so distant, and yet it breathed down her neck. She felt alone all at once as she saw the stars above, coming over her like a chill from the planets covered in ice and snow, a wind shearing over her skin and letting her know that, in all the universe, she was not welcome.

The fundamentals of slipspace travel and slipspace usage… It was the same across both Human and Covenant techniques, and what that meant was, perhaps…

"Shipmistress." A robotic voice, the AI of the Solace. Truncated yes, but its processing power had been self-healing. It appeared to her alone silently at the projector of her arm rest as the Section Leaders had still been enthralled by the knowledge of Earth.

"Speak, computer."

"One of our Mgalekgolo pairs is reporting from outside of our operation bounds."

She tilted her head confused. Usually the Hunters didn't speak to even her. Moreso was the fact that they had been speaking from beyond the operational range of Solace and her forces.

"How?"

"This particular collective saw fit to fit their individuals within our hardened cargo stores during the ship's fall, and they were thrown from the crash far, now in the human city." Past that she didn't need much more of an explanation. The Lekgolo had been, asides from the Huragok, among the best at coopting technology. It wasn't outside of reason to think that some of them had been able to avoid detection and jury rig a way to signal Solace and the Shipmaster.

"Are they safe? What is their intention?" She asked in a hushed voice.

The AI flickered, waiting for a response from said Mgalekgolo.

"Observation until otherwise ordered. Information already gathered speaks to several unidentified species working in concert with humans while they process our captured forces."

What? The humans have found allies? Her thoughts had brought her to think tactically, now aware of the claims that forces had been captured. In that moment of revelation she had humored herself. Perhaps the actions of those humans, if they truly didn't know who they were, were just felt by her as the reports of more unknown species came to her.

"Shipmistress, how say you?" The Sangheili from the ship's internal security division had asked, bringing her out of her thoughts. She regarded the AI again before she gave herself back to the discussion.

"Keep in contact with the Lekgolo, but make sure they keep themselves hidden." She had grunted, clearing her voice. There was always a tone of voice that she brought to command, perhaps emulating the male Shipmasters in order to get her point across. In a patriarchal society that had been the Covenant there would always be those who sneered at her being a Fleetmaster instead of a wife of one, though she had proven herself time and time again. "The discovery of the Human homeworld is of utmost importance, perhaps just as important as the discovery of our gods' artifact beneath the surface of their fortress world we were just previously in orbit of, however my concern is keeping whatever is left of this ship and her complement in standing order and effectiveness."

"So we should proceed as if we do not have the Human homeworld's location?" The Brute Bodygaurd standing in for Decanus had protested, blood thirst in his voice.

"That data does no good to us if we cannot survive past today, tomorrow, or however long it takes us to get back to space." Karonee bit back. "But I fear our situation is more complicated than that."

"Then please, do say."

The hum of another grav chair had entered the room and all inside had taken notice, turning over. One hundred thousand. That was how many of the Solace's population was dedicated to the San'Shyuum: the holy prophets of the Covenant. Ministers and Hierarchs, professors and clergymen of the Great Journey. That's what they were. On a ship as large and significant as the Solace, there had been Prophets among them. None of the High Prophets of that Age, they were all on High Charity, however there was a place surely for the Prophet of Destiny.

He was of a younger sort, around the same age as Regret, without his arrogance, but with portions of Truth within him. There was a certain air about him that had come with being a Prophet, if not the defacto High Prophet of A Long Night of Solace.

He wore the red robes of the Prophets, not a crown, but a wreath of green on his head. Whether they had been gems carved close enough to be leaves, or leaves that never wilted, no one knew, but they added a particular vision of Destiny that none of the other Prophets had.

Accompanying him had been one of his personal guards, backed by the red and orange clad Elites that had been his Honor Guard. The personal guard however was a rare sort: a San'Shyuum, stood at full erectness, an armor over his skin that painted him as a stick figure made weaponized. A Prelate: one of the few San'Shyuum dedicated to warfare, genetically modified and equipped to go toe to toe with even the best of the Brutes or Elites. A weaponized staff had been in the Prelate's hand, his face covered by a helmet with one visor that hadn't shown what was beneath.

When he entered the room the entire complement had taken a knee.

"Hierarch." They all addressed, even Karonee as she left her own grav chair and knelt down, head down.

No one had looked up until ordered, time enough for Destiny in his own chair to float over to Karonee. It was by his touch that she had looked up to see the face of a Prophet look at her with a certain want that betrayed everything that she was.

Destiny graced his long fingers onto Karonee: two had lain on the back of her neck, the last: the front of it, sneaking up to the side of her face. She could only hide her revulsion and disgust by staying rigid, holding her breath.

It had been an open secret that the Prophet of Destiny had fancied Karonee.

Matters of inter-species relations at such an intimate level were a taboo within the Covenant, but, much like the illegal markets run in High Charity by the Jackals, or the feasting on Grunts by the Brutes, it had happened. Then again Karonee couldn't otherwise protest in that regards, she had once lain a Brute Chieftain to make him fall in line.

It was once remarked by a human that everything was about sex, except sex. Sex was about power. And the power dynamic of the Sangheili and the San'Shyuum was seen in that moment between Karonee and Destiny. No one had protested, and save for one or two of the Sangheili who had respected the Shipmistress far more than a Prophet, no one cared. He was Prophet after all.

He had brought her to her limit just before he pulled his hand away and floated back to the other side of the bridge.

"Rise." And the bridge staff and the Section Chiefs did. "What were you to say, Shipmistress?"

She was very well a devout believer of the Great Journey, attended sermons held by the other Prophets as well as any Elite. She could've been a Zealot herself given her faith. Though what she was about to propose… she wasn't quite sure if she was being heretical to even suggest. Still there were worse things to be blasphemous about.

"The humans, through their devilry have dragged us to a place unknown to both of us."

---

Slipspace, as a concept and scientific theory, had been both more fully understood by the Covenant, while also misunderstood. Their slipspace drives had been derived from the technology of the Forerunners, and what little derivative research that there had been had been imbued with holy incantations and underlying beliefs.

It was a combination of believing that humanity had been trying to drag them to Hell, but failing to do so, that had been something that most of them had in some factor were able to believe. As was the danger of Slipspace travel.

This wasn't to say that it was easy news to take.

"So that would truly mean that the humanity here is not one we've encountered before, and one that has not yet encountered us?" The Brute Bodygaurd had wondered aloud.

The explanation made sense. "Yes." Karonee had gone on. If only the astrometrics were up she'd check the stars themselves for proof. "So, if that were true, our circumstances, the Covenant itself… maybe even the Great Journey-"

A loud cough had come from Destiny. He had taken the news plain-faced. No reaction until now, as he knew what Karonee was to say.

"The Great Journey is regardless of circumstance. The Great Beyond? The same no matter where we are…" Heaven was an idea. Perhaps an idea more true than the Covenant, he mused privately. "Surely our duties to the Great Journey are still as assured. We owe it to our forebearers to never stray."

A muddled wave of agreements from the Section Chiefs, even Karonee, albeit mutedly.

"What is the Covenant but to spread the word of Salvation?" The Grunt Deacon shrewdly ass kissed. "Now we have the ability to spread it over realities!"

