"The infidels hide our holy relics," Zealot Marshal Etam 'Borahee growled, his feet hitting the floor with heavy, purposeful strides. "Those who sought to stay our advance died. I took two living for the Ministry of Inquisition to examine."
Teams of unggoy dragged the limp forms of two humans through the snow, the first a strange-looking thing, its skin purple and its head marked by some kind of growth that swept back from the front of the head; the second similar in build but naked above the waist and horribly burned by plasma.
'Tuka 'Vratumee, Shipmaster of the vessel Sanctified Advance, stood in his golden combat harness and looked at the captives. "Take them aboard before they freeze. They are no good to the Minister dead."
"By your command," 'Borahee said, bowing his head. A shuttle awaited them nearby, and without delay the zealot boarded it with his two prisoners in tow.
'Tuka followed, stepping up into the transport bay with members of 'Borahee's team. They suffered no casualties on this raid, much to their credit. Zealots only achieved such a rank through years of service and devotion to the Gods. Even among zealots Etam 'Borahee maintained a fearsome reputation as a pious warrior with many battles in his past.
A shipmaster holds ultimate authority aboard his ship, however. No matter 'Borahee's station, aboard Sanctified Advance he followed 'Tuka's orders. This custom had long allowed the many branches of Covenant service to coexist without conflict, and did so again today. 'Tuka could only be glad for it.
Turbulence jostled the flight home, the comparatively small shuttle buffeted by the high winds in the upper levels of the storm wracking the surface of the planet. They settled immediately upon passing through the airtight barriers outside the hangar bays, slowing to a stop beside a pathway raised high above the floor. The doors on the shuttle hissed open, allowing 'Tuka to set foot once more on the deck of his cruiser.
From the forward hangar bay it took little time to get to the command deck deep within the heart of the Sanctified Advance. Projections on the walls showed the surroundings, currently stormclouds and blowing snow. Many times they showed only stars, the whirling greyness on the walls actually changed the scenery in a welcome fashion.
At the center of the command deck stood a table, a place often used for councils-of-war among shipmasters or meetings with the masters of different systems and divisions within and aboard the cruiser. Upon this table the unggoy dropped the bodies of the captives. The unggoy deacon in charge of the detail gathered the others about him and prayed for cleansing following their handling of the unclean.
At the head of the table an gruff old voice spoke out. The Low Inquisitor, one of many san 'shyuum to hold such a title, barked, "What have you brought me?"
"Two infidels from the surface," 'Tuka replied. "They hide the relics we seek."
The Inquisitor steepled his fingers, his gravity chair drifting at an inexorable pace along the side of the table. A long sigh escaped his lips, rattling the wattles on either side of his chin. "The Gods have seen fit to grant me such gifts that even from infidels on an unknown worlds can I draw secrets. Have them taken to my chambers."
'Tuka bowed his head and gestured for the unggoy to remove the captives to the Inquisitor's chambers. The deacon lead its detail forward and they dragged the unconscious bodies off the table and disappeared from the command deck, the Low Inquisitor drifting behind them in silence.
'Borahee turned to 'Tuka. "I should like to continue my search on the surface."
"You shall," 'Tuka assented, looking at a holographic projection of the planet. "Provision your men and resume the search. I will inform you of the Low Inquisitor's findings as soon as he provides them."
'Borahee stood fast. "Will regular warriors be landing?"
"Is there any need for them?" 'Tuka asked.
The zealot shook his head. "Not for fighting. If these creatures seek to hide the relics we will need many more hands than I can provide to search them out."
It occurred to him that a search of every possible hiding place may be necessary. The gods' gifts came in many forms, it would not be unheard-of for them to be small enough to hide in a small box or some other container. Wherever they may be, they must be found.
"I shall lead a command section to the ground myself," 'Tuka declared. "Go now, Marshal, and identify locations that may hold our quarry. We cannot afford another Tragedy of the Core."
'Borahee's jaws clenched at the mention of that event- the psychological wound that it left was still too raw, having happened no more than a solar cycle in the past. It would be worse for a zealot, no doubt, but it hung the heads of every devout follower of the Covenant.
