Draken was required to give a report to T'Shlaa, he knew this, but he still dragged his feet on his way to the bridge. Thoughts of his mission ran through his head at sluggish and simultaneously rapid paces. Why didn't he try to get in contact with the UNSC? Why had he felt so strange when killing humans? But most of all, somehow, he was questioning where his loyalties were. He was human, a Spartan trained to defend humanity… or was he? His superiors had been content to use him as an assassin against uprisings and rebellions. He'd been trained as a lone wolf, specifically in combat scenarios against Covenant and humans. Add in the fact that Markus was no longer a Spartan, but a Kligher, an alien with no loyalties to humanity and saved from a planetary glassing by the Covenant… who was he supposed to fight for now?

"Dra… Markus," Gutrot said quietly from the back of his mind. "I understand what you're thinking. Trust the word of a genocidal maniac as much as you want, but I know what's going through your head. I know that you question what you're doing, what you've done to maintain cover, that you question if it's really a disguise. Ask yourself who needs to be protected, what the ones being attacked would do if the offense suddenly went away… I'd hate for you to make the same mistake as me…"

"The same… what's that supposed-" he tried to question, but he'd arrived at the bridge. T'Shlaa saluted him, which he returned, and he suddenly felt the weight of his thoughts again. "Shipmaster T'Shlaa, I have a report for you."

"Proceed, High Judicator."

"Twenty-six of the missions my squad was assigned were successful, which included the destruction of camps and ammo depots of the heretics." He winced internally at the word. "However, the third support mission we were assigned went… terribly wrong, and it is the mission I feel needs to be reported in person. My squad was dropped off six units west of the pinned soldiers and hurried to provide cover fire for their escape, as we were ordered. However, we were uninformed about the demon at their disposal and were ill-prepared for their resistance. We became pinned ourselves and ran low on munitions due to the firefight. We found out halfway through the standoff that the soldiers were being used as bait, which is why they'd survived as long as they did, but were unable to save them after the heretic's trap had been sprung. We watched helplessly as they were gunned down. Three of my team were injured to the point of being unable to effectively fight, one of them critically. I was twice hit in the legs with what I believe to be a gauss cannon, operated by the demon, and so was delayed from assisting my squad more than I had." Here Draken hung his head in shame, most of it real. "I take full responsibility for the deaths and injuries my shortsightedness and ill preparation have brought upon your crew and will accept whatever punishment you see fit to assign me, Shipmaster."

T'Shlaa was surprised by the High Judicator's attitude towards his defeat. For someone in his station, he'd expected the male to be haughty to some extent, or try to cover his mistakes and remain the flawless face of the Covenant that the Prophets were making him out to be. Yet, the High Judicator was humble and ashamed of not his defeat, but the damage to the lives of his fellow soldiers.

"That guilt should suffice," he said, keeping his face stoic. The male looked up sharply at him, obviously surprised at his verdict even if his face gave away nothing. "Ensure that such a loss doesn't happen again, by any measures you deem necessary, High Judicator. I truly wish everyone under my command were as honest as you. Dismissed." They saluted each other, and then the High Judicator left the bridge.

Draken's first stop off of the bridge was the infirmary. He walked down the rows of beds to where his three injured men were resting and sat down on a nearby chair facing them. The Elite who'd been critically injured was unconscious, a metal plate connected to various tubes covered an area on his chest where Draken knew three bullet holes were hidden, dangerously close to a number of vital organs. The Skirmisher and Elite who were awake saluted him, fists against their chests, which he mirrored.

"High Judicator, it's an honor to see you," said the Elite, tightly bandaged hand falling back to his side. "If I may ask, what brings you to the infirmary? I didn't think you were seriously injured in the fight."

"I wasn't, but you were, and I came to apologize for this whole mess. Were it not for my lack of foresight, we'd still be on the battlefield." The Skirmisher huffed a laugh, unable to cackle with a minor wound across his voice box.

"Were it not for you, Commander, we'd still be on the battlefield, laying in the rubble and gathering flies as we speak," he rasped, a grin on his face. "You're the whole reason we got away with three injured, instead of just corpses."

