Chapter 37: The Fall of Jul 'Mdama
Agent Locke was trying to keep his hands from shaking.
There were multiple possible explanations for why his limbs were acting up. It could be from the rather bumpy ride. Skilled as Mahkee was, the raging cyclone and occasional anti-air fire guaranteed a less than smooth journey to the city of Sunaion. It could be the stims he had taken to stave off his exhaustion. He was getting dangerously close to the safe limit for frequency and duration of stimulant abuse. It could even be his nerves. He doubted that last one, both for egotistical reasons and because he had never suffered from such attacks in previous engagements.
Locke tried to convince himself that it wouldn't matter. Whatever the cause, the focus and adrenaline of battle would suppress any jitters and steady his hand. He tried to distract himself by thinking of the fight ahead.
Fireteam Osiris was once again being flown by Mahkee into battle. This time they were headed toward Sunaion, the final refuge of the Storm Covenant. The infiltration team had already punched a hole in the AA network. Locke bit back a grimace. He had a suspicion as to who exactly was a part of this 'advance force'. The fact that the Arbiter insisted it was simply a group of elite sangheili warriors containing no one he would recognize only supported the ONI Agent's conclusion.
If he was right, everything was coming together in this one place and time. The Guardians, Blue Team, the Arbiter...everything that Locke needed to complete his mission.
Not to mention the death of the Storm Covenant.
The grimace transformed into a smile on Locke's face. Whatever else happened today, he would take comfort in the fact that this group of genocidal freaks would no longer be a threat to humanity. His features set into stone as he remembered all of the crimes the Storm were guilty of.
He thought about his old leader, Sgt. Augustus Murphy.
He thought about the slaughters he had seen, in person and in report, committed against human populations.
He thought about how far humanity might have progressed had it not been hindered by this cult of religious lunatics whose leader had delusions of godhood.
Oh, yes. Locke would enjoy this.
The only real downside was that it would not be humanity that delivered the killing stroke. The Spartan had always assumed it would be humans that finally ended 'Mdama's miserable life. The fact that it was another group of aliens doing it didn't sit well with him.
The fact that Locke would have to assassinate the leader of said aliens sat even worse.
The ONI Agent was pulled from his ruminations by the interior lighting of the dropship changing from blue to scarlet. They were approaching the LZ.
"Osiris, assume position," Locke ordered. The other members of his fireteam moved toward the circular hatch set in the center of the compartment's floor. The human soldiers grabbed the handholds lining the ceiling. The Phantom pulled to a stop and the interior lighting switched from scarlet to yellow. "Deploy! Deploy!" Locke ordered.
Tanaka was, naturally, the first to step into the grav lift. Her armor and shields would protect her during the brief journey to the surface of the hard-light platform. Locke stepped in next, followed by Buck, and finally Vale.
Weapons fire filled the air surrounding the platform. The storm clouds above were illuminated by the flashes of exploding vehicles and equipment. The cylindrical pylon itself rushed by as the human soldiers passed the bare peak of the Forerunner construct. The disc-shaped platform of hard-light seemed almost to be alive as the Arbiter's soldiers descended onto it surface and 'Mdama's forces moved to repel them. The Spartans each had their shields flare as weapons fire impacted them on the way down.
Friendly Banshees and Phantoms began strafing the enemy positions, pinning them behind cover. Locke was grateful. He didn't fancy the idea of their transport being shot down while Osiris was still making their descent.
At last, they made landfall. The Spartans joined the sangheili and unggoy warriors in clearing the LZ for additional landings. They secured the surface relatively quickly.
A small force of Swords engineers, composed of unggoy, sangheili, and even the occasional huragok, moved to disable various access points leading to hostile pylons. There was no time to clear each occupied pylon completely. The best they could do was seal off everywhere they couldn't rapidly secure and deal with the stragglers after 'Mdama had been taken down.
Osiris moved to cover the engineers at one of the access points. A ramp of translucent blue energy connected the surface deck with the one immediately beneath. Enemy fire reached up toward them as the Storm forces below rushed to engage the invaders.
The Spartans crouched behind the hard-light banisters lining the opening. Their cover began glowing as enemy fire impacted them and steam rose as the rainwater was flash-boiled by the plasma shots. Hostiles began massing for a charge upward that could overwhelm the newly arrived invaders.
Two Swords unggoy gunners moved toward to the upper entrance of the ramp itself. Each was protected by a pair of their brethren wielding circular kig-yar energy barriers. Enemy fire bounced off the shields as they moved into position. The gunners laid down a pair of heavy plasma turrets. Locke was impressed by the strength of the diminutive aliens as the heavy guns were nearly as big as they were. The weapon mounts emitted a blue glow as their gravity drives activated and held the turrets aloft.
The deployment process was finished within seconds. The unggoy shield-bearers moved out of the way and the gunners opened up just in time to meet the infantry surge. A mass of hostile warriors ran up the ramp, hoping to overwhelm the Swords force above.
The heavy guns tore them to shreds.
The advance was slowed as the survivors attempted to move over or around their fallen allies. Osiris and the other Swords infantry added their fire to the effort and soon the hostiles were forced to fall back.
Abruptly, the ramp blinked out of existence. Dozens of smoking corpses fell to the deck below as their physical support vanished. The carnage below was only visible for a moment before a fresh piece of hard-light deck popped into place where the opening had been. It looked for all the world like there had never been an entrance there to begin with.
Locke nodded in approval to the engineers before motioning the rest of his squad to move out. Once the initial pylon had been sealed off, the engineers would switch to completely cutting off the hostile pylons from the rest of the network. Sealing entrances to the lower levels would mean little once the enemy had moved to other areas of the city and reached the surface deck from there.
The center of the LZ was buzzing with activity by the time Osiris reached it. Customized Spirit dropships deployed fortification equipment to solidify their control over the beachhead. Energy barricades and heavy turrets were set up. Anti-air turrets, smaller and more portable than the Tyrants, were deployed. The Arbiter wanted to ensure complete air supremacy once the Storm AA net was taken down.
Speak of the devil, Locke thought as he saw the Arbiter's personal Phantom fly into view. The heavily armored vehicle came to a stop in the center of the LZ and Swords of Sanghelios Honor Guard descended in advance of their leader. The Arbiter himself descended not long after. He was once again wearing his silver and black armor.
"Swords of Sanghelios," the Arbiter shouted, broadcasting across the Swords comm net. "Today we shall bring an end to the Covenant and the lies they have sown. Today we ensure that the course of our history will lead to prosperity and strength for all who live beneath our banner. Today is the day of our greatest triumph." The head of state activated his energy sword and held it above his head as he shouted. "For Sanghelios! For our future!"
A battle-cry rang out as the Swords forces answered their leader. Warriors rushed to and fro, their morale boosted through the roof. Locke had to admit: the guy knew how to pump his people up.
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The push to the Central Pylon was a time-consuming slog.
Ambush after ambush.
Checkpoint after checkpoint.
Counterattack after counterattack.
