I: Fodder


Chapter Three: Sign Up

25th May, 2533 (UNSC Calendar)

Ninth Age of Reclamation, 8th Solar Cycle (Covenant Calendar)

Han City, T'Vao, Y'Deio System

"Why would you want to join the Army?"

That is roughly the question you just asked me. That very same question was posed to me at the recruitment station on my homeworld, all those years ago. It was a very good question and still is, because in answering it I am able to tell you a bit more about me. The story of my life is bound to how I came to fight in the war. So if I am to properly answer your question, I must warn you - be prepared for a complicated answer.

Before I open that box of tangled threads however, I should tell you of the day I left my home to enlist.

It was a wet one - the climate of the moon of T'Vao is notorious for its harshness, swinging wildly between baking heat and raging storms. The gravity of my home is much greater than that of our motherworld Eayn, and as such the winds, lightning and rain come down much harder. That is why we T'Vaoans are not a breed of weaklings - a fact I was always reminded of from childhood onward. Our pedigree was made to be hardy, to be strong.

That day, the rain fell in great torrents in the morning. My hooded rough-leather cloak soaked up the downpour as I left my home in the village of Ream, located in the wetlands of the same name just outside of Han City. The wind howled like a thousand demons, blowing from the seas and across the land, driving the rains into an incredible spray. Having filled myself with a final breakfast before setting off, I made for the nearest tram stop.

I made a point not to look back. My family's home - an old plantation house just outside the lake and marshes that bordered Ream - had already been sold off. I had filled out all the paperwork, approved the transactions. As I left, I sealed the keys in the small safe compartment built into the wall just by the door, ready for the next owners to unlock and retrieve. A card key to do so would be provided to them by my clan's treasurer when they arrived to claim the house.

I would not be returning, for I had already burned all bridges behind me. There was no looking back, no turning back. I had made my decision.

But as I said, I will come to that later.

Han City and its surrounding settlements are serviced by a vast hover-tram network - perhaps one of the few great feats of organisation my species have been noted for. Most other Kig-Yar cities would have much more informal systems of public transport, or else just leave it to the citizens to provide their own. Han is not like most of our cities however - and that made it all the more easier for me that day.

Fortunately, I did not have to wait long in the rain before the tram arrived. When it did, I was quick to board and pay my fare for central Han. I took my place among the mixed bag of passengers - robed and waist-coated merchants, the women among them draped in fine tunics. Elderly citizens, sat on the cushioned seats, in contrast to the younger generations like myself who clung onto the brass railing and leather hand-holds, just managing to stay upright as the tram sped roughly along, clunking everyone off their feet from time to time.

Some of those young pups - not much younger or older than myself - were heading to sign up, just as I was. We were the typical group to do so - ideal raw material for an army, you might say.

Even so, there were some on the tram that day who looked even more ideal - I was quick to notice them as they boarded at a stop further into town. Hard-bitten, strapping bruisers, their feathers leathered with grease, even marred by what looked like plasma scalding. Clearly they'd been working with machinery, most likely in engine rooms. That gave away their occupation immediately, even before they started chatting away about it in obnoxiously loud voices.

They were starship crewmen, most likely working on freighters. Perhaps there were even a few pirate-privateers among them, working for the Ministry of Tranquillity. There were no shipmasters though - they nearly always had their own personal transportation, which they could always afford. They wouldn't mingle on a tram with the likes of us.

Like all of the largest cities on T'Vao, Han is built around one of the moon's great spaceports, which in turn are linked by traffic routes to the major hub asteroids such as Dal'Koth, which orbit Y'Deio in their vast belt together with my homeworld, as well as mother Eayn. As such, a good part of the population is employed in the spaceflight and shipping industry, so active spacers are a fairly common sight. In my childhood I was often in awe of them. Even here, the other passengers looked at them with respect as they boarded - my people have always prided themselves on being great space-farers before the San 'Shyuum came for us, a trait not many of those we shared our Covenant with could claim. These tough men and women were the pioneers and pillars of our civilisation, the pride and pinnacle of all Kig-Yar.

Right now, though, I only found them to be an unwelcome disturbance. They were an imposing and swaggering bunch, clearly viewing themselves a cut above the rest. Nearly all of their jabbering involved bragging about how much money they were making on their ships or thought they would make, which grated on my nerves. Most of the initially respectful passengers deferred to give them a wide berth, but I made sure I was at the opposite end of the tram.

Not that I was intimidated. That lot thought they were tough, and certainly their occupation was hazardous - but from everything I'd heard about the army and the war with the Humans, they wouldn't have lasted five minutes where I was headed.

