Chapter Ten: New Masters

8th July, 2533 (UNSC Calendar)

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

Eayn orbit, Y'Deio System

CAS-class Assault Carrier Steadfast Pilgrim, Fleet of Adamant Devotion

After the brief banter with Par, the Phantom ride continued in silence. We were just too apprehensive about what lay ahead.

I remembered the first Phantom ride I'd taken, back when I'd been on the way to the training grounds of Vara. The atmosphere had been subdued then, but not completely silent. There had still been the occasional bouts of conversation and banter, as you would expect of normal, high-energy young men.

Now, there was an utter silence. We were definitely not the same people we'd been when signing up; not least because there were fewer of us on the ride to the Assault Carrier than there had been on that first flight to Eayn. We sat in neatly ordered rows, our feathers and skin illuminated a bright indigo by the purple interior light.

Overcrowding sure isn't a problem this time. I grimly remembered how we'd been packed into the three Phantoms. On that first flight, we had barely enough space around the gunwales.

This time, the three dropships were flying with a fairly average load – plenty of space was left. The surplus recruits now lay at the bottom of the Ravine in Ha'chut, beneath the murky waters of the Var'ka'mar Marshes – in just about every shithole the Ha'chut peninsular had to offer.

Nor was there any more openly-displayed drowsiness, even in the morning after a night of drinking – we had been drilled and trained so extensively that we were all alert, ready for the moment we would have to get off the ship. That would be a key survival tool.

There was one similarity with that first flight to Vara, though – we were still being flown by Ruuhtian pilots, their high-pitched calls still distinct over the comms net as they communicated with the flight controllers on board the Steadfast Pilgrim.

I found that odd – I would have thought the Sangheili would have taken charge of us instantly. When the Phantoms had landed in Vara, I expected them to come trooping out in their famous armour, forcing us into the dropships.

That none were aboard these Phantoms was a surprise, though hardly one worth complaining about. It seemed that when we met the Sangheili for the first time, it would be aboard their Assault Carrier.

No, I corrected myself, our Assault Carrier. That ship would be our home from now on. For me, it would be my only home.

My family was now long dead, our home sold off – the military really was the only home and family I had right now. I hadn't allowed myself to dwell on that fact these past months – I'd just been too focused on trying to complete my training – but it was moments like this when I found myself thinking about it more.

What would the future hold for me? Would I have any other life, beyond this? I decided that for now, I would settle down aboard the Steadfast Pilgrim. The carrier could end up being the last home I would ever have.

The flight didn't take long. As I said, I wasn't near any porthole – the only hint I got of our arrival was increased chatter over the battlenet between the high-pitched Ruuhtian pilots.

I could also hear the voices that replied to them, that guided the flight in and gave them docking clearance – no doubt those of the flight controllers on board the carrier. They were deep, baritone voices that carried the weight of undisputable authority and blunt discipline. I could hear them echoing in my head and my soul, refusing to leave after entering my ears.

They were Sangheili voices. Not for the first time, I wondered with dread at what lay ahead.

Then there was an odd whisper of energy as we passed through the force field over the carrier's single enormous launch bay, followed by a vibrating clunk as our pilot landed us on the solid hangar floor.

We all tensed ourselves up, getting ready to disembark, slinging on our kit-bags and weapons, and simultaneously turning to the port-side door of the troop-bay. This door's indicator lights were flashing, indicating that it was about to depressurize and open. This would be the door we would enter the carrier through.

Gone were the sleepy, clumsy recruits who had blindly stumbled out of the Phantoms into Eayn's light after first landing in Vara. Now, we were trained soldiers, beaten into following orders quickly and efficiently, soldiers who knew better than to anger our superiors with tardiness or incompetence.

Especially when our superiors are Sangheili.

We felt our blood freeze as the port-side door opened with an icy hiss of gas. We all expected to hear orders to be boomed at us from four-mandible jaws, to be confronted by towering armoured monsters with leathery skin, to be dragged out of the dropship by muscled alien limbs.

But none of this happened. Instead, we disembarked from the ship, our armour clicking as we moved. No orders were screamed – there was still only silence.

Nor were we met by Sangheili. As we all assembled in front of the Phantom, we could see a row of T'Vaoan Minors – the etchings on their armour betrayed the fact they were seasoned veterans.

Elln was among them – but I didn't react to her presence. Now was not the time for mooning. I simply assembled with the others into our assigned rows, with my comrades in the 4th Lance. We had been expected to assemble in formation without the presence of Xen and the Majors – they would be arriving soon afterwards. Self-discipline was now ingrained.

We were soon at attention – but still no Sangheili marched out to meet us. Confusion began to set in – the four-jaws had to be around somewhere.

I looked around. While our cruisers and lighter carriers had multiple small launch bays, assault carriers only had one great launch bay and flight deck, wide and cavernous, located in the aft section. It was so enormous it was hard to believe you were even on a spacecraft, when you first saw it. A CAS-class assault carrier is an awe-inspiring sight – not just in terms of size but the sheer amount of space inside.

The CAS-class was the quintessential symbol of our Covenant's naval and military power. It was hard to believe our Navy had so many. I'd heard stories of the CSO Supercarrier, which was meant to be well over five times the size – but they were few and far between. You'd only see those at the heart of one of the really large fleets; as the flagship of a Hierarch or some big-shot Sangheili fleet commander, usually as part of some huge, glamorous operation.

The Fleet of Adamant Devotion was one of the smaller formations in the Covenant Navy – the Steadfast Pilgrim was its flagship and sole Assault Carrier.

The hangar was easily large enough for a corvette or light cruiser to dock and refuel, if necessary. Right now, the space was taken up by docking racks packed with Seraph and Banshee fighters, or Phantom, Lich and Spirit dropships. The racks were arrayed along several tiered platform levels, which ran like gantries along the sides of the hangar.

We had landed on the bottom level, right on the floor of the cavern itself. As well as smaller ships, I could also see rows of ground vehicles – Wraiths, Shadows, Spectres, Ghosts – ranked in assigned motor pool spaces. These were the cream of our Legion's armoured and mechanised contingents – they would be vital in supporting any ground assault.

I had almost expected to see the feared and revered Type-47 Scarab walkers parked here, too – I'd heard so much about them. This hangar would have easily accommodated several. I was disappointed however; if the Kr'evan Legion had been equipped with Scarabs, then I would have seen them in the hangar.

