1100 Hours, November 7th, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Galactica/ Planet Castea/ Polaris System

The largely industrial planet of Castea was a major hub for the creation of Covenant aircraft. It was a secret location, known only to those at the very top of Covenant command. If this colony were to be taken out, the production of fighters and dropships would be stunted, and would take a while to recover from. Its defense fleet consisted of a single assault carrier, twelve battlecruisers, and twenty four light cruisers, and there was an orbital platform where freshly produced spacecraft would be sent to await assignment. It was, like all Covenant industrial worlds, a very closely guarded secret. So when a group of human frigates and destroyers jumped into the system and destroyed the station with nuclear missiles, the Covenant fleet immediately attacked. Two frigates exploded, and the destroyers of the strike group absorbed many hits, while returning fire.

Moments later, human battlecruisers began jumping into the system, ripping apart the assault carrier with a salvo of MAC guns. Each battlecruiser was armed with three regular Magnetic Accelerator Cannons, one hundred Archer missile pods, twenty six Howler pods, thirty five 50mm railguns, six Onager Mass Accelerators, and three squadrons of Longsword fighters. The Galactica, one of the oldest battlecruisers in the fleet, which was named after the fictional ship of a 21st century television show, had seen combat from the beginning of the war, and it showed. Commander Grant, a fifty six year old veteran of the Navy, had been the Galactica's captain from its first deployment at Arcadia, to now.

The battlecruisers flanked the Covenant defense fleet, tearing it apart. The frigates and destroyers in the UNSC fleet armed all nuclear weapons, and targeted industrial centers across the planet. The Elites had shared information of this planet to the humans, and the UNSC would take the initiative. The Galactica shook off multiple hits from plasma torpedoes, and then shredded apart a Covenant light cruiser with a flurry of MAC rounds and Archer missiles. When the only remains of the Covenant defense fleet were debris, the battlecruisers of the strike group armed their nuclear warheads. When all captains had reported in, all nuclear weapons across the fleet were sent planetside, screaming through the atmosphere. Each warhead's tip opened up, revealing eight smaller warheads. The warheads detonated across major industrial centers. The factories covering the planet's surface were incinerated, and thousands of Covenant craft were obliterated.

1105 Hours, November 7th, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Nimitz / Remia Orbital Shipyard/ Cetus System

Hundreds of fighters swarmed the rapidly depleting Covenant fleet, weaving between the smoldering wreckage of Covenant ships. The scene was much like the attack on Hydra, which the UNSC had still not fully recovered from. The entire UNSC 10th Fleet had jumped into close proximity of the Covenant shipyards, which were a major repair and resupply station for the Covenant fleets. The only defenses the shipyards had were plasma cannons dotted across the hull of the station. At this point in time, there were twenty Covenant carriers, sixty two cruisers, forty seven destroyers, and twelve frigates docked at the shipyards. The weaponry on the ships attempted to fight off the attacking humans, but were helpless as human vessels rained death on them.

The supercarrier Nimitz, commanded by Rear Admiral Sierra Traynor, a cunning woman, hung back, launching fighters constantly, including some experimental F-41 Broadsword fighters. In Traynor's fleet were ten carriers, and they all were crowded together, protected by a trio of heavy cruisers, twenty four frigates, and six destroyers. The rest of the 300-ship fleet were engaged at the shipyards, where they had taken the Covenant completely by surprise. A squadron of small Paris-class frigates destroyed a DDS-class carrier, and then fired rounds into the main part of the station.

"All units, all units, this is Nimitz Actual. Disengage, and prepare a jump. All cruisers, fire your nukes at the shipyards before you jump. Traynor out."

The Longswords and Broadswords went back to their ships and landed, their pilots high fiving each other after another successful mission. The fleet broke off combat, and then readied a Slipspace jump back to human space. Admiral Traynor gave the coordinates, and then ordered a jump when ready. As the ships entered Slipspace, the cruisers in the fleet launched five dozen nuclear missiles at the remains of the station.

1124 Hours, November 7th, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ UNSC Atlantis/ Planet Nohiri/ Grus System

Hundreds of Pelican dropships soared down through the atmosphere of the planet Nohiri, carrying thousands of Marines. In orbit, Task Force A was in a holding pattern, deploying ground forces to the surface. Charon-class frigates broke through the clouds, and held position just dozens of meters off of the ground. Scorpion tanks rolled off of the ramps, joining the infantry in a push to their objective. On this planet was a major underground complex, with a database on all known human worlds. If the Marines could get their hands on it, they would know which Outer Colonies were defended the lightest, so the UNSC could counterattack. Three Separatist ships jumped in with Task Force A, deploying hundreds of troops to take part in the assault.

