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.

12. The Beginning of Unity

Section 12: The Beginning of Unity

"The Age of Reclamation"
Slip space
Ship: Unknown
Destination: Unknown
March 29, 2438 :: Sol Relative Time

Vasmeola, lying flat upon her back and bound, could only see the ceiling of her captors' ship. The various patterns of the ceiling slowly slipped over her eyes in a repeating pattern, she was being moved. There were voices beyond her eyesight, more Prophets talking.

"Are we certain she is the last one?"

"Yes, you fool. Regret made it clear that she would be the last." Vasmeola could easily tell that they were talking about her, she only wished she could see where she was. She continued to listen as she gazed at the scrolling ceiling.

"But how is he sure? We have been looking for months, and only now have we found her because Mercy ordered her execution. There could be more of them out there."

"Do not ask stupid questions. We have her and that is all that is important. For now we can get out of this dusty crack of the Universe and go to the safety of our Ice Ring."

Vasmeola noticed a lull in the conversation and spoke up. "Where are my brothers?"

A prophet leaned into her view. "Your bloodline no longer supports the male gene. Only you females are important. We left them with the slave traders. Do not worry, they will not be harmed. Unlike Mercy and Truth, Regret is… more understanding of the Sangheili's importance. He plays along with the Hierarchs wishes, but I can assure you, he values the Sangheili much more than those stupid ape creatures."

"Jiralhanae." Commented the other Prophet from out of view.

"Shut up! Do not correct me in front of our prey. Anyway, are you hungry my dear, thirsty?"

"No! Release me!"

"We can give you anything you wish my dear, yet we can not set you free… at least not yet." He replied. "It is a long journey to our destination. We will need to wake you from Cryo-Gen sleep at least six times. It is easier if you have food in your stomach."

"Cryo-Gen sleep?" Vasmeola questioned.

As if ignoring her statement, "Ah, here we are. Your home for the next four years." Vasmeola's watched as the ceiling stopped, and slowly her movement rotated. She was being arced forward and she could finally see. She was inside the main deck of a gigantic ship, and from her location she was looking over a vast canyon of decks. Small two seat ships zipped past her along the vast emptiness between the two sides of the ship. She focused on the far side and saw that there were thousands of other Sangheili talking amongst themselves inside their Cryo-tubes.

Vasmeola was jolted backwards and freed from her harness. The glass door of the Cryo-tube closed and sealed her inside. For a something designed to place one in cold sleep, it was fairly large. Vasmeola could stand and walk around on its soft padded floor. It was even serviced with a full functioning waste unit. None the less, she knew a jail cell when she saw it. She stepped forward and placed her hands upon the glass, and she could now see to her left and right; the glass door bubbled outward. There were rows and rows of Sangheili, some sleeping and some awake. They seemed to be talking to one another and did not seem to mind that they had been kidnapped.

"I do hope your suite is comfortable." The prophet laughed. "I am sorry it can not be bigger. But this was the maximum size for the number of expected settlers."

"Settlers?"

"Yes, Princess… Regret is not going to let the Sangheili race be destroyed by the Grand Design. He has taken you, to save your life."

"What do you mean?"

A rough female Sangheili voice came through the Cryo-tube's speaker system. "I shall speak with her, you may continue on your duties." The prophet nodded and walked away.

"What is going on?" Vasmeola replied to the voice, yet she continued to look beyond the glass door.

"That Prophet called you Princess. Of which house were you born?"

"I am not a Princess, but my family is from the House of Vas."

Several voices began to echo across the com system. "Vas?"

"She said the house of Vas?"

"They still live?"

"Thank the ancestors! A pure bloodline is still alive!"

The other female pressed several keystrokes and blocked out the other voices. "Indeed you are a Princess, or should I say Queen. You are the last of the Vas female line, or else your mother would be here. If you live, then so does your house. I am queen of the House of Yal."

"Yal?" Vasmeola questioned. "Your son, Simyaldee…"

The female spoke quickly. "I do not know my son any longer, and neither do you. He died many years ago." She was stern in her statement, almost demanding Vasmeola not to speak any further on the topic.

Vasmoela pushed back the urge to question Simyaldee's mother why she did not want to know about her son. She wanted to tell her that she was Simyaldee's mate, and that she could feel his child beginning to grow within her; something she could not tell Simyaldee when she last saw him.

"Forgive me." Vasmeola countered. "Can you tell me, what is going on?"