That came as a surprise to me. A CAS Assault Carrier at full wartime strength would be expected to have at least one Scarab, even in a small, relatively low-ranked fleet such as this. That no Scarabs could be seen in the Steadfast Pilgrim's launch bay was odd – but it was a mystery that I didn't have an answer for right now.

Finally, in the distant gantries and parts of the flight deck itself, I could just about see what appeared to be Sangheili; tall, indistinct dark armoured forms overseeing movements of supplies and equipment. I could even hear their deep-throated bellows and growls from down here, sending tremors through my soul.

But none of those Sangheili came down to receive us. More visible were flotillas of brightly coloured Huragok, checking on the vehicles and ships that were packed into the flight deck. They looked like forests of luminescent glow-jellies in one of the dark, deep underwater caves of T'Vao's many reefs and coasts.

There definitely were Sangheili in here – but right now they were just too far away for me to observe in any great detail. Why were there not more? Why were they not coming for us? This was their ship, after all.

My thoughts were interrupted by one of the Minors – a man in his later twenties – stood right beside Elln.

"Welcome aboard the Steadfast Pilgrim, new blood. Let's not waste time. 4th Lance will follow Senior Elln. 3rd Lance shall follow…"

I tuned out the rest of the Minor's assignments and joined the rest of my Lance in following Elln through one set of the automatic doors, in the nearest bulkhead. For quick clarification, Senior Minor (or Senior for short) was her proper title, due to her combat experience.

Elln lead us through the chiming automatic doors, and we made our way along one of the carriers many passageways. The other Lances soon formed up behind us, each lead by a Senior Minor.

As we made our way through the corridors, we occasionally came across a passing Huragok, or Unggoy crewmen coming and going. Many of these Unggoy that we passed looked larger and tougher than Deacon Ribib, with scarred and barnacled flesh. Their speech was guttural, filled with profanity and grunting. They were a world away from the well-groomed, well-spoken Deacon we had come to know so well during our training.

These were the tough ones of their kind – those assigned the nastiest and most dangerous jobs in the Covenant. Still, upon the sight of Kig-Yar they kept well out of our way – though one of them gave us a filthy look as we passed him, snorting through this breathing mask. We ignored them all.

Still, we encountered no Sangheili – something that continued to bug me.

As a major troop carrier as well as a naval capital ship, Steadfast Pilgrim was also the home vessel of the Kr'evan Legion. My first unit amounted to around 7,000 warriors of various species, out of a total complement of 40,000 that an Assault Carrier could hold; though before leaving Vara we were told other Integrated Combat Legions and Sangheili Warrior Crèches were also based aboard.

Those warrior crèches were made up entirely of Sangheili – young warriors that were eager to gain their first kills and honours. It was made very clear to us that we should stay out of their way.

Perhaps we were being deliberately kept out of sight from the Sangheili right now – that was the only explanation I could think of for the fact that the four-jaws were nowhere to be seen in the corridors. Still, their absence was…unnerving.

Eventually, after turning another corner, we came to an elevator bay fitted with a set of three gravity lifts. I took in a breath. It had been a while since I'd last been in one – the last time had been at Var'ka'mar, when we'd been deployed from the grav-lifts aboard our Phantoms. I still remembered how weird and light-headed I'd felt from being in those things.

There was no choice here. Our Lance all stepped into the right hand lift, and soon we were shooting up a translucent tube. The other Lances took the other two, one person at a time.

I felt my stomach lurch as the system took me on its ride – these grav-lifts would take some getting used to. I'd heard stories of grav-lifts on High Charity that were even longer, that gave you an even more awe-inspiring ride. These lifts generally had quite a good safety record – but even so, the vertigo that comes from shooting up one of these things can be quite jarring to a first-timer. Still, it was the most efficient way of getting around a ship this size.

The grav-lift ride went on for a couple of minutes – a testament to the size of our Assault Carrier. Finally, we reached our destination, which was protected by a set of doors with a coded lock. Our kind would be kept separate from others.

"Welcome to No.7 Kig-Yar Barracks," Elln announced. "This is the barracks of 2nd File, T'Vaoan Contingent of Kr'evan Legion. Our file contains six Lances - each Lance will get its own quarters. 4th Lance, stick with me."

So it was much the same organizational structure as in the Vara Training Grounds – we had been divided into six Lances over there, too. Six T'Vaoan Lances made one T'Vaoan File in the Combat Legions – and our Majors would still lead us, commanding the Lances they'd been responsible for back in Vara.

Champion Xen, on the other hand, would help to oversee the whole T'Vaoan Contingent of the Kr'evan Legion, which included many more Files; probably four or six. However, he would ultimately be reporting to whatever Sangheili Field Officer it was who commanded our contingent.

The area we had been lead into through the locked doors was a circular, domed hall, lit up by glowing indigo lamp at the top of the dome. Spaced evenly around the hall's circumference were more sets of automatic doors – some of which were marked with holographic signs as being a Lance's quarters.

Other doors, however, were marked as leading to a wash/shower area, a gym, a medical centre, a relaxation/leisure area and a mess hall. The whole area looked like a lobby – it seemed that our barracks had everything we needed, entirely self-contained and segregated from the rest of the ship, and its diverse range of warriors.

Such segregation was the natural order of things, in the Covenant military.

Elln lead us through one of these doors – sure enough, it was the living quarters of the 4th Lance. The room had a large set of lockers for our belongings and was lined with twelve bunks in total – which struck me as a bit excessive, considering there were only eight of us left. Fortunately Elln was quick to explain.

"The 4th Lance will include myself, and two other Seniors to bolster your numbers," she declared, as we all assembled into the room. Including Major Nix, the Lance will be restored to its full strength of twelve."

Lance size did vary a lot in military – though as a general rule a Lance was smaller than a File. However, T'Vaoan Lances did typically number twelve soldiers in total – as heavy infantry, the Legions wanted our formations to be concentrated.

As Elln spoke, two other Seniors strode through the doors, taking position either side of her. She kept the introductions brief.

"This is Dehn," she gestured to the Minor on our left, before turning to the right, "and Cahn. All three of us will live and fight alongside you from here on out. We will join you all in these quarters when the time comes. Any questions?"

Now was my chance – I raised my hand.

"Will we be meeting the Sangheili soon? I thought they would have met us at the hangar. They are overseeing this file, aren't they?"

