Chapter 13 – Flawed Legacy

Fourteenth Cycle, 15 units (Covenant Battle Calendar / Covenant Holy City High Charity, Soell system

The low, rumbling tones of Jiralhanae voices was the first indication to Thel that he had regained consciousness, followed in short order by the searing pain radiating from his chest which seemed to reach every extremity in his body. The agony was such that the Sangheili could not immediately open his eyes, but he was dimly aware of the fact that he was being dragged by the Jiralhanae. The horrid reek of their fur assailed his breathing orifices and had he not been so weak from his recent torture, he would have recoiled his head.

"How much further must we heft this baggage?" one of the Jiralhanae dragging Thel complained. "Any cell will do."

Thel cracked his eyes open a fraction and saw that he was being carried through a darkened corridor. Both sides of the long chamber contained several holding cells, which unlike standard Covenant detention pens, lacked energy barriers. Instead, they were sealed off by metal bars.

"Why not toss him in with this lot," grumbled the other Jiralhanae, glancing at one of the cells on the left side of the room. Within the small, rectangular space was a group of four Kig-Yar who snarled and hissed at the group as they walked past. Thick saliva drooled from the avian creature's toothy beaks as they snapped their jaws and waved their sharp talons through the bars desperately at the tortured Sangheili. It was clear by their gaunt appearance that they had been imprisoned for quite some time, and the foul stench emanating from the prison cell in combination with that of the Jiralhanae was quite unlike that of anything Thel had experienced before.

"Them? What about us?" the first Jiralhanae retorted. "My belly aches… and his flesh is seared, just the way I like it."

"Quiet!" barked Tartarus. The white-furred chieftain was at the head of the group, still carrying his infamous war hammer. The Fist of Rukt never seemed to be far from the Jiralhanae's large, four fingered hands. He glanced over his shoulder irritably at his companions.

"You two whimper like Unggoy fresh off the teat. He is not meant for the jails." Tartarus paused before a closed door, the red lights running along the joins where its segmented sections were sealed together bathing the group of Jiralhanae and the Sangheili held between them. He touched a holographic control in the center of the door's frame and a moment later it chimed, the red lights became a soft purple, and they slid apart.

Tartarus turned and fixed Thel with his deep-set amber-orange eyes and his tusked mouth twisted into a grin. "The Hierarchs have something special in mind,"

Thel's weary mind considered the chieftain's words. Something special in mind? What else could it be besides a painful and extended execution at the hands of the Jiralhanae? Was the sin so great that the Hierarchs were to carry out his fate personally?"

The group made their way through the door and out onto an elongated platform that overlooked an enormous chamber, one of many such structures within the holy city's tower districts. The center of this vast space was dominated by a massive, cylindrical structure with a brilliant blue-white glow visible through the tall, pronged tips encircling the topside of the construction.

Thel's insides squirmed with a mixture of uneasiness and cautious anticipation as he took in the intimidating shape before him. It was here that the most spectacularly failed Sangheili warriors in the Covenant were born anew, reforged by the Hierarchs into a living weapon to be sent on the most dangerous and suicidal missions to regain their lost honor in death.

The Jiralhanae dragged him onto a circular plate at the end of the platform, and once they were all on, the platform silently descended towards one of the long bridges connecting the central structure to the outer wall of the greater chamber.

While Thel's tortured body rendered him unable to properly raise his head or keep his eyes open, he remained conscious as the Jiralhanae hauled him across the bridge, past the dozens of Sangheili honor guards resplendent in their red and orange combat harnesses. This armor was decorated with curved panels lined with holy engravings befitting their status and their faces were obscured by ornate helmets with two tall vanes, in essence elongated cheek guards that swept backwards and up. Each guard stood unflinchingly at attention, holding long, fork-tipped energy staves that could be easily brought to bear to strike down any who would threaten the High Prophets.