"All we know is that Regret found us using the Slave Traders as his cover. He brought us here to save us from the Grand Design… and told us that only the Hierarchs would survive the Great Journey. Everyone else in the galaxy would die. The Slaver Traders explained that the Grand Design is merely the Hierarchs term for galactic conquest. We are being taken away, beyond this galaxy, in order to survive. We do not understand why we must travel so far, but we are obviously unable to resist.

"There are numerous clans, families and races aboard this ship, including the loyalists of the Unggoy, the ones that sided against the Unggoy king during the Rebellion. Their descendents are amongst us and will help us build a better world away from the destruction that will follow."

"What?" Vasmeola questioned. "No, we can not leave our kin to die! If what Regret tells you is true, then billions of our kin will die! We must stay and fight."

"Fight whom? The Covenant? Most of us are females, and the males amongst us are too old to lead a rebellion or fight. And besides, no one will believe us. The Covenant was formed on the principals of the Gods, and the Great Journey. For countless rotations we have followed the wisdom of the Hierarchs. You think a group of old males and females will be able to convince the loyal followers of the Covenant, that the Great Journey is false? Relax, child. Soon our journey will begin. When we arrive at the Ice Ring, we will be free."

Vasmeola slumped to the soft floor, frustrated that once again she could do nothing. "Do you know where this ship is stationed right now; what it is called?"

"No. I gave up asking many months ago. Yet they did share the name of the ship with me. It is called the Key of Deliverance."

"The Key of Deliverance?" Vasmeola found herself becoming exhaustingly tired. It was sudden and her eyes began to grow heavy.

The old female was also growing tired, and chose not to resist the will to sleep. "I… guess it is time. So tired… now. See you on the other side… Queen of the House of Vas."

Before long, everyone was fast asleep, save only a few Prophets and their Hunagok workers. The first leg of their journey had begun.

- - - - - - - -

"The Age of Reclamation"
Wing of the Gods
Sangheili Capital ship within the Fleet of Divine Light
High Orbit over Outpost World
March 29, 2438 :: Sol Relative Time

The armory was once again the back drop to the Mirratord's secret getaway. The room was easily guardable, and even easier to encrypt. But this meeting was unlike the last time the armory was used. This meeting was a debriefing-rendezvous point for their mission.

Four Mirratord officers sat along the wall, each contemplating if the second was successful. With all that had been happening, these minor Mirratord officers had yet to be fully introduced to their new Field Operations Supervisor, Simyaldee. They sat quietly and waited, and after several minutes the door opened and in walked three of the Mirratord's highest ranks: Commander Vadumee, the Mirratord First and Field Operations Commander. He was followed closely by the Mirratord Honor Guard Balmaedee, a Major in the Spec Ops ranks. At his side was a high ranking Mirratord Guard, M'atralee.

Vadumee approached the group. "Has the room been properly secured?"

"Yes Sir." The minor nearest Vadumee replied. "There were a few Kig-yar sharp shooters cleaning their rifles, but we told them to leave."

Vadumee nodded, "Good. When the others return, place one soldier at each entrance of the room." Within moments several Mirratord officers began to file into the armory. Balmaedee and Vadumee waited for them to take their places and then they stepped out into the center of the room.

Balmaedee sternly stated to the Mirratord warriors, "Report from all fronts."

One of the warriors stepped forward, sharply nodded and made his report. "The command crew made no comments to the Spec Ops disruption of their ship. They questioned our presence only briefly." He stepped back into position.

Another warrior stepped forward, "The Ship Master was irritated that the elder lashed out at him, but he merely grumbled a few displeasing tones toward the Spec Ops." He returned to his position as well.

Vadumee smirked, "I am sure that he directed his displeasure solely at me. What of Engineering and the landing deck?"

Continuing with their protocols, the warriors made their reports. "The landing deck was active, yet no more then normal. Elder Misuvai departed as ordered."

"Nothing to report from engineering. The Hunagok completely ignored the situation."

Vadumee looked his warriors over, though young they were smart, tactful, strong and cunning; yet all of that was nothing compared to their abilities in combat. He was proud of what he created. They were the Mirratord Law in living form.

Standing firm, Vadumee paced in a slow circle in front of the warriors under his command, making sure he made full eye contact with each of them. "Good, very good. I trust that you all understand the severity of this first mission. An Elder was accused of acting against the will of the Sangheili race. His hands were tainted with Sangheili blood… innocent blood, and for that there is nothing more deserving then for the Mirratord to act. Though I am sure that many of you believe this first mission was… beneath… your abilities, spying upon the crew of this ship, none the less you performed them admirably. From this moment on, you have all earned the right to dawn your purple bars, and our missions will not become any easier."

Vadumee turned to M'atralee, "You have your orders. Select your unit and prepare to disembark."

