Halo: The Mirratord

by soulguard

120 years before the events of Halo, the greatest of the Sangheili race have been called together to do what must be done in order to protect their kin from the unknown mysteries of the Covenant. This is where the legend begins.

3. Three Hours, One Assault

Section 3: Three Hours, One Assault

"The Sixth Age of Doubt"
High Charity
Covenant Armada Base of Operations
Location: Unknown
March 1, 2438 : Sol Relative Time

Truth descended from his observation lounge, deep from within the Sanctum of the Hierarchs. The dimly lit room with its monstrous pillars of light, casting an eerie glow, was the main chambers for Truth, Mercy and Regret; the Holy Prophets that led the Covenant on its religious crusade. Though frail in appearance, the Prophets were much larger up close then they appeared. Their serpent like necks extended their height to nearly eight feet tall, but their hunched bodies were only a reflection of their true size. No longer able to support their own bodies, the Prophets rely heavily upon the technology left by their former masters, the Forerunners, to move about their vast kingdom.

With a heavy sigh Truth floated to the far side of the room and gazed out at the depth of space, into the vastness of his Armada. He placed a frail hand to his temple in thought. "For countless cycles the Yanme'e built our ships, we need them if we are to increase our Armada. But their Queen will need to be dealt with."

Truth turned to face the ageing prophet at his side. "Mercy, did we not agree that we would reveal the Jiralhanae to the Covenant, and let them lead this assault?"

Mercy turned and faced his comrade. "The Jiralhanae have yet to show the proper respect that is deserving of such a conquest. Our emissaries have not sent word of their acceptance. Retrieving this artifact is of the utmost importance. With the Elites, we will have nothing to fear."

"Dear brother, we have nothing to fear of the Yanme'e… those 'drones' have no intelligence or combat ability. They follow a simple hive mentality; kill their queen and they too shall fall. I wanted the Jiralhanae to handle this, as I felt it would be excellent bate to bring them within our fold. The Jiralhanae crave battle, more so than the Sangheili, this battle could have been an excellent tool to show them the ferocity of the Covenant. Their Chieftain would not have hesitated to join us."

Mercy pondered, "You are correct. Perhaps it was a rash decision to unleash the Sangheili. But perhaps now will be the time to begin our plans. With the Sangheili focusing their attention toward the drones, perhaps now we can begin our migration plans. We can convince the Jiralhanae to join us, and then…"

"Hold your tongue, Mercy." Truth looked to the doors of the Sanctum. With a slow gesture to his armrest he sealed the doors tight via a remote. "These halls have ears. We may now speak without fear."

Mercy nodded. "Yes. The suspicion of the Sangheili grows with every passing moment."

"It will not be long before the …'Elites' and their High Council begin to question the artifacts that we have discovered. For now they follow, but they will not follow blindly forever. Hopefully the artifact within the nest of the Yanme'e will convince them to trust us. However we are not sure if the Yanme'e nest installation contains the star maps we need. We should not concern ourselves with the migration plans just yet. Without Halo, our plans are for naught."

"How much longer must we wait?" Mercy spat. "We have searched, conquered and destroyed for thousands of years… and with each generation we become weaker…"

"Be still, Mercy. We have waited this long, and we can wait longer. When we find Halo, all will be revealed to us, and the migration will begin. Our only concern now is the Elites."

A hologram appeared in the center of the room, the image of Regret. "I have emptied my chamber of my guards to ensure that I can speak freely."

"Speak, Regret. How goes the battle?" Truth returned to Regret's image.

"Unimportant. As you believed, the Yanme'e will not be difficult to defeat. But, I must question why the Elites are here? Have we not joined with the Jiralhanae?"

Mercy approached the hologram. "No need to concern yourself, Regret. It was my error in judgment."

"No matter, conquest is conquest. Though I have no faith in the Elites, they are more skilled in combat. I estimate this battle to end within three unites."

Truth smiled. "A rather bold declaration… Regret."

"Have I ever failed in battle?" Regret smirked. "We have the Yanme'e world surrounded. Even the asteroid field where their nest is located is slowly being overrun. Upon killing their queen, the others will surrender."