On and on it went, the hostile fanatics usually refusing to fall back.
When they did, it was always in preparation of another ambush.
The city around Locke transformed into a world of multi-colored weapons fire, dead aliens, and exploding equipment. Everywhere he looked he was confronted by scores of corpses. Many of the smoldering bodies gave off steam of their own as the rainwater hit them.
Locke felt as if he was firing his rifle in a continuous stream as he and his allies pushed toward their objective. The surface deck was less crowded with Storm equipment and prefab buildings than the lower decks appeared to be, but there were still enough of them to give the Swords forces major headaches.
Despite the losses, the Arbiter's warriors pushed forward. Their passion was not smothered by the sight of their dead and maimed comrades. Each of them was eager to impress their great leader as he fired his weapon right alongside them.
There were more unggoy here than at the slaver fortress. Locke noticed that the diminutive cannon fodder became particularly vicious when engaging each other.
"Heretics!" the Storm unggoy accused.
"Pawns!" the Swords unggoy fired back.
"Traitors!" the Storm riposted.
"Lackeys!" came the Swords' reply.
The animosity extended beyond mere words, too. Locke saw more than one instance of an unggoy ripping off the face mask of one of its cousins or cutting their air hoses, leaving them to suffocate in the Earth-like atmosphere. The gasping shrieks of the dying grunts could occasionally be heard over the sounds of battle.
Fireteam Osiris occasionally helped secure the entrances to the lower decks or the bridges to other platforms that didn't house AA positions. Mostly, though, they pressed toward the Central Pylon. It was vitally important that they eliminate 'Mdama and the Storm leadership before the Guardian fully activated. It was almost more important to the ONI Agent than his secret motive.
Locke needed to find the Master Chief. He needed his answers. He needed to know who was responsible for the destruction of Meridian.
Eventually, the Swords forward assault force ran into a bottleneck. Forerunner walls of indeterminate purpose barred most of the way forward. The gap between was nearly blocked by what appeared to be prefab warehouses. There were no visible doors within view. A small group of sangheili was sent through to scout the situation.
Weapons fire rained down from the roofs above and from the the other side of the alley. The scouts were cut down in seconds. The rest of the invasion force crouched lower in their cover and returned fire.
"Spartans," the Arbiter said over the comms. "You must ascend the right domicile and remove the enemy forces there. My warriors will suppress those on the left structure. Do you heed?"
Internally, Locke chafed at being ordered by a sangheili. As he had at the slaver fortress, he didn't let his emotions force him to do something stupid. "We copy, Arbiter. Moving to position." The Spartan commed Buck and Vale to move forward as he and the sangheili provided suppressing fire on both warehouses. Once they were in position, the Arbiter gave the order.
Suppressing fire on the right warehouse roof ceased. Vale and Buck leaped upward, their augmented strength and thrusters enabling them to jump the 10 meters straight up. Locke, Tanaka, and the Swords shifted their fire to the left warehouse. Plasma grenades arced toward the warehouse roof. The sounds of gunfire sounded out from above as the 2 Spartans engaged the enemy.
Within minutes, the all-clear signal came from the roof.
"Swords of Sanghelios, move forward!" the Arbiter shouted. As per his orders, Tanaka deployed her energy barrier and moved straight down the center of the bottleneck, firing her SAW around her mobile cover as she went. Sangheili carrying kig-yar energy shields covered the sides.
Enemy fire bounced off of the energy shields. The barriers began to shine brighter, the plasma shots bringing them closer to failing. Swords warriors fired back over and around the mobile cover, chucking grenades at the enemy as they went.
The resistance soon broke and the Storm warriors fell back. The invaders continued their push forward, wary for the next ambush.
They hit it in less than five minutes.
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Finally, after what felt like days of non-stop combat, the Swords invasion force reached the base of the Central Pylon. Unfortunately, they found it heavily fortified.
Enemy fire, both from heavy weapons and small arms, rained down from the upper level of the Forerunner ziggurat. Multiple attempts were made by Swords units to push through the resistance. Infantry provided suppressing fire, portable turrets spat plasma shots in rapid succession, sangheili and unggoy advanced in solid formations. All resulted in failure—and the complete loss of said formations.
A Phantom and 2 Spirits flew in low over the city. They rose as they approached the ziggurat, preparing to suppress the enemy and deploy troops.
They were maybe half-way to their destination when they were targeted.
A swarm of green fuel rod shots and blindingly bright Tyrant rounds rose into the air. The Phantom dodged as best it could, but there were simply too many. The gunship/dropship was consumed in a blinding blue-white flash before it got within range of its target.
The Spirits fared better, their stronger energy shields and even stronger hulls standing up to repeated fuel rod hits. They were not strong enough to survive the Tyrants. They were shot down within seconds of the Phantom's demise.
The AA network was still online. There were no Tyrants in the Central Pylon, thank Christ, but there were on the pylons elsewhere in the city that were prioritizing the defense of their great leader's final sanctuary.
The only way forward seemed to be burying the enemy under piles of Swords dead. Normally, Locke would be just fine with that. The more dead sangheili, the happier he tended to be. Now, however, he was in a bit of a rush. The Joe Stalin approach was taking far too long.
Reinforcements were slow in coming. The remaining pylons had yet to be secured and Storm forces were able to counterattack with alarming frequency. The forward assault force had to divide its attention between attacking the ziggurat and guarding their six.
The Guardian song rang out again.
Soldiers hunkered down as a blast of air rushed outward from the center of the city. Weapons fire died down momentarily as all combatants felt the otherworldly sound deep in their bones.
The reprieve only lasted a few seconds. Both sides were back at it in no time.
Locke bit back a growl of frustration. The only way they would take the Central Pylon within the day was with air support, which would require the AA net to be disabled, which would require securing or at least disabling numerous other pylons, each of which would be a slog of its own, and all the while 'Mdama and company would be toiling away trying to end the world as they knew it. The Spartan crouched back behind cover as the enemy poured plasma fire onto his position. His shield crackled as it filled back to a full charge.
There had to be a solution. They needed to get over the wall. Going up the ramps or the sides was suicide. There were no lower decks to access—unlike the rest of the city, all of the Central Pylon's structures were above 'surface' level.
Surface...
An idea popped into Locke's head. One based on the small, aquatic submersibles that ODST units would sometimes use for covert deployments. The Arbiter was a short distance away, shouting commands to his troops while firing away from behind his own cover. Locke made his way over to him and made his proposal.
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The pylon's surface was quiet. Sounds of battle reached them from every direction, but the area they were in was relatively peaceful. Locke knew that was purely due to the lack of strategic objectives there. After all, that was why he had selected it and marched his fireteam halfway back toward the city perimeter to reach it.
Their surroundings were littered with corpses. Leftovers from when the assault force had moved through there on its way to the Central Pylon. Sangheili were posed in unnatural positions, their limbs contorted from rigor mortis and the agony of the plasma burns that had taken their lives.