"Yes Commander." M'atralee walked toward two of his long time friends, fellow graduates from the Frestun Academy on Dorenth. "You two will come with me. I will give you the details of our mission at the conclusion of this meeting." They agreed, elbowing each other knowing that they were lucky enough be getting their next mission. M'atralee raised his lower mandibles in what could only be understood as a smile. He knew these two warriors long and well, and knew that they would follow his orders without question. He turned to the Commander. "My team is ready, Sir."

"Good. Now we wait. The Second should be returning soon."

The group of twenty-two Mirratord warriors began to walk about the room, talking amongst each other and examining the various weapons in the Armory. Down time was something the Spec Ops, and in this case the Mirratord Field Operatives, rarely experienced. Field Operatives were constantly active, even in non battle situations they were sent to remote locations or used to calm civil disputes on occupied worlds; Special Operations did not know peace.

After nearly an hour of waiting the door to the room finally opened and in walked Simyaldee, the Mirratord Second in command.

"It is done." He softly stated.

Vadumee stood silent in the center of the room, as Balmaedee approached him. "What did you discover?"

"The elder admitted his treason; he was working with the Prophets." The room filled with roars of disapproval, that one of their elders, even a lowly Vai, would succumb to the Prophets will. Simyaldee continued. "I recorded his words. The Council will need to be notified, as I am sure that his death has reached them by now."

"And the Princess?" Balmaedee questioned sharply.

Simyaldee did not move, yet it was clear to everyone that he seemed to crumble to his knees. "Dead. The Hierarch stated it… he said that he ordered them killed." Simyaldee almost trembled at the words, yet he kept face and stood tall. Vadumee and Balmaedee could understand that Simyaldee was visually holding his emotions in check, yet inside he was truly in a great deal of pain.

A young warrior stepped forward and screamed, "We now have proof of the Prophets lies! We should take this to the council and ask them if we can attack!"

"No." Simyaldee stated. "Not yet. I understand your eagerness, brother; I wished to pounce upon the Hierarch and slay him, but they are the leaders of the Covenant. We can not attack them without more evidence. If we approached them about killing her, the Hierarchs would clearly defend their actions saying that Princess was a convicted murderer. We would loose our cover, and our chance to remove them from power."

"I could not have said it better myself." Vadumee added. "We need time to gain more solid proof of their lies. However, I must ask. Killing an elder is not easy, was it brother?"

Simyaldee held his hands out slightly, palm upward, and glared at them. As he lowered them he exhaled, "We were always taught to respect the elders. To uphold their teachings as if they were the words of our ancestors themselves, yet not even they are perfect. If we can not trust the elders, whom can we trust? "

Vadumee looked around the room, capturing the glare of all of his Mirratord soldiers. "The second asks a valid question. If we can not trust the Council, who will we trust? Look around you brothers, I did not bring you together simply because of your skill and strength. There are many amongst the Sangheili who are equally as skilled in combat, however they like something that I also sought in all of you. They lacked the questioning nature of the Prophets. Each of you has doubts about the Hierarchy, and that is crucial to your role within the Mirratord." Vadumee walked to each of his Mirratord officers. "My role, as the founder of this core unit, is to be watchful of the Prophets and the other races of the Covenant. They will always know where I am, and my tasks, however you are all invisible to their eyes. This is why there must always be a Second in command. The Second will be my eyes and ears, and your Field Commander. For the Mirratord to work, we must trust one another. We are right hand, the working hand, of the High Council, yet if the council turns its back on us, we can be severed from their arms. And like a ghost, we will vanish."

Vadumee continued around the room, placing his hands upon each of the gathered Mirratord Spec ops. "You, my Field Operatives, are the only few Mirratord warriors that will see direct combat. But there are more of you. From Ship Masters, to Field Masters, to Majors and raw recruits, the Mirratord are scattered throughout the fleet. Together we stand forty in all… forty complete." He stopped at Simyaldee. "You ask whom can you trust. Brother, you have thirty-nine shoulders to trust."

Balmaedee stood tall. "We are the Mirratord."

Jointly, the Mirratord replied. "We strike with speed and stealth. Our enemies will not see their deaths. They will not know their fate! In darkness, we will see light. In light, we will see darkness. No mater the location, we will see victory. If we fail, no one will know. Like a ghost, our presence is a mystery. "

Vadumee concluded the avowal. "For the honor of the Mirratord"

Vadumee stared into Simyaldee's eyes. "Do not grieve brother, harness that pain, accept it, and remember what the Prophets took from you this day. We all have pain, not one of us can say there is not something that the Prophets have destroyed in our hearts. We will do our duty to the council, and for ourselves."