"Do not underestimate them, Regret." Truth added. "Even with the Elites, an enemy that is cornered can be difficult to suppress."

Regret laughed softly. "These are Yanme'e; stupid Drones of the Empire. Do not concern yourself. You talk as if these Drones could somehow equal the Reclaimers."

Truth and Mercy scowled at the name. Reclaimers, they were creatures that the Prophets knew all too well. Hate and bitterness filled their eyes as they thought upon them. Things would have progressed much differently had the Reclaimers never existed, but it was no matter, the Reclaimers were gone. They had lost the Reclaimers long ago, after the first firing of Halo, and no longer cared what happened to them. But if they did find them, the Reclaimers, the humans, then they would finish what they had started and destroy their race permanently.

Mercy looked up to Regret with a scowl. "You are too young to remember, but the Reclaimers are not something we wish to discuss."

"I find them interesting." Regret returned in thought. "They led many battles against the flood. The archives of the Forerunners are filled with the Reclaimers' brilliance in battle…"

Truth slapped his palms upon his arm rest, "You will hold your tongue, Regret! Do you not understand that the Reclaimers thwarted our objectives? They are the reason the Forerunners shunned us! They are the reason that we did not sit at the head of the Empire with the Forerunners!"

Mercy then added, "We should have been the next in line to ascend! But let us not grow angry over the past. It has been too long for such memories to stir within us still. Regret, claim the artifact and bring it before us at once! And do not speak of the Reclaimers… EVER!"

Truth interrupted. "Putting this aside, Regret, continue your conquest and report immediately when you have captured the artifact." Regret remained silent and nodded. The hologram faded and Truth returned his gaze to Mercy. "Now, let us move on to another troubling matter. The new Special Operations Commander of the Sangheili, his age brings up concern. Yet his skill is quite lethal."

"Yes, his skill goes beyond the Academy's training. I have begun an -- investigation on his home world. There is rumor amongst the Elites of his village that he was sent to a disciplinary school before he entered the academy."

"The Elites have a disciplinary school?" Truth questioned with a raised brow.

"Yes, more secrets that they are keeping from us. And more proof that we should be rid of them."

"Indeed. They are growing more and more suspicious. How much information have you gathered?"

"Several elites graciously parted ways with information." Mercy chuckled. "But no one will identify the schools location or trainers. My teams are still performing routine checks and interrogation. We will know everything before long."

- - - - - - - -

"The Sixth Age of Doubt"
The Fleet of Divine Light
Yanme'e Territory
March 1, 2438 : Sol Relative Time

Through the darkness of space surged dozens of Phantoms, Seraph fighters, and escort drop ships. The fleet had unleashed their landing parties upon the nest of the Yanme'e. It was here that the 'Drones' bred their young, and it was the most logical location to begin searching for their queen. The Elites had formulated a brilliant strategy, but beyond conquering the Yanme'e they also had to find their prize; the Forerunner Artifact.

"Drop ships seven through twenty, make landing preparations. Phantoms two through ten, approach on vector seven-nine-one, mark-eight." The sound of the Commander echoed throughout the infantry ships communications uplinks. The ground assault was underway. "Field commanders, the infantry is now in your hands. The Spec-Ops will now begin our operations." He turned off the communications and nodded toward the pilot. On cue the phantom turned off from the formation and sped toward a larger asteroid; six phantoms fell in line behind them.

The 'Drones' world was a small moon in orbit of a gas giant. The nest, as it had been dubbed, was an orbital formation of asteroids that floated majestically above the moon world. The Drones lacked interstellar ships, and relied heavily on their own flying abilities. The gravity of the moon was only half the gravity of normal inhabitable worlds, and thus allowed the Drones to fly into space with little effort. Attacking the Drones home planet was ill-advised, but luckily the majority of the Drones population lived upon the asteroid belt; including the queen. But locating the artifact was the spec-ops assignment.

"Commander, teams one through six have landed and begun operations. We are ready to descend."