The 14th Tank Battalion rolled across the desert planet, crunching sand under their treads. Warthogs rolled past, gunners ready to fire off. Pelican dropships flew over, and then landed, unloading Marines. Ahead of the force was a cliff face, with a large opening leading to the underground complex. The tanks destroyed gravity towers with snipers in them, and the ground troops stormed the complex. Within minutes, they had gained control of most of the base, slaughtering the defending forces.

Vice Admiral Nick Glover had the cruisers in the fleet form a defensive perimeter around the fleet, while the dreadnought Atlantis was in the center. Only four Covenant ships remained, and they held off on attacking. The Covenant ships were also just outside of Super MAC range. Reports came in by 1146 hours that the Marines had captured the database, and were uploading all contents to the fleet. But then, word reached the Admiral that the complex had explosives primed all over.

The upload was cancelled, and all of the ground troops retreated, trying to escape the base. Less than half of the infantry inside the complex escaped, while only around four hundred Elites escaped.

1351 Hours, November 7th, 2552 (Military Calendar)/ New Alexandria/ Planet Reach/ Epsilon Eridani System

The convoy of Warthog's rolled down the city streets of New Alexandria, going past reconstruction crews. The city had been cleaned up, and the population was getting back into the normal routine of things. After the siege was broken, more people went back to Reach, wanting to help clean up and rebuild the planet. Civilians stopped working as the Warthogs went by, confused looks on their face when they saw what was in the passenger seat of the middle one. When they were out of sight, the people gossiped among themselves as they went back to work.

Vice Admiral Whitcomb waited outside the Olympic Tower, part of Fleet Command Headquarters. While the main FLEETCOM base was deep underground and heavily guarded, this building reached high into the skies, being part of the iconic New Alexandria skyline, and had a single platoon of Marines guarding it. The building contained offices for high ranking officials in the military; having one was very prestigious, as the view from the tower was gorgeous.

The convoy of Warthogs stopped outside the tower, and Thel 'Vadam came out from around the passenger side. Two lines of human soldiers formed a pathway for the Sangheili, holding back crowds of protestors. All were screaming something at the Elite. The soldiers in the Warthogs joined their comrades in holding back the crowd.

"Murderer!" was the main cry.

Many people in the crowd held up pictures of friends and family. Thel averted his eyes, trying to focus on the older man waiting for him at the entrance of the building. But the shame hung over him like a cloud. These people had suffered at his hands. But it wasn't his fault, was it?

As the Arbiter came up the steps to the tower, Admiral Whitcomb stuck out his hand reluctantly, and said, "Mister 'Vadam."

Thel looked at the humans hand and took it slowly, "It is an insult in my culture to refer to one with their last name."

Vice Admiral Whitcomb broke the handshake and wiped his hand on a handkerchief, saying, "My apologies. It's a respect thing in human culture."

Thel grumbled, and then looked at the crowds, and then back at the human, "It seems as though my presence isn't being received well."

Admiral Whitcomb looked out at the protesters, and then opened the door for the Elite, who walked inside. Two soldiers followed the Admiral inside. The Admiral led Thel to an elevator, and pressed a button. As they waited, Thel looked around the interior, examining every little detail.

"You never answered my question," Thel said sternly, looking down at Admiral Whitcomb.

"It's like this on many of our colonies. People aren't liking this," the Admiral replied as the elevator arrived. He let the Arbiter enter first, and then followed him inside, having the soldiers stay on the ground floor.

"Please pick a destination," a robotic female voice said.

"Level 117," the Admiral said loudly.

"Thank you. Please avoid any swift movements, as the elevator is moving at high speeds," the elevator said as it started to lift.

"Voice recognition. That is an interesting idea," Thel commented.

"I like it a lot," Whitcomb replied, unsure on what to say.

The two remained silent for a few moments, and then Thel asked bluntly, "When will your kind realize that we are helping you?"

Admiral Whitcomb looked at the alien, and then said, "I'm not sure what you mean."

Thel sighed, and then said, "We are taking part of your burden off of your shoulders. Now the Loyalists have our worlds too focus on. We are assisting you in your assaults, yet your people still hate us."

"Well, Arbiter, that could be because we endured twenty five years of genocide from your people, and all of a sudden are supposed to be buddy buddy. Have you ever thought about that?!" the Vice Admiral snapped.

Thel was taken aback, and then was silent. He stared at the elevator doors, and then stepped out when they opened. He walked over to the long panel of windows, looking out over the city. A transport landed at the spaceport, unloading supplies. Two Albatross transports hauled pieces of debris away from the city. The protesting crowds spanned several city blocks, with thousands in them.

"Beautiful city," the Sangheili said.

Vice Admiral Whitcomb stood next to him, and said, "And you tried to destroy it."