Simyaldee stood tall, and held back his sadness. His thoughts of Vasmeola danced in his head, and though they were mates for only a short while, he vowed to never take another mate until he had avenged her death. He folded his arms across his chest, and remained silent.

"M'atralee," Vadumee directed. "You and your team are dismissed. You're your mission is complete report back to the Second."

"Yes Sir." The three warriors exited the room.

"Second, I will brief you on their mission after we meet with the council." Vadumee added. Simyaldee nodded and watched as M'atralee and his team exited the room. "You may dismiss the meeting."

Simyaldee stepped forward and nodded, "For the honor of the Mirratord." The group repeated and then exited the room.

Vadumee turned to Balmaedee and Simyaldee, "Now then, before we depart, it is time to introduce you both to the Single Blade." Vadumee unclipped two energy sword hilts from his hip belt and held them in each hand. He power them on the two warriors watched as the forged energy extended up his forearm, instead of outward like a regular blade. "They are primarily for close quarters combat, but in a few months you will learn that these blades will be the only weapon you will ever need in your arsenal. I have been practicing with them for several months, and I have found numerous uses for them. Because of my position, I will not carry them; its design will lead to suspicion if seen by others. The council is developing forty pairs of these, one for each of our warriors to use. In six months, during the next Graduation Ceremony, I will summon everyone back to Dorenth to train in the Cave of the Prospects. You will lead this training and so you must learn the Ancient Arts of our ancestors. It is a combat style of swiftness, elegance, and power. Unlike our military training, which is mainly based on weapons and strategy, our Ancient teachings muster stealth, balance and grace; it is a form of hand to hand combat. Balmaedee has been taught the basics, but there is much more to be learned. Believe me, it will be many years before you can be considered a master at any one art."

"Should we not report to the Council first?" Simyaldee questioned. "I do not wish for anything to break my concentration later."

"He sounds eager to learn, Commander." Balmaedee chuckled.

"He will regret it later." Vadumee replied. "Believe me brother, your body will soon discover muscles that not even our old Master was able to make you use." Vadumee placed the single energy blades into Simyaldee's hands. He was amazed at how light they were, unlike the standard energy swords. He powered them on, and instantly felt the heat upon his forearms. His shields began to flash, and quickly faded, he struggled to keep the sword away from his arm, but dropped the sword as the focused energy cut into his arm.

"Get use to it, as it will happen often until you are comfortable with using them." Vadumee smiled. "The trick is to strengthen your wrists and angle the blade away from you at all times. Eventually it shall become second nature to you. But until then, it may be helpful to have several med kits at your disposal."

Simyaldee looked down at the trickles of blood seeping through his body suit, and he sighed heavily. "How can anyone use these weapons?"

Vadumee chuckled. "We are not 'anyone'. We are Mirratord."

- - - - - - - -

More than eighty years later…

"The Age of Reclamation"
High Charity
Council Chambers
Patrol Zone Border of Jiralhanae Territory
September 15, 2521 :: Sol Relative Time

"I do not care, Commander." Mercy huffed as he looked over the gathered crowd of the Council Chambers. "Our instructors have been teaching at the Sangheili Academy's for nearly thirty rotations. Returning control back to the Sangheili will only lead us to another Watchmen revolt."

"I am merely sharing the council's wishes." Vadumee stated as he looked to the High Council members sitting to his right.

Regret added, "The Watchmen of the Academy have lacked discipline in the past, the introduction of our instructors changed this. Have not the most recent Sangheili graduates been to your approval? Have they not met or exceeded your expectations?"

Vadumee stepped forward to speak, however a councilor raised his voice from the stands. "Your holiness, what you say is true, but since the founding of the Covenant it has always been the Honored who have instructed our young Watchmen. Can you not see that we are slowly loosing grasp of the very foundations of our ancestry?"

Vadumee lifted his hand and gestured toward the speaking councilor, "The floor recognizes Elder S'et Metraoa."

Mercy turned to face the Sangheili Council. "Elder Metraoa, your ancestors embraced us when we arrived. Both of our races looked beyond our histories in light of pursuing a common goal. I understand your concern, that you wish for the Watchmen to learn more of their heritage, but you are forgetting one thing; this Covenant is the will of the Gods. We are not here for our own aspirations, but to seek the birthright of the Forerunners and to obey the will of our Gods."

Metraoa, M'atralee's father, continued. "We all agree that you and the Gods must be obeyed. But what is a race that has forgotten its past completely?"