It wasn't long before the tram started navigating the winding roads of the inner city. Finally, it stopped at my destination - the central plaza. Glad to be rid of the toughs, I stepped out.

I'd wandered this city many times throughout my life - on childhood trips, on business, on errands or just simple outings. Yet in spite of all that, the sight of the city plaza never became a dull one for me. This was especially true of the great cast iron statue in the centre, mounted upon a towering rectangular pillar hewn from granite. From the top of this pedestal, the steely eyes of the namesake of Han City look out over its vast expanse.

Han the Navigator is one of the major heroines in my people's long spacefaring history. Kig-Yar lore is filled with heroic shipmistresses, whose names live on today as royalty among my people - but she was particularly relevant to me, since she was of my own clan. More than that, she was the founder of our power and the city to which she gave her name.

Han Fac was lucky enough to be alive during the Second Era of Exploration. The first era had been after all the clans of Eayn united and eventually mastered spaceflight; this lead to expeditions from Eayn to the nearest asteroids and moons of Chu'ot, and their subsequent colonisation by early pioneers. This included the seeding of T'Vao, the birth of my kind. At this time however our space technology was still primitive. Those bold first explorers could not venture that far from the motherworld, and certainly not beyond Chu'ot's orbit.

Roughly three thousand cycles or more passed before Han emerged and the second era came. Obviously, the first settlers of T'Vao did not naturally evolve into what they are today in such a relatively short space of time. No, they selectively bred themselves to become stronger than the people of Eayn, to adapt to their harsh new world. We T'Vaoans dramatically altered our bodies in response to the conditions. My kind is the result of accepting no weak offspring, of ruthless screening. Even today, our genetics are strictly maintained. Mating with other Kig-Yar is almost universally illegal, and even where it isn't, it is severely frowned upon. Though only in some of our most reactionary clans is it still punishable by death; at the time our ancestors were first breeding, that punishment applied to all T'Vaoan clans.

At the time Han first entered history, the T'Vaoans had already been fully bred. Though our population has always been small in comparison to the others of our race, we were ready to make our mark.

It did not take long after the First Era for the clans to revert to old rivalries. New borders and fiefdoms were drawn up among the rings of Chu'ot, moons were divided and rocks claimed. My kinsmen once more took to raiding one another's territory. T'Vao was no exception – our unique breeding did not prevent conflict. The moon soon became divided, and the Fac clan went through hard times.

At this time ours was only a small clan, living among a few others in a patchwork of small settlements around those same wetlands I had left behind (one of these ancient settlements was Ream village). Furthermore, this land was under almost constant attack from off-world pirates and rival clans. Han grew up defending her village from these attacks from childhood, and quickly learned the ways of war.

By her late-teens she had became a respected leader, forming militias to defend not just her own village and clan, but also the neighbouring settlements. She proved just as much a skilled politician as a warrior, as she was one of those who helped to seal an agreement of mutual defence among the clans of the Ream wetlands. The Fac clan was the strongest among these, and in time all the other clans in this Ream'ka League were absorbed into its ranks.

However, this early union was not enough. Han and the other leaders of Ream'ka knew that they needed more funding to cement the alliance and strengthen their position in the land. So, two courses of action were simultaneously taken up.

The first was the founding of a spaceport and central settlement in a key strategic location outside the Ream wetlands. This was the settlement that grew into the metropolis which would eventually become known as Han City. The second was an expansion of trading contacts with the other T'Vaoan clans, as well as with the motherworld and other colonies, bringing in much needed profits and extra manpower from immigration. This resulted in growing riches - and an offer that would transform Han from a local hero to a legend among all of my people.

The merchant guilds of Eayn were offering a substantial prize of cash and exclusive trading rights for whoever could be first to leave Y'Deio and reach the nearest star system. Though inter-clan conflicts and piracy still raged on, attempts were being made to ease them as influential voices began to argue for a renewed union of all Kig-Yar, and with it the chance for new expansion and exploration in space. Many space-farers were already taking part in this glorious Second Era, charting more of the rings of Chu'ot and visiting nearby planets in Y'Deio.

Han herself had little experience of space travel - she was still in her late twenties - but to bring her people prosperity, she accepted the challenge for the first interstellar voyage. Recruiting skilled shipwrights and crewmembers, she used the money and resources from the new trade to construct an advanced starship, using skilled business diplomacy to obtain the latest FTL engine drives under development. Her negotiation was so good that she was even able to buy the engineers developing these first drives.