"I could have-"

"What? Done more? With all due respect, the gods themselves couldn't have done better in your place, sir." Draken smiled at the Skirmisher's faith in him.

"How about gods with more than three hours of tactical training?" The three chuckled in the infirmary, not wanting to disturb other patients or attract the medical staff's anger. Draken looked sadly to the fourth party, drugged into a temporary coma. "How is he?"

"Stable, alive, and I'm sure just as grateful as us," the Elite said, also looking at his comrade. "The healers say another hour without treatment would have sent him on the Great Journey ahead of us." Draken nodded, but the two squad members could still see that he was troubled as he left. When Draken was gone, he said to himself, "I don't think it's just this loss that troubles him."

"What? What else then?" the Skirmisher asked.

"I don't know. I grow concerned for his wellbeing, even if he's the strongest in the Covenant." More than they could know, Draken was troubled, and even talking to T'Shlaa and his squad couldn't help with the problems he faced. The High Judicator sat in his quarters, talking with Jaune and Kat about ways to get into contact with UNSC.

"I'd suggest going back down to find that radio again, at the first base you attacked," Jaune suggested, marking a point on a map in Draken's HUD. "You can make an excuse to get back down there and then disappear for a while, and within a few days you'll be in human space again."

"Yeah… human…" Draken agreed.

"… Draken?" Kat asked, tilting her head in her corner of the visor. "What's wrong?"

"I… I don't know. I've begun questioning a lot of things that I haven't for years, my past, my training, my loyalties, my purpose… I'm not sure about a lot of things with everything that's happened."

"What do you mean?" she asked, Jaune taking interest as well. "You're a Spartan who's been forced to maintain a façade, and now have an opportunity to return home."

"Am I?" His question was met with a pregnant pause. "You both know my training, what I was used for, and what I've done. The atrocities didn't end at Reach, they were put on hold. I've killed more of my kind than Covenant." He looked down at his hands: five fingers, grey skin, claws. "I'm not even sure if I can call them my kind anymore."

"Markus-"

"Don't call me that, it sounds… alien to me," he said, humor vanished from the irony of that statement.

"So, you've picked your side?" Gutrot asked in Draken's mind.

"I have. I can't stand to kill Covenant or humans, but I have and will again if necessary," Draken said, strength returning to his voice. "I'm against the Prophets, the ones that started this war. I will be the one to end it."

"That's a pretty high bar to jump over. How are you going to stop the war?" Gutrot asked, abandoning his usual sarcasm and malice entirely.

"I don't know yet. Everyone's past diplomacy by now, the motivations are exactly opposite each other, and nobody's going to forgive the crimes committed at the drop of a hat. There is no easy way to do this the way things are, and it looks like any solution that's thought up will be temporary at best." Draken rubbed at his face with both hands, groaning with frustration.

"A common enemy," Kat said, making Draken drop his hands and turn towards his helmet. She continued, "a third party that threatens both sides equally. For the sake of survival, even bitter rivals will combine resources if it means living. I don't know where we could find something like that in this situation, but it would solve a number of short and long-term problems."

The more Draken thought about it, the more it made sense. There was, of course, the problem of finding an enemy powerful enough to threaten the UNSC and Covenant simultaneously and defeating them after the metaphorical handshake was over and done with, but the theory was what mattered.

"That idea has a ton of flaws and reasons it could go wrong, but it's an option on the table." Draken added, "For the moment, we need allies, people that will be on our side later… come to think of it, the Prophets seemed worried that T'Shlaa was a heretic, we might start with him."

"Careful," Jaune cautioned, "he may turn out to be as fanatical as the honor guard about the Great Journey."

"I'm prepared for that," Draken replied as he put on his helmet again. "But I'm hoping that I won't have to kill him." He walked down the corridors to the bridge for the second time that day, his footing far more certain this time than the last. He entered without fanfare and saluted the Shipmaster, being mirrored by the proud Elite. "Shipmaster, I was wondering if we might speak privately for a moment, it's important."