"Take us in." The commander barked. He turned and walked to the holding bay of troops. Six grunts lined the center of the phantom transport bay with four elites posted upon the side walls. They all wore the black armor of the Special Ops, and were eager to face combat as it had been many years sense the Covenant had found an artifact of the Gods.

He approached them all, pacing through the bay. "Our target is simple. Find the artifact and kill anything that impedes our path. Standard formation and light weapons. You have all been briefed and failure is not an option."

The communication officer signed in, "Commander, incoming communication from the Supreme Commander, it is encrypted for you only."

"Patch it through." The Commander placed his hand to his helmet and listened closely to the private transmission in his helmet's communications link.

"Commander Vadumee, the High Council has adjourned. The vote was cast and they say that you were correct. I do not understand what this means. What is the significance of this young Sangheili, Simyaldee? They want to assign him to your Spe-Ops division immediately. Is there something I need to be made aware of, Commander? Since when did the High Council begin voting upon members of the Spec-Ops? This is my fleet, Commander. I will not be left in the dark!"

The Commander smiled softly and replied. "Communications, encrypt this transmission and relay it to the Supreme Commander of the fleet. 'Supreme Commander, the Spec-Ops division has been assigned another rare opportunity. Young Simyaldee is needed. Unfortunately I can not discuss this mission with you. Please speak with the High Council and they will brief you on the details.' Send."

Commander Vadumee clasped his hands behind his back and smirked. Another member had been found. It had taken the council hundreds of years to find them, but now they could begin. For too long the Hierarchs had been manipulating the actions of the Elites; killing Elite Council Members and causing disputes against neighboring species. The actions of the Hierarchs needed to be watched, for the benefit of all Elites, and they had to work in the shadows and be unknown to anyone.

The Mirratord was now complete.

- - - - - - - -

"The Sixth Age of Doubt"
High Charity
Covenant Armada Base of Operations
Location: Unknown
March 1, 2438 : Sol Relative Time

Many years had passed since Simyaldee completed the Cave of the Prospect, in the deep caverns of the Elite Inner Sanctum, but oddly this made him feel more honored than that glorious day. The High Council had granted him a title unlike anything he could dream, but his title would not be approved until the Spec Ops Commander had returned. He swore to secrecy, to never reveal the details of what had just happened to him, to hold on to the honor that he had just been given. This new group, this Mirratord, was everything he was hoping to find within his lifetime.

They existed only to serve the Elite High Council.
They followed an oath of Secrecy.
They worked in the shadows to protect the Sangheili way of life.

The Mirratord. They existed, but they did not exist, and his first mission had already been given to him. Over the past several hours, Simyaldee had been tested and drilled on what the core of the Mirratord was based, and how horrible some of his missions would be. But he was reaffirmed that the Mirratord was the wall that separated the Sangheili from the Covenant; because the Prophets could not control them. This was what he wanted, to watch the Prophets and be the first to kill them if they dared to harm his kin.

Belmaedee approached, "Welcome brother. Are you ready to fulfill your first duty?"

"I am." Simyaldee softly stated.

"Our goal is simple, yet failure is not an option. Upon failure, we will be on our own. The High Council can do nothing to reveal themselves as being connected to us in anyway. We must not speak of the Mirratord, even in torture; revealing anything could endanger all of our kin."

"I do not fear pain, or death. I would never betray my oath to the Mirratord."

Belmaedee handed Simyaldee a small digital pad, with Sangheili language written upon it. "Excellent. Read this to yourself. Once you have memorized it, destroy it."

"If you are reading this, than you have accepted this assignment. It has been rumored that one of our aged Sangheili trainers has been kidnapped by the prophets. They grow ever more cautious of us, and have begun kidnapping random individuals and questioning their loyalties. Though we can not help normal citizens, we must not let the Sangheili trainer be held for long. He knows many things about the inner workings of the High Council and our plans. If he can not be rescued, than he must be ..."

Simyaldee stopped reading. "No, this can not be right."

"It is young one. We must protect the high council, even if it means killing our own."