Unggoy bodies leaked methane from ruptured breathing apparatuses. Dismemberment was more common among them, the meter-tall race's limbs being substantially thinner than their sangheili commanders. Everywhere the Spartans looked, the gray of the hard-light deck was stained blue with alien blood.
Fortunately, the MJOLNIR armor filtered out the stench of decaying corpses. They'd be rather uncomfortable otherwise.
A voice came onto the comms. "Hail, Spartans. This is Pilot 'Chava. I am nearing your position."
"Osiris Lead, I copy," Locke commed in response. "It's good to hear from you again, Mahkee." It had only been hours since the pilot had dropped them off, but it felt like years. Locke tried not to think about what he had just said, and what it implied about his mental state, as the Phantom flew into view alongside the edge of the platform. It was perilously close to scraping the top of the uppermost deck in its effort to stay below the range of the AA net.
The starboard hatch opened to allow them entry. They were too close to the active AA network to risk rising high enough to use the ventral grav lift. The Spartans took a moment to restock their dwindling ammo supply as well as give their armor and equipment a quick once-over for damage.
"I presume you have another mad plan?" Mahkee all but chuckled over the comms. "The scribe relaying orders was not forthcoming with details and I doubt you called me in to chat."
"That's affirmative," Locke replied. He laid out his plan to the pilot. Although even he had to admit that calling it a 'plan' might have been overstating things.
Mahkee burst out laughing once he was done. Locke supposed he couldn't blame her. Still, having an alien laugh at him wasn't something he could just take sitting down. "Is that a no?" he asked, challenge clear in his voice.
"Of course not!" Mahkee replied. "I was merely reflecting on how boring my duties had been before I started working with Spartans. I see now why the Arbiter holds you in such high regard." Her tone shifted, taking on a kind of feral anticipation. "I believe the human expression is, 'buckle up'." The Spartans glanced at each other and swiftly sat down. The seats emitted a blue glow as the gravity restraints activated. Locke accessed the dropship's exterior video feeds, unable to stand not being able to see what was happening. The Phantom abruptly decreased altitude until it was lower than the topmost deck.
Then Mahkee gunned the acceleration.
The journey through the maze of pylons and platforms redefined the term 'bumpy ride' for Locke. Mahkee weaved back and forth, evading the smaller pylons and curving around the larger ones. The energy bridges and hard-light platforms of varying sizes provided a continuous stream of obstacles. The 'city' was set up in a configuration that no sane architect would ever devise. The alien layout made for an alternatively fascinating, disturbing, and in this case, terrifying experience.
Mahkee weaved through all of it with a dancers grace, often passing between the decks of a single pylon while barely slowing down. Any Storm forces within range didn't have the chance to even notice her before she had soared past them at high speeds.
The reactions of the members of Fireteam Osiris were mixed. Tanaka whooped in excitement like a kid on a rollercoaster. Vale gripped her seat so tightly the metal started to warp; Locke could imagine her knuckles going white beneath her gauntlets. Buck simply sat there, completely unperturbed; the veteran must have gotten used to rough drops in his time as an ODST. Locke himself was just glad he wasn't tired anymore.
The squadleader turned his attention back to the video feed just in time to see the Phantom approach a narrow gap between 2 hard-light walls. They were between decks once again and Mahkee was flying their transport toward an opening that it couldn't possibly fit through. He opened his mouth to shout a warning, even though he knew full well that there was no way he could prevent the coming crash in time.
Mere seconds before impact Mahkee tilted the Phantom completely on its starboard side. Locke fought for control of his stomach as the direction of gravity radically shifted.
The Phantom passed through the gap with less than a meter to spare on either side.
Gravity returned to normal as their dropship evened out. Before Locke could even take a breath, their pilot sent a signal notifying them of their imminent arrival at their destination. He looked at the feed again and saw the Central Pylon approaching rapidly.
Mahkee tilted the Phantom again, this time with the rear facing downward. Mahkee gunned the acceleration once again, turning their forward momentum into an upward arc.
The dropship cleared the 'surface' level and arced over the walls of the ziggurat. The AA defenses didn't have time to target them before Mahkee slammed on the ventral acceleration and brought them down to a few meters above the interior deck of their target. The Spartans were wrenched around, the gravity restraints of their seats barely keeping them contained. Locke felt like he might have whiplash. Still, at least they'd made it.
An explosion rocked the side of the Phantom.
There must have been hand-held fuel rod guns on the ground. More blasts shook their ride. The interior wall crashed inward as the armor failed and the dropship veered to the side, either from desperate evasion or system malfunction, Locke couldn't tell. The Phantom smashed into a wall before losing flight and falling to the deck below. The troop compartment was crushed to %75 of its initial size and the power failed, dropping the Spartans to what was left of the deck.
The members of Fireteam Osiris picked themselves up and moved toward the gaping hole in the side of the Phantom. They could see movement in the distance. Glancing back, Locke saw that the door to the cockpit was damaged. He opened a comm channel. "Pilot Mahkee, status!"
There was no response. "Osiris Two, check on her." Vale nodded and moved toward the cockpit. Finding the door inoperable, The burgundy-armored Spartan stowed her rifle on her back and used her augmented strength pry it open.
Locke turned back to the jagged opening in their transport's hull. He knew they had only seconds before they were swarmed. "Osiris Three, engage cloak and—"
Enemy fire poured into the dropship. Locke motioned Osiris One forward. Tanaka activated her energy barrier and blocked the opening. "Osiris Three, prepare to engage cloak. Osiris One and I will draw their fire." Buck nodded in confirmation. If they didn't divert enemy fire first, the stealth expert would be cut down by stray shots before he got a few meters. Locke looked back toward the cockpit. "Osiris Two, status?"
"Our pilot's alive, sir," Vale replied. "She took a bit of a one-two punch from the extreme maneuvers and the crash, but she should be okay in a minute."
"We don't have a minute," Locke replied firmly. "Leave her where she is. The enemy will focus on us anyway, so she should be safe for now. Copy?"
"Affirmative, sir," came the terse reply. Vale re-entered the troop compartment. Locke could tell she didn't like leaving an injured comrade alone—it still irked him a bit that his subordinates considered a sangheili a comrade but he buried it. Still, Vale was a Spartan, and knew how to follow orders.
The Spartans tensed in anticipation. Locke motioned Tanaka forward. The human tank leaped out, her energy barrier still blocking shots, and fired her SAW.
Enemy fire poured in toward them. The Spartans rushed to whatever cover was available, which mostly turned out to be pieces of the Phantom. Tanaka dove behind part of the starboard hull just before her energy barrier would have failed.
"God damn it!" Buck shouted. Locke glanced to the side and saw that the stealth expert had become visible again and was sprinting to cover. "Stray shot hit me, sir. Cloak shorted out," he commed once he'd gotten there. Erratic fire filled the air in patterns. Most of the fire was directed at the visible Spartans, but enough was going toward nothing in particular that it had to be intentional. The enemy commander must have anticipated cloaked targets and deployed a brute force counter. It was effective, so long as the ammo held out and collateral damage wasn't a problem. Locke bit back a swear of his own. They'd needed Buck to perform a flanking maneuver. Without that trump card they were stuck pinned down.