"They are slaves." Mercy stated suddenly. The room began to mumble, more so the Elites than the Prophets. Mercy floated closer to the edge of the stage. "Slavery is the one thing we can not let happen. Through humbleness, I shall seek the Gods wisdom, to find a solution to this decree. Your hearts call out to me, brothers of the Sangheili, and your concerns way heavily upon my heart. You feel that we are exacting too much control over you, that soon you will loose yourselves and become like the Unggoy or the Kigyar; a body but no mouth. We, the original founders of this Covenant would never allow such a thing to occur. The Sangheili are our brothers, our kin, and if you have concerns then we shall address them immediately. If it pleases this council, a Prophet shall continue to run and govern their respected Academy, yet no longer will they instruct combat and discipline. We will reduce our roles to teaching Philosophy, Faith and the History of the Gods."

The Elites mumbled amongst themselves for several minutes, while the Prophets opposite of them silently listened. Between the two separated council groups, Vadumee stood and waited. Politics; he was a Warrior and hated every minute of being in the Council Chambers, but as Commander of the Sangheili Forces his presence was needed merely as an emissary; a bridge between the Sangheili military forces and political commerce of the Council.

Vadumee looked up toward the central stage, where Regret and Mercy sat patiently with their Honor Guards. Commander Vadumee longed for the old days, back when the Mirratord was new. His mind raced back to the induction of his best friend, young Rin Simyaldee. Their bond over the last eighty years had grown such that they considered each other as brothers. But now things had changed. While Simyaldee led the Mirratord directly, Vadumee was reduced to being nothing more then a General; talks, meetings and debates.

Vadumee looked to the council chamber's time indicator. It was nearly time for the Mirratord to make their move against the Heretic enclave deep in the heart of Unggoy space. He knew the mission would go without error, Simyaldee never made a mistake. In eighty years of Black Operation missions, missions that would never be revealed to the Prophets, this was bound to be another perfect mission for his long time friend.

Yet, even while he sat in the midst of the councilors, Vadumee was having a bad feeling that something was out of place. Not since Simyaldee and the Mirratord went on their first solo mission without him had he been concerned about a Mirratord mission, yet Vadumee was beginning to worry and he could not understand why.

- - - - - - - -

Age of Reclamation
The Great Valley of Mittab
Unggoy Home World
September 15, 2521 :: Sol Relative Time

Simyaldee and his team could only run as if their lives depended on it. Their intelligence was greatly mistaken. The Heretics had done more then recruit a few Grunts into their ranks; it was nearly the entire population of the grunt home world that was aiding them. With their oxygen masks tightly secured over their heads, Simyaldee and his team of five Mirratord agents sprinted over the odd grassland of the Grunts home planet. The methane rich air created a ghostly nighttime atmosphere, but the Elite's natural sharp vision was still crystal clear.

Considered off limits to any ships, the Grunt's home planet was to be left alone, to let the Grunts that had not been taken into slavery hundreds of years ago, replenish their numbers. Nearly eighty percent of the Grunts were taken into the Covenant after the Grunt king was defeated, including several breeding females. This was a mandatory decree by the Prophets, and that way they could always return to the Grunt planet and there would be millions of fresh troops available. Over time the grunts grew exponentially, and the Heretics Elites sought their numbers.

Simyaldee had uncovered a vicious plan by the Heretic Separatists, a group of Heretic agents that were not under the control of the High Council. This plan would be the ruin of more then just the Covenant, but the Sangheili as well. The Heretic had planned to plant thousands of Grunt sleeper cells into the Covenant. These cells would repeat the plans of the former Grunt King; suicide bombings inside the Covenant ship reactor cores. Simyaldee's mission was simple, find the heart of the Heretic cell and eliminate the chain of command. It was a sound strategy; an attack method that had been successful numerous times; against Jiralhanae spies, Kig-Yar traitors, Heretic Separatists, Sangheili bandits, and Mok'tat Religious fanatics. But what the Mirratord was unaware of was how loyal the Grunts had become.

Thousands of Grunts protected the Heretic camp; their Elite leader was seen almost as if he were a God. This created a problem, as the Grunts showed no fear toward the Elites beneath him. Only the Heretic leader was worthy of fear, and he taught the Grunts not to fear the Elites. Killing the leader's lower ranking support was a simple task, escaping the planet in one peace… that would prove a problem.

Simyaldee breathed easily into his com, "Secondary targets have been eliminated. We have cleared the camp. Unggoy guards are now in pursuit. The camp is clear. Sniper, do you have a shot?"