Dehn and Cahn both burst into snide laughter. Elln gave a sly smile.

"Yes, they will be overseeing us all. But don't you worry – our masters will be meeting you soon. Very soon. They want to make the introduction special."

I did not like her tone at all. I could see everyone else shuffling nervously – the reaction from the seniors, and Elln's answer to my question, had definitely made them uneasy. Others were just simply frozen in shock.

"We will join with you properly, after you meet our masters," Elln said, repeating her earlier statement. "Any more questions?"

No one spoke.

"Excellent. We'll see you soon then."

Elln and the other two seniors left us in our new living quarters, smirking and snickering to themselves. A moment of silence passed spoke before Vek – predictably enough – broke it.

"What did she mean, 'special'?"

"I have a feeling we're going to find out soon," Shik grunted, as he chose a bunk. "If it's special, then it's probably going to be a surprise."

"You mean as in a surprise attack?!" Vek was horrified. Behind him, Par snorted.

"What, you think the four-jaws want to give us a comfortable time here? They've never given a damn about us. No reason why they should start being good to us now." He grunted. "Maybe the fuckers will use us for sword practice – nothing we could do…"

"Par, shut up." Shik snapped. "Vek, the same goes for you. We don't need this. The Sangheili will meet us soon – maybe it's just going to be some ritual or ceremony. You've heard how the four-jaws are – tradition is everything to them. Whatever it is they have in mind for us, it can't be worse that what we've already seen."

You could always trust Shik to keep us on an even keel. When there's uncertainty or bad things going on, people often get carried away with their words and tempers – especially when they're quick-tempered as Par or as loose-tongued as Vek. That often undermines morale, even if such an effect isn't intended.

Shik knew how to nip that sort of thing in the bud. If he survived the fighting to come, I fully expected Shik to make Major quite quickly.

I tried to put Elln's answer out of my mind, and having put my weapon and belongings in a locker, chose a cosy-looking bottom bunk. The bunks were built into the wall – they were a lot more like pods than beds. Within these pods were viewscreens, personal lights, even a little wardrobe for clothing. I could take my armour off and put it in there.

Remembering Nix's lecture about being prepared, I decided that was a bad idea. Still, a lie down would be nice – I could do it with my armour on.

As I lay down inside the pod-like berth, it simply didn't occur to me that I could drift off into a nap – which probably wasn't the best idea – but that was exactly what I ended up doing.


Trau paused as he grasped the gilded handle of the finely crafted teapot. It was made from blue and white porcelain reminiscent of human pottery, decorated with artistic scenes depicting the Nav-Yar – the flightless seabirds of Eayn. On every face of the pot, the giant birds swam and hunted beneath the seas of the Kig-Yar homeworld, or rested on its craggy coasts.

It was the third day of our interview – Trau had been forced to end the second day early for business reasons. For another day afterward he had been busy working out a contract with a new client for his shipping company, together with his business partner. Now, the day after that, he was now in the Dyrrachium teahouse again for our third interview day, after a profuse apology and explanation.

As he poured the sweet-smelling tea into our bowls, I put the Scribe recorder on pause. He was still in a chatty mood, though.

"Consider this tea part of my formal apology, Mr. Crawford," he intoned. He was finely dressed today – in a fine green waistcoat and an odd alien gown, decorated with likenesses of flowering vines. It looked like an outdoor dressing gown. "It is a San 'Shyuum blend – originally from Janjur Qom itself. They grew their teas not just on High Charity, but off-world as well – they had to in order to meet their massive demand."

It hadn't been such a problem that he'd been gone for a day – I'd spent the time sightseeing more of Byzantium. My editor had agreed that I could spend over a year or more out here, if necessary – he knew that I would be writing a book from this interview. At the same time, I was working to a deadline – so I was grateful Trau was able to resume quickly.

Trau gingerly put down the teapot, and settled into his chair.

"Many of their herbs were grown in Y'Deio, too. We still grow them now - and it all still fetches a fine profit. It's one of my company's most common imports, in fact. Sea flower with mint grass and sky spice – we see a lot more San 'Shyuum tea these days than we do of the San 'Shyuum themselves."

I took up the bowl and drank it – mesmerised that I was sampling a delicacy that had once been enjoyed by the Prophets of High Charity themselves. It was a small, exquisite taste of a world now lost forever.

Yet as I sampled the sea flower tea, a thought came to me – one that I hadn't considered before. I made sure to press the record button again, before I posed the question on my mind.

"I do have a question before we start again. We've reached the point in your story where you meet the Sangheili for the first time. You've often brought them up in this interview, and you've made it clear there was much resentment there, from many of your people and yourself personally. I've noticed that you don't seem to talk about the Prophets that way quite as often – even though they were the ones in charge."

He gave me an odd look. I cleared my throat.

"I know this is a sensitive question; but the Prophets were the dominant rulers of the Covenant. They might have claimed to rule on equal terms with the Elites, but we know now that was a lie. They created and manipulated that whole system, that whole religion – so didn't you have good reason to resent the Prophets a lot more? Why were many of you so bitter about the Sangheili, when they were ultimately just the biggest hired muscle in the Covenant?"

Trau seemed to understand now – he nodded slowly in response.

"I have been asked that quite a lot by humans. It's a good question – you might want to devote a sub-section or so to include my answer."


It is true the Prophets, not the Sangheili, were our supreme rulers in the Covenant. They had the official status as divine beings, the voices and seers of the Gods themselves. That was how we were expected to view them.

They were honoured in all the official prayers and announcements – every order we received in the military was given in the name of the Prophets, specifically the Hierarchs. Their sermons were broadcasted on a regular basis.

However, there is a fact that I don't think most humans appreciate when they talk about the Covenant. The average Covenant citizen (and by average I mean Unggoy and Kig-Yar, not Sangheili) was highly unlikely to ever see a San 'Shyuum in the flesh, much less interact with one.

You'd see them in holo-broadcasts, true – but unless you were lucky enough to be on High Charity or one of the ecclesiarchal worlds, you would never physically encounter a Prophet in your lifetime. Even on the Holy City itself, they largely kept to themselves outside of official business.

As rulers, the San 'Shyuum were extremely distant. Even governors of key worlds across the Covenant Empire tended to be shut away in their inner sanctums, or in orbital stations. They had travelling missionaries, true – but a visit from one of these San 'Shyuum to a place like Eayn or T'Vao was a rare and celebrated event.

