Chapter One: At the Hot Gates

He didn't cry when his comrades fell side by side, as he knew what they had bought heavily outweighed any single individuals life. Noble Team would be the price of salvation. As Noble Six, it was his turn now. He didn't cry because it was beaten out of him as a child. Spartan B-312, dubbed 'Lone Wolf' by his ONI handlers was unused to feelings of regret. But today he knew he was dying with one: that he didn't kill enough Covie alien fucks.

A flash of azure blinked in between the rubble, heavy armored footsteps echoed on a dying world that once was a bustling shipyard planet now screamed in agony as plasma ate at its outer crust. Spartan Gabriel B-312 readied himself, even as his exhausted mind halted and grated like rusted gears. Urging his legs beyond any physical capability, fueled by anger and the hunted instinct of a cornered animal, he pushed.

He had one chance to get off this world. As plasma danced around him, and the Sangheili Special Ops were on his heels, his own ballistic rounds pierced the smoke back into their ranks. Never had he seen so many elites in one area, he had a sinking feeling as his overused mind wondered why the Shipmaster above him didn't glass him. Why he wasn't added among the other martyrs of Reach.

Gabriel lunged forwards as he rounded a corner, he rammed his back of his shoulders into the wall, gasping for breath. Three days of fighting, of struggling against unbreakable chains had left him drained. He swallowed, his eyes focusing one one spot of rubble. Out of sheer exhaustion only. His breathing steadied, when his eyes snapped up, his eyes told him nothing. He ducked on a whim, to the left, popping up and lashing out with a fist. The cloaked Sangheili reared its head back, pain etched into four mandibles as they flared in anger.

A blade of plasma lanced out at the final Spartan, who dodged and gave ground, when the Sangheili warrior leapt forward, a foot slipping on loose concrete, Gabriel ducked his head and sped forward, catching the Elites' energy sword arm in one had, he landed his other fist on its neck once, twice, three times. When he saw his enemy's hand go limp, he grasped the Sangheili's head in both hands, and twisted. A loud sickening crack sounded.

The Spartan, weapon dry, leaned down and grabbed the energy sword. He used one on a few occasions and he hoped it would make all the difference now. The noise of the scuffle had alerted the other Sangheili. When he stepped out of the alley of rubble, into a large open area. He strode forward, when before him, like ghosts out of fog, Elites materialized out of the dusted smoke. Dozens blinked into his vision, his already damaged HUD flashed red. His area was surrounded. There was no way out. No way to get to the ONI dropzone and escape.

No Sangheili stepped forward, and no plasma left their batteries. He stood straight, head held high. He was a Spartan. The best humanity had ever made. He would take every single four jawed asshole with him. He was ready. Gabriel would die a martyr of Reach, and join his team in eternal rest. He clipped the energy sword to his waist, and with both hands clasped his helmet. With a slight pop of the pressurized armor, his head became bear. Red hair was outgrown, much longer than what was the norm of a battle ready Spartan. He looked around, with eyes unaided by his HUD. In elementary Sangheili, he spoke.

"I die with honor today".

From behind, one Elite brushed past the rest, a Shipmaster.

Underneath the large protruding headdress, came his words. "They say a demon rarely has honor, and you shall not die on this day".

Noble Six, eyed him warily. Not sure if he heard the Sangheili correctly. He readied his stolen energy sword.

Tentatively, he asks "And what makes you say I won't die today?".

The Shipmaster spreads his mandibles apart. "All your enemies are dead, who will be there to slay you?".

Behind him, his troops split to make an opening for Noble Six to see. There lay a dozen Special Ops Sangheili. Dead and piled upon each other like broken hardware. His mouth would've gaped, if he had been wearing his scout helmet. Otherwise, his face remained a cliff of indifference.

"And what does that make us?", the phantom of Reach posed.

The Shipmaster bowed his head slightly, making his men shift their feet uneasily. Such a display of respect was lost to Gabriel. "That is for you to decide, human. We will speak more, but we must leave this place". With that, the tall Sangheili turned, and gestured Spartan B-312 to follow.