Several hundred yards away, perched on a cliff outcropping, sat a lone Mirratord warrior. His enhance particle beam rifle was held steady by a gravity support unit. He zoomed into the heart of the camp, pushing the rifle to its maximum range setting. He altered the rifle for the night time mission, though he would rather have held the dual blades in his hands.

"Stand by, Second. He has not emerged from the building."

Simyaldee turned to see that the slowly moving grunts still pursued him and his team. He wished he had thought this plan out more clearly, but he had no way of knowing that the Grunts would mass together this quickly. The original plan was to sneak into camp, kill the Heretic's command staff, and wait for him to emerge from the building, but the number of Grunts made that plan unwise. He had never used a sniper for a mission, and he called it a coward's weapon. He vowed to never use it, but this was the only plan he could think of at such a critical juncture. Crystal shards from Needler rounds exploded on his armor, but only caused his shields to drop two percent.

Simyaldee huffed into his communicator. "If you do not get a clear shot, notify me immediately!" Infiltrating the Heretic's building would have put his team at an unknown disadvantage; literally trapping his team and being surrounded by countless Grunts. This was a good plan, he thought to himself, but it all depended upon the accuracy of his best shooter.

The sniper was steady, looking the tiny building over and waited for the last Elite to come out. His command team, camped outside the building, was dead and eventually he would come out to see what had happened. His only concern was how long the Heretic leader would wait? The sniper watched as the doors parted and an Elite wearing a oxygen helmet stuck his head out; as if on cue.

"Target sited, taking the shot." The warrior held his breath, listened to the moments between his heartbeats, and waited for the Heretic leader to expose more of himself. The leader leaned further out the door, and between the snipers heartbeats he watched as the Heretic leader's head exploded from a thin purple beam of light. The body slumped to its knees and then teetered over. "Target terminated."

Simyaldee unclipped a plasma grenade and primed it. He then clicked on his team wide com. "Exit protocol four!" Simyaldee stopped, as his teammates ran past him, and threw the grenade behind toward the pursing grunts. The grenade landed in the grunts path and detonated, sending blue dust and flames into the night time sky. The Mirratord warriors activated their active camouflage and vanished into the darkness.

As the dust settled, the grunts looked around, puzzled. They tossed their noses into the air, but smelled nothing. The Mirratord had run down wind, perfectly covering their trail from the Grunts enhanced sense of smell. The sniper clipped the bulky and oddly shaped rifle to his back, activated his camouflage and raced to the extraction point. Their mission was over, and after ten days of trekking through the murky Methane atmosphere of he Grunt's world, they could finally relax.

It took their tiny ship more then two weeks to return to the heart of Covenant space, and Simyaldee was overjoyed to see their home, High Charity. Under the disguise of a Special Operations survey team, the Mirratord ship docked to the lower docking ring of High Charity and the Ship Master patted Simyaldee on the back.

"The Commander will be overjoyed with the success of this mission, Second." The ship master chuckled. "I thought certainly that this mission would prove to be a challenge, but you pulled it off without hindrance."

Simyaldee simply nodded and tossed his gear over his shoulder. "Remember to erase the trans-light database, and star charts. We do not want anyone to know where we have been."

"Yes sir!" The ship master nodded. He quickly turned and began to erase the records.

Simyaldee had grown into a quiet warrior, focused on duty and discipline. His men trusted him fiercely, and obeyed his orders without question. He was the Mirratord Second, and his men respected and loved him. He walked into the bay of the tiny ship as the men cheered they safe return home.

The docking ring door parted and Balmaedee greeted them. "Second! You brought all the men home safely. My mate will honor you with a meal. Come brothers! My home, as always, is your home!" Balmaedee, the oldest of the Mirratord, patted each of them on the back as they exited the tiny short range ship. Balmaedee was wearing the traditional clothing of the Sangheili because he was off duty, and was in a very pleasant mood.

One of the Mirratord chuckled, "You are in a fairly good mood, brother."

Another chimed in, "Could it be that he has started to drink before we arrived?" The group began to laugh; except Simyaldee.

"We will all gladly join you at your home, after our debriefing." Simyaldee stated. He turned to his team and softly dismissed them. "Rendezvous at the Mausoleum."

"Sir!" The group of four stated simultaneously. As they walked off they laughed and cheered their return.

Balmaedee patted him on the shoulder. "They are good men."

"Yes, they are. This mission forced the men to think beyond the normal situations, and understand that sometimes we must improvise in the field. I feel that I can finally rest as ease, knowing that the Mirratord is complete. Vadumee will be pleased; there is nothing more that I can teach them." Simyaldee turned to Balmaedee. "Aside from that, how did it go? What was the council's decision during the deliberations?"