Kig-Yar slipspace drives were crude, as well as few and far between - but they did exist at that time, albeit in an experimental stage. This was the reason for the challenge set by Eayn's merchants. These drives were prone to disastrous accidents - but Han was not one to avoid risk. Indeed, to even step into that craft was an act of tremendous courage, for herself and her hand-picked crew. She christened the vessel Endurance (or rather the T'Vaoan word for it) and set off on her voyage.

Against considerable technical odds, Han made the first slipspace jump ever made by Kig-Yar, a century before our incorporation into the Covenant. She succeeded in reaching the furthest planet from our sun, Muloqt. Accompanied by a small colony ship, she founded a redoubt there that would eventually become a considerable trading centre. She built it as a stop-off point for the interstellar trade route she envisioned that would run to the nearest star - her real prize.

Han then took the fateful step further. Having resupplied Endurance she then made the fateful jump to Mar'eio, nearly five light years from our home system - the first interstellar voyage of our species. Once there she discovered a huge asteroid belt surrounding the perimeter of that small solar system, which contained only three planets. The crew of Endurance were quick to map the ring for future colonisation - but Han's greatest discovery was on Marvat, the second planet from the sun and the only one that was habitable.

On this world of lush rainforests, dense jungles and vast grasslands in between, she discovered a primitive planet-bound race of tree-dwelling mammals - a mostly tribal civilisation divided between small village cultures and nomadic hunter-gatherers. These people called themselves the Varantani, and while Han's contacts with the nomads were hostile - three of her crew were killed in a battle with a warlike tribe - she did trade with the villagers despite communication problems.

In exchange for advanced tools, the Varantani gave her unique foods, plants and finely crafted artefacts, which she proudly showed off at her triumphant return. Those polished figurines, obsidian-tipped arrows, spears and javelins, patterned tapestries, earthenware pottery and painted rocks can still be found in museums on Eayn and T'Vao today.

The Fac clan received the promised reward, and our reputation grew. Han was granted her title of 'Navigator', which has been bestowed upon distinguished exploring shipmasters and mistresses since before our people took to space. She did not stop there, however. She also used Endurance to explore and chart every nook and cranny of Y'Deio, eventually creating a comprehensive map of our system still in use today.

Rival shipmistresses also began to experiment with interstellar travel - but since Han had laid her clan's claim on Mar'eio, which was recognised by the Eayn government, they had to journey to other nearby stars. At least two such expeditions were made, but unlike the Endurance expedition they found no life-bearing worlds.

Han also planned a second expedition to Mar'eio, this time with a fleet of three ships. But before she was about to do so, tragedy struck. While commanding a brand new slipspace-capable colony ship to bring new colonists and building expansions to her redoubt on Muloqt, the drive malfunctioned. The ship was sent to oblivion and Han with it - just two cycles after her triumphant voyage. Thus ended the Second Era of Exploration.

From then on, the government on Eayn banned use of slipspace until safer drives could be developed - which turned out to be never. The old sectarian mentality and conflict returned once again - any chance of another union of all Kig-Yar for scientific progress and expansion was gone. Thus we were ripe for the taking when the Sangheili and San 'Shyuum arrived the next century.

After we willingly joined the Covenant following the War of the Asteroids, the San 'Shyuum knew our existing slipspace drives to be unstable and ordered them all scrapped. They then provided safer ones of their own making for those shipmasters willing to work for the Ministry of Tranquility. All other Kig-Yar vessels would be restricted from having them, due to the constant problem of pirates.

This removed the need to spend resources developing and building our own drives, and our Shipmasters and mistresses were able to follow in Han's footsteps as interstellar travellers. In addition, the piracy that had always plagued our system was neutered and denied FTL capability. Thus, the Covenant brought us into its embrace, and the holy Prophets selflessly ensured our technological progress. Han the Navigator's dream was at last realised, thanks to our faith in the sacred promise of the Great Journey.

At least, that is the version of history I always heard. Not that I questioned it often.


"What happened to the Varantani?" I felt compelled to ask this question. "Covenant records don't mention them. I haven't heard of any species of that name in the Outer Skein."

I had that very moment checked the list of known Covenant races on my palm-comp - compiled from recovered Covenant databanks - including the newly discovered ones in the Covenant Fringe. Trau snorted mirthlessly as he returned his bowl to the table.

"That shouldn't surprise you. It's common knowledge why you'll never find those people Han found."

Before I could reply that it wasn't common knowledge to me, he spoke again.