Buck held his SMG on top of his cover, firing blindly in an effort to suppress the enemy.
Vale was likewise pinned. Maneuverability did little good when there was nowhere to go.
Tanaka was standing behind her barrier again, firing away, but there was nowhere close enough to get to before enemy fire would overwhelm it. She crouched back into cover and deactivated the thing to let it recharge.
Locke was trying to think of a plan when an unsteady voice came over the comms. "Spartans..." Mahkee said. "You need a distraction, yes? Something to draw the eyes of our enemy?"
"Affirmative, Pilot," Locke replied. "You have something in mind?"
A chuckle answered him. "Just be ready."
Before he could demand more details, Locke noticed a friendly blip on his motion tracker. He looked back toward the main wreckage of the Phantom and almost did a double take.
Mahkee was standing in the jagged, gaping hole in her ship. Her armor was dented on her left side and her posture suggested she was struggling to keep her balance. Her features set into what Locke recognized as a stern expression as she activated her energy sword and held it above her head. A challenge. The sangheili warrior shouted out, her voice somehow rising over the din of battle.
"Come to me, cowards! Come and face the heir to the great Fal 'Chava and the last warrior of his clan!"
Some fire was directed her way. A few bounced off of her energy shields, but Locke knew they would fail within seconds. Even Tanaka's powerful armor would not have kept her alive in that crossfire. He was about to order his team forward, to press the advantage that their pilot had bought with her life, when something unexpected happened.
No further shots struck Mahkee. Abruptly, the enemy fire began to peter out. The immediate area went silent in a matter of seconds. Someone must have given a ceasefire order. Locke followed suit, curious as to what was happening and desperate for any time to think of a way out of this. Another voice, male this time but unmistakably sangheili, called out across the battlefield.
"...Cousin? Cousin Mahkee?"
Locke noticed Mahkee's stance falter. She lowered her sword to below her waist, her mandibles spread wide.
A single Storm sangheili began walking toward them. His hands were up in truce.
"Hold fire! Hold fire!" Locke ordered. He wasn't sure what was going on but he knew an opportunity when he smelled it. His pilot stood out of cover and holstered her weapons. She went out into the killzone to greet the enemy warrior.
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Mahkee 'Chava could scarcely believe her eyes. In front of her stood her only living relative. The only friend from before her rebirth to survive the betrayal of the san'shyuum. She had once prayed that she would never see him again. Now, though, she could not help but feel her spirit lift as she met with her oldest friend.
Kitun 'Savan seemed equally as surprised and conflicted. The pair stood across from each other, a couple strides apart, and simply looked. Kitun found his voice first.
"You are injured," he said. Mahkee forced down a grimace. She had tried to hide how her most recent flight had winded her, but she had never been able to hide anything from Kitun.
"A scratch. Nothing more," she replied, trying to hide the difficulty she had merely in staying upright. She fell silent once again, not sure how to continue.
"I...was not expecting to see you again, Cousin," Kitun offered.
"Nor I, you," Mahkee answered.
"In truth, I was not meant to be stationed here," Kitun replied, missing, perhaps intentionally, the point. "I was to defend the seaport for at least a week. However, the walker was destroyed early and we were forced to retreat."
"I know. I took part in the killing stroke," Mahkee replied, feeling like she was trying to impress her older cousin as she had in her youth.
Kitun chuckled. "I always knew you were a force to be reckoned with." He gestured to her waist. "You carry your father's sword. That is good. I think he would be proud to have you wield it." He paused. Mahkee noticed something in his eyes. He seemed almost...apologetic.
A hope started to grow deep in her chest. She had assumed that if they ever met Kitun would try to kill her at once for her 'heresy'. Instead, here he was, talking to her. She sensed that something was troubling him. Something that might allow her to save her cousin before it was too late. She spoke again, trying to balance her calculation with her sincerity. "In your message you asked me, 'Why'. Why did I choose the Arbiter." She looked him directly in the eye. "I chose him because he provides hope. Hope for true change, true salvation. I believe 'Mdama only offers the same hollow lies of the past." She swallowed, knowing that this next part would be crucial. "I would ask you the same question, if you would return the courtesy."
"...I follow him because he respects the Old Ways," Kitun responded. Mahkee noticed that there was little of the conviction that his message, recorded years ago, had held.
"Does he?" Mahkee pounced. "Why, then, does he seek to awaken a Guardian?"
Kitun's mandibles sprang out in shock. "A—a Guardian?!" he asked. "N—no. You must be mistaken."
"You have heard the Guardian song ring out, Kitun," Mahkee riposted. "We all have. What else could such a sound be? Why else would he come to Sunaion, of all places? You must have seen how he conducts himself. Do you truly think such a thing is beyond him?" She received no answer. He was weakening! Mahkee rushed to continue. "Tell me, Kitun, do you remember what the Old Ways have to say about the Guardians of the Forerunners?"
"I know-" he began. Mahkee cut him off.
"'Speak not to the holy Guardians. Pray only that they remain still. Let them not stir, else they tear our world asunder.'"
"I know the sacred texts!" he shouted angrily, closing to within a hairsbreadth of her..
"Then what is your defense?" Mahkee pressed. "How can you justify your leader's recklessness and disregard for the tradition you so cherish?" She softened her expression and continued to stare into his eyes. "The Arbiter may break from tradition as well but he does so out of love. His new ways care for his people, from the highest Kaidon to the lowest healer. What mercy, what love, can your leader have for his people if he is willing to risk the wrath of a Guardian?"
"Enough!" Kitun shouted. Mahkee heard sounds from both sides of the battlefield as the warriors readied themselves to renew fighting. Kitun motioned to his warriors. They settled down a bit but did not lower their guard. The Storm officer closed his eyes and turned his head upward, muttering prayers for wisdom. For several agonizing seconds he held still and silent.
At last, Kitun turned back to his cousin. The look in his eyes told Mahkee all she needed to know.
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"Forward!" the Arbiter shouted. "Up the ramps! Up, toward our destiny!" The Swords warriors obeyed their sovereign and commander, pushing up the ramps leading to the interior of the ziggurat.
The defectors Mahkee had converted were already proving their worth. It seemed that the Arbiter's forces had advanced far faster than expected and 'Mdama had decided to consolidate as many troops in his headquarters as possible. A panic move that was seriously biting him in the ass now, as the former-Storm warriors had already disabled the anti-air fuel rod turrets and were currently suppressing the inner defenses. The perimeter was breached within seconds and battle was joined within the heart of 'Mdama's inner sanctum.
The fighting was brutal and merciless. It surpassed even the carnage seen elsewhere in the Storm capital. Plasma and blood rained in equal measure as ideological opposites clashed over the future of their species. Eventually, the Arbiter's forces reached the center and top of the Central Pylon.