The Prophets probably believed that such distance was a necessity, in order to main their aura of divinity. Reigning Hierarchs seldom visited any of the countless worlds they ruled over, nor did they physically appear in public often. High Prophets and High Councillors didn't go on mass publicity tours or state visits, like I've seen with human politicians – though their presence was felt throughout Covenant society.

I've had the chance to read books on human history in my later years. One thing that fascinated me was how human dictatorships employed what they called a 'cult of personality', where individual leaders – their personalities, their achievements, their faces – are trumpeted through art, culture and mass propaganda. Human propagandists were so adept that they could turn any leader, no matter how despotic, into a living god to be revered. The presence of the dictator is thus seen and felt everywhere, becoming impossible to escape in their regime.

We were familiar with this method of thought control in the Covenant too. Statues and permanent holograms of past and present Hierarchs were erected on every populated world in the Covenant Empire. They were praised in hymns, in iconography in our shrines, in everyday broadcasts. You could not go anywhere without seeing the High Prophets honoured in some way – they were indeed our 'living gods'. We obeyed them as such.

At the same time, the Covenant system didn't personalise its rule to the same degree as human regimes, which were often centred on individual dictators. So our cult of personality was not as effective. We referred to our rulers collectively, as 'the Prophets' or 'the Hierarchs', no matter the triumvirate in charge during any given Age. The tenets of the Path stated that it didn't matter who the Hierarchs were at any given time; they ultimately represented the Gods as mere messengers.

Even when you saw the Prophets in broadcasts, it only added to that air of distant authority. They seemed almost like ghosts, or beings of another plane, when they spoke and shined brightly in holograms. It just added to the sense of mystery and distance from reality that surrounded the Prophets – as if they weren't real at all.

If they had actually visited Eayn, T'Vao or any of the colony worlds on a public tour, the aura would likely have disappeared. Then we would have seen them for what they were – mortal beings with very visible mortal weakness, just like us.

My point is that while we were expected to revere the Prophets, to say what we were meant to say about them, to know them as our rulers and above all the consequences for defying them, their sense of distance and physical deficiencies were so great we couldn't fear them. I felt many things whenever I watched the Prophets pontificate in holograms. Fear and dread weren't among them.

After all, how could you fear and dread beings that looked so weak; confined in hover-chairs, so obviously deformed from inbreeding and a lifetime in artificial gravity? Words were their true weapon, of course – but once you heard the words of the Prophets often enough, you could tell they were simply the words of politicians and distant theologians.

We wouldn't have gone around saying this in public, of course. Yet in private discussions with my family and close comrades, we did talk about how the Prophets seemed much less impressive than the official faith made them out to be. Kreth would not have approved of that, being the most faithful among us … but he was a nutcase.

I can even remember the first time I saw a Hierarch give a sermon – it was during the anniversary of our species' signing of the Writ of Union, while my father still lived. He had been off fighting in the war; I had been at home with my grandmother. The clan leaders had promised this year's anniversary would be marked by a sermon from one of three reigning High Prophets; it would be publicly broadcast across the Y'Deio system, in all the major cities.

Han City was one of these – my grandmother and I attended the gathering in Han Square, where a great holo-projector was set up. This wasn't due to any religious fervour – it was simply out of curiosity of actually seeing a Hierarch, even through a hologram.

It was the High Prophet of Mercy who gave the sermon for my people, in remembrance of our induction into the Covenant. Today I strongly suspect that for him, it was a trivial duty tossed into his lap to deal with. He did put a lot of effort into it – he was clearly fervent in the faith he preached and knew a lot of our people's history. Yet as I watched the elderly Hierarch speak, his massive hologram lighting up Han City, his pious voice singing through the streets, I felt anything but fear.

Mercy looked just as frail as any of his species, with only a gilded crown, throne and robes to distinguish him. His impassioned voice croaked with advanced age, and the chronic genetic sicknesses that dogged his people were all too obvious. By the end of the speech, the High Prophet came over as something of a grey figure. He was likely a much less impressive individual than his title suggested.

Did we fear what would happen if we broke their laws? Yes. Did we fear what would be done to us if we defied them? Yes. Did we fear those who enforced their will? Yes. But did we fear the Prophets themselves? Probably not.

The Sangheili, on the other hand – we definitely felt reason to fear them. It wasn't just because they were taller, faster and stronger than us. It was because they were very much the face of Covenant rule, for the billions that made up the 'lesser' species of our union. Like mine, for example. It was much easier to recognise the four-jaws as the ones who dominated us.

It was the Sangheili who would command us in battle. It was the Sangheili who commanded the fleets that came to collect tithes from our home system. And it was the Sangheili who would wipe us off the face of creation if we dared to rebel against the Covenant.

Most of all, it was the Sangheili language that we had to learn, to communicate with everyone else in the Covenant. As it was our union's official language all of us Kig-Yar, Unggoy, Jiralhanae and even San' Shyuum had to know the common tongue of Sanghelios to get by.

The language of the San 'Shyuum by contrast, was ancient and sacred – a language that dated to the time when the Forerunners themselves had lived. The Prophets' tongue was restricted to them alone. The idea of any other race learning their language was considered heretical under Covenant law, a blasphemy punishable by death.

So it was the Sangheili – their language, their culture, their might – whose dominance we truly felt. Thus it was the Sangheili who we feared and resented the most. Even many Prophets were afraid of them the whole time, I think – though this is only obvious with today's hindsight. The more faithful might have feared the Prophets more – but that was only a minority of Kig-Yar.

Perhaps many of us also found it easier to grumble about the Sangheili, as they were the safer target – so long as the four-jaws weren't present when you mouthed off. Grumbling too much about the Prophets was more liable to put you on dangerous ground.

Yet I think even those of us who grumbled at the time did have a grudging respect for the Sangheili – this was more apparent in those who had fought alongside them. I'm not sure if that same respect was afforded to our 'holy' rulers.

When it came down to it however, we had no choice but to be respectful and cowed in the presence of the Sangheili. To do otherwise would be to wish for death – and only the greatest of fools do that.

As I have made clear, there was no doubt that they were the masters.


Even immediately after falling asleep in my bunk, I regretted it.