"After we joined the Covenant, we agreed to share all the charts we had ever drawn up. That included those from our first interstellar voyages - especially Han's voyage. The Sangheili took the lot. They didn't waste time in trying to find Mar'eio for themselves."

As he returned to sipping his tea, I began to guess at what must have happened next. I already knew from studying Covenant history that Humans were not the first species the Prophets had declared heretical and condemned to genocide.

"Once the Covenant Navy reached Marvat, they found that it was rich in Forerunner junk. Long story short, the Varantani didn't like the Covenant coming onto their land and digging it up. Their tribes refused to join, attacked excavation sites," He sighed. "The Sangheili commanders demanded a military campaign. The Prophets saw all the Varantani tribes as a worthless nuisance, not worth converting. So the Elites got their glorious campaign.

"They killed them all. All of them. Hunted down the roaming warrior groups in the rainforests and the prairies between them, bombed and burned the villages from low altitude...they never stood a chance. It was literally spears, bows and arrows against fire. I only learned that history in full after the Covenant collapsed, though I knew about it before - the Prophets' version, of course."

I was left in shock, but I suppose I shouldn't have been. Any more than the human race would have been shocked at the Covenant's first glassings at the start of the war, had we known about their prior history of violence...

Trau cleared his throat.

"But anyway, you said you would not interrupt me?"

"Ah...yeah. Sorry about that."

"I am also at fault. I went off an a tangent with that history lecture. Was I passing Han's statue?"

"Yes."

"Then I digress far too much..."


I had been taught the history of my clan, of Han's great deeds since I was a hatchling. Of course, I am not directly descended from the great shipmistress herself - our clans include many family lines. Still, such stories were always an inspiration for me - and they still are. So you will excuse me if I went off on a bit of a tangent.

Her life is summed up brilliantly by the engraving on the pedestal of Han's statue - a poem she is said to have written herself. It has since become the motto of the Fac clan.

A path of comfort, of simple norm,

Of humble expectation, of borders tight,

Of no peril, nor daring risk or storm,

Of pure safety, with all things right,

Of no hardship, no hard and beaten tracks;

Such is not the Path of Fac.

It is a poem I learned since childhood. It's a source of inspiration that has helped me much, in my life since. But enough of this blather...

As I passed the statue, I noticed that most of the younger men from the tram had also disembarked, and were trailing behind me. My hunch that they were coming to sign up with me had proven correct. The war had entered its eighth cycle, and had since become a normal - if distant - background to life, yet still those volunteering to enlist kept pouring in.

Soon, we joined a stream of young men and women heading for the walled courtyard at the front of the city hall, where the military recruiters had set up their station. One of many imposing buildings surrounding the central plaza, the city hall naturally had a courtyard large enough to fit all of us in - and it didn't take long for a large crowd to form.

Obviously, the salary for Kig-Yar professional soldiers was a factor in the turnout - our pay was higher than that of others who fought for the Covenant. The pay was even better if you signed on with a dedicated mercenary guild ('contract soldier' being the official term) or as part of a Privateer crew, but most of those guilds demanded prior combat experience. The regular infantry salary was high enough in its own right, and served as a springboard for those looking to do full-on mercenary work in the future. It was certainly better paid compared to most jobs at home.

Still, although my people are often judged as materialistic, I have no doubt that there were some glory hunters and adventurers among those youngsters who signed on. With such a titanic war still raging on after so long, they were unlikely to miss any of it. It was for that same reason the recruiters were even more unlikely to refuse us. No one would be disappointed today.

The courtyard itself was circular, surrounded by pillars of steel and covered with a floor of finely painted tiles, creating an ornate plaza. By this point the rain had eased off into a drizzle - and the recruiters were out in force, their desks set up around the open courtyard. Most had stall covers to keep out the elements, and I suspect that even heavy rain would not have deterred them from admitting new recruits. They were dedicated people. Throughout the yard, you could hear them shouting out their marketing lines like street vendors, eager to draw us in.

"Come! Join our ranks!"

"The Covenant needs good fighters! Don't miss the war!"

"Come and fight with us in the Army! It's a good life!"

"Make your mark! Serve your people on the front!"

"Sign up lads, for a good and glorious life!"

A good life. I'd heard that about the Army before. Well, the wages were good and by all accounts we were winning the war - so it did seem true at the time. I needed only to get some front-line experience, then sign on as a full mercenary, and life would be even better. If I got to that stage I could chose whatever work or posting I wanted. Alternatively, if I didn't take that path and formally stayed in the Army long enough, I might even join the special forces - the commando or murmillo units. Their pay was said to be just as good as full mercenaries. Maybe, just maybe, I could even get ranked as a Champion one day.