"Then why do we not stop the prophets themselves. Let us lay waist to them…"

"Speak softly!" Belmaedee looked around, cautiously making sure that they weren't being overheard. "Killing one prophet is possible, but there are dozens of them involved with these kidnappings. If several prophets were killed then trouble could spread to our home world. We can not let them retaliate against our civilians. Already the Prophets have begun ordering our colonies to being moving civilians back to Dorenth, yet they have not given the High Council a reason why."

Simyaldee lowered his head and dropped the digital pad. He crushed it beneath his feet and swept the debris off the edge of the deck, into the sky of High Charity's interior.

"I only hope that rescue is possible." Simyaldee whispered. They turned and boarded a nearby phantom. "What is our destination?"

"The land you once called home." Belmaedee said. Simyaldee sat at Belmaedee's side as the phantom powered up, and took flight to a small frigate in orbit around High Carity. "The ship master here is young, but trustworthy. We have several Mirratord warriors stationed as Ship Master's around the fleet. It allows us control of a ship without question."

After several minutes of walking the long corridors of the small frigate, Simyaldee and Belmaedee arrived at the ships command deck. They stepped slowly on to through the sliding door as the Ship Master continued to scream at the image of Jackal.

"Damn you and the protocols! I have orders from the High Council, and that supersedes our station!"

The Jackal lowered in fright, speaking in his native tongue, "You have not been granted permission to disembark, and I can not allow you to go. No ships are to break formation at this time. Forgive me but it is the will of the Hierarchs!"

"Your intelligence pains me! If a member of the High Council gives me an order, and the fleet is in None Combat status, then I have every right to obey. Even you should understand this basic fleet rule!"

The Jackal could sense the anger in the Ship Master's voice, but looked at him in a blank stare as if it were thinking. "Let the Councilman come forward, I need his visual recording as… proof."

The ship master lowered his head in disbelief. He then looked to the side of the command deck as the Councilman stepped forward. His grey armor covered by a dark brown robe, and his ceremonial helmet sitting high atop his brow.

The Jackal looked in disbelief as the ship master asked, "Still have doubts?"

"No, you are clear to depart. Forgive my impudence, but I had to be sure." The screen faded and the ship master roared in frustration.

"Simple, idiotic, mindless creatures! If it were not for the Hierarchs, I swear we had best be rid of them!"

The councilman simply chuckled. "Kig-Yar are not known for their intelligence, Domadree. It is there keen vision that gains them favor from the Hierarchs. For now, let us be on our way. Time is precious."

"Yes elder." Ship Master Domadree replied. He turned and faced the command crew as the elder walked to the rear of the deck; approaching Belmaedee and Simyaldee.

Belmaedee stepped forward. "Elder, this is…"

"Rin Simyaldee." The elder interrupted. "Youngest son of Elder Nora'k Binyalda. Your father was an honorable Councilman, one of the finest. For one hundred years he protected our kin and justly maintained the balance of power inside the Covenant. He will be missed."

Simyaldee nodded with respect. "Indeed. I was but a child when he passed. I was not yet worthy of being called a Watchman."

The Elder paced around Simyaldee. "You had a very troubling youth. You rebelled against the Prophet prefecture in your home village and you were rejected from the academy. Your mother was forced to send you to a discipline school. Finally you learned to come to terms with your hatred and caution of the Prophets. Do you still believe that they killed your father?"

Simyaldee stepped back in shock; he had never revealed that information. It was a pain deep within his heart that he had hidden away, even from his mother. "I do not wish for my own beliefs to interfere with the objective of the group."

The elder scanned the deck to be sure that the command crew could not hear. "The Mirratord has no objective. It simply does what it is told. As for your father… I am sad to say that your fears were correct. The prophets assassinated your father twelve years ago."

Simyaldee stepped back, shock and pain swelled within him, and his mandibles tightly clinched. He ignored everything as his rage began to brew. All these years of doubt and questioning had finally come to focus in one short sentence. Everything he had feared was true. He had known that the prophets could not be trusted, yet he had no proof of the act. His father was alive, healthy and strong, and then slain.