Whether Tartarus was in any way intimidated by these holy protectors, Thel did not know. The white-furred giant strode confidently towards the door at the end of the bridge, where four more honor guards waited, his entourage in tow. The Sangheili guardsmen did not even twitch as the group passed between them.

They marched through the first door, and then a second before arriving inside the interior of the chamber. Raised walkways ran along the periphery of the room, and several small hatches were present at various points on both the lower and upper level. Almost two hundred ovoid-shaped capsules were packed closely together from floor to ceiling around circumference of the chamber, each with a small holographic light strobing a gentle red.

This room was dimly lit, with the only real source of illumination emanating from a raised sarcophagus in the center of the chamber. Beside this chamber hovered the High Prophets of Truth and Mercy.

Tartarus dropped into a low bow before the Hierarchs, clenching his left hand over his heart as he did so. The two other Jiralhanae followed suit, bringing Thel to his knees also.

"Noble Prophets of Truth and Mercy. I have brought the incompetent," Tartarus rumbled.

"You may leave, Tartarus," the Prophet of Truth said, waving his hand lazily from inside his long-sleeved red robe.

Tartarus' raised his head, surprise flickering across his face. "But… I thought- "

"And take your Jiralhanae with you."

The chieftain's face fell, and he looked over his shoulder. "Release the prisoner," he muttered.

The two Jiralhanae holding Thel roughly let him go as they stood up, and Thel dropped to his hands and knees. Tartarus bowed his head once more and raised himself back to his feet, sweeping his mighty war hammer off the floor as he did so before turning and following the two Jiralhanae out of the chamber.

"The Council decided to have you hung by your entrails, and your corpse paraded through the city," the Prophet of Truth began, his hand slightly elevated in a loose fist as he spoke. "But ultimately, the terms of your execution are up to me."

"I am already dead," Thel said in a low voice, his hand clasped over the Mark of Shame etched onto the left side of his chest. The branding continued to send lances of pain across his body, and it hurt the Sangheili to draw breath. He could not possibly feel any more disgraced than now, his body naked and broken before the most powerful beings in the Covenant.

"Indeed." Truth said, apathy in his tone. "Do you know where we are?"

"The Mausoleum of the Arbiter," Thel answered, raising his eyes to meet the Prophet's own.

"Quite so," Truth replied. He turned to look thoughtfully at the dozens of caskets lining the walls of the chamber. "Here rests the vanguard of the Great Journey. Every Arbiter, from first to last. Each one created and consumed in times of extraordinary crisis."

The Prophet of Mercy spoke, his frail voice permeating the still air of the mausoleum. "The Taming of the Lekgolo, the Unggoy Rebellion – were it not for the Arbiters, the Covenant would have broken long ago!" he finished, slamming a fist into his throne's armrest for emphasis.

Thel knew this. He knew the genesis of the role of Arbiter; how it had originally been a position of the greatest significance and honor within Sangheili society long before the formation of the Covenant, enduring long into the empire's existence before been forever tarnished by the heretical defiance of the Covenant religion by one of their own, Fal 'Chavamee.

Such heresy had resulted in the dramatic shift in the role of Arbiter to a badge of shame. It was then that the Line of Immaculate Succession had been established, and the most spectacularly failed Sangheili warriors were given an opportunity to regain their lost honor by undertaking the most dangerous of missions for the Covenant.

"Even on my knees, I do not belong in their presence." Thel hung his head low as he spoke.

"Halo's destruction was your error, and you rightly bear the blame," the Prophet of Truth said. "But the Council was… overzealous. We know you are no heretic. This-" Truth tapped a button on his throne's armrest, and the small holographic image of a Sangheili clad in the unusually blocky and segmented armor worn by members of the Ministry of Tranquility's artifact-retrieval groups appeared, his right hand spread over his chest. "-Is the true face of heresy. One who would subvert our faith and incite rebellion against the High Council."