That was all assuming I survived, of course. One step at a time.

There were two separate groups of desks - one group on one side of the yard signed on recruits for the Navy and Ministry of Tranquility. The war demanded more of our scout ships, and more crews were needed there.

The side I was aiming for drew in much more of a crowd. The Army had by far the biggest demand for T'Vaoan manpower, and as such most of the shouts of encouragement came from there. I joined the queue - fortunately it was shortened by the fact there were five desks for the Army, so the numbers of people were managed pretty well. It didn't take long for my time to come.

The recruiting officer at the desk I was herded to was probably in his early thirties - but his eyes and demeanour made him look much older. It's a well known fact in the military that you can tell the difference between a combat veteran and a fresh recruit just by looking at them. This man had very obviously seen his fair share of war. I also immediately noticed his feathers were dyed red, as was his armour - from what I knew of the military that meant he held the rank of Major. He seemed constantly on-edge, as if expecting danger at any moment. No doubt such an instinct was the reason he had survived many campaigns to sit here now.

I didn't spend a lot of time regarding him though - he addressed me sharply the second I met his gaze.

"Name and age?"

"Trau Fac. Eighteen cycles."

This was a lie - I don't mind admitting this. It was not a massive falsehood, however - I was only seventeen. If the recruiter noticed, he paid it no mind; as I said, they were hardly going to refuse a volunteer for service at this time.

What happened next made me rethink that assumption. He did seem troubled - but not by my age. That warrior's tough shell seemed to break down as he recognised my name.

"Trau Fac...son of Mal Fac, correct?"

"Yes."

He eyed me closely, those cold gray eyes sizing me up. I could see the side of him that thought beyond his immediate duty to the Army - and I knew then that against my expectation, I was faced with someone reluctant to let me join the war.

"I fought alongside your father, you know. Do you think he'd want to see his son following in his footsteps?"

"He would not have objected to the choice I have made. He always understood."

He sighed in frustration. He then spoke in hushed tones - perhaps afraid he might face consequences for what he was about to say.

"Isn't it enough that one good Fac has already gone away to the war and never returned? Your family has already done enough. Your service has been paid."

"Not all of it."

Another exasperated sigh left his throat. To my shock, he almost seemed to be begging me not to sign up.

"Haven't you had any other job offers? There's plenty out there for the likes of you. Why would you want to join the Army?"

Then, as now, I was faced with that fateful question. In answering it, I should explain the conversation that lead to it.


My Father was a full-time professional soldier. He was not just any average infantryman - he was part of a commando unit for much of his military career. Much of his service before the war involved tracking down pirates in the home system, working alongside the local militia. He was in the middle of this positing when the extraordinary double announcement came that three new Hierarchs had risen to the throne in High Charity and contact with a new, hostile species had been made.

I was still a child then. Father was the closest of my two parents; my mother was shipmistress of a missionary vessel and also lent her services to the Navy, thus she was not around much. That isn't to say I didn't relish every occasion that she came home - but my father was a more constant presence due to his posting at the time. The only relative who was always present was my grandmother - it was from her that I heard the stories of our history, from Han the Navigator to the ancient mariners of the great sea of Eayn. She was the closest family figure I had.

Whenever father came home from leave, I was always beaming with joy. In the mornings and throughout the days would take me on hunting trips in the wetlands, where we would use antique bolt-rifles to bring down the net-bills that always flew around the marshes. When you caught one and roasted it, the meat made for a true delicacy.

"Life has been taken for this meat, my son" he would say. "Whenever you take a life, you must be prepared for the consequences. It is not something to be taken lightly."

In the evenings, he would tell me stories of his life in the military - of clashing with pirates, of fighting against Unggoy or Heretic uprisings and fighting alongside the mighty Sangheili. When the war came I was nine cycles of age, and still shedding the last of my down. It was after this point that my father was given much less leave, and like so many others was mobilised to fight. My mother was subject to the same demands - I never saw her again after the war began.

My father only came home once, five cycles after the Ninth Age of Reclamation was proclaimed - and when I saw him, I could see that he had changed. He still embraced his son lovingly - but when he did so I could feel that something was not right. He would not go out to the wetlands when I asked, instead content to sit on the porch almost motionless for hours on end. Here he would watch the sunset while sipping scalding hot tea.

He hardly ever spoke. When I first childishly asked what it was like, fighting against those evil creatures that we now knew to be called Humans, he simply frowned and turned away.