The difference of reaction between the Covenant and the Demon and Imp wasn't in their manner of belief. Far from it. There was safety in numbers, and the Covenant Empire survived to the tune of several million individuals that had been transported in the Solace. Families and clans, entire bloodlines and heritages. That was the promise of space travel either way; those that had opted to travel aboard the Solace knew that home was the Solace: not a planet or system. Even when it was fallen and destroyed, their home, their people, were still with them.

Not so for the two humans that had come over with them.

"Are we alone then?" The Surgeon General asked. "Will I never see Sangheilios or High Charity again if this is the case?"

Karonee tightened her mandibles at how solemn he sounded. "This is all conjecture, but it is one that we must proceed with until we can verify otherwise, and what that means is that the humans above… Prophet?" She opened up to the San'Shyuum, drawing off her point, hoping that the seed could grown and each of the Section Chiefs could realize themselves.

Destiny started slowly. "I do believe it would be useful for us to establish a greater… context of where we are right now and who we are dealing with." No one had any complaints. No one would. There was something he was building up to however. "And if these humans are not of the sort we know… then their existence isn't heretical to the Great Journey."

"You would mean to reach out?" The Kig-Yar asked together. Their kind was not unfamiliar with the concept. Even those around, Elite and Brute, hadn't, considering the circumstances. For all the pain that they've caused to, and been caused from, humans, the blood lust after thirty years did not come without some respect. They themselves were not brainless hordes, and if the Prophet had implied that it hadn't been heretical to respond…

The AI of the ship had picked up again to Karonee's comm. "Say what you will computer."

Instead of the AI's voice however, came the voice of one of many missing in action upon landfall.

"A Long Night of Solace, this is First Lieutenant Usze Tahamee. Does the Shipmistress hear me?"

Karonee had snapped to address it just on impulse, the rest of the bridge crew silent as they awaited an update.

"What is your status First Lieutenant? What happened?"

"I do not have time, but I am fine. Please triangulate my position based on this transmission." Karonee had nodded to one of the bridge officers to start the process. "I was captured and held under observation with great deal of men, however we have been treated fair… that might change however.

"What do you mean?"

A pause, a strained silence as Usze took a breath, commotion on the other end.

"If you want us to survive, Shipmistress, you need to display strength, but do not attack. Show the humans as always have what we can do, and know that you should do this as if this is the first time they've known of us." The transmission was dropped. A short message, a message from deep behind enemy lines that spoke toward the same unease that they all felt when dealing with these humans. Her fingers had wrapped around the front of her face as she felt the headache come and go, determination rising up in its stead.

"Your holiness." Destiny had been awaiting. "What is the Covenant protocol for first contact with another species?"

The Prophet had considered for a moment, hand at his chin and neck. It'd been a long time since the last time an alien race was incorporated, however that wasn't Karonee's aim here. Her aim here was just a guideline for response. "It's on a case by case basis, shipmistress."

Be decisive. Be resolute. Commit. Words from an Arbiter long ago, whose blood she carried within her.

She would do so.

"Open up communications. Wide band. Let the humans know that we are coming."

An inkling of nostalgia came by her. Could she repeat those famous first words again? Of being divine instruments to purge a vile cancer? No, she thought. That would only be retreading steps already taken.

"Yes Shipmistress!"

She had pointed directly at the Well Deck Chief. "Do we have enough transports to deliver Scarabs?"

"We have enough to transport an entire armored platoon."

The sword on her hipped burned her flesh to be held, and so she had abided a thirst she had not quenched in a decade. "Prepare it for deployment. Full complement. Arrange for combat operations in accordance to a typical city siege" She looked toward Usze's Elites, the Spec Ops operators. They were ready. "You men, you're with me. Gather yourselves and my Zealots if they still survive on this ship. If they demand a first impression, they shall have it!"

---

The reason why Usze had been able to hail A Long Night of Solace was due to this:

"I bear no shame, walking exposed. To walk without the armor on top would only want me to desire it more."

Usze had been allowed his under suit back as he had been politely escorted to the office section of that fish market, he was still intently aware that he had done so at gun point, but the human scientist that walked besides him, she was not scared or fearful in any aspect. He had known what fear was when seen through the humans, he had caused so much fear himself that he had known that when a human did not fear him, they were either dead already or a warrior worth his steel.

For all of them there, there was no fear.

It was worrying.

As he had donned clothing himself again he was led through to the towering Aquasola building, other, lesser Covenant species being handled by the herd back and forth between it and the fish market. His appearance didn't inspire any less fear in them however as they all trembled beneath his gaze. It meant that they did something wrong and they knew it.

"I see the Grunts and Jackals have tried to save their skins." He muttered scornfully.

"Hardly." Professor Solus had still been toying with his data pad, his fingers fast on its inputs. "No offer of clemency or safety was assured, but talked anyway. "Grunts" and "Jackals" inherently possess… less fortitude than yourself?"

Usze flared his nostrils in a facial move that was the Sangheili equivalent or a reluctant nod.

"They call your kind the "Elites". Isn't that right?" The Turian with the gun was out of view, behind them, obviously still with the rifle ready.

"For good reason." Usze growled back.

It had been mostly human soldiers running up and down those streets with the occasional other alien along with them, speaking amongst each other in the morning light for another long day ahead. Usze recognized the talk as organized chaos: orders being given and arrangements being had. In the sky: more shuttles had appeared, but more varied in design. All around them both alien and human alike had gave a good look at Usze and his escort walk him to the sky scraper, without binds, some had been liable to think that something big was happening.

Usze, given his position, also had to think so as well. No hint as to what was happening, no intention made abundantly clear.

"Who are you." He finally asked as the morning tropical breeze blew the smell of salt down those streets made less for vehicles but pedestrians: apparently the main form of vehicular transportation had been more flying car and shuttle than wheeled vehicle. Understandable given Altis's nature as an oceanic planet.

Even the main colony's island hadn't been much bigger than Hawaii back on Earth, debris still lousy in the streets; mostly sand and oceanic refuse such as seaweed and the local fauna.

The human scientist looked and nodded at the Blue human.

"We are the Council." The "Asari" had said. Her voice was soothing, matrilineal almost. "A governing body of space farcing civilizations who have come together as sovereign governments, but underneath the pretense of a cooperative sphere of oversight and association." She said once, all those around her agreeing with nods or curt agreements.

"And you would have dominion over the Orion Arm?" Usze asked as he looked up into the sky, faintly, in the clouds, he had seen a cruiser hover just barely in atmosphere in the less than ideal lighting.

"Hm? Hardly. We have access to most of the galaxy via the Mass Relays."

Usze's mandibles had tightened once, then spread. The tell-tale sign that a Sangheili was in deep thought. If they had been throughout most of the galaxy, then how had the Covenant not come across them?

"Unfamiliar?" Professor Solus had stopped just before entering the building, underneath the shade of the foyer, it brought the entire group to a stop. Usze shook his head in a negative.

"The Covenant is the only thing I recognize."

"Covenant. Interesting nomenclature. Religious connotations suggest that multiple species have aligned under faith." Solus had said to himself, almost as an aside. Usze had been able to hear it however.

"What's your aim?" He asked.

Mordin smiled wide and large, no teeth shown, just as Sangheili preferred coincidentally. "Purely scientific."

Usze had shuffled his mandibles. Had it been so easy to believe that. "Your hands, your face, professor." He stared out into the sky, the color so familiar to his home. "Are those scars from scientific interests of yours?"