It was an enormous courtyard surrounded by sheer walls. Breaks in the walls at seemingly random spots allowed entry into the courtyard's 2 areas. The first area, to the left of the break the Swords used to enter, was religious in nature. Shrines and prayer mats littered the ground. The second, to their right, was purely practical. There was the habitation for the Honor Guard and the sovereign himself as well as supplies for the guards. Finally, at the very center of it all, there was a small pyramidal structure, about 8 meters tall and 10 to a side, with a ramp on the near side leading to the peak.
The Swords of Sanghelios forces poured through and fanned out. There was surprisingly little resistance. Locke's instincts screamed at him that they were walking into a trap.
The sound of a horn rang out. Both sides stopped firing, the Spartans following suit after a signal from the Arbiter. Jul 'Mdama stood at the peak of the pyramid. In contrast to the Arbiter's silver and black armor, the leader of the Storm Covenant wore armor colored gold and platinum with an ornate helm and a design that resembled ancient plate armor. A long console, covered in a holographic interface of infinite complexity, could be glimpsed behind him. The control center for the entire city. It had to be.
"Let the heretic leader come forth!" 'Mdama shouted. His voiced boomed with whatever amplification he was using. The tyrant activated his energy sword and held it out in challenge. "We shall fight as warriors, one against the other. Let the pretender take his prize by his own hand if he is indeed a warrior of honor and courage!"
For a single, terrified heartbeat Locke thought the crazy bastard was actually going to comply. A one-on-one duel to decide the fate of the sangheili people seemed right up the alley of a warrior-king obsessed with honor.
The Arbiter drew a plasma rifle in his left hand, his right still holding his energy sword, and fired a burst. 'Mdama's energy shields flared as several rounds struck him dead center mass.
The battle was joined. Both sides opened fire, filling the air of the courtyard with plasma and lead.
So. Guess he's not insane, after all, Locke thought.
The Arbiter and a group of his elite guard pushed forward, intent on reaching the pyramid. They focused their attention on creating an opening to the Storm leader's location. It seemed that the Arbiter did intend to have a grand duel. He just wanted it on his terms.
Not completely insane, then.
One of the shrines in the courtyard exploded outward and 2 enormous figures lumbered into view. Locke's eyes widened as he recognized an infantryman's worst nightmare.
A pair of mgalekgolo.
One of the alien walking tanks opened fire with its integrated fuel rod cannon. The ensuing blast hit the center of the Swords' rear formation and forced them to regroup under fire from the Storm Honor Guard.
And theeerrre's the trap! Locke snarled in frustration. The Arbiter and 'Mdama dueled at the top of the pyramid as their warriors battled below.
Fucking poetry...
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Mgalekgolo, more commonly referred to as 'Hunters', were the most widely known configuration of lekgolo worms. Each was a colony sharing a hive mind and contained in a 3 meter tall bipedal shell more heavily armored than a Wraith tank. They had a hunchback profile with razor sharp, meter-long spines of alien metal sticking out in parallel rows on their backs.
Each Hunter had 2 'arms'. One held an enormous slab of starship-grade armor plating which it used as a shield. The other ended in an integrated fuel rod cannon that could be set to fire a single, powerful shot, like a rocket launcher; a rapid burst of weaker shots, like a grenade launcher; or a solid stream of deadly, green energy.
Said energy was currently wreaking havoc among the Spartans and their sangheili 'friends'. Weapons fire splashed over the Hunters' armor ineffectually. Occasionally a plasma grenade would land nearby but the Hunter would just hunch behind its shield and weather the blast undamaged. At best, the explosive would land behind it and sing its armored back. Plasma fire flew back and forth as the Storm Honor Guard took advantage of the chaos and thinned the Swords' numbers significantly. Only a constant influx of replacement troops kept Fireteam Osiris from being overwhelmed.
A Storm sangheili's shield broke and its head exploded. Locke grunted in satisfaction and reloaded his Battle Rifle. This was not a viable situation. The Spartans were good, but no one was invincible. Eventually, someone would get a lucky shot in and kill one or all of them. They needed to do something about the Hunters, fast. He hunkered down behind a piece of ruined habitation and ran through everything he had read about the aliens, trying to think of a solution.
Every Hunter team consisted of 2 units and began life as a single colony of lekgolo. Once said original colony reached a certain mass, it divided into the 2 new colonies that would form a pair of 'bond brothers'. Said pairs were inseparable and tied together by a tight psychological bond. If they managed to kill one, the other would go berserk and potentially slip up enough to let in a killshot.
So, all they needed to do was kill a pair of Hunters. On foot. Standard Operating Procedure for dealing with Hunters was to fall back and call in an airstrike. Failing that, use armored vehicles, preferably Scorpions. Failing that, heavy weapons fired from a safe distance. The only thing at hand that Locke could see hurting them were the anti-air turrets, and they had already been disabled—
"Osiris One, do you copy?" Locke commed.
"Copy, Osiris Lead," Tanaka responded, sounding out of breath.
"Osiris One, you have demolition experience, correct?"
"Affirmative, boss," she said. "You got a job for me?"
A grin tugged at Locke's mouth. "I just might." Locke filled her in on his improvised plan. Like his idea to fly beneath the hard-light platforms, it might be just crazy enough to work.
"Swords of Sanghelios, focus attention on the Honor Guard," Locke commed. "We'll handle the mgalekgolo." Thankfully, none of the Arbiter's warriors put up an argument and they shifted their fire to their more mortal sangheili opponents. Locke spared a moment to glance at the top of the pyramid.
The Arbiter and Jul 'Mdama were still dueling alone. It seemed that 'Mdama's savagery didn't extend to simply having one of his subordinates shoot his enemy in the back. Maybe he wanted to prove himself the superior warrior or something. Locke found himself wishing that 'Mdama had less of an inferiority complex; his job would be significantly easier if the Arbiter was killed by someone other than himself.
"Osiris Two and Three," Locke commed. "We're the rabbits. It's our job to keep the Hunters occupied as long as needed." He was sure that if it were possible for confirmation flashes to be unenthusiastic, the blue lights on his HUD would be positively glaring at him.
It didn't take long to get the Hunters' attention. As their name implied, they were rather easy to bait into pursuit if they didn't have an authority figure with a firm grip on their reigns. All Osiris had to do was keep firing potshots while retreating deeper into the maze of equipment littering the courtyard.
Locke's shields broke as a stream from one of the Hunters managed to stay on him for a second before he got into cover. An alert on his HUD notified him of a spike in internal temperature. Not that he needed it; the sweat that had broken out across his body was sign enough. He peeked back at his foe from around the prefab domicile.
The fuel rod cannon was starting to glow brighter. It was building a charge.
FUCK!
Locke lunged out of cover and launched himself through the air with his thrusters—too late. The heavy shot from the fuel rod cannon hit and incinerated the cover he had been hiding behind. The blast instantly depleted his still-recharging shields and hurled Locke through the air and into an equipment crate, crushing it under his massive weight and making it slide for a few meters before screeching to a stop in a crumpled mess. Locke slid off and lay flat on the ground.