It was only once, on one of the evenings on the porch, that he finally shared something of the war with me while I was sat down beside him.

"This is not just any other war, Trau. It is greater than any war our Covenant has fought before."

"Greater than the War of the Asteroids?"

My people's defence of our home when the Sangheili first arrived to subjugate us had passed into legend. The history books always sold our resistance as what enabled the Kig-Yar to have the autonomy and paid status in the Covenant that we possessed, even if it was a relatively low position. In that conflict, we had fought for our survival and won. That was something to be proud of. Every Kig-Yar chick was taught that it was the most epic war in history.

"Much greater," he snorted with cynicism. "That war only involved this system. The Humans are much more widespread than we first realised. We find more of their worlds with each cycle. This war could go on for many more."

I was stunned. This campaign had gone on for five long cycles already - that was already a long time, as wars go. It was hard to imagine a war lasting even longer. The Great Unggoy Rebellion, the largest full-scale conflict in recent history, had only gone on for one cycle before the glassing of Balaho. The subjugation of the Jiralhanae, in which my father had fought in his late-teens, had lasted even less than that. These new enemies had obviously shaken him.

"They are just as dangerous as the Prophets have said, then?"

"That they are," my father agreed, "but I wouldn't believe everything the Prophets say in their broadcasts. They promised us a quick victory when this age began. They still promise it now. They haven't prepared the peoples of our Covenant for the fact that the Humans are fighting for their survival, just as we once did." He sipped his tea again. "They will never surrender."

Now my shock was even greater.

"Are you saying...that we could lose this war?" Such a revelation would be devastating. Our people always liked to believe we were not completely under the Prophets' sway - yet from childhood on I had been taught that the Covenant was all-powerful. Nothing could withstand our mighty fleets, our power to burn whole worlds. Our armies, diverse and drawn from many warring peoples united in one purpose, had never been beaten. We had conquered almost all of this arm of the galaxy, along with so many races and worlds. Our might was invincible, unstoppable.

To learn now that there was an enemy that dared to think it could defeat the Covenant, that was perhaps its virtual equal in power and strength; that would shatter everything I ever thought I knew about this universe I lived in.

To my relief, he shook his head.

"No. Not everything the Prophets and Sangheili have been saying should be doubted. It is true that the Human Navy cannot match ours. They have no shields, their ships are much slower...I have seen them burned away by our vessels like paper. We will keep burning their worlds with them, until we reach their homeworld...but as to how that long that will be...how many lives will be lost...how much more will be lost..."

He fell silent. I let him have a moment as he returned to his steaming drink. I struggled to understand the full meaning of his last words - how much more will be lost. Surely lives were the greatest losses in war?

"There is much to fighting to come then," I offered. Perhaps I would get my chance, after all. I had talked to my father about signing up before - he hadn't objected, but he had asked me to look at alternatives. But I had no desire to become a low-paid crewman working for some haughty shipmistress, which was the average job on offer for most young male Kig-Yar. A part of me wanted to follow my father.

"There is. But do not think of it as a game of glory." After that, his reticence returned. We silently watched the sunset together, only talking occasionally - about the battles he'd fought, about my future, about life in general.

He was called back to action the next morning. A cycle later came the news that he had always told me was a possibility - but that I naively never thought would come.

One of his comrades brought the news to me - in the form of his commando helmet, with a clean hole through which the human marksman's bullet had passed into his skull. I knew that he would have died instantly. The green armoured soldier assured me it was so - he had been there with my father on the Human world of Harvest - but it was no consolation. As my father's ashes were presented to my grandmother and I - what remained of our family - I broke down and wept. We laid his urn to rest on a hill near the wetlands, not far from our home.

In the following two cycles, more losses followed. My mother was pronounced missing. Whether that meant she had been killed or had simply left the fold and turned to piracy, we did not know. All we knew was that while on a long-range reconnaissance mission contact had been lost with her ship. I felt sorrow, but also anger - she had seldom been a part of my life, and before she left this world forever she could have at least found some time to see her son. But I knew I could not change anything - she was gone, and that was that.

My grandmother was the last to leave me. Distraught by the disappearance of her daughter and by the death of her son-in-law, she seldom spoke afterward. I found myself, for the fast time in my life, being primarily in charge of my own destiny. You might say I was forced to grow up early. My grandmother passed away peacefully, just over a month before I signed up. Thus, the house passed to me.