The elder added. "The Hierarchs saw him as a traitor, and he was targeted for assassination by an outcast Sangheili warrior."

These words stood out in Simyaldee's ears. "You mean one of our kin killed my father, because the Prophet's wished it?" His mother had been told that it was a ravaged Elite war veteran that had killed him; saying that the warrior was an outcast and sought illegal combat and thievery to relieve his post war stress. Simyaldee never believed it, never believed that an Elite would kill another, especially if that Warrior was an honorable Elder Council member. It was almost too much to accept.

Belmaedee then commented. "Though he was killed by one of our kin, it was the Prophet's wishes. Some of our kin will forever be servants of the Covenant and do whatever the Hierarchs wish. This is why the Mirratord must act separate of even our own brothers and sisters. No one can be trusted. This is also why we painstakingly searched for new members. Those who believe in our cause, believe in our race, and have a specific gene trait are the only warriors given consideration."

Ship Master Domadree descended to the main floor of the command deck and approached the elder and his Mirratord brothers. "We have just entered slip space. Second, what are our mission preparations?"

"Second?" Simyaldee questioned toward Belmaedee.

Belmaedee returned, "Yes, I am the second in Command of all Mirratord forces, young one. But not for long, as another will come to replace me; only the most skilled of us is worthy to lead." He looked to Domadree. "This will be a stealth mission: field observation, infiltration and rescue. We will delay for six days, and that will remove any connection of our assault with your ship. The High Council has scheduled a meeting to start at the moment of our operations. I will take three warriors on this mission: Myself, M'atralee, and the young one."

"Very well, I will prep all of your supplies." Domadree agreed as he folded his arms across his chest. "Are you sure that the young one is ready for this?"

Belmaedee smirked, "Not including his academy scores, he is quite skilled in stealth and the use of the Energy Sword. He is ready."

Domadree nodded toward Simyaldee, confidently accepting the Second's choice. "I must return to my duties, and there is much that needs to be done before we arrive. Elder?"

"You are dismissed." The elder nodded.

Domadree nodded to the group. "I will not see either of you before you depart, so I must say my farewells now... For the Honor of the Mirratord."

Belmaedaa and Simyaldee both returned, "For the honor of the Mirratord."

- - - - - - - -

Three hours of conflict, battle and war cries. Three hours of sacrifice, pain, and victory. The Elites roared their battle cry as the Yanme'e queen crumbled to her knees. The massive drone queen had killed numerous Elites and Grunts, but in the end victory was assured. Hundreds of drones circled the massive room deep within the asteroid's core and squeaked their concerns. Without a queen, the hive would fall, and none knew when the next queen would be born.

The drones had fought bravely to defend their queen, but with little military training, and only one true leader, the drones could not stop the mighty tidal wave called the Covenant. From all sides and entrances, the elites pushed deeper into the nest and cornered the queen, killing her in a wave of plasma. The mighty 'Hunters' had led the charge, and though they suffered losses, the elites praised their aid. It was a worthy conquest, and the first joint mission with the monstrous Hunters.

"Make way, his Holiness Regret approaches!" A ship master shouted at the top of a rocky gorge overlooking the deep cave of the Queen's chamber. Hundreds of broken larva eggs stained the floor, as well as thousands of dead drones; Regret was thankful for his floating throne. At his side stood twelve honor guards; dawning the ceremonial armor and staffs of the Covenant.

With his arms outstretched he pleaded to the remaining Drones that dumbly floated about, pondering their next action. "Here me Yanme'e, for I am the High Prophet of Regret. With great pain it saddens me to see our dispute come to such a tragic end, but none the less you have been beaten. By the mighty hand of our Covenant, your Queen has fallen, but fear not… for the Gods have shown me a vision of your future. A new queen will rise, she will serve with us and within the Covenant you will know peace! Defeat is but a sign that you are weak, but together with the Covenant, you will be strong. Remember this defeat, hold close to you the death of your Queen, and embrace that it will never happen again. Side with us, and stand as we continue the quest of our Gods. Become our instruments, become our warriors, and look to the future when we begin our Great Journey!"