Every part of Locke's body ached. Alarms blared inside his helmet. It took him a second to shake off the disorientation. His blood ran cold as he finally absorbed the information his armor was conveying.
His energy shield was offline.
"Plan's ready, boss," Tanaka said over the comms. She had been excused from playing rabbit to perform her own part. Locke rolled over and forced his throbbing legs under himself; he refused to let pain or fear get the best of him. Not when he was so close.
"Vale, you're up," Locke commed, forgetting to use codenames. His subordinate acknowledged the order.
One of the Hunters was suddenly being pelted by debris. Thrown debris. The sheer oddness of it was enough to draw its attention. It turned to see the burgundy colored Spartan throwing random pieces of broken equipment at it. The human soldier shouted, "You aren't even worthy of my bullets, worm-boy! Go back to eating dirt and fleeing from birds!" The mgalekgolo typically possessed a strong sense of pride in their status as elite warriors. The glory of soldiering was almost as important among their kind as it was among the sangheili.
Therefore, seeing this smaller creature belittling it and its race was enough to make the Hunter completely forget about everything other than reducing her to a smoldering crater.
Rapid-fire fuel rod shots followed Vale. The light-footed Spartan easily outpaced the stream of deadly shots, the miniature blasts following like a line of dots. The Hunter switched to continuous stream; it left a line of scorched metal and glowing hard-light as it tried to keep up with its prey. Vale used her thrusters to quickly maneuver around cover, continuing to hurl debris and insults at the behemoth. The Hunter somehow bellowed in rage and rushed in, intent on smashing the impudent nuisance in close quarters. Vale lead it further and further into the domicile/equipment area. Objects flew as the alien monster crashed towards its target.
At last, the Hunter smashed aside a line of crates to find Vale waiting for it. The Spartan leaped clean over the behemoth, landed in a roll, and sprinted at top speed through the path the walking tank had made. The alien monster turned around and began charging a heavy shot. Its prey would not escape it so easily.
Unfortunately for the Hunter, its tunnel vision prevented it from noticing what Vale had been standing in front of: a large pile of fuel rod ammunition, originally meant for the anti-air turrets and gathered by Tanaka, rigged up to a demolition charge.
A massive explosion rocked the courtyard.
Green fire rose into the air in a fireball. Warriors across the battlefield, both Swords and the increasingly few Storm, were knocked off of their feet. Deadly shrapnel flew across the courtyard and bounced off of its walls at high velocity, cutting several warriors to pieces. The sheer intensity of the flash was enough to put spots in the eyes of any who had been looking in its direction. The hard-light floors and walls showed grid-cracks for meters in every direction from the epicenter.
"Osiris Two, status," Locke commed, hoping he hadn't lost his subordinate.
"C-copy, Osiris Lead," came the response. "I'd...prefer not to do that again, though."
Something caught Locke's eye before he could respond. The detonation had shrouded the area in smoke and steam from the flash-evaporated rain but the winds were dispersing the obstruction. Locke's jaw fell open as he saw a large form lumbering towards them.
A scorched and blackened hunter limped away from the site of the trap. After a momentary, weak attempt to raise its weapon, it collapsed onto its front. The rear armor had been completely blasted off. The numerous lekgolo worms were now visible, having been cooked to a crisp by the intense heat of the blast.
One down.
A mighty roar echoed over the battlefield. The remaining Hunter began firing erratically and rushing any living thing it could see in a blind rage. The death of its 'bond brother' had driven it utterly berserk.
Few if any Storm Covenant troops remained in the courtyard, so the Swords warriors shifted their attention to the Hunter. Plasma fire was able to bypass the Hunters shield as it swung and charged recklessly.
Unfortunately, a rabid Hunter was still a rabid Hunter, and its massive shield and fuel rod cannon started taking its toll. Numerous sangheili were crushed or incinerated during its rampage. One ballsy warrior closed the distance and tried to pivot around it, probably hoping to stick a plasma grenade on the thing's rear.
The Hunter flexed the razor-sharp spines on its back. The sangheili was sliced into pieces.
Locke glanced back at the top of the pyramid. The duelists were still going at it, although the steam and rain were making it hard to see who had the upper hand. The ONI Agent growled in frustration. He needed to get up there before the Arbiter's warriors if he was going to complete his objectives. He needed to secure that command console...and make sure neither of the sangheili leaders survived.
Focus. He needed to focus on the task at hand. He wasn't about to leave a job half-finished.
Yeah. That was it. That was why he wasn't just rushing the ramp now, while everyone was busy dealing with the Hunter. He needed to finish the job. Nothing deeper than that.
A wave of frustration washed over Locke. He was pissed. He was going to kill that fucking thing, complete his objectives, wring his answers out of the Master Chief's neck, and get back to his job. Back to his life.
The Hunter howled in pain as a plasma grenade landed on its back and finally forced a hole in its weakened armor. Locke saw his opening. The Spartan stowed his Battle Rifle and drew his sidearm. He pulled out the mag and removed the top round, replacing it with a very special munition he had been saving. The magazine made a satisfying 'klack' as he rammed it home.
Locke emerged from cover and sprinted directly toward his enemy. The Hunter noticed quickly and whirled to meet the new threat. It roared and raised its shield, intending to swing it and cut Locke in half with its edge.
Using his augmented reflexes, Locke anticipated the blow and jumped clean over the swipe at the last half-second. He used his thrusters to add extra height and distance, turning his jump into a leap that took him clean over the alien just as Vale had done.
Unlike Vale, Locke turned in mid-flight and aimed his pistol down. Time slowed to a crawl as Locke poured all of his will into aiming his one shot directly into the gap in the Hunter's armor.
He fired.
As an ONI Agent, Locke was privy to many secrets. One such secret was the scrapped development of a special round that combined miniature rocket design with armor piercing and explosive ordinance to create a type of 'micro-missile' that could be used in a standard firearm. Sheer cost had lead to the project being canned. Locke had managed to use his resources to acquire the single functional prototype left, which he carried with him in case of an emergency.
The 'bolter shell' flew out of Locke's pistol and punched straight through the gap in the Hunter's armor. The creature only had a moment to shout in pain before the munition detonated and shards of depleted uranium were launched in all directions. The Hunter's thick armor locked the pieces of shrapnel in, allowing them to shred the lekgolo worms as they ricocheted around inside.
Within a second enough of the worms were killed to produce a sort of psychic shock throughout the group organism. The last Hunter fell over, dead.
Locke landed in a roll and turned toward the ramp to the top of the pyramid. He was on the far side. He sprinted around the structure, intent on...something. He was running on instinct and could only hope he would know what to do when he got there.
A sangheili corpse landed in front of him as he turned the corner. Locke was about to leap over it and continue when he realized who the body belonged to. He skidded to a stop.
Jul 'Mdama had seen better days. He was missing his right arm and had a hole punch through his chest. The melted armor around the edges of the injuries indicated an energy sword. Various other patches of the gold-colored armor were blackened by glancing blows. The limbs that remained were twisted and broken from the fall. Blood flowed freely from the alien's slack maw. Locke glanced up at the top of the pyramid.