'What choice do I have here? If I fight, I die. If I am captured…' Noble Six thought fast, cutting off the stem of bad thoughts that would not aid him currently. 'I have my energy sword, it will keep me safe'. He stepped forward, knowing if things went south, he wouldn't let them take him easily. He would fight.

He hoped sincerely that his team would agree with his assessment. They were once a fluid machine, with Gabriel being the piece that didn't fit quite right. Now they were ghosts to haunt his sleep. Nothing less than saints of humanity. Carter was probably rolling in his fiery coffin.

The last Spartan of Reach, thought Six, was getting off this planet. To who knows what. He kept stride with the far larger being. They boarded a phantom unlike any other Gabriel had seen. It was larger, with heavier armor, with larger impulse drives. Soon as they rocketed upwards, they breached the decaying atmosphere of Reach, and were en route to the remaining Supercruiser. It shuttered terribly as it exited orbit. But at once, it steadied out and a low hum sounded out. The noise of its odd propulsion system.

As the phantom containing only Shipmaster and Spartan, neared the hangar, he began studying the Elite before him. Through his visor, his eyes were safe to roam. He eyes his hands, burnt from close calls with plasma. Next he eyed his face discreetly, he couldn't discern much information, as the large armor the Sangheili wore covered much of his head and face.

In return, the Shipmaster eyed the Spartan, feeling his eyes on him. The Shipmaster spied his pockmarked armor, a once dull light blue the color of fresh ice was now mostly bare steel, melted partially by all the plasma. Both were warriors.

Either bored of the silence, or annoyed at him staring at him like an interesting bug, Gabriel spoke. On edge being so near an enemy of his species. One that had killed so many of his own people. "Why did you kill them? Aren't they your own people?", he questioned.

The Sangheili eyed him for a hair short of a second, "Criminals aren't true Sangheili. They dishonor all of us.", he said in distaste.

Gabriel paused, confused. Criminals? "Criminals? They are too skilled to be criminals, aren't they?".

"Skill comes naturally to many, but with strength makes the arrogant uncaring. To fight next to them robs glory from battle" he responded.

B-312 sighed, and let out a hum only he could hear. Information was vital to his mission, but not to the extent to outweigh his exhaustion. In the silence, his thoughts drifted to the team he left behind. A planet to be their collective funeral pyre. He wondered about Jun, and whether he lived. Gabriel knew his mission was complete, he had sacrificed all that he had to ensure the package was delivered.

The Pillar of Autumn might have broken through the Covenant blockade, although he admitted to himself the chances were slim. He debated whether or not to ask his newfound 'ally'. He couldn't find the best way to ask, so he asked bluntly. "Did that ship make it through?".

The Shipmaster eye's gleamed, "On my honor, it has passed us". His wording was short, but it revealed much to Six. Six nearly collapsed, but to do so in front of a Sangheili would not increase his standing. Six felt all the aches now, after the battle had ended, the new one began. One that haunt him, he thought, for the rest of his life. Out of his team, he was the one who didn't deserve to live. If the Shipmaster in front of him had known what he had done…

The Phantom landed in the hangar in the underbelly of the massive purple doors dropped, swinging out and then down. With a slight thump of metal meeting metal.

Inside was a cavernous space. Filled with bustling Elites and Engineers. 'But no grunts', Gabriel thought to himself. 'Something isn't right'. His eyes roamed the space. His eyes jerked, before he saw Jorge, rounding a corner, wide shoulders and all. He blinked, and he was gone. The Spartans hand began to shake, his mouth went dry and he froze. Tell 'em to make it count.

Like a shower lifting, the vision ended and he resumed his pace with a roiling stomach. The Shipmaster hadn't looked back, but Six knew he realized the Spartan had paused. With his wits about him again, his eyes strove around the bay, eyeing all small details and whatever he could glean. The layout was very much similar to the one that had taken Jorge to the great beyond. He shut his eyes as he felt the sensation again.