"Perhaps. Does it matter to you?'

"The shadow of your intent hovers over me, and it does not make me well."

"Reasonable to have suspicion, will not put it past you. But know, in this instance, my interest is purely scientific. Days of espionage over."

"A spy who announced he is a spy?"

"Am not spying now, am I?"

"Professor please." The Asari spoke. "Understand that we wish not scientific study of you, but cooperation."

Usze's mandibles twitched. "And you would have us locked in cages to do so?"

The Asari cringed. "The Alliance response is often straightforward in their intent, but understand that fighting has broken out where we believe that could've been avoided. The Council would like to let you know that we apologize on behalf of the Human Race-"

The human scientist had coughed into her hand. She had been otherwise intensely eyeing up Usze and how he walked, noting down muscle movements and gait. "You're a scientist. Not a diplomat. Let's leave that to the actual Council."

"Best to get what we can before politicking happens. Don't you agree?" Professor Solus abided around. Even the Turian grunted in agreement as they continued into the building. "Do you happen to know of your chemical chirality? Great struggle has been in determining so as food and supplements can be delivered to others."

Usze tilted his head in surprise as the air conditioning of the building kicked in. That he recognized from many human buildings he had broken into. Humans were creatures of comfort. Comfort was also something that apparently the humans and this Council were trying to afford to the contained such as him. "You would feed us?"

"Not prisoner." Solus had sternly reminded. "So do you?"

Usze shook his head, scornful he couldn't understand the "chemical chirality" if it meant he couldn't provide sustenance to those men he had just left.

The tower hadn't been military he could tell, more civilian than anything co-opted for the events happening on that planet: led into an elevator.

For as long as the elevator ride up was, the scientists had chattered among themselves. Usze, despite being a Sangheili, had ridden more than enough human elevators in his day to notice the discrepancy in speed. Even the smallest things had driven him off to the point that something was wrong.

The elevator doors opened, and it revealed to them more quaint business spaces and the wide horizon. What had caught Usze's eye the most about that view in the morning was that the Solace was clearly visible in the background. It gave him pause, knowing that it was still there, dots of activity over it clearly being Phantoms and Spirits assisting in the relief efforts. No visible fighting he could see.

"Ah yes, had a question." The Salarian was ever incessant with his questioning. "How does a ship of that nature sustain space flight? No Element Zero found on any debris or on sensor scanning of both construct out there and anything related to you."

Usze had looked at the professor as if he was mad. Why would he need to explain to a professor how a ship propels itself through space? It was all the same principle, even across the Covenant species before the Covenant had formed. Even the Humans had similar methods of spaceflight.

"Don't know?" Solus prodded. For now, Usze had shook his head no. "I see. Just follow then. The sooner this is over with, the sooner true cooperation and collaboration can begin."

They had walked him into a conference room: another video screen on the wall and someone Usze had immediately identified as a human shipmaster was on screen. A tired and greyed face, it reminded him of some of the older Elites he had known.

Dress Blues, as the humans called them. That's what he stood in as Usze was presented.

No introductions needed. Not that it mattered.

"Up front, we just want you to know the reason we have you here is because we'd like to have you reach out back to your people."

Usze had been quiet as the human had rattled out his words.

Admiral Hackett recognized the silence. It was the same sort put out by Mai.

"What has happened since your ship has made planetfall is regrettable indeed, born out of misunderstanding, but we hope you can forgive us as we have forgiven you." He went on. Still Usze had been in silence. "May we have your name at least? From you?"

Usze had glared at the screen of the human. He had seen UNSC Captains before, officers. He'd been intensively briefed on what they looked so as they could be targeted first, and this one showed no such identifying features.

"Usze Tahamee."

An alien name indeed. Hackett nodded in recognition.

"Usze Tahamee. What is your rank?"

"Lieutenant." He answered. The full title was technically: First Lieutenant Major of Coming Shadow, 1st Division. That was not pertinent however, and he would speak as little as he could to these humans.

Again Hackett nodded his head, arms behind his back. "According to what information we've been given by who we have alongside you, you are therefore the highest ranked among your military structure present." He paused as Usze took that fact in, looking out the window toward the Solace. "Are you the captain of that ship?"

"No."

"Then we'd like for you to reach out, and to get us in contact with who is. As you must understand hostilities have occurred, and we believe this is just a mistake."

"Are you human?" Usze asked pointedly.

"Yes." Hackett answered.

"Then we have not made a mistake. Our war shall continue against the human race-"

The Admiral sucked in air as he looked to those that accompanied Usze. "If I may have the room please. Five minutes." His interruption had stunned Usze, and even the scientists there, but they abided as they made their way out. Solus had lingered, turning back around wearily, however he had left and the door locked. The room had been an executive meeting room, and the walls were very much thick enough for secrets.

"We're not your Human Race, Lieutenant Usze Tahamee."

Usze raised his head up and tilted, as if he had dog ears, perked.

"What do you mean, human."

It was a story that had to be told to several million individuals if they hadn't found out for themselves. Whether it had been through the Prophet of Destiny, Shipmistress Karonee, Admiral Hackett or any number of people who had the full story, it always was the same:

In an act of desperation, the UNSC used a Slipspace accident and weaponized it. The consequence of that was it didn't destroy you, but rather, it displaced you away from not only the planet Reach, but from a reality you would call your own.

It is the only explanation any of us have.

The war you fought is behind you.

The Systems Alliance is not your enemy.

You are a long way from home, and the chances of getting back near is a statistical improbability.

"Let us help you."

Usze had stood there, fists closed, the gravity that took down the Solace now upon his shoulders it felt. Was there a reason why he had been fighting humanity? Yes. The Covenant demanded it. The Hierarchs ordered it. The humans had been blasphemous in their existence against their gods. Not only that, but how many of his comrades had he seen lost or cut down by the human devilry?

Too many.

He had returned that debt in blood and bone: in planets he had seen glassed only after he and his comrades had cut their bloody swath through it. Though he had, once, told himself to not think of his enemy like that. He was an Ascetic after all. It meant that when he thought of war and conflict in the broad sense, he was fighting for that bigger picture. Sangheili ancient philosophy on war spoke of honor in combat to the highest degree, and to never hold personal wrath against an enemy just for being an enemy. This, perhaps, was lost as the Sangheili came into the Covenant and waged the war against humanity.

This was what he thought of now.

Why had he been fighting humanity?

Because I am good at it.

The thought was a fact and yet… why did it bother him as a flea did?

"You do not know the pain of the Covenant?"

Hackett had gotten the report from JD and Mai. He had seen the pain of a presumed lost, genocidal, galactic war in their eyes. He had seen what it had made humans into. Now he stood and spoke to a soldier who had caused that pain and contributed to the death of a human race. In another world, Hackett like to imagine, he would be holding this alien in court martial, holding him responsible for the crimes of going to war against humanity. The Admiral's aged eyes burned the image of the screen on his end into his memory. An Elite, looking out to the wreckage of a warship whose secrets and capabilities would mean that, if it had come through in its entirety, might've spelled the end of galactic peace:

A monument to all their sins.

If the war was truly lost, as JD had said, then the Covenant must've been that to them; Mankind's reckoning at hand.