"I still could, if I really wanted to," Thel said, lowly and threateningly.

Whitcomb clenched his fists, and then said, "Follow me to my office."

The Admiral led Thel down a few hallways, past a few soldiers, until they reached a corner office with a plaque on the door reading "V. Admiral D. Whitcomb, 6th Fleet". Whitcomb opened the door, and stepped into the office. He held out his hand, presenting a small lounge to Thel. There was a couch, and a glass table separating it from two cushioned red chairs.

"Take a seat," Whitcomb said, his tone different then earlier.

Thel looked at the sofa, and then strode over to it, plopping down on it. Admiral Whitcomb sat down in one of the red chairs, and looked at the Elite.

"Security is tight in this area because of what's happening here today," the Admiral said.

"I can tell. If you need extra help, the Sangheili would gladly help with security at events," Thel replied, relaxing in the sofa.

Danforth held out his hand in refusal, and said, "We appreciate the offer, but we think it would increase public tensions."

Thel rolled his eyes, and leaned forward, "My people are being extinguished as we speak! You are not alone in this war!"

"Well we were for most of it! If your kind had been so humbled by our tenacity, why the hell didn't you break off earlier?! Your leader even said that your kind had considered leaving the Covenant, so what in the hell took you so long?!" Admiral Whitcomb yelled.

Two knocks came at the door, and a voice from the other side asked, "Is everything okay in there, sir?"

"Yes, carry on," Whitcomb replied.

Thel looked at the ground, and his face fell into his hands. He breathed heavily, and then looked up, "We were deceived. Loyal servants of the Prophets. We all believed that we would ascend to heaven when the Great Journey happens. But we were lied to. Betrayed. Slaughtered. During the war, we believed that you were the final test. But then we realized that your kind hadn't even heard of a Great Journey. You didn't even have Forerunner technology! That's when dissent began to sow. First the Imperial Admiral was exiled to the fringes of our space. Then the Brutes were given more power. The last straw was when the Prophets replaced the Honor Guards, a position held by Sangheili for centuries. Open rebellion was inevitable."

Admiral Whitcomb leaned back, and then said, "So you exterminate billions under blind faith?"

"Yes," the Arbiter replied, the only response he could come up with.

Whitcomb nodded slowly, and then said, "I'm sorry. I'm giving humanity too much credit." He chuckled. "The Crusades. The Islamic Terrorism of the 21st century. All under blind faith."

"Religious dogma is something that needs to be extinguished," Whitcomb said, leaning back.

"Just like the Brutes," Thel laughed.

With a snap of his fingers, Admiral Whitcomb said, "That brings me to the next matter. Congrats on Doisac, Arbiter."

"It was gratifying. A good judgment call by the Imperial Admiral," Thel replied.

"Yeah, when all ships of your Combined Fleet disappeared, we got your coordinates and dispatched two ships to check on the status," Whitcomb explained.

"We left the Brute homeworld uninhabitable," Thel said.

"Of course, of course. A resounding success. Something that can really turn this war in our favor," Admiral Whitcomb replied, crossing his legs and outstretching his arms. Thel shook his head, and the clasped his hands together.

"No... no, if anything, it will inspire the Loyalists to fight harder, just like it did with your people," the Sangheili quipped, looking out the window.

"Why are your kind so pessimistic?" Admiral Whitcomb snapped.

"Pessimistic? Nay, we are are an honest race," Thel replied.

"Honesty hurts. While the public may have complete hate and disregard for your race, the military is glad that we have a powerful...," the human paused, thinking for a moment, "... ally."

Thel chuckled, and then rose from the couch, walking over to the large window facing the main spaceport. "My people would not hesitate to send all of our fleets to your aid in the utmost end of need. Would you?"

Admiral Whitcomb looked at Thel, and then said, "That's not my call." The Arbiter nodded slowly, and then looked out over the city, watching aircraft lift off into the sky, flying across the metropolis.

"Of course. But do you believe your kind would?" asked Thel.

"We are allies, so I believe we would," Admiral Whitcomb said.

"I agree. Humans are... honorable. Some of the best warriors I have had the pleasure of fighting against... and alongside," Thel said, looking around the office.

"We are mounting a 'planet hopping' campaign in some of our old Outer Colonies, led by my fleet. It would be an honor if your fleet could join me," Admiral Whitcomb offered, walking over to the Arbiter.

"On one condition," Thel said, without a moment of consideration.

"Shoot," Whitcomb said.

Thel's hand fell on the hilt of his plasma rifle, and he confidently asked, "At what?! Are there heretics in the building?!"

"No, I mean, what is your condition?" Whitcomb explained, holding his hand out to calm the Elite.

"I want Demons to join the campaign," Thel said, just as John-117 entered the room.