Maybe it was due to my frayed nerves when I came aboard the carrier – or maybe it was just bad luck, owing to the unpredictability of a sleeping mind – but I ended up having a horrible nightmare during my nap.

I was strapped to a cold, flat metal bed. The entire space around the bed was unseen, shrouded in murky blackness that sifted like some liquid. I was as if I was within the stomach of some living organism. Gradually tall, dark, faceless figures emerged from the blackness. They were armed with wicked looking blades, which they brandished as they advanced towards me.

I tried to escape, to move from the bed, to yell at them, to resist – but my limbs were frozen, my mouth would not move. There was nothing I could do – except watch as the figures held me down with iron fists, using their swords to slice my body apart, skinning me of my plumage, forcing me to watch their fell work as my body was cut into pieces…

Then one of them grabbed me by the neck, dragging my severed head off the bed…and then I awoke.

My body was intact – and so were my feathers. But I gagged as I realised that my neck was caught in a remorseless grip of steel, stronger than any I'd felt before. The hand that held me was huge – I could feel it encircling my entire neck. The flesh on the hand felt hard and leathery, giving off a distinct scent. Terror gripped me – this was no longer a dream.

Before I knew what was happening, I was dragged up from my bunk and thrown onto the floor. I landed on my front, my vision returning from my sleep – but I could see nothing but the metal of the deck. I was glad I'd slept in my armour – it absorbed most of the impact.

"Get up you filth!"

My heart was racing. I'd been subjected to abuse and ear-blastings from our instructors on Eayn – but I knew that was no Kig-Yar voice. It was much too deep, too resonant...and much more menacing. Even more so than Krell's voice. There was also that same odd scent in the air; leathery, as if the entire room had been covered in vast amounts of polish or lacquer.

I rolled myself onto my back, to get a full view of the bastard who'd just dragged me from my bed. I instantly regretted that too.

That was the first time I had ever seen a Sangheili up close. When you see a Sangheili up close for the first time in your life, you don't forget the moment. You feel terrified from the moment they get into your personal space. This one was clad in their regular blue armour – though I could see this bastard's armour had several etchings on it. Though he was a Minor, he was also a veteran.

He towered above me, twice my height, his arms looming large, powerful enough to rip me apart limb from limb. The skin under the armour was almost black, hardened with the thick scales and leathered flesh of his species. His eyes flared a bright orange-red; his clawed hands were clenched in fury. His fearsome toothed mandibles were splayed in rage, revealing his lethal rows of razor sharp teeth. I tried not to imagine those teeth tearing my throat, or ripping chunks from my flesh.

He glared down at me, as though I was a disgusting, putrid mess at his feet.

"Up! On your feet, vermin!"

Once more he lunged for me, his great muscled arm grabbing my own and hauling me up on my feet. I felt like a child being manhandled by an enraged, abusive parent.

The Sangheili Minor shoved me forwards, until I was stood before a higher ranking, red-armoured member of his kin – an Obedientiary. This Sangheili was somewhat taller than the Minor who held me. His armour displayed more etchings – no doubt he'd seen plenty of action to get to his current position. His skin was also a somewhat lighter shade of dark grey, in contrast to the black skin of his subordinate. At least, it looked that way in the fluorescent light.

He was waiting as the others of my lance assembled beside him, arms crossed and legs splayed. His mandibles were clasped in such a way that his teeth seemed bared. I didn't know much about their facial expressions at that time – but it didn't take a genius to know he was scowling.

"This is the one who was late in rising, 'Navasee?" He rumbled, looking down at me as though I were a curiously patterned insect.

"Yes, File Master 'Moramee," the Minor growled. "I found him sleeping. While the rest of his lance was assembling."

He snarled those last words right into my ears, causing me to flinch as his powerful breath filled my ear ways.

I realised in absolute horror that the others had already been getting up while I was asleep – now they were lined up beside the Sangheili, staring at me in horror. I had still been sleeping the whole time, as the Sangheili had marshalled them…

The File Master – 'Moramee – swiftly brought himself down to my level and rounded on me, getting right in my face. Having a Sangheili put his face to your own – that is something else you don't forget.

This File Master's eyes were a clear blue – his bearing and posture carried a clear air of authority. In my position, resistance was not an option. He was obviously not someone who liked to be kept waiting.

"If we were in the field right now, I would have had you beheaded on the spot," 'Moramee hissed slowly into my face through clasped mandibles, his voice dangerously quiet. I could not look away from his eyes, or his toothy maw. His spittle sprayed into my eyes. "And I would make the rest of your lance watch."

He allowed a moment of terrifying silence to pass. I remembered Major Nix's words during training: If the Sangheili catch you unprepared for battle, they will end your life – and I won't be able to save you. I could not stop my entire body from shaking.

The File Master spoke again, his voice slightly raised, even as I was frozen in horror.

"Fortunately for you, the Field Master does not want to be kept waiting. And he seldom approves of wasted soldiers. Even if they are of your kind."

The way he pronounced those last two words filled me with dread. He rose to his full height again, his voice returning to its natural low rumble, his expression and mandibles returning to a dour scowl.

"I will deal with you later," he rumbled down at me. Then he turned to the rest of my lance. "All of you."

He tersely turned on his heel, gesturing sharply to the Minor as he did so. The door opened, and 'Navasee ordered us all into the lobby, bellowing through his mandibles as he did so.

I found myself beside Par once more. None of us dared to speak as we assembled into the lobby.

The Sangheili marshalled all of our lances together in the lobby, bellowing through splayed and rasping mandibles. It wasn't long before they had the whole of 2nd File assembled. Each Lance stood in a row of its own – thus our file was assembled in six rows, for six lances.

There were other Sangheili present besides File Master 'Moramee, and his subordinate 'Navasee. Several other blue-armoured warriors were present too – some looked younger than the others. They would all have to be veterans to be commanding us in an integrated combat legion, though. Those minors would have fought in one of their warrior crèches before being chosen to lead us, here in Kr'evan Legion.

There was also a second red-armoured Sangheili, wearing armour that was much more ornate; obviously 'Moramee's superior. This one's armour was curved and sloping, etched with symbols of experience and commendations of valour. His helmet was crested, leaving no doubt about the authority he carried. This had to be the Field Officer who oversaw the whole T'Vaoan contingent, who liaised directly with Xen on his Field Master's behalf.