Two days later, I received a visit from the head of our clan, Chur'R-Fac. Her first name was adopted, and denoted her inherited title as matriarch of the Fac clan, a naming practice dating back to Eayn's pre-spacefaring past. Her line directly descended from that of Han the Navigator - and as such it claimed leadership as the ruling line over our clan and the territory it still controlled. This still included all of Han City and the land surrounding it, which made her very powerful. Though Fac was a young clan by our people's standards, her title demanded respect from all Kig-Yar.

Like most clan matriarchs dating back to antiquity, she was an accomplished shipmistress. And like most of today's matriarchs, she had a fine record of service in the Covenant Navy. However, she was also wealthy from the mercantile shipping trade, and controlled most of the guilds on T'Vao along with a large slice of the moon's merchant fleet. She also owned several other ports-of-call in the Chu'ot belt. When she visited, with her submissive menservants trailing behind, I knew that she was looking for new labour.

"You have my full and deep consolations for your loss," she assured me with a clearly practiced tone, while one of her retainers poured me a tea bowl. "Many have suffered such losses lately, but I understand that you are in a difficult position right now. I want to assure you that I can help you."

The matriarch's duty was to oversee the whole clan, to pay attention to any of our troubles and try to rectify them. It hadn't taken long for the passing of a prominent shipmistress and her soldier husband to become known to the whole clan. Chur'R-Fac's motivations for this visit were not restricted to her civil duties, however - as I soon found out.

She gave me a list of possible jobs that she had on offer on the ships she owned - most of them menial, all of them low-paid. But, she said, they had the potential for advancement - especially if I joined the crew of her own vessel, working for the Ministry of Tranquility.

I doubted that somehow. The men of my race still seldom made shipmaster; most shipmistresses were happy to keep us males on as underlings, on their ships and under their command for a long time. After all, why let a crew full of prospective mates out of your sight by letting them leave and advance in rank? It was so much easier for them to keep male underlings around to hen-peck. Even now, I could see the lustful, seductive look in the matriarch's eyes as she told me about a vacancy on her ship, her ruff of head feathers flexing in display.

Some men might have fallen for flirtation from a wealthy woman, but I knew I wanted nothing to do with that. Chances are she would find a better, older mate and discard me like a forgotten toy. I knew it often happened.

I didn't tell that to Chur'R-Fac, of course. Instead, I simply told the matriarch I was not interested in menial work. The military would provide greater prospects, dangerous as it was right now.

Disappointment clouded her eyes. She clearly wanted cheap labour, and a male who had lost his family should have been an easy source in her eyes.

"Don't throw your life away. I knew your mother. She was a fine shipmistress, among the finest of us all. She would want you to take up my offer."

Yes, of course she would. I would know, given how little my mother visited me. The matriarch would know all about that too, of course.

"I barely knew her. And now she's gone."

"It's something you have to accept. Have you ever considered that she might have been dissatisfied with your life here? It's possible she may have done the quite natural thing and chosen a new mate - one who would help her to hatch women."

I was furious now. The suggestion that my mother was troubled that she only had one male chick - the fact that it might be true only added to my anger. I wouldn't be lectured or dictated to by this pompous woman.

"Well, she won't be worrying about me, then. I'm signing up."

The matriarch now dropped all pretence of civility as she moved to storm out, together with her retainers, who scurried out of the door ahead of her.

"Very well. Go and get yourself killed, just like that useless mate of a father! If you worked for me you might have made up for him. Now I know this bloodline he helped start is clearly wasted. No wonder she left!"

She slammed the door behind her. I was left seething. There was clearly nothing for me here now - I knew that when I left that house and sold it. I certainly couldn't turn back, and I certainly wasn't going to go grovelling to Chur'R-Fac with an apology and a job application. Given the view she clearly held of my father and I, I'd be lucky if she'd still make me a crewman of one of her waste barges.

So I had no regrets that day I sold the house, nor when I left it for the last time the day I left for Han City.


So, now you know the answer. I wanted to join the army simply because I didn't see myself with any prospects in my current situation. I wanted out of here - joining the military was a springboard to potentially greater things. I could join the mercenary guilds on Eayn, maybe even on High Charity if I got really lucky. I was taking a great risk, of course - even the official broadcasts couldn't hide the danger of the war. My last conversation with my father gave me a small taste of the reality.

Yet the risk seemed worth the rewards - it seemed the most attractive option at the time. It certainly seemed better than becoming another low-paid young man slaving under someone like Chur'R-Fac. She represented everything I wanted to avoid in my future, as far as I was concerned. The military ignored gender, ignored clans and bloodlines with all the differences and discriminations they produced. It was the most equal environment for Kig-Yar. That was how it was sold, anyway.