Shoulder by shoulder, both Spartan and Sangheili walked through the alien door. Six was led to a room close to the bridge. Inside was a central table with holograms of what looked to be the surroundings of Reach. Quickly, the Sangheili swiped them away, but Six spied several ships in a defensive formation around the Supercruiser, and a smaller force appeared to be trying to pierce the ironclad defense.

The Sangheili was on the opposite of the Spartan when he first spoke. "As Shipmaster of Brand of the Faithful, I ask for your assistance, human".

Gabriel had to rely heavily on his translator ONI had specifically inlain in his helmet.

"Is it not custom to give a proper name, Shipmaster?", he asks pointedly, sick of thinking of him as 'Shipmaster" and nothing else.

His mandibles closed minutely, "Set 'Rodamee. What is it your people call you?"

"Spartan". He answers.

A growl resounds out of the newly identified Set 'Rodamee. "A title is not a name, demon. Your name, I asked".

Six was hesitant to give his name freely, he settled on his numerical designation. "Six, my people call me Six".

'Rodamee clicked his mandibles in annoyance. "Your life is preserved, at my discretion. There is many things to discuss, and not time to do so".

Gabriel had no little idea what this meant, he understood. This Covenant leader had him by the neck. And wondered why he wasn't dead. "Why am I here? Why did you let us slip?"

"The Prophets have led my people to destruction, over and over again. I have borne witness to countless atrocities, forced to keep my silence to protect my Keep. No longer. To my dying breath, I will free my people. And you are the key to my destiny, your own species' destiny".

"Destiny? What does my capture allow my people to gain?".

"Everything. I know of things the Prophets are blind to see. Too ignorant in their power.", a beep sounded and Six looked around. 'Rodamee pressed one finger to his helmet, before speaking.

"Hold steady course, I am on my way to the bridge", he looked towards the Spartan three, "My duties require my attendance. These are your chambers, use them. We will speak when you are rested".

Six watched as the large bipedal walked out the same way they both had come through. When the portal had hissed shut, he reached up to his helmet, and undid it. He placed his helmet on the holographic table and searched his new quarters. In a small, more human like door, was the sleeping area. A large purple bed was in one corner, and a bath like appliance took most the space.

Settling down on the bed, he looked towards the control panel on the portal. He walked to it and stared hard at the various indiscernible runes. Searching for a locking mechanism, he pressed each one. Finally, after opening and closing several times, he managed to lock it.

On the bed, he undid the rest of his armor, twisting himself around in various uncomfortable positions to manually take it all off. Soon he was left in nothing but his gel inner layer. In minutes, he had peeled it all off. Next was to figure out the bath…

Noble Six, most likely one of, if not the last Spartan III slept fitfully. Dreams of the past days, all the hard fighting caught up with him. The combat did not affect his psyche, but the small moments of vulnerability. Jorge, helmet off, gruff face inches away as he pushed him into the pull of Reach's surface. Kat falling limp to the needle of a Jackal sniper. Carter, driving himself straight into the mouth of hell. Into the Scarab… Emile, his ever rebellious voice as the energy sword cut straight through his armor. It all added up into a flurry of mental blows Six could not deal with.

Six felt the hand of his mother on his cheek, soothing him to sleep. Even as Covenant pushed their way around them. He felt her cool hand brush his hair as she always did. He couldn't remember anything else about his mother except for that one final touch. He eased back into unconsciousness.

He woke screaming, thrashing and sweating. Naked, he swung around, eyes scanning wildly for enemies. But he was alone. No enemies, no friendlies. Just walls. Purple walls? He asked himself. Slowly, the past day came back to him. All that happened. He clasped his hands to his skull, pushing hard as if to keep his mind together.

He shook. His jaw trembling. His body went limp. He sat there and sighed, calmed his breathing. His hands shook less and less.