"I do not know that pain. I do not wish that pain… and, I do not hold you or your people in contempt for your actions in another reality."

It burned him to say that, but at the of the day that was a pragmatic choice and answer. He could not morally, ethically, hold them accountable. Mai and JD might've wanted otherwise, and Mai would've waged her own war as she so very much wanted in her bones, but they were fish out of water. They were lost in the cosmic sea, in another ocean, in another planet. That's how far they were gone now.

The rules had to change. They had to change.

"I wish…" Usze had, like a whisper, spoke. "I wish to inform my Shipmistress on these developments."

"We will start as soon as we can."

Usze's gaze again was drawn to the Solace, the sun rising behind it, painting it like a artificial mountain raised out of the sea: a monster from an unknowable deep.

"You will not fight us?" It was easier to fight when it was mindless, when an eye for an eye was the way it went.

"Not if we can help it. Alliance and Council."

A crash, a bang, Usze had squared his feet and raised his hands. It was Professor Solus, barging through the door. "Assistance needed in containment center!"

Usze had been alarmed. "Have we broken out?" he didn't even know why he would ask his captors.

Captain Shaw's voice broke through the comms in background to Hackett's video call. "Do not engage! I repeat do not engage! If anyone fires there's I'll book them myself into the brig!"

Usze felt no hesitation to run with Professor Solus back to the fish markets, and what he had been found was the nightmare of many UNSC service members.

---

The Council and the Alliance had only been able to capture a handful of those species that had made up the Covenant. For some, like the San'Shyuum, it was a matter that they hadn't been frontline species. For others, like the Huragok, they had been busy back on the Solace. The case of the Mgalekgolo, it was simply that they were unable to be contained.

The Hunters were encountered by the first responder Marines, and the second that they had opened up with their huge ordnance allotted to them, no attempt was made to directly combat them or piss them off otherwise. They had been encountered in their signature armor configuration: as in, the Lekgolo had been Mgalekgolo. It was the only way that the first responders knew them as, not being able to yet identify them as actually colonies of worm like species that had construed into a bipedal being.

It was that element of surprise that made two particular colonies of Lekgolo ride a Covenant military coffin down during the Solace's descent, wash up on the Altis Colony's beach, and slither into the city before the Alliance and Council even began to arrange for their response.

They had been a particularly big colony: enough to have split into two and become bonded whenever they were in their Mgalekgolo form. On a planet that had been alien, with itself several exotic and alien forms of fish, if they had been seen out of the corner of an observer's eyes they were written off. That's why they were given free reign to slither like an eldritch mass into buildings and look upon, from vents and badly lit corners, what had been happening to those Covenant that had been captured.

The Lekgolo had not been a simplistic hivemind. Far from it. They each had the intelligence of full sapience, even in a hiveminded form, and eventually, after much snooping about, had gathered necessary electronics for a radio and had got into contact with A Long Night of Solace.

"The Shipmistress advises you to remain covert and in communication. " Said the Solace AI.

"We will." Their voice was one that was fake. As in, being a mass of worms they hadn't the ability to articulate via usual means, however enough maneuvering and vibrating would be able to suffice to form words in the Sangheili tongue.

The pair had found refuge in a waterlogged dock; ruined by the waves that had come from the Solace hitting planetside, it provided the two colonies of Lekgolo refuge as they gathered what they could from among the debris: the only way to enter being collapsed pathways and doors in the structure that could only be used by worms.

Shipmistress Karonee had hoped that her orders had been able to translate to "stay put". The Lekgolo were nothing but pioneering in their own way as one of the two mass of them had swallowed their makeshift radio device into themselves.

They were deep behind enemy lines, but not without recourse. Not when in that dock they had uncovered the equivalent of mechanized loaders.

Once, long ago, to ward off intruders, to ward off the Covenant in fact, they worms had often just coalesced around boulders and rocks to become giants and titans, whacking away and decimating the unprepared. Nowadays they had been more resourceful for that, several millennia of eating Forerunner machinery to blame for that, however it meant that before long they had their options.

They had a deference for darkness, both that it kept them cool, and it allowed them to scurry across to the fish markets where the rest of the Covenant captured were being held. The Lekgolo hadn't been out of context. They knew what had been going on. They knew of the Systems Alliance and the Council from people speaking way too loud, or just from simple eavesdropping. The revelation that they might've ended up in another reality was taken simply by the hive minds. If it made sense, it made sense. Even with that knowledge they didn't see it fit for their fellow Covenant to be held in cells. Piece by piece the worms had carried the so called "YMIR" mechs up to the roof of the fish market.

When they came across the Mass Effect cores of the two mechs, both of them fitted for security duty along the docks by the wildlife authorities, the Lekgolo had been generally confused. The purpose of it, without explanation, and taken out of the machine, was not inherently clear to them. It had radiated power, that much was certain, but it radiated with a certain sense of unknown that took even the tech savvy race by surprise.

Like the radio it was ingested in their mass, swallowed whole as they made their intentions with the mechs: broken down on the roof in the cover of morning light.

Slithering where wires would be, putting away with struts and beams meant to otherwise imitate organic movement, the Lekgolo had come in from the inside out: heads of the mech discarded as their arm mounted guns were co-opted. Circuitry replaced, a shell made of a machine. Wood boards that had been otherwise debris was stuck into the backs of those shells, and anyone who had known what a Hunter looked like would see the similarities: orange worms exposed where muscles would be had the YMIR been alive.

The roof of the fish market had been a few stories high, allowing the market below to be open air with its exposed roof. For the Mgalekgolo, it only meant that they did not need to break through.

In combat verticality had killed, but it was not natural for soldiers to inherently scan up as much as they did horizontally. Arranged like rows of products at a supermarket, the containment cells have been so as well, at least twelve wide and six deep, the pattern for the stalls for fishermen the guide for the arrangement.

The Hunters had no intent to kill, not with the information that had been coming to them, but they were armored up for a reason as they jumped in.

The Alliance Marines and Turian guards on station in the containment center had thought another piece of debris had made planetfall right dead center of the building, the scientists and otherwise other civilian observers all panicking the moment the loud bang and crash was heard.

Only when glass started breaking did the soldiers hit the safeties on their rifles and ran for where the sound was heard: dust getting kicked out and the sound of Covenant screaming through.

Without a modicum of sleight the Hunters had hit the ground, indenting their landing: steel cracking and the cells around them sliding in because of the crater they made. The occupants had also panicked for a moment up until they heard the telltale growling.

It was only followed by the smashing of their cells, freeing them.

Hunter met Hunter when the Mgalekgolo appeared in front of Usze's former cell, the Elite Hunter that had conversed with him ready to be freed as the fist of the Hunter broke glass.

Brute, Hunter, Elite, Grunt, Jackal, all had taken to freeing each other as the guards struggled to respond. When the first soldiers had run up to arms reach of them the YSMR-clad Mgalekgolo had told them why that was a bad idea.

To see a human thrown, albeit non-lethally, across the wide mart to the front of it was a sight to see: as if a gorilla had been let loose, though the connotation had been much, much more hostile.

The Hunters screamed togethers, fists made of metal slammed into the ground, but not attacking, marking its territory.

"What do we do?!"

"Shoot it?!"

"Shoot it!"