Perhaps beyond the desire to improve my immediate prospects, I did have a desire to follow my father - though that was probably the only non-material motive. I wish to assure you that I was not choosing to serve out of any desire for vengeance, or to satisfy his honour. It might be tempting for the reader to think that was so, but my father told me that those who went into battle with such feelings were usually the first to fall. A desire for revenge or satisfaction leads to rash judgement and unstable minds - such people are not survivors. I wanted to be a survivor. I couldn't reverse my father's death by seeking retribution.

Nor did I have any overwhelming thirst for glory - my father was also dismissive of such notions, and he did his best to pass that onto me. Glory and honour were child's words to him. Those who went to war with those words in their minds ended up dead very quickly. Leave that nonsense to the four-jaws, father often said. The Sangheili went into battle with such ideas and were shot down by the dozen. A good soldier, he said, should only be concerned with the fact that he has a job to do.

There was also another small motivation in the back of my mind, in the dark corners that one does not voice. This war had taken him from me, and since that day two cycles ago I had wanted to know whether this war was worth his death. Saying that it was not was a sure way to an accusation of heresy and terrible punishment - but I wanted to know for sure. I knew my father had been fighting for our Covenant; "they gave their lives for our Covenant and the Journey on which they will join us all", the Prophets would always say in their holo-broadcasted sermons. But was this a war the Covenant needed to fight?

There was only one way to know for myself. It was not the sole or even most important reason why I joined the blessed Army of the Covenant, but it was there in my mind. I wanted to know what killed my father on the inside, as I saw the last time he returned - before it killed him altogether.

I would not be deterred.

"I want to join because there's nothing else left." It was as good a response as I could give.

The Major sighed behind his desk, before handing me the notepad. I pushed the digital pen to the screen and eagerly signed.

"One more thing," he grunted. "Don't worry about your age. The age of enrolment has already been lowered to seventeen. This war isn't ending any time soon."

I hadn't heard that news, but it made things easier for me, I suppose. I handed him back the pad, and then the T'Voan minors present herded all of us who had already signed to the rear courtyard.

The city hall was essentially a huge dome of marble and wood - the courtyard where I signed was located at the front entrance - the larger rear courtyard was located on the other side of the great dome. As we were herded inside, I could see the ornate interior of the dome. It pays clear homage to our spacefaring history. The whole inside of the dome is painted with a full vista of stars, planets, galaxies and even a bright streaming comet. In the centre of this vista, at the top of the dome, the symbol of the Fac Clan looks down on all below; a set of dividers and an ancient astrolabe branded with the glyph for "Fac". The interior of clan's main meeting place always takes my breath away.

But we didn't have much time to stop and gaze in awe, as the warriors ushering us forward ordered us to keep moving. Soon, we came to the rear courtyard - like its front counterpart surrounded by steel pillars and floored with fine tiles, but square in shape and much larger. Large enough to fit the three Type-52 dropships waiting for us.

The Phantoms were lined up in a row, on the ground and with their engines running. The hum of their anti-grav units filled the air, adding to our collective anticipation. The soldiers wasted no time in herding us on board. I took my place aboard the central craft in the row.

One we were all aboard, the pilot sealed the troop bay, though I still got a view out of the nearest porthole. The engines engaged with a sharp whine and the courtyard grew smaller and smaller through the porthole, along with the rest of Han City.

Then, with a sharp turn that sent all our stomachs lurching, the Phantom turned away from the city. The feeling of vertigo increased as the dropship climbed higher, through the wisps of clouds, before all trace of the atmosphere completely left the view through my porthole. Soon enough, the view was dominated by the black of space above, and the brilliant view of T'Vao's storm-wracked seas and continents below.

We were being taken to our training ground on Eayn, where we would go through basic training before being officially assigned to a legion in the Covenant Army.

There was no turning back now.

A/N: I know people may start saying T'Vao is an asteroid, not a moon - but having read Mortal Dictata and the reasons for the Skirmisher's appearance, I find it more likely to be the latter. They evolved that way because the gravity is higher on T'Vao that it is on Eayn, something that would not be possible on a smaller asteroid. Also, this is due to atmospheric conditions; asteroids have no atmosphere. Furthermore, Mortal Dictata describes atmospheric conditions. This lead me to conclude that T'Vao is a larger moon of Chu'ot, rather than just another asteroid. Feel free to dispute that, but I could only imagine it as a moon.

Anyway, keep an eye out for Chapter 4!