At the far end of the asteroid field, deep within a secluded cave that had suddenly turned to metal, the Spec-Ops pressed forward against an unseen foe. Streams of energy streaked toward them, cutting down three elites and overloading the shields of others. The mechanical whine of machinery echoed throughout the cave, and Commander Vadumee pressed forward with the agility of a supreme being.

Within his hand he held a carbine rifle, it seemed to be the only weapon precise enough to take down the mechanical devices; so long its shields had diminished. Wave after wave of plasma discharges flew over his head and toward the machines, dropping their shields. Without hesitation the commander stood and fired his carbine, destroying six of them; but ten more took their place.

"Is there no end?" Vadumee roared as he ducked an energy stream. He took cover and reloaded his carbine; ejecting the chamber and slamming in a new one.

"Sir! The grunts are reporting that half our ammunition rounds are gone"

"Blasted, it took three units to simply come this far into the structure. We can not turn back. There must be something…" In the distance Vadumee watched as a large plate upon the wall began to glow, and one of the machines suddenly appeared from within it. "Destroy those devices! They are the source of this infestation!"

The Spec-Ops at the Commander's side turned to the black armored grunts behind him. "We will advance forward and destroy the devices on the wall." The elite and the groups of grunts vanished as their active camouflage systems powered on. They exited their cover, moving cautiously so that the floating machines would not hit them at random; luckily the machines could not see through their cloaking systems. The grunts split up and each gripped plasma grenades. Though nervous about being separated from their packs, the grunts valiantly primed their grenades and flung them upon the Sentinel Generator's on the wall. Dozens of blue plasma grenades dotted the air and the Sentinel's turned to see where they had come from. As they turned, several grunts panicked and fired upon the machines with their needlers and plasma pistols, giving away their positions. Sentinel beams cut into them, overloading their cloaks and killing them. The lucky grunts held their positions in silence.

With the floating machines looking away, the commander stood from cover just as the wall devices exploded. "Now! Take down the machines!" A cascade of plasma explosions echoed as the grenades upon the wall detonated. Surges of electricity sparked from the panels and the onslaught began. The elites began firing in droves of plasma and carbine rounds into the wave of machines. The machines exploded in succession, knocking others out of the air because of the pulse of energy which was released upon their destruction; and fell upon the heads of the grunts below.

The grunts began to frantically run around avoiding the falling debris, screaming nervously for help and to flee. The Commander chuckled at the sight, but regained his composure; he could not let his youthful interest capture his mind in such a way.

"Grunts, calm yourselves!" The base in his voice startled many of the surviving grunts and they began to calm the others down. "Maintain discipline and fire upon the fallen machines before they repair themselves again." Vadumee reloaded his carbine and motioned for the Sergeant to press forward.

With a solid head nod the Sergeant raced ahead, running through the grunts packs. "Form up! Press forward to the next mark!" Vadumee began to walk down the hall as twenty elite Spec-Ops sprinted passed him. He was the commander, and being the first to enter combat would jeopardize his life and command. Though he longed to be the first to enter the room he knew his place; the mission's success was based solely on his leadership. He listened in on the Special Ops com frequency.

"Scout ahead! What do you see?" The Sergeant questioned to another.

"Another open foyer lay ahead. It is a large room… by the Gods, what is that?

"Unknown. I've never seen a structure like it. Grunt teams, cloak and fan out. Secure the room and destroy any of the wall units if you see them."

A grunt pack leader returned. "We secure room. Destroy scary things!" The grunts faded from site and ran into the room with four elites behind them. Commander Vadumee knelt at the door behind the Sergeant.

"Report." He ordered.

"Grunt teams are scanning ahead. We will follow soon. There is something in there, something we have never seen before."

Vadumee leaned into the doorway and saw what the Sergeant was questioning. Indeed this was another Forerunner structure, and inside was a massive computer system. But what caught his eyes was the looming holographic image floating above the computer terminal. It appeared to be a giant structure of some kind, unlike anything the Hierarchs had documented, and it was strange as it appeared to be in the shape of a humongous ring.

To be continued