The Alliance Marines and the Turians had raised their rifles at the crowd, outnumbered hopelessly as civilians ran behind them. Bellowing out likewise the Brutes had been enraged, however just as one got on all fours and started to pounce like an ape one of the Hunters had reached out and slammed it back in line.

A divide seemingly a hundred miles wide was opened up, just by the presence of the Hunters alone as they corralled both sides into submission.

The Brutes had their bare hands ready, Grunts running amok as if their hair on fire, only adding to the chaos as Jackals found pieces of glass to hold and to throw while the frames of steel were held like staffs by the Sangheili.

"Captain Shaw we've got a containment breach!"

Visual feed from the helmets had been beamed up immediately to the Perugia as Shaw had been inundated with reports coming from frantic Marines moving into the fish markets and setting up firing positions.

"Do not engage! I repeat do not engage! If anyone fires there's I'll book them myself into the brig!"

The former hunter of an Elite had picked up a piece of frame, angled at its end almost like a spear. He had used such an instrument to hunt many aquatic prey during this youth, making his shoulders and arms strong and accurate. Perhaps that was the reason why he had been issued a Fuel Rod Gun. He had picked it up as the riot formed around him, calmly feeling it in his hands as he looked over to the other side of the market: a giant mass of men and women who would do him harm.

Perhaps, with his arm, he could…

He had walked forward, pushing through, piece of steel in his hands and held.

It was a massacre held back by regulation and implication alone. A shot heard around the galaxy could've been let off then and there and every rifleman there knew that. Lives had been taken on both sides already, but the situation here was different: a line between prisoners and the wardens. The Alliance and the Council wouldn't fault them for wanting to break out, wouldn't fault them in being angry, but the line was dynamic and they didn't know when it could be crossed.

"What do we do?!"

"Stand back or I'll shoot!"

"It would be unwise for you to do that." Out from the firing line of Marines come through an Elite that all those there had recognized. Even in a ship a million strong, the appointment of a Spec Ops officer who had been groomed by Rtas Vadumee was a big deal. He had made his way between that distance, meeting the Hunters half way.

With what had counted as their head they had nodded at him, and from their inner guts a radio had been handed over.

"First Lieutenant." They said. "Speak to the Shipmistress."

Out from their folds of exposed flesh and worm, the radio set had come out again, the rudimentary receiver pointed out and handed to him by worms acting as appendages. Slimy, but usable.

"Speak." They said again, urging him as he took the receiver in his hand fashioned out of tubing he couldn't make heads or tails of.

"A Long Night of Solace, this is First Lieutenant Usze Tahamee. Does the Shipmistress hear me?"

"What is your status First Lieutenant? What happened?"

Without pause he had heard the Shipmistress response, distress in her voice directed at him.

He wondered if he would've been looked down upon for being captured, even if it had been in the process of fighting a Demon. Those were thoughts he could meditate elsewhere he decided as the troopers of both humanity and the Council races began to be alarmed that he was talking.

"I do not have time, but I am fine. Please triangulate my position based on this transmission." There had been no protocols on contacting leadership after escaping and evading capture. As in, the protocol was to not get captured or die trying. "I was captured and held under observation with great deal of men, however we have been treated fair… that might change however."

"What do you mean?" She sounded confused. Who wouldn't be.

"Is that our Shipmistress First Lieutenant?" Usze heard the voice of the Elite Hunter, hopeful in his tone. He nodded at him warmly. "Then so the humans haven't blasted the wreck of the Solace in our absence… what is going on?"

"It means that they want to capture the Solace as intact as possible!"

"Nonsense! Why would they be treating us like this then? The humans know us! They would've shot us in the back as soon as they got their hands on us!"

"These humans, brothers, they are not like the ones we know." Usze had spat out at his fellow captured. "There is far more in play than we could ever imagine. We need to be willing to cooperate in this instance, for all of our sakes."

"They would have us be like rats in a lab and you would agree to this?!" A Brute yelled out. "You are a traitor! The humans and their allies are deceiving you!"

"They hold us like this, Brute, because they do not know what we are! Would you have them think of us like vermin? Give them a reason to attack? Lay down your aggressions before your body is used for their science!" Usze had curled his fist in the general direction of that dissenting voice, murmuring of confusion and dissent abound that even the guards could tell as internal strife.

There was, as they say, a conflict in every heart, between the rational and the irrational. A war brewed inside the heart of the Elite Hunter. Was it rational for him to just stand there, weapon in his hand and not use it when an entity that looked very much like his enemy stood across from him? Or was it irrational to act even with, for the first time in his life as a soldier, a doubt.

Usze was no heretic, just by who he was alone. No Spec Ops Elite was as such without unwavering faith. He trusted him then. The hunter didn't trust himself however. Every kill he had taken in the name of the hunt was always cut and dry, positive in what he was doing. That even translated, that feeling, to when he had gone to war against the humans. This was the first time in his life that he hesitated to fight. But maybe that was just the seeds of heresy being formed within him, able to easily be blocked out if he raised his arms and threw that spear till it found flesh.

Then the fighting would start again and everything would be so simple.

So why hadn't he thrown his spear then? If what he had known was right about the humans was so, and he had killed a great many in his day, why hadn't he been dead in this state? There was only one answer that could've been used in its broadest sense: circumstances had changed.

The metal frame dropped to the ground, unkindly ringing the sound out throughout the market. "We are not rats, Brute. I think that is the only thing we need to prove. I will stand down." That rebar was thrown down to the ground. "The First Lieutenant knows what he is doing."

To see an Elite throw down his arms was a sight. Sangheili code never shown positively on stepping down from a fight. Though Usze knew where the Hunter was coming from: To have blood spilled was not the goal of Sangheili Warriors. The matter of how it is spilled and whether or not it was worth it made all the difference. It gave a calming effect to all sides, and, one by one, Elites had done the same with whatever they had fashioned as a weapon in that brief moment.

The humans and the other aliens didn't let up, but the tension was softening as metal and stone clattered on the ground.

"If you want us to survive, Shipmistress, you need to display strength, but do not attack. Show the humans as always have what we can do, and know that you should do this as if this is the first time they've known of us."

---

In the fish market, those inside couldn't see the horror that had come upon those outside as Object Alpha had exploded with mites: dots erupting from it, only to approach the city like a swarm of pests.

Clouds and clouds of inbound contacts: not a force anyone there had expected to see come forth, unable to stop them as they came and flew over the colony, the hum of their engines roaring in the sky as contrails were drawn.

A swarm of those aliens' transports had hovered above the city, and before anyone could do anything: a mass of them had tethered four massive constructs. Walkers, four legs each: a mouth that glowed green. War machines in every sense of the word.

They flew higher than even the Aquasola tower, fighter aircraft rounding the city and using their maneuverability to stop out bound and inbound shuttle traffic in their tracks. Whether this city was human as they understood it, or not, the soldiers of A Long Night of Solace had known how to invade. Whether it had been Reach or Altis, Harvest or Earth, the Council and Humanity saw first hand what many had held as their last sight: the storm come to them.

To fall was something that every single soul on that planet had enough of in the last day, and now they had to whether the fall of those war machines from a height unimaginable.

The four-legged monstrosities had let loose and they flew until they hit the ground: crushing building or ground where they stood. Many unfamiliar with a Scarab had thought them destroyed in the cloud of dust they each kicked up, however the great mechanical whirring had clued them in otherwise as they all stood tall. Four of them had come, dropped in four corners of the city, dozens and dozens of shuttles dropping their own troops in their vicinity under direct orders to not fire unless fired upon.