Balmaedee sighed heavily. "It really is all business with you. It went as well as could be expected. The Prophets will remain in the academy but they will no longer teach combat; merely Religion and History."

"It is a start." Simyaldee began to walk away. "I will debrief the men and the council, and my young team will join you at your home. Tell Symaesa that it will be a long night."

"She shall be looking forward to it, brother."

- - - - - - - -

Later that evening in High Charity's civilian district; Balmaedee's large home was filled with happy soldiers, all wearing their traditional Sangheili garb. Young single females from the House of Mae catered to the warriors' every need. These females were cousins and nieces of Balmaedee and all looking to find mates. But the focus of the party was to celebrate the safe return of the warriors; though none spoke of the mission. Cheerful singing and laughter and music filled the home and into the streets. When the warriors celebrated it was often a community affair, and soon enough the house filled with nearly fifty patrons and friends, civilians and councilors.

Balmaedee carried around a large pitcher of alcohol as his eldest son looked to the warriors with wide eyes of hope. Simyaldee looked to the group as he nursed his drinking slowly.

"Be of good cheer, brother!" Balmaedee laughed. "My home is open to you, and my family has a vast line of single females. Choose yourself a new mate!" Drunk and full of cheer, Balmaedee laughed deeply at Simyaldee.

Simyaldee walked away. "No offense, brother, but you should understand my hesitation." Balmaedee ceased his laughter and followed his comrade out of the house. The joyful party continued inside as Balmaedee and Simyaldee walked into the artificial yard of his home. Several young couples flirted about in the darkness but Simyaldee didn't care, his mind raced to his long lost love.

"Brother, I meant no disrespect." Balmaedee apologized. "But it has been countless cycles. It is time for you to take a mate and bring forth heirs to your name. Rebuild the House of Yal…"

"No!" Simyaldee stormed back. He quickly chugged his drink and sat upon a small grass hill. He looked to the distant lights of the massive Forerunner ship, towering into the domed sky of High Charity. Thin wisps of clouds floated around the towering structure, giving High Charity an almost planetary feel. "I can not think of such things until I avenge her. I understand how important it is that I rebuild my family's home, yet how can I care for my mate if I am torn over another?"

Balmaedee chuckled, "No one said you have to love her. Just father some children with her; bare heirs. And when the Prophet's grasp on us cease, then you can fully embrace your mate. Of my family I know of several worthy females for you… I have known you long enough to know your tastes."

"I understand your concern, brother, but no thank you." Simyaldee continued to gaze into the sky as Balmaedee patted him on the shoulder. "What of your oldest son? How goes his Academy training?"

"Doz will be a formidable warrior someday. I train him when I can, but I have no doubt that he will enter the Academy at the head of his class. I wish it were an Academy on Dorenth, but the High Charity academies have received good merit."

"Hopefully he will not cower during the Parade." Simyaldee added.

"My son, cower?" Balmaedee strongly questioned. "Perish the thought! It will never happen! He will show the honored his discipline and make head of the class." Balmaedee laughed to himself. Simyaldee simply nodded with a quiet smirk. Yet their time of bonding was slowly fading. Overhead, a Phantom was quickly descending toward Balmaedee's home.

"This is not good." Simyaldee whispered.

The ship quickly hovered over the home and the gravity lift descended a few feet from Simyaldee and Balmaedee. A red armored Elite exited the ship and quickly approached Balmaedee and Simyaldee.

"Lieutenant, Major, there has been a discovery. You and the Spec Ops are needed immediately. I have been sent by the Commander to bring you both to the Council Chambers."

Simyaldee and Balmaedee wasted no time, they could alert the other soldiers later, for now they let the party continue. The boarded the Phantom and quickly sped to the military zone of High Charity.

The Council Chambers were in complete awe as the Hologram displayed a giant silver ring in high orbit of a bright blue world. Mercy and Regret sat upon the stage as the Truth's image glistened near them.

The chamber doors opened and Vadumee looked to his two brothers in arm. "Where are you uniforms?"

"You caught us at a bad time…" Balmaedee suddenly was speechless. "Is that?"

"Yes brother. It is Halo."

Simyaldee stood mouth agape as he looked into the monstrous Hologram at the center of the Council Chambers. "By the Gods. You were right… it is too hard to fathom."

"An expedition found it nearly six weeks ago, Truth went there to verify. This is the first visual we have received since Truth arrived there. He is currently returning here, but his message could not wait. They discovered something."

"What?" Balmaedee questioned.