"Swords of Sanghelios," the Arbiter shouted, "the false prophet lies dead! Today does mark the end of the last dying remnant of the old Covenant! Today is the final defeat of the lies of the san'shyuum! Today is indeed the beginning of a glorious new era for the sangheili people!" He raised his energy sword far above his head. "For Sanghelios! For our future!"
A hand grabbed Locke's right ankle. The Spartan looked down and saw 'Mdama, clinging to his last breaths, trying to get his attention. A smile tugged at his lips. It seemed he'd get the pleasure of finishing the murderous prick off, after all. He reached for his combat knife, intending to savor the moment.
"...Arbiter..." the sangheili croaked, coughing blood, barely audible over the rain and dwindling sounds of battle. His eyes were unfocused. It seemed he assumed the Arbiter was the one standing over him, triumphant in victory. Locke was about to correct him when he continued. "In my armor...rear compartment...is proof. Proof of the...nature of your new..." he chuckled wetly, "friends."
Jul 'Mdama, the Didact's Hand, bane of humanity and his own people, would-be ruler of all the known galaxy, drew a last, ragged breath...and died.
Locke examined the back of the dead war-criminal's armor. There was indeed a compartment there. It was curious, considering the ornamental design of the rest of the piece. He reached down and forced the warped lid open, trying to convince himself he wasn't looking for an excuse not to complete his mission.
Inside the compartment...was a compad.
A human compad.
The power button revealed a familiar home screen. It was a completely blank, white page, with one exception: a small symbol. It was in the top right corner, positioned so it seemed almost to be watching whoever was looking at the screen. Locke knew it well. It was, after all, painted on the chest of his own armor.
The all-seeing eye of ONI.
Unable to stop himself, Locke clicked on the emblem.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
The glassed landscape glittered in the night. Reflected starlight and the settlement's artificial illuminators turned the ruined vista into a mirror of the starry night sky. Jul 'Mdama reflected on the irony that an act of mass butchery, namely the glassing of human colony world 'New Llanelli', could lead to such beauty.
The reminder of the old Covenant's insane war brought fresh pain to the sangheili high officer. He had never believed in the religious rhetoric of the Covenant, but he had assumed that the Great War must have had some kind of worth purpose behind it. Having learned the true, treacherous motives behind the war, the sight of what his kind had done produced in him a strange kind of remorse. He had to wonder if they might have made peace with the humans if they had shuffled off the chains of the san'shyuum sooner.
Ah, well. There was little point in wondering about that, now. The War had happened and the damage had been done. Humanity hated the sangheili, and they always would. There would be no forgiveness. Only future conflict and, if the sangheili did not act now, perhaps a repeat of the Great War with humanity playing the role of the aggressors.
It was the fear of just such a possibility that led 'Mdama to join fellow high officer Avu Med 'Telcam. The Arbiter meant well, but he had proven himself to be foolishly optimistic in trying to make peace with the humans. Only 'Telcam and his warriors seemed to understand the threat that humanity did and always would pose to the sangheili people.
Thus, 'Mdama found himself here, on a glassed world far from his clan's keep, to plan the subjugation of the human species. There would be no repeat of the mass slaughter of years past. The humans would simply have to take their place alongside the unggoy as thralls to the sangheili people. A few centuries of servitude should be enough to weed out the lust for vengeance. 'Mdama and 'Telcam would be launching their first attack soon, if all went well. The first stage to ensuring peace for the galaxy. The sound of marching hoofs drew him from his ruminations.
"There you are, Legionmaster 'Mdama," 'Telcam greeted. "I was wondering where you had gotten to, brother." 'Mdama could not see his ally's features as he and his retinue wore full headgear to avoid breathing the destroyed planet's toxic atmosphere. This bothered him more than it should and the scales on the back of 'Mdama's neck began to itch again. The feeling that something was wrong had plagued him since they first arrived on this pile of ruins that used to be a planet. He set his features, determined not to give anything away.
"Greetings, Legionmaster 'Telcam," he replied. "I was merely enjoying the scenery. It will likely be some time before we have another spare moment."
'Telcam chuckled. "Just so, brother, just so," he said. "Speaking of which: I must meet our supplier. The weapons we need to complete the first battle of our crusade should be in our hands by morning."
A sigh nearly escaped 'Mdama's mandibles. He loathed the fact that they had to resort to unlawful weapons dealers at this point in their nascent movement. They did not yet have enough supporters to openly manufacture the resources they would need to conquer the humans once and for all.
"Will you remain star-gazing much longer, brother?" 'Telcam asked, hesitantly. "I can have some females brought to your tent that would be more than happy to entertain you."
Once again, 'Mdama kept his emotions hidden. "That would be appreciated...brother," he said simply. 'Telcam nodded and gave directions to his servant. The 2 high officers embraced briefly before separating.
An hour later, 'Mdama quietly eased out the back of his tent. The 3 females within were fast asleep. The drugged wine he had fed them would keep them from raising a stir at his sudden disappearance. He checked the small dataslate built into his gauntlet.
The tracking device he had planted on 'Telcam was transmitting. Good. He moved to leave the settlement and reach the Ghost in one of the emergency stashes nearby. No one could know what he was doing.
The journey was delayed at the first hurdle by a group of unggoy laborers. The diminutive workers were performing maintenance on one of the guard towers. It seemed their daily duties had run late.
'Mdama felt anger rise inside him at the delay, but he was careful to check the emotion lest it lead him to abuse the poor unggoy. He could hardly fault them for performing their duties to the best of their ability.
Thankfully, the laborers finished their work promptly and went on their way. 'Mdama sneaked out as quickly as he dared and rushed toward his objective. He needed to find out why 'Telcam was so insistent upon keeping his supplier secret. He needed to know what was making his ally so nervous.
A brief period of time passed and 'Mdama found himself crawling towards a vantage point. The Ghost had been left far behind as the gravity drive would give him away long before he could observe the proceedings. He reached the top of a small hill and activated the vision enhancement within his helm.
There. He could see 'Telcam and his guards waiting in an empty patch of ground. The supplier must not have arrived yet. 'Mdama settled in to wait. He did not have to wait long. The absolute last thing the sangheili high officer had expected descended from the clouds.
A human dropship.
A spike of adrenaline went through 'Mdama. They had been discovered! 'Telcam and his forces needed to flee, at once!
Yet...none of 'Telcam's party seemed shocked. They watched calmly as the vaguely avian shaped craft, named a 'Pelican' by the humans, settled to the ground. A cloud of silicate particles were thrown into the air. A ramp descended once the cloud had dispersed. A group of human warriors filed out and approached 'Telcam. They seemed to be conversing.
A terrible feeling settled into 'Mdama's gut. This...this was 'Mdama's source. The very threat that he had sworn to fight against was funding their crusade!
The shock and horror transformed into cold fury as 'Mdama watched the deal go forward. The humans began unloading several crates from their transport and presenting them to his former ally. This would not stand. As the minutes went by, the Legionmaster began to plan how he would deal with 'Telcam and his traitorous rabble.