How odd it had been, for troopers posted to defense and troops deployed for an invasion to touch ground next to each other and not do a thing about it out of orders.

A tension so tight, it burned all present like electricity to a rod. Wraiths, Ghosts, Locust, Choppers and Revenants, dropped down on the ground by other Phantoms and run through the streets like biker gangs. A text-book occupation carried out without a shot fired, and only the might of a military put on display to those who dared.

The ancient images of the Geth passed by the Council personnel's mind, the curved and elegant curvatures of their vehicles and the armor of some reminding them that, perhaps, had an alien species conquered the Geth while no one was looking? Had Rannoch been freed and usurped? The technology of the Geth was theorized to be far more advance than any Council race, so it had been a guess. The real answer was far more horrifying.

Karonee had been in the lead Scarab herself, its turrets scanning the roofs of the buildings they climbed over and through, their destination assured.

The steps of each Scarab had resounded through the city like the monsters of old: Godzilla and Kaiju from an Earth culture a century in the past when monsters became real amongst the stars.

"Shaw to Hackett, are you reading these visuals?!"

Admiral Hackett very much knew what he was looking at. Not a trace of eezo in those monsters, everything had been unknown but the Covenant's ability to fight.

This was the Covenant War that he had been warned about, and, for the first time since the First Contact War, Admiral Hackett had seen the face of genocide. It was a hint of it, a promise that it could be done, but they had the upper hand in orbit.

"This is Admiral Hackett to all Council and Fifth Fleet ships, prepare firing solutions on my mark! Designate on Altis and Object Alpha. Do not fire unless fighting begins!"

That message from Hackett had come through clearly on the Covenant battlenet, the Alliance and Council frequencies trivial to break through thanks to the Huragok.

Decanus Mercaius had returned to the bridge of the Solace and given temporary command by Karonee. To put such trust, from Sangheili to Brute, was unheard of. Still he had affirmed that trust that she had put in him by desperate circumstances. He hadn't even sat in her grav chair as the Prophet of Destiny looked over his shoulder from the back of the bridge.

"Shields up!"

For what it could, what remained of the shield array of the Solace and radiated its hull.

"Massive power readings from the Object Alpha! Looks like some sort of energy membrane around the structure." One of Hackett's tactical officers reported.

"Shields?"

As if listening to Hackett, the voice of Karonee had beamed out across the planet again via transmission.

"This is Shipmaster Seylu Karonee to all in orbit: especially for you of the Systems Alliance. We will not be looked down upon as something to study and learn from. We are heirs to the Mantle of Responsibility, and if you shall continue to continue your current actions against the Covenant, we shall have no choice but to press hostilities against you, as we have the humans for years. Cease captivity of all, let us reclaim our people, and you will not today bear witness to what it means to stand in the way of the Great Journey."

All Sangheili Shipmasters had a knack for speeches, and Seylu was no different, standing at the control center of that Scarab, her message transmitted to all listening. Through the viewscreen of the Scarab in its command center she saw how different this city truly was from the humanity she knew: the great center of the fish market dead ahead as the Scarab made its way on top of the colony's buildings.

As if they were actually talked he had immediately broadcasted a response, all the while the rest of his comm chiefs were desperately trying to get the Turians to not open fire.

"You're an unidentified force which just appeared in our territory, Shipmaster, surely you understand that precautions had to be made, especially when your kind shows open hostilities toward humans in particular." It was Hackett.

She dignified no response as the fish market got near: Spirits moving ahead of them and depositing Jackals onto the roof for sniper overwatch.

Not that they would have any time to get settled, not when Karonee personally tore down the side wall of the market. It came down as it did in a natural disaster: the two front legs controlled by the Lekgolo integrated, tearing them down just like a beast's claws through flesh. Not even the encompassing dust cloud could shield the sight of a purple machine towering over all of them: a green node threatening doom from its snout.

"Spirits!"

"By the Goddess!"

"Interesting vehicle. Multiple in deployment. Mass produced? Need for weapons easily able to take down armored fortifications suggest…" Professor Solus hadn't been phased. Salarians were not long lived and he was nearing the end of his life. He still had time to be intrigued, not to dread death. He walked fast, the Hunters that had created that entire scene originally alerted, but he paid no heed as he laid a hand on Usze's shoulders. "Not first experience like this?"

He shook his head.

Even the visual feed as Karonee saw it had picked that up. Troops within the Scarab had all roared out as they emerged onto its top deck, aiming down at anyone who hadn't been Covenant or otherwise rappelling. Over her shoulder she had given the hand signal for Usze's Special Operation Elites to go off. They had their duties.

She switched over to the command mic of that Scarab. "Transfer our captured into the Scarab, we have arms and provisions."

The mass of prisoners had quickly met with the troops that came to rescue them, replacing them in the Scarab as now it was a fair fight: gun against gun, but still with Usze, Professor Solus, and the Hunters between them both.

"First Lieutenant Tahamee. Say your status." Came from the Shipmistress's voice, booming out in Sangheili.

He had looked to the Scarab and nodded once, before turning to Mordin. "You may keep your arms, and we do not intend to capture you, but please, it'd be in your benefit to lower your stances."

Professor Solus had known the deal, his arm waved out to the guards and scientists who had picked up a gun. Not all had been so willing: the Marines and Turians.

"You give me one reason I should trust you squid." Already the insults had rolled off one of the human Marine's tongues.

"If we wished you dead human, it would be done so already." Usze growled.

Usze was right to question Professor Solus's intentions earlier, from his scars alone he had seen battle. Training in the Salarian Special Task Group had made sure that scars were the only thing he left the battle with instead of his death. That's why he had seen the shimmer, the glimmer, of light refracting out of the corner of his eyes.

The Turian that had guarded Usze before had been a more astute one, present there, having come along with the pair of Usze and Professor Solus. The humans there, up above and on the ground, weren't the only ones who had been veterans of the First Contact War. As a combat vet, gun still trained on the general mass of the opposing side, he noticed something that Solus would not reveal. These Aliens were trained, initially seeming to just funnel all of them into a cone of fire from catwalks in that fish markets. However, that wasn't so. No one was aiming at them from the positions that actually mattered. They were there, a presence to be had, but they didn't aim.

"The hell are you doing." He whispered, scanning the area.

"What?" One of the Marines had heard him question, tunnel vision making him peer forwards through his rifle scope at those directly to his twelve.

"They're doing something." He had spun around, the spacing between each guard and Marine immaculate still. Enough to move, enough to give cover to one another if push came to shove. "They have his on three sides but they're not aiming."

"This is Captain Shaw to "Shipmistress" Seylu Karonee. Understand that your presence is not only a biological and chemical threat to us, but also one of security."

"It's not that we don't understand, Captain." Karonee had started. "But we refuse to be treated like this. Not when hail from an Empire. Not when lives have already been lost."

The Turian guard continued to twist around, trying to catch an unknowable something that would explain that itch in his gut and the bad feeling that manifested in the back of his throat. There were at least thirty Marines and guards having taken position at the front of the Market, several of them with launchers aimed at the giant monstrosity that continued to be unbothered by them as they loaded the prisoners.