I saw 'Moramee and the Field Officer conferring briefly; along with the glare the Officer shot me as 'Moramee gestured in my direction. It was only momentary, however. They did not waste any time in ushering us once more.

We of 2nd File all proceeded out of the front door of our quarters, urged on by bellows from our new masters. As we were marched through the corridors, we were joined by personnel of the other Files. Soon enough, all the T'Vaoan contingent of our Legion was on the march to…wherever the Sangheili were taking us.

It didn't take long for us to find out. After another ride through the grav lifts, we came to another floor at the carrier's aft end. This floor had a large set of doors right in front of the grav lift terminal. The Sangheili ushered us through this doorway, which opened with a chime.

We entered a large assembly hall. Its purpose was made obvious by the vast open space, designed to fit ranks of warriors stood at attention. At the far end of the hall there was a raised dais, flanked by two massive banners behind it.

On the left of the dais, there hung a massive purple banner. It was branded with the crest of the Hierarchs – a flaring triangle modelled after their headdress collars. Beneath this symbol were three triangular Sangheili glyphs, laid out in white. It was the banner of the Covenant itself.

On the right hung an equally huge orange banner, coloured to match the tint of the Sangheili homeworld. This banner displayed two ancient-looking spears crossed together; similar to those used by the Lights of Sanghelios, the famed honour guard of the Hierarchs. The spears were crossed over a shield, bearing the image of a grandiose fortress. Beneath this heraldry was another set of Sangheili glyphs, in two lines framed in banderols.

The upper line was a motto: it translated as "Defenders of Light and Faith". The lower line spelt out the name of our Legion: Kr'evan.

On the dais, there stood a Sangheili who could only have been our Field Master. He was clad in pure gold armour, his head crested by a flared golden helm. I could just about see the hilt of a Type-1 energy sword at his waist – all high-ranking Sangheili officers carried them. They considered them a pre-requisite of high office.

The Field Master stood with his arms behind his back, gazing down at us as we assembled in our ranks and Lances. All of us knew how to do that by now – at least we wouldn't anger the Sangheili further that way. I was kicking myself even then, my stomach filled with dread at what might happen after this assembly was complete…

It did not take us long to be fully assembled – we did so in total silence. As we assembled, other soldiers proceeded through the door we had come through, as well as other doors on either side of the hall.

Not only were there T'Vaoans here; I could also see Ruuhtians and Ibie'shans assembling into the hall. All new inductees from our species home system had been gathered for this…introduction.

The Field Officer who I had seen earlier took up a position on the Field Master's left. On his right, a white-armoured warrior joined him – that one had to be an Ultra, or Evocatus. His armour was a pearlescent white, patterned with etchings and various markings of service. He seemed to gleam on the dais – a bright full moon to the Field Master's brilliant sun. The Field Officer was a minor satellite by comparison.

This shining Evocatus was obviously filling a command role – that of Second Master of the Legion, it seemed. Evocati who filled this role were officially referred to as Evocati Delegatus, but we simply called them 'Ultras' just to avoid complication.

Those white-armoured Ultras who served simply as frontline elite infantry, eschewing any leadership position, we referred to only as 'Evocati' – we never called them Ultras, to prevent confusion with the higher-ranks. Typically an integrated combat legion would have at least one unit of Evocati attached to it, so avoiding confusion between elite shock troops and high-ranking officers was important in a Legion such as ours.

I could also see Champion Xen, stood immediately to the left of the Field Officer. He kept his stance as rigid and his calm as he always would; even in the presence of beings who could easily snap his spine in a single effort.

My thoughts were soon interrupted by a new, booming voice that filled the chamber. Such a voice could only belong to the Field Master.

"I am Field Master Ntal 'Modalee," he boomed, projecting a voice that echoed into our souls. "This is Second Master Minar 'Burgdarai and Veran 'Kuribasamee, overseer of your T'Vaoan contingent."

He gestured at the Ultra and Field Officer, respectively. I briefly noted that the Ultra's last name had a different suffix – he was an honoured swordsman.

'Burgdarai definitely looked like a being I would not want to get into a fight with. The same was true of all Sangheili in general – but the Evocatus looked like one dangerous-looking bastard. I could make out a deep scar across his neck – that had to be from a human combat knife.

The human had tried to kill him by slashing his throat – perhaps from behind judging from the depth of the scar. 'Burgdarai had survived that encounter. It was likely the human had not.

"Know my name, the names of my officers – and know them well. For we shall be closer to you now for what remains of your miserable lives, than that abomination of a mother who laid the foul eggs that you all hatched from, squawking and screeching into this world. You will not have much longer to remember her – indeed, your lives will all end soon enough."

I felt my blood freeze – flinching not just at the Field Master's brutal flippancy, but also the announcement that we would all die soon.

"Yes, you will all die soon enough. Yet we pay good money for all of you and your services, and why?"

He posed that rhetorical question, before leaping down from the dais. He landed with a thud, right in front of the front row of terrified Ruuhtians. He began pacing in front of them.

"You are not in my Legion because I need you. I would sooner admit a full host of 'Burgdarai's Evocati brothers over all of you. We Sangheili are the greatest warriors this galaxy has ever produced. We could fight this war; accomplish whatever the Prophets ask of us without the need of any of you. We have more honour and skill than any of you could ever hope to have. Indeed, we often find you to be more hindrance than help."

The Field Master stopped speaking and pacing for just a moment. Then he resumed with a vengeance.

"You are not here because I ENJOY YOUR COMPANY!"

He yelled those last words into the front row of Kig-Yar at the top of his lungs, making it clear that he detested us.

"I know your species all too well. I have fought alongside and against Kig-Yar in the past. I know your ways of greed and deceit. I know how your kind lie, cheat, betray. How you discard every principle for a few pieces of gold. Your culture is entirely without honour or integrity. That is why we dominate you."

Obviously, he had a very generalised view of our species.

"You are here for one reason and one reason only. It is the will of the Prophets – of the Hierarchs themselves – that you fight for our faith. The Prophets wish you to fight alongside us, their escort on the Path of the Great Journey. They believe that you too are worthy of the Path, as do the Great Ones whom they serve. It is not our place to question them."

He stopped pacing and straightened.

"And when you die – and die you all shall – you shall die as Warriors of the Covenant, as will we when we are fated to take the journey. Then…only then…will we all be equals. Consider that the finest honour to receive."

We just stood to attention, silent as ghosts. A grip of ice was tightening inside me.