A sharp pain pierced 'Mdama's neck. The pain increased by orders of magnitude as an electrical charge coursed through his body, leaving his muscles a twitching, unresponsive mess. He managed to turn his head enough to glimpse his attacker.
A Spartan.
The sangheili warrior was in chains in an instant. Recognizing the threat he posed, 'Telcam handed him over to the humans with nary a second thought to the one he had called 'brother'.
The next few months passed in a daze. 'Mdama was taken from one dark, windowless room to another. His health fluctuated wildly and it didn't take long for him to discern that the humans were putting things in his food. They were experimenting on him. Trying to discover the best way to kill his kind.
All the while they mocked him. They spat on him, belittled him and his race, and generally made sure to treat him as lower than excrement. Beatings were frequent. As were various forms of torture such as sleep deprivation. It was in these days that 'Mdama developed his hatred for humanity. Where before he had viewed them as threats to be dealt with, now he saw them as the wretched vermin that they were.
Eventually, he had been taken to a Forerunner installation. They told him nothing but he gathered that this was the most secure location his captors had access to. This was where he spent the majority of his time in captivity.
It was there that he learned the true utility of false faith. Believing him to be nothing more than a broken laboratory specimen, the humans allowed him to visit some of the Forerunner sites under the pretense of religious observance. Perhaps it amused them to see one of his kind still bound by a faith they viewed as false. In this way he learned of numerous Forerunner secrets.
Including the teleporter he used to escape.
The first news to greet 'Mdama when he returned to sangheili space was that of the destruction of his clan's keep and the death of his wife. After that, his life crystallized.
It had been surprisingly easy to supplant 'Telcam as the leader of the faction that opposed humans. It proved even easier to use the knowledge of the Forerunners he gained while in captivity to convince his followers that he had been given divine insight by the gods themselves. His authority became sacred by definition and, combined with his passionate opposition to the Arbiter's reforms and the human vermin he cared so much for, lead to his meteoric rise in power.
Soon, he was launching strikes across human space. In the span of months he rose in power to the point where he openly waged war against the Arbiter and his allies. 'Mdama would rule the sangheili as the Supreme Kaidon, the true Arbiter, and he would lead his forces to eliminate the human menace once and for all.
All the while, he never forgot the humans who had imprisoned him. Who had humiliated him time and time again. Who had born the symbol of a circle within a pyramid within a circle.
The Office of Naval Intelligence.
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The ball of dark matter in Locke's stomach kept growing as he examined the files. Operation reports, records of experimentation performed on 'Mdama, details of the weapons supplied to the early insurgents...It was all there. 'Mdama must have spent years stealing all of this data and compiling it in this one compad.
Locke wanted to deny it. Wanted to believe that the files were fake. A kind of psychological warfare meant to destroy the relationship between the Swords of Sanghelios and the Unified Earth Government. He couldn't, though. The documents were too precise, the terminology too accurate. He had a trained eye and he recognized legitimate records when he saw them. He couldn't escape from it.
ONI had helped found the Storm Covenant.
The logic behind it fit, too. ONI had wanted to sow conflict within the sangheili. To weaken the aliens in preparation for the next war. It was the same thing they were doing now by ordering Locke to assassinate the Arbiter.
Locke thought about all that the Storm had done. About all of the people, human beings that he had sworn to protect, that had died at the hands of 'Mdama's fanatics. He thought of the people he, personally, had lost to those genocidal murderers.
The installation started shaking around him. Lost in shock, Locke was barely aware of the Guardian song ringing out once again. Only distantly noticed that the ziggurat had started to move apart, the courtyard now floating in the center of a ring of pieces that used to be the Central Pylon. The world was coming apart around him.
He was lost in the chaos. The madness, the...betrayal of it all.
Buck was shaking his shoulder. Locke looked at the Spartan IV, the ODST, and wondered what he would think of this revelation. What the rest of Fireteam Osiris would think. There was no doubt in Locke's mind that it would result in a lot of dead ONI Agents. It would be hard to blame them for that reaction. Buck's shouts went unheard as Locke continued to occupy a kind of netherworld of his own.
A pale, ethereal blue light drew their attention. It appeared out of nowhere right in front of the pyramid. The light turned into a flash that, once faded, revealed a group of humanoid figures in chrome-colored armor with a jet black under-layer.
The Forerunner Soldiers had arrived.
Note: I made it a point to include lots of descriptions of the carnage this battle is creating. Arbiter and company are pushing to the center of the city as quickly as possible and that speed has to come at the cost of massive casualties. It also ties back to the theme of 'War is Hell' that I've been trying to explore throughout this fic. I'm worried that it became a bit gratuitous. What do you guys think?
Note: The Arbiter's presence helping to motivate his troops is one of the few benefits to having a leader fighting on the front lines. Of course, if he gets killed morale would plummet, but ole Arby is a bit too confident and tied up in his conception of honor to let that sway him.
Note: I tried to set up the redemption of Mahkee's cousin over the past few chapters. The grumbling of the seaport guard, the implied ignorance of a young Kitun in Mahkee's message way back, etc. Did I pull off the encounter? Was the conversation believable, or did it become a bit hokey?
Note: The bit of sangheili scripture Mahkee quotes is paraphrased from one of the collectible audio logs in Halo 5. The idea for relatives being on both sides of the conflict first came from them, as well, although it played out much differently than in my version.
Note: I know that the Hunters are a bit OP here. I always thought the Halo franchise's walking tanks should be a bit more substantial than they are in the games. I just like the idea of them being this nightmarish presence that makes infantry run in terror at the sight of them.
Note: The part with the Hunter leaving steam was inspired by the 'Superman the Animated' Series finale, 'Legacy, part 2', in which Darkseid does something similar. Its a sequence that's always stuck with me.
Note: To my knowledge, the razor-sharp spines on the Hunters backs have never been used in a canon story. Figured I'd use it here.
Note: Yes, the bolter shell is a Warhammer 40K reference
Note: The design of 'Mdama's armor is loosely based on the Arbiter's outfit in Halo 5. I think it looks stupid and impractical, especially compared to his classic armor. I decided to put it in here so I could have the Arbiter beat the shit out of it. I guess you could take that as representative of how this entire fic started out as a therapeutic exercise to deal with the disappointment of Halo 5.
Note: The flashback from 'Mdama's POV is based on events from the Kilo Five trilogy of novels. I could have read the books to ensure accuracy, but they were written by Karen Traviss, so fuck that noise. Halopedia will have to do.
Note: Depicting Locke's state of mind here has been really tricky. He hasn't consciously decided to defy orders, but his experiences have undermined the mindset ONI worked hard to instill in him. A part of him he isn't aware of is pushing him to do the decent thing without him consciously realizing it. Am I pulling this off okay? This is one of the most important parts of this fic and I would really appreciate some feedback.
Thanks for reading. Love you guys.
Slipspace Anomaly