"Lives lost because there was a misunderstanding Shipmistress. We wish, simply, to make sure there are no more misunderstandings, and we apologize if our First Contact procedures, out of caution, have transgressed against you." Hackett had said aloud on every open channel.

Soldiers were frozen like statues, aiming at each other. Only did Usze realize then he was in the crossfire if anything happened.

"Your arms down! Please!" He ordered to those newly arrived foot soldiers. The Grunts and Jackals had listened without hesitation, even the Hunters moving back a bit to appear less threatening. It was just the other Elites and Brutes that offered resistance to that. It was in their training admittedly: if a gun was being aimed at them, they would aim back. "I will not see blood drawn because of foolish aggressions!"

What Usze didn't know, deprived of his armor and suit systems, was that those that continued to aim were putting on a show, drawing presumed fire to them. The Elite Hunter knew why, his eyes seeing what Professor Solus long since, even in that short time, presumed to be. His hand had lain across Usze's back in a calming presence before he drew the lieutenant's gaze over to the humans and other aliens.

Only because Usze had used this subterfuge before did he notice it.

All that Turian guard had was a pistol, a flashlight in the other as he took it from his belt and pocket, laying pistol hand across the forearm of his left as he moved his aim off from the enemy across from them. When the flashlight had clicked on he had seen the distortions of reality in between the space between every single one of them.

Even five feet away from him.

"Spirits-!"

He didn't even finish his curse as he ran at the refraction of light, and he had found a solid being beneath him as they crashed on the floor: color filled in the shape and a gun was shoved in its jaws.

All around them, shimmers of light solidified into gold and crimson covered figures, the burn of energy swords in all of their hands. Intermingled with all the responders, the obvious size of the typical Elite, not even one of the spec ops variety, had been how for many Humans and Turians, they first experienced Covenant up close. They were that close to death and death had manifested in the gold, sometimes crimson, armor of a fully equipped Elite.

When their swords activated like a rip of flame, Carbines aimed at the heads of those too close to act, held up at gun point, the Marine that had dared ask aloud of trust knew that none of them were bluffing.

Still it didn't stop his bravado as he turned on one with a rifle: "Fuck you! Let's go!"

The golden covered Elite had slashed away at the rifle before his momentum stopped, energy bleeding through metal before his gauntlet reached out and grabbed the man by the neck, throwing him asides.

This, and every helmet connected to the tactical net of the Alliance, was transmitted.

"Firing solutions set! Turians might fire!"

"Belay them! No one fires or else we might have another war on our hand!" Hackett screamed.

Shaw had done the same, coordinating ground forces up and down the colony. "I will not let you men die because of this! Stand down!"

"They dare move in on our positions?! Your colony?! And you would not have them fought?!" The commanding Turian in charge had screamed from his ship.

"Their intent is not to fight, General! This is all posturing on their part!"

Throughout the city Covenant troops had moved to intercept, but not apprehend, Alliance and Council personnel, making themselves known and taking their own positions. A thousand soldiers: all holding each other at gun point.

This was a proper Sangheili First Contact, Karonee mused to herself. All the strength one could muster put forward. She looked out and saw one of her Elites on their back, a knee on their chest and a pistol shoved between its mouth. It had been the one the Turian had gotten a jump on, and there she had seen a warrior worth their mettle.

Not one human or alien there had wavered. No one had put their hands up or surrendered as the world stood still, waiting for the first strike, if there was one. All anyone could do was hold their breaths and await their intentions. If the Covenant had come to take this city it would've been over five minutes. Though that was not why they had been there. Not today. Not in that galaxy.

Karonee began. "Admiral Hackett. Know that we have your men by the knife's edge, their throats ready to be opened by us, and they can do nothing about that. You may fire upon us from space, that is your advantage, but know that if you do so you will never have your peace."

Hackett had muttered darkly, following her conversation. "From where do you speak, Shipmistress?"

Karonee snorted. "We speak from a place of honor, and if we shall fight, we shall at least do so another time. When you have a chance."

The Covenant's better angels had prevailed today however. They came in peace, and all that they asked was to see their leader. Their weapons were drawn down, deactivated, and the Zealots and Spec Ops operators had returned to invisibility, peeling away form those that they threatened.

"Release my crew, stand down, and then we shall… talk." Talk, diplomacy… Unfamiliar concepts of professional paths to the Sangheili. The Writ of Union had made sure that was not something the Sangheili had been expected to do. No. That was the duty of the Prophets.

And, on the Solace, that was what the Prophet of Destiny had prepared to do. He looked to his Prelate: "Send for replacements to my Honor Guard. The humans are very well known for their devilry, and if I shall speak to them and their allies, I will do it with precaution." The Prelate nodded and walked off without speaking, his orders clear. Left alone the Prophet could only sigh into his long fingers. Regret would have his head if he had even spoken to a human of any sort that hadn't been for the purpose of professing destruction. Truth would do far worse to him. Though the reality was that they had not been in the picture anymore if the Shipmistress's hypothesis was correct.

To think that they were all that were left of the Covenant Empire over some fluke… Well, he thought, there were worse ways to fall.

By the time that a Phantom had transported the Prophet to the SSV Kilimanjaro with an entire procession of guards and combat troops, word on the Extranet had been that something was happening on the borders of the Attican Traverse. By the time talks had started, that something had become history making.

---

One of life's great tragedies: Everyone got what they want. Those two wanted a mission.

Pen and paper, like the old world. That was how special this order was.

"Are you sure about this Anderson?" Prime Minister Shastri had seen the paper proposal put forward by Anderson and Ryder. The culmination of the tensest talks, philosophizing, and ethical dilemmas that two men could possibly take on. Anderson had taken the more humane approach: observation and assimilation. Ryder: safety and caution, still reeling from the last questionings they had.

"Me and my crew can keep them contained. They seem like good people, and if their intentions are true, they'll try their best to reorient their services."

Shastri bit the pen. "How do we know that their moral values and societal norms are the same as our own? How do we know that this UEG and UNSC wasn't some right-wing militaristic sect of humanity that took over? Are they even familiar with democracy?"

"Culturally, their human society was very much the same as ours, and their upbringings…" Anderson had drifted off, remembering when they had come from. "The years which we currently inhabit are the years that defined humanity's initial expansion into space. They recognize it well: Entire planets and colonies free to do as they will. That freedom and liberty existed for them and they still believe in it now. So that shouldn't be a question: they are moral people."

"Even the Spartan?"

Anderson grimaced in his chair. "The difference between us and them however, was that humanity was alone apparently for them. Their war has since shaped them as people. You can only understand what that has done to them."

Shastri could've as a soldier once. Still he had concerns. That was why he had the clauses already written in: If the coming trials and tests had proven them reliable assets then they would be allowed to do as Anderson intended. If, in the UNSC, those two had fought for the future of humanity, they would do the same here. For what other reason would they have?

A pen in his hands, and, for humanity's sins, he had given them their mission.

His signature had been written in that order, officiated, put into a letter and handed to Anderson. "Are you sure you want them on the crew of the Normandy?"

"Until we find somewhere better for them. I trust them."

"Why?" Shastri asked honestly, thoughtfully. "Can you really vouch for someone like that?"