"But to achieve this honourable fate, you must take the oath. You all know it."

He paused again – before beginning the oath. We had all been instructed to memorise it during our training; the words came straight from the Writ of Union.

We were quick to repeat and recite those words with him.

"On the blood of our fathers, on the blood of our sons,

We swear to uphold this sacred oath, even to our dying breath;

According to our station, all without exception;

That we shall unconditionally serve and protect the High Prophets;

Noble Hierarchs of the Covenant, messengers of the Gods,

Divine guardians of the Great Journey,

Supreme Commanders of the Armed Forces;

And that as a brave soldier, I shall uphold our Covenant,

Even to my dying breath!

For the Prophets, I shall fight to secure the Great Journey;

For Freedom in Allegiance, for Salvation in Service;

For thou, in faith, shall keep them safe, whilst they find the Path."

The sound of our voices echoed as one through the hall, as we formally swore our allegiance. We all shouted out that oath together, as though we were one organism.

Once we had finished, the Field Master nodded in satisfaction.

"Impressive...most impressive...we may find some use for you after all. You are dismissed – except for the T'Vaoan contingent. Field Officer 'Kuribasamee will brief you further."

Having spoken those words, Field Master Ntal 'Modalee left the hall through a great door behind the dais. The Ultra 'Burgdarai followed him. The Ruuhtians and Ibie'shans also filed out of the hall through the entrances we had all come in from. Soon enough, we T'Vaoans were left alone, assembled in our assigned Lances and Files.

Fortunately, Field Officer Veran 'Kuribasamee didn't seem to favour grandiose speechifying as much as his superior did. He swiftly took up the speaker's position, flanked by Xen and the Majors whom we had come to know so well. Nix, Krel, Fark and the others joined the Sangheili from the sidelines, where they had been watching the Field Master.

'Kuribasamee got down to business immediately. He confirmed what Elln had already told us back at the barracks – we would still be organized into the same Lances of twelve from our training. Each of our Lances would be commanded by the Majors who trained us. Reading through each of the Lances, he confirmed Nix would still be commanding the 4th Lance.

He also laid out the wider command structure of the T'Vaoan contingent. Our unit was made up of six Files, each commanded by a Sangheili Obedientary serving as File Master. Each File contained six Lances. That put our unit at over 400 T'Vaoan soldiers, supplemented by the Sangheili who commanded them.

I believe the human military would class that as being within 'battalion' strength. I guess a Covenant Legion's T'Vaoan contingent was the equivalent of an elite or specialist UNSC battalion.

The Field Officer introduced the red-armoured commanders of each File, as well as the blue-armoured veteran Minors who served under them. Each File Master had three or four such subordinate Sangheili warriors assisting him.

These Minors were aspiring officers in the Integrated Legions, promoted from the warrior crèches. They might serve two or three-cycle stints as apprentice officers in the T'Vaoan contingent. After that the Minors would be promoted or transferred, making use of newly-acquired skills (if any) in their future careers. Assuming they survived their time with us, of course.

Hamar 'Moramee, the File Master who had rounded on me in the barracks, was confirmed as the master of 2nd File – in other words, us. He had four tough looking veteran Minors under his command – including 'Navasee, that bastard who dragged me out of bed.

My gut filled with dread. It was towards the end of his introduction that I began to feel dread even more; for good reason.

"To bring you all up to date, we have rejoined the fleet and are currently in transfer through the void," 'Kuribasamee intoned. "Your home system is long behind you now. We rendezvoused with the fleet at the nearest refit and resupply station, while you were all resting in your barracks."

We must have been in the barracks for quite some time, then. How long had I been asleep, for Chu'out's sake?

"We are currently on course to a newly discovered human colony world. It is a...smaller example of their worlds we have encountered these past eight cycles. But it should not be underestimated. Major Fark will explain."

The red-armoured Sangheili officer nodded in Fark's direction. He served as an intelligence officer in this contingent, as well as a Lance Commander. That meant a lot of work. When did the man ever find time to rest?

Fark immediately took out a remote control from his armour. Pressing a button, the hologram of a slowly rotating planet materialised before us. It was a world dominated by a vast global ocean. Only a single, small continent with a cragged coastline, surrounded by archipelagos of islands, stood out. Not much space to develop into a large colony.

"The Humans call this world 'Fitzroy'," Fark announced. "It is the only habitable world in a system of five."

The alien name left his mouth very awkwardly. It sounded like a crude rasp when spoken by our species. Even so, Fark managed the pronunciation pretty well. He had studied the human language in his intelligence work.

"It's location on our kelguids suggests that this is one of their Outer Colonies – not a major breakthrough in the greater scheme of things. Still, the humans will fight for it. And all human colonies are to be destroyed. Such is the Hierarchs' decree."

He then magnified the image of the planet into a map, showing the northern part of the sole continent. It was a highland region, with a narrow isthmus connecting it to the southern portion of the continent. Shining labels and markers flickered into existence, indicating key locations, while shining topographical lines showed us the lie of the land.

Our probes and scout vessels had surveyed this world in detail, in preparation for our arrival. The part of the continent south of the isthmus appeared to be barren lowlands, for the most part. Fark told us that few of the planet's human population lived there at all – and for good reason.

"Our probes have done a thorough meteorological survey – the sole continent of this planet is bombarded by constant winds, which can reach hurricane strength. There are frequent storms and the weather is often cold and wet. The lowlands of the south are thus unsuitable for colonisation. The northern part of this continent is mountainous and hilly – this offers a settlement protection from the elements. The human population is thus located there."

It amazed me how anyone would want to live in such a place. These humans had to be hardy.

"They appear to be concentrated in two key locations." Fark took out a wand-like control from his belt. At his command, it highlighted the isthmus. "This is the first location we shall strike. The humans have a large airfield here – from what we can tell it is a military installation as well as a spaceport. Capturing this airbase is our first priority – it can be easily re-purposed as a staging area."

He zoomed in on the airfield. It was a crucifix of two great runways, interconnected by a web of taxiways. Hangars and other buildings dominated the northern side of the airfield. Beyond that, there was an array of hills and mountains to the north. Fark then highlighted an area to the south of the airfield. Here the land was somewhat flatter, with occasional small, gently sloping hills and knolls.