Before Sanctified Advance departed for the vast reaches of space, a similar vessel exploring beyond the Covenant's outer colonies encountered a bounty of relics. As they moved toward it the thing took off at fantastic speeds toward the galactic core, but not fast enough to outpace its pursuer.
The hunter arrived first, laying in wait amidst a massive debris field. A dangerous ship-to-ship battle ensued as the relic-thieves arrived. Due to the quarter given the vessel carrying the relics so as not to damage them the cruiser suffered serious damage, fighting on until vanquished by the thieves. As they did, however, the scout's Luminary dispatched a message to High Charity upon the discovery of the relics and several ships made their way to the core.
Once there a savage battle erupted, resulting in the destruction of the recently-named "Reliquary of the Core." Many days of fasting and prayer followed, begging for forgiveness from the Gods. It seemed that here on this snowy world forgiveness may be found.
At nightfall, the surface of this world looked purple. Whirling snow made it impossible to orient oneself, though the lights of the infidel city served to be an ideal guide. At 'Tuka's back stood one thousand unggoy and two hundred sangheili, the full complement of Sanctified Advance's infantry.
Through the snow they marched in a long column, the veteran lances at the fore and more recently assembled lances at the rear. In a combat situation this would be the ideal formation for penetrating the defenses of the enemy and enveloping them with the weaker lances in front and the stronger ones in the rear. In this situation it would make for easier entry to the mostly-subdued city.
They climbed through the broken wall that 'Borahee used as an entry in their initial contact. From there he issued a single order: "Find the relics!"
The unggoy fanned out, tearing the city apart. For his part, 'Tuka followed a trail of bodies to a structure off the main plaza. Blue-armored infidels lay with grievous wounds dealt by an energy sword. Little blood stained the floor- energy swords burned their targets as well as cut, leaving little opportunity for bleeding.
A darkened doorway gaped from the wall, the body of an alien he hadn't seen before- one whose head had many spikes swept backward, terminating in sharp points- lay half inside the room. 'Tuka turned the corner carefully and searched, scanning the room first for threats, then for anything that may be of the Gods.
"Shipmaster," a voice said in his ear, a communication from the Sanctified Advance. "The Luminary has identified a relic near you."
'Tuka froze, motioning for his guard to join him in searching the room. He picked through the equipment mounted on the walls around the room, listening to the tinny voices of the remaining infidels to resist them as they communicated with each other.
Then, a cough.
'Tuka's head whipped around toward the source, an alien like the one 'Borahee sent to the Low Inquisitor. This one had fewer burns and wore armor, though plasma appeared to warp the armor and fuse it together. Feebly it attempted to aim a weapon at him, but in two strides he crossed the room and knocked the pistol from its hands.
It mumbled something in its own tongue, gesturing at him.
His men stepped forward, plasma rifles trained on the infidel. "Search it," 'Tuka ordered, stepping back to make way. It grunted as they lifted it from the floor, turning it around and examining the armor with a critical eye. The alien swung at them, landing several hits on the chest plates of her captors.
"I see nothing," the captain of his guard reported. "It wears a primitive sort of armor, nothing that may have come from godly technology."
Frustration crept up 'Tuka's back, and his fist clenched. He called back to the cruiser. "Where is it?"
In a moment the reply came, measured and slow. "It is impossible to tell exactly, the glyph covers your own locator signal. It must be in the same area as you."
Something did not make sense. There was nothing in this room that might be the relic. He began to think, walking away from the alien on the floor.
He recalled 'Borahee mentioning that the infidels fled with the relics after his assault, retreating deeper into the city. As their occupation wore on, the Luminary found fewer relics. Now he stood in the same room as a relic, but found nothing. Nothing, save for this creature.
Suddenly, he pointed at the captain of the guard. "Take the infidel to the plaza, 'Zuzumai."
The ultra turned on his heel and grabbed the alien by the arm, dragging it out of the room and down the hall toward their point of entry. As 'Zuzumai's footfalls faded from 'Tuka's hearing, he called the Sanctified Advance again to get a location on the relic.
"The relic has moved, Shipmaster!"
It felt as though lightning had struck him. Could it be that the Luminary identified the creature as a relic? Was that possible?
Once more he called on his cruiser. "Send a missive to High Charity at once. This is something even the Hierarchs may need to see."