The same reason that Anderson had been affirmed of Mai's and JD's loyalty to a humanity, and why they would very much consider being tasked to him temporarily, was the same reason why Ryder had been so disturbed by Mai. There was one answer that Mai had given during her subsequent debriefs that had caught Ryder off guard. It was a simplistic statement that seemed to deny the complexity of her skills and who she was. That everything about her, everything that she was and done for her, by her, made so she could kill in a capacity yet to be known to them, was because of something as simplistic as duty. Some fought for family, for revenge, for nothing at all. But she gave duty as her answer, and it was too simple to make sense. All her sacrifice summed up because it was what she was supposed to do.

"By why do it all? Suffer how you have?"

He replayed his question from the file alone, listening to it over and over again as he was left alone in the conference room.

She gave a nothing answer.

If she stayed in her world, her universe, her life, she would've been chosen by the AI. Chosen by a construct known as Cortana, who saw fit to see her as important as the Master Chief. There was a reason why she was chosen that couldn't be chalked up by Covenant killed, or missions survived. It couldn't be quantified in her ability to change the tide of battle or loyalty to her superiors. Just as Cortana had chosen John as her Spartan in the end, on a factor that had been so arcane it was superstitious at best, she had chosen Mai by the same token. John had luck. Mai? Her talents lied in sound and fury signifying nothing. In the end, it made her the same as the man who would've saved humanity from not only the Covenant, but from an all-consuming evil that originated beyond the stars.

They were the same, thoughts and actions echoed across time and space.

She looked up at him and gave her answer.

"Our duty, as soldiers, is to protect humanity. Whatever the cost."

---

Mai had never eaten a pizza before.

It was true that the Spartan-IIIs had been culled from a very particular pack of children. Older than the Spartan-IIs upon their selection, they had been able to live a life before they were captured on the verge of adolescence. For many however, what lives they lived had perhaps not been lives worth living. Many of them had been orphans, stolen of any normal life by the Covenant. The promises of revenge had been the promise which many SPARTAN-IIIs held onto when they were trained and then sent to their deaths. They had been children who wouldn't be missed, with nowhere to go, and no family to go looking for them.

Whereas the Spartan-IIs were raised with some militaristic form of love, the Spartan-IIIs were born of misfortune, due to die in battle. Either conscripted or signed their life away, the Spartan-IIIs were never a terribly fortunate group of people.

All the luck, Lieutenant Commander Ambrose used to bellyache to Mai about, was taken by one Spartan alone.

If Mai and John-117 were equals, then they had been two sides to the same coin. All this to say she never had any luck.

Why she had been a Spartan-III was something she guarded so closely to her heart, that weighed so much within her, that she had hardly said a word about her upbringings to anyone still alive.

One of the circumstances of her early life had been, therefore, her being unable to know what a pizza was.

The streets of New Jerusalem made her know what hunger was to her very soul; the hardships she was born into perhaps the reason why she was the Spartan she was.

"Do you think that the Spartan's lack of basic humanity helped?"

"Do you believe that the Master Chief succeeded because he was at his CORE broken?"

In another reality, in another timeline, one of the creators of the Spartan Branch of the UNSC asked Catherine Halsey that. If Mai had been one of her own, maybe she could've known that answer. If she had known Mai, she would've known that a broken Spartan was by far a better soldier than the best human. Though she would never admit that price. Mai was born broken, and that was something Halsey could never replicate.

Pizza was good, she had learned now as JD had unashamedly scarfed down half a pepperoni pie. She had opted for cheese alone.

It was a decidedly quiet meal, the only people ever talking being Chakwas and Alenko. JD had hummed once and a while, nodding and generally being polite, however Mai had kept quiet, in the chair she had sat in she had subconsciously angled her legs toward JD.

It'd been nearly two decades since she had sat at a table like this and ate.

"So, uh, do you like pizza?" Alenko had tried to drift the conversation to the VIPs court.

JD had known that the Spartans weren't normal. To what extent he wouldn't dare guess, but he could tell that socially, Mai was not at all normal. As if she hadn't been in this situation before. He'd spoken more those last few hours than he had in a year, but it was for a good cause: covering for a Spartan.

"My father, he was a detective, and he always kept me at the station during weekends. That meant a lot of deliveries." JD admitted, he hadn't eaten the crust but that wasn't here or there. "It's good. Sauce was a little thick for my taste, cheese was good though."

Kaiden had tipped his cup of water at him. "One of the positives of Arcturus Station. We get cheese straight from Earth."

"Earth… right." How lucky, had JD considered himself, to know what Earth had looked like. How many humans had died for it without ever seeing humanity's home?

"You ever been? Or were you born on the colonies?"

All Mai had done was shake her head no in any regard, unwilling to answer that. JD had been more amicable. "Luna." he said once again.

"Oh, on one of the terraformed habitats, right?"

"Sure."

Chakwas had poked at Alenko. "Quit interrogating them Kaiden, I'm sure that's the last thing they need."

Truly the last thing they needed was a man of authority to walk in there, a paper envelope in his hands.

Chakwas and Alenko stood straight at attention. "Ah. Doctor Chakwas, Lieutenant Alenko." The man said. It was Captain Anderson.

"Sir." Kaiden had saluted.

"Sir." Chakwas had done the same as they were saluted down. What no one had anticipated was that moments after they had risen, JD and Mai did the same unanimously. They had rank still, and thus were susceptible to rank. That was the formality they could give in their situation as they squared their backs and forms. For him, they stood at attention, arms crooked into a salute. A sign of respect. They knew that, perhaps, he had a part in letting them eat.

"Lieutenant Gul, Private Durante." Anderson had saluted them down after a mental stumble.

They all stood at ease as they awaited for what the good captain had to say, but his gaze wandered to the pizza boxes first. "Did you enjoy it? It's not everyday I get to come to this station, and that pizza joint does rather well for itself out here. Family run too."

"Yes, sir."

JD had been off balance by Mai's answer.

"Reminds me of home, sir."

"Well good, because that's where we're going next."

Chakwas and Alenko had seemed confused, but Anderson was quick to verify. "Doctor Chakwas, Lieutenant Alenko, the Normandy is hitching a ride with a training ship on the way back to Earth from naval exercises with the Turians. The Normandy still needs to complete her crew, and regarding you two, we need to verify your aptitude before we decide what to do with you."

Mai raised an eyebrow, caution in her eyes. "Are we being tested sir?"

"Quite frankly, yes. Your stories are reliant on your ability as soldiers, and even though we have Private Durante's video footage, we'd like to see what you can do first hand."

"For what, sir?" She pressed on him.

"What do you think will happen to you, Lieutenant Gul?"

It was something they both thought of privately, in their own minds, but nothing they would admit to each other. They were both career soldiers, their entire lives preparing them for the war against the Covenant. Initially they each wanted to find a way to get back to the war, but it hadn't been as easy as simply hijacking a shuttle and jumping to the nearest UNSC outpost. To get back to their war meant to do another impossibility. They were good for nothing else, and it pained them to think, maybe, just maybe, they would be given only one option in the hands of the Systems Alliance:

To serve.

"What's going on with the Covenant?" She asked in turn.

Anderson could only smile. "Rest assured, lieutenant, the Covenant has been brought in line."

Whatever that meant, they had only hoped that every single one had been glassed themselves.

There was nothing that they could do but abide by the Captain's orders. Next stop: Earth.