"Truth has yet to say." Vadumee relayed. "I intend to send a Spec Ops unit there to investigate. M'atralee will lead, though the Mirratord will not be involved. Truth has vowed to send the Fleet of Divine Light, our The Fleet of Particular Justice will be on standby."

The Elite and Prophet Councilors began to stir as Truth's image once again to center stage.

"Truth is about to speak again." Vadumee whispered.

"Brothers of the Covenant, here me. In this great and holy time, we encountered an ancient defiler of hour Holy Quest. An unknown ship approached us as we scanned the Holy ring and it dared to attack us. But the Gods shined highly upon us, as we ended their crusade. We attempted to communicate with them, but they turned a def shoulder to our plea. We found their bodies amongst the ruin of their vessels. I will let his Holiness Mercy explain."

Truth's image faded and in its place appeared the image of small skinny creature. Its body was nearly hairless accept on the top of his head, and in the middle of its body. The image split and showed it wearing a thin cloth material. It had two arms and legs, much like any other creature, however the Prophets seemed terrified.

"Brothers! Brothers!" Mercy screamed to the council of Prophets and Elites. "These creatures are the sworn enemies of the Gods! How… how can it be that they still live? By the Gods… we must finished what the Forerunners began. We must protect Halo from these creatures, these… humans! The ancient ones knew their destructive power. Do not be fooled by their frail appearance. They are cunning and smart and bread like a plaque. They must be stopped, the must be destroyed. They would attack us without warning, and force Truth to return to the safety of the Covenant. How… how can we not find them and let loose our ferocious might upon them?" The Councilors were quickly stirred by Mercy's words standing and roaring in praise.

"For several years now, we have worked peacefully together to answer the great question of our Gods, and draw ever closer to the Great Journey! But now, the enemy of the Forerunners, the enemy of our Gods has appeared! Mighty Warriors, it is time to rise up! It is time to stand proud! We are the Covenant, the most powerful force in the universe, and we shall not be hindered on the eve of our greatest answers!"

A roar of applause escaped all the councilors, Prophet and Elite, as Simyaldee looked to Vadumee. "The Great Journey is real! By the God's… it is real!"

"As I have told you brother, I saw the first image of Halo years ago. But this changes nothing. We will fight and slaughter the enemy of the Gods, but we will be cautious of Prophets."

Mercy continued. "Truth has launched hundreds of probes, and when we find the humans the Fleet of Divine Light will be sent. We will send out our might instruments to end the humans' evil existence!" A cheer of applause escaped every Elite and Prophet's mouth as word quickly spread throughout the Armada of this evil alien race.

Simyaldee looked once more to the image of the human floating in the council chamber. "For the will Gods we will fight them. For the future of the Great Journey, we will destroy them."

- - - - - - -

Truth thumbed his stubble as he listened to the recording once again.

"Hello. This is Expedition outpost Prime, to any Sangheili patrol ships. Can anyone read me? My name is Vasmeola, the elected leader of the resistance group. Our ship is the Key of Deliverance, and its navigational makers have been erased. We do not have the coordinates to return to Covenant space. I have attached the star chart of our location into this transmission. All we know is that we are beyond Forerunner space. There is another strange alien race on this world… they call themselves 'The Prime', but they will not tell us more then this. Please respond. We will monitor this channel for as long as we can. We understand that it may take many months for this transmission to reach anyone… please… help us…"

He turned to his lower Prophet assistant. "Has this transmission reached covenant space yet?"

"No, your Excellency. It has been traveling for more then three months. It has just reached our territory."

"Jam the transmission, fill it with static if you must. Make no record of receiving it. Tell the Sangheili communications officer to report to me immediately. If he spoke to anyone about this, be prepared to eliminate the entire command crew. Once we arrive back at the Armada I want a full inspection into why the Princess of Vas is still alive… and how she found the Forerunners Home World."

"What about the ship, your Excellency? She called it the Key of Deliverance?"

"Check the name in our database, though I do not believe you will find anything. Someone has been trying to pull the wool over my eyes, and I am not one to be trifled with."

The End

Continue the Mirratord Adventures by reading the "Halo Side Trilogy", starting with "Stand, Five Feet High", and continuing with "If I Were Your Hero". Coming March 2007, the final chapter of the Halo Side Trilogy; "The Path of Reclamation".

-Halo © 2006 Bungie Microsoft Corporation
-Halo 2 © 2006 Bungie Microsoft Corporation
-All rights reserved
-All characters, characters names and descriptions related to Halo, Halo 2 © 2006 Bungie Microsoft Corporation
-The Miratord and all its character names created by Soulguard