Gabriel had no idea how much he had slept. His body felt tight from inactivity, but not as sore. But his mind remained pained. His eyes travelled to his armor, laying like puzzle pieces around his bed. His helmet was no where to be seen. An odd noise, almost like a bird, sounded outside his door. He put his gel back on quickly, and strode outside to meet his visitor.

His footsteps stopped abruptly, there before him was the oddest thing he had ever seen. A floating alien, with the neck of an eel, and with a turtle shell like back, had his helmet in its tentacles. Six stepped forward with the cry of 'Hey!', before snatching it out of the things hold. Its six eyes looked at him curiously, as it backed up and made agitated clicks. Suddenly, the noise of metal striking the floor sounded, and to his side near the wall stood a Sangheili. He was immediately on guard.

Before him was an odd Sangheili, not as wide as the others, not quite as tall and its neck nowhere near as thick as 'Radamee's. Must be a runt, thought Six.

A low growl sounded, "Do not mistreat it. Huragok are not meant for conflicts", even the voice was off. Not as deep, or gravelly as the rest of the Sangheili he had heard in his long career of killing.

He eyed the Elite, "I was told these were my quarters, why are you two here?", he questioned somewhat pointedly. He never liked visitors, much less alien ones in nature.

The Sangheili huffed, standing straighter. "Father decided to make me of all people watch you human. Do not presume to have any standing above me", it said aggressively.

Noble Six disliked its tone, before it connected in his mind. Father? Only the Shipmaster could decree to have me watched. I think…

" I never said such a thing. Surely you understand not wanting another groping your armor", he said, hoping to avoid conflict.

The Sangheili was caught off guard by the easy transition. "Huragok are curious, most like whatever ailed it was fixed".

"Fixed? With what tools?".

The 'Huragok' came closer, tentacles outreaching towards the helmet. Six, now less cautious, held his helmet out. It let out an odd noise that almost seemed satisfied. Slowly its tentacles wrapped around the helmet, and to his astonishment, Gabriel saw his hud turn on and off, blinking in various colors. Even though it was disconnected from the main battery attached to the centerpiece of his Mjolnir armor.

He watched fascinated by the foreign alien. Soon enough, the helmet was returned to him. The gasbag moved closer to him, its head low. He looked towards the odd Sangheili.

"He wants to be pet. He fixed what is yours and expects reward".

With its head so close, Six reached out and touched the top of the beings head. It felt smooth, like a snake's belly. He rubbed its head and smiled. The thing was letting out what sounded like whale whistles, a steady noise like pushing out air from an open mouth. It was a floating puppy.

He heard a click from the reseated Sangheili, "Humph. He usually shies around people. I don't know why he is taken with a human". Is that… jealousy? Gabriel thought to himself. He turned his attention to the Huragok, intent on petting the alien even as he eyed his helmet. Pets for fixing a broken helmet, huh? He mused to himself, the humor dulled his bleak feelings.

His stomach growled, loudly. Gabriel could hardly remember the last he ate. It had been days. Knowing how much he had slept was also beyond his capabilities, once after a covert op, he slept for three days straight.

Alert, the sitting Sangheili looked upwards, curious as to what the noise was. It didn't originate from the human's mouth, but its abdomen. "What noise was that?", it asked.

Gabriel rubbed the back of his head, "I haven't eaten in a few days…", he said somewhat sheepishly. He looked towards the Sangheili, questioningly. "What, exactly do you eat anyways?".

Blinking, the Elite looked at him, nearly as tall as the human even when sitting.

"Sangheili eat flesh from what we hunt", it responded.

Gabriel paused for a small moment, "Even humans?", he forced himself to ask.

The Sangheili opened its mandibles slightly wider, "Are you fearful of being eaten, human?", it chortled.

He took that as a small offense, "You think you could take me, Split-Jaw?".

The Sangheili's eyes opened wide, laughter dying, it looked towards the floor. What was he speaking of? Taking? In which way? It pondered and felt heat rushing up its neck.

Six noticed its skin around its head had darkened, not knowing what it meant. He wondered why the conversation had halted.