"This is where our forces shall land. Any further north and the concentration of enemy air defences will be too great. We of Kr'evan's T'Vaoan contingent have been chosen to help spearhead this assault, alongside our Legion's regular Lances. The Warrior Crèches of M'Ran and V'tar will be guarding our flanks. The humans have substantial forces guarding this airbase and they will be on alert. Orbital surveillance indicates the presence of fortifications around the airfield, as well as in the hills beyond."

I took in a breath. My first battle sounded like it would be tough.

"We shall be arriving at this world within a few units. That should be enough time for you to have a meal before battle. Then we will need you to be ready for the combat drop. When we drop, follow the orders of your commanders. They have been briefed, just as you have now. Any questions?"

Vek raised his hand.

"You mentioned two key locations; which is the second one?"

"That is the capital of this colony, their main settlement. The bulk of the human population is located there. It lies beyond the northern hills and mountains; we shall deal with that bridge when we come to it. No other questions? Good."

It seemed we were only being told as much we needed to know about the coming action. Doubtless there was more information on this world which our immediate commanders would be briefed on; including the real mission our Covenant had on this planet.

We would only be landing on this world at all if there was something of value planetside. I'm sure there was some Forerunner junk on that miserable, wind-swept lone continent. That was why our fleet would not just simply burn that airbase and the northern capital from orbit, with pin-point precision, before moving on.

Another reason for a ground campaign was that our fleet was small – full glassing of an entire planet into an uninhabitable rock required many bombardment-rated vessels. Contrary to popular belief, we didn't simply glass every planet we came across. Even the Covenant didn't have all the ships and resources in the galaxy.

So to ensure every human living on that world was wiped out, we had to mount a ground campaign to properly scour them all from the surface. 'Leave no stone unturned', as the Prophets would say in their war broadcasts.

Fark nodded to 'Kuribasamee, whose powerful voice took over once more. Sangheili could definitely make themselves heard.

"You have your mission – now go. Feed yourselves and rest. But I request that the 4th Lance of 2nd File remain behind...briefly."

I gulped, but remained in line with the rest of my Lance. As the rest of the contingent departed the hall, I stood in silent terror as to what might happen. If my entire Lance was to be punished for my mistake...I would never be able to forgive myself. They were my comrades – but would they forgive me afterward?

Soon enough, we of 4th Lance were left alone with our new masters. 'Kuribasamee folded his arms behind his back, before proceeding down our line formation. He was inspecting each of us, but not looking at us directly. The Field Officer's ornate red armour clicked and shifted as he walked past.

Finally, he stopped right in front of me. He turned his head slowly, bringing his fiery-orange eyes to bear on my form, which was rigid with fear as the Field Officer towered over me. It felt like I was being stared at by a demon.

"You are the one who was found asleep."

He stated it matter-of-factly. His voice was even – but it was still intimidating. All Sangheili had deep, clear, resonant voices – there was something about their vocal chords that made it so. It always felt like you were being addressed by a deity. I could only manage a nod in reply.

The Field Officer gave a low grunt. His mandibles clicked together softly.

"I am sure 'Moramee informed you of what the consequences would normally be. However, this following action will require each and every one of you. I do not need any soldiers from my contingent killed or mauled before battle for the sake of a misdemeanour. But know this."

He then turned to all of us.

"You all know we are monitoring the quality of this season's recruits closely. That scrutiny will be even closer now. Any further failure, cowardice or misconduct during this campaign – from any of you – will be punished by death. No second chances, no tribunal. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes Excellency!"

We bellowed the words out as one. The Field Officer looked impressed – he knew there would be no disobedience from us. That was enough for him. Then he turned to me again.

"If you wish to thank anyone for your survival, thank Champion Xen and Major Nix. They informed me that your performance during training was exemplary. I shall be keeping a very close eye on you for that reason. As will File Master 'Moramee."

Then he let out a long sigh, before turning away from all of us.

"Detaining you further makes no sense. We go to war soon. You are dismissed."

With that, our Lance filed out of the hall. The Sangheili, Xen and the Majors stayed behind, probably for an officers' briefing. I saw Nix glaring in my direction. That soured my whole being. I had clearly disappointed and embarrassed him before the Sangheili. I swore to myself not to make the same mistake again.

I saw one other thing that terrified me. 'Moramee was glaring with disappointment too. But not in me – I could see that his feelings came from something else. His blue eyes burned with pure murder.

He had wanted to kill me, or at least have me corporally punished. Now the Field Officer had denied him the chance.

I just wanted to get out of that hall, right now. I increased my pace, as did my comrades. Together, we scurried out of the doorway through which we came.

Elln had been right – we would keep our mouths shut about the four-jaws, whilst under their command.

Once we were safely in the corridors, I began breathing heavily with a mix of trauma and relief. Trauma because this could have meant something much worse; and if the Sangheili found me disappointing in the coming battle, they would have cause to execute me on the spot.

At the same time, I felt surprise and relief at this unexpected mercy. I could just as easily be in the afterlife now. If not that, my comrades and I could be covered in blood, slashes and bruises from a collective punishment. Perhaps 'Kuribasamee was not the worst Sangheili commander to serve under – though 'Moramee sent off all the wrong signals for me.

Elln saw my discomfort; she announced that she would be leading us to our contingent's mess hall. It was segregated from the rest of the Legion – like everything else about our lives aboard ship.

Then I felt a hand on my back. I turned around to find Shik, with Par just beside him. I thought I was going to get an ear blasting. But I was in for a surprise.

"We should have kept an eye on you Trau," My oldest lance-mate soothed. "I'll tell this to everyone else – next time, we will make sure that we're all up. We left you behind back there. That can't happen again."

Shik then turned to everybody else, making his voice loud and clear.

"Nobody gets left behind again, you hear me? Trau might have died because of us. He's not the one to blame. We're all in this together. No matter what."

He patted me on the back. Par did the same. I saw Elln giving a comforting smile in my direction. I felt my soul being soothed of its sour pain. My comrades were looking out for me, no matter the brutality of the army we served in.

In time, Nix would forgive the error too. I decided not to dwell on the incident in the barracks dormitory – I had a meal to enjoy. We began moving together through the corridors, in the direction of our mess hall.

In a few units, my first battle would begin. Now I was under further pressure to perform when that moment came.

I didn't know if I could meet the Sangheili's expectations. But I knew one thing – I would have comrades and friends by my side.

That gave me hope. That would give me a chance.