"I can spare a moment," T'Shlaa replied. "Take over for a moment while I see to this, Go'Vank." The Elite nodded and took T'Shlaa's place. The Shipmaster followed Draken to a nearby empty room and sat across from him.

"Before I begin, I must have your word that whatever is said between us never leaves these four walls and goes to our graves if necessary. What I have to say is of the utmost secrecy and is highly sensitive in nature, which would surely kill us if anyone else heard and it was relayed to the Prophets," Draken said bluntly, garnering a curious look and the promise he asked for. "With that out of the way, I can allow you to meet three people that are in on this topic." Draken removed his helmet and pulled the chip from its side. He set both items on the low table in between him and the Shipmaster and closed his eyes as the chip glowed. Gutrot opened his eyes and looked into T'Shlaa's as he stared down at the two AI on the table.

"This is going to be a long explanation, and you probably won't believe most of it," Gutrot said, making the Shipmaster look at him with confusion due to the voice change. "Every word is true. First, introductions: I'm Gutrot, Kligher, genocidal maniac, last of my kind. I was cursed and locked into my own rotting corpse several thousand years ago by my people after slaying millions of them, until the one you know as Draken freed me and I roosted in his mind as a voice. The two blue ladies between us are Jaune and Kat, two AI that are indispensable and of human make. Draken was once Markus, a demon stationed on the planet Reach where he found me and was eventually cornered in a construction area. The records show that he was killed in action by Covenant forces, when really he was changed by a deal we made into what you now see before you." The Shipmaster was struck silent by all of this, and it was about to get worse."With backgrounds out of the way, I have a major bomb to drop on you: the Great Journey is a lie invented by the Prophets. Yes Forerunners existed, yes they were technologically advanced, no they weren't gods, and no, killing humanity won't grace you with a ticket into the afterlife. Draken also wants you to know a rather important detail: the Prophets suspect you and ordered him to kill you at the barest sign of heresy. It's entirely the reason he was assigned to your command, and for once he hopes that the Prophets were right. Are you free enough of their lies to see the truth, or do we have to put a sword through your chest?"

The Shipmaster was glad he was sitting down before he'd been told all of this. Lying Prophets, ancient races, false gods, demons in the Covenant, and guides to the holy rings made by humans had turned his worldview on its side.

"Well… that's unfortunate," he said, slumping in his seat. "So all of the worlds I've glassed… gods, what have we done? Assuming that every word you spoke is true, then what I've had doubts about is correct. We're all guilty of murder it seems, on planetary scales."

"So you acknowledge truth when you see it, good," Kat said. "Then you also know the ramifications of what the truth would do if leaked to the wrong parties, specifically those blinded by the Prophet's lies. You wouldn't happen to know anyone we could trust enough to tell them as well, would you?"

"Few in number, but I know some that would benefit from hearing this. How would the humans react to a split in the Covenant?" the Shipmaster asked Draken, returned control of the body he and Gutrot shared.

"If they knew about it, they'd take advantage of it as soon as possible," Draken said. "They're all fighting for their lives, backed into the metaphorical corner, and fighting like mad to stay alive. They won't recognize allies unless direct assistance is offered, and may deny said assistance when it's offered by the perceived enemy. There is a small number I know that would even consider the possibility of friendly Covenant, none of them in places of power. Not to mention that I look and act like a devout believer of the Great Journey, and killed one of their best soldiers, and my word won't be accepted by them anyway."

"So, we're stuck gathering allies on the inside of the Covenant and have no feasible way to gain support from the UNSC because of bias or reputation without drastic measures. At least it's progress," Jaune said, shrugging her holographic shoulders.

"It would take an act of the gods to make the humans consider peace, and I'm uncertain even that would do anything," T'Shlaa said. "As things are now, something drastic is the only option that's feasible."

"Then we'll do someth-" Draken tried to say but was stopped when T'Shlaa put a hand to the side of his head, eyes wide.

"Repeat that lieutenant, immediately." His eyes remained wide, and he looked at Draken. "I'll be there right away."

"What just happened?" Kat asked, Draken putting her chip back in his helmet and equipping it.

"We've just found one of the Holy Rings!" T'Shlaa said excitedly, walking briskly from the room.