Suddenly, the portal to the room opened. The Shipmaster in the mouth of the hallway, his eyes travelling from its offspring, to the Spartan, to the Huragok trying to tug on the Spartan's heavy armor plating in the background.

"Daughter, what have I told you about stealing the Huragok away from it's duties?", he asked the smaller warrior.

Six's mind halted, Daughter? What the hell? I thought they didn't travel with females. Did I ask if she could mate? Am I retarded? He had the urge to face palm. Day one of being in a Covenant led ship, and he asked the fucking Shipmaster's daughter if she could take him. He would have to figure out to smooth that over, preferably quickly.

The Daughter responded with a slight huff, "On my honor Father, it's fixing the human's armor. It is performing its duty".

Not wanting to argue in front of an outsider, especially one not of their own species, 'Radamee didn't continue. Instead he eyed the unarmored Spartan. Immediately realizing the size difference. The human was even smaller now, but no less deadly. It stood barely up to his shoulder. Up to the chin on his daughter.

"I know not how long a human can subsist without food. Are you in need of food?", the Shipmaster asked politely, far more polite than he had expected from the Sangheili.

"Yes, if you have dried meat".

'Radamee called over his shoulder after hearing the Spartan's request. "Zealot, find a servant to bring us dried meat. And water!", the Shipmaster said loudly. From outside the door, Gabriel heard the answer of "Yes, Shipmaster" before hearing heavy footfalls leading away from them.

"Braxi, how goes the guard?" the Sangheili questioned his daughter.

She looks upwards, having to angle her head imperceptibly, "No intruders, everything is as should be, Father".

He nodded, and rotated his serpent like neck towards the Spartan that eyed their exchange. "We are approaching a Shield World shortly, I request you take part in the search", he said to the point.

"Search for what?"

"Our information says there is a map of sorts inside ruins. What it leads us to will save both our species from the Covenant"

With too many questions raging through his mind, Spartan B-312 had a decision to make. His host was not Covenant. He was acting strange for such a high ranking Sangheili. If he denied him, especially in front of his own kin, he risked earning his ire. And if it had the chance to save his species, he was duty bound to seek it out.

"When do we get there?"

"In fourteen units, the Shield World will be in sight", he said plainly.

Noble Six didn't know what the hell a unit was. He was tired of being ignorant, but was even more tired of appearing like a young child asking question after question.

Before the conversation could continue, the portal opened and in strode a low ranking Sangheili, its form seemed similar to Braxi, slimmer than the Sangheili Six had fought and killed so many times before. He was far less confident in his ability to take on a legion of Elites without his Mjolnir.

The Sangheili presented a small package to 'Radamee, who took it silently and placed it in the hand of the Spartan. Who salivated at the idea of food. Retreating to the oddly shaped Sangheili couch, he opened the package and looked inside. The smell was odd to him.

It smelt like sweet ham, he reached in and felt the meat. It was soft, firm due to what presumed was air drying. He raised it to his mouth and took a bite. To him, its tasted like a mixture of chicken and honey ham. When he realized both Sangheili were eyeing him, he looked questioningly.

Both father and daughter made eye contact and went to the portal and stepped outside. Alone, Gabriel devoured the meal. It was a large piece of meat, but his stomach demanded he eat all of it. Each bite tasted better than the last one, and his body hummed in appreciation.

Once done, he realized the Huragok was no where to be seen. He heard the clang of metal on metal and walked into his sleeping area in search of the noise. Inside, he saw the creature again playing with his armor. This time, piercing it together and probing every inch. He watched in fascination as it activated the reconstructed armor, making each limb move with a tentacle. It would pick one up and see how it functioned. If a joint was creaking, it would probe it further until it was moving smooth.

From one tentacle came a small electric burn, almost like a welder. Noble Six stepped closer and watched with increasing interest as the battle tested armor was being brought back to life. Cracks and plasma burns were smoothed over, and the electric components revisited with a tender touch. It must have been close to an hour when he heard a set of feet moving outside in the main area.