The Hierarch tapped another button, and the image came to life, gesturing as it spoke. "Our Prophets are false! Open your eyes, my brothers! They would use the faith of our forefathers to bring ruin to us all!" The holographic Sangheili's shoulders slumped. "The Great Journey is a- "

Truth pressed the button again, and the Sangheili froze midsentence. Thel was momentarily frozen. His orange He knew this Sangheili. It was Sesa 'Refumee, one of the commanders within his former naval unit, the Fleet of Particular Justice.

During the engagement at Halo, the Prophet of Stewardship had dispatched 'Refumee and a detachment of forces to investigate a gas mine within the atmosphere of the gas giant of which the Sacred Ring had previously orbited. This had been against Thel's command. He had ordered all his forces to concentrate on the human threat on Halo's surface, but the Prophet had continually misappropriated his resources.

By the time Thel had taken steps to relieve the meddlesome San'Shyuum from command, the Flood had broken loose and spread across the ring. Subsequent events and the eventual destruction of the ring by the humans had resulted in the abandonment of 'Refumee and his troops on the gas mine.

But what could they have found on that mine to compel 'Refumee to decry the Covenant and its Hierarchs so blasphemously?

Thel had personally commissioned each of the commanders within his fleet, and 'Refumee was no exception. In fact, 'Refumee had proven himself to be one of Thel's more capable warriors. Which had made his reassignment by the Prophet even more aggravating. Thel could not comprehend that 'Refumee could be capable of such heresy.

The Prophet of Truth spoke, his voice low and dangerous. "This heretic, and those who follow him, must be silenced."

"Their slander offends all who walk the Path!" added the Prophet of Mercy, the fur-covered appendages on the sides of his head and below his chin shaking.

"What use am I?" Thel asked, his large, four-fingered hand covering the painful mark on his chest and his head hung low. "I can no longer command ships, lead troops into battle- "

"Not as you are, no." Truth said, narrowing his eyes at Thel. "But become the Arbiter… and you shall be set loose against this heresy with our blessing." The Hierarch made a gesture, and there was a whirring sound as the sarcophagus in the center of the room descended to the floor. A petal-like panel on the front of the pod lowered to form a ramp while two similar structures behind it parted, bathing Thel in scintillating white light.

Barely visible within this blinding display, Thel discerned the peculiar, curved plates of the traditional set of Arbiter body armor that had remained unchanged in design over its thousands of years of existence. Different in every respect to any modern Sangheili combat harness, the Arbiter's suit had been left unaltered to remain faithful to those who wore it in eons gone by.

Thel knew that the suit in the sarcophagus was not the same worn by the previous holder of the title; that one's corpse had been unrecoverable – lost during a battle early in the war against the humans. But it remained identical in all other aspects. Whether it had belonged to a long-dead warrior who had been retrieved, Thel did not know.

"What of the Council?" Thel questioned.

Instead of the Prophet of Truth, it was Mercy who spoke, his large, glassy pale blue eyes fixed on Thel.

"The tasks you must undertake as the Arbiter are perilous, suicidal. You will die, as each Arbiter has before you. The Council will have their corpse."

Thel let out a slight groan of pain as he climbed to his feet, the movement agitating his branding and reminding him once more of his greatest shame. This was his only option: take on the mantle of Arbiter, and find redemption in death, or die ignobly as the Covenant's greatest failure. The one who had halted their Great Journey indefinitely.

With this new role, Thel had newfound hope that his bloodline might be spared the worst forms of retribution, and Vadam Keep might continue to exist. The saga wall which had for so long chronicled the exploits of the House of Vadam might continue to survive.

Thel had previously envisioned the next section of his section as depicting his greatest victories against the humans, including the climactic battle at 'Reach' and then would-be crowning moment: a sweeping victory at Halo and with that, the conclusion of the Covenant's holy mission. Of course, this is not what the stanzas would now tell.

He wondered how that final chapter might go now. Of course, he would not be alive to find out. But perhaps, others within the halls of Vadam might conclude his saga if his sacrifice proved to be enough to redeem his name even slightly.

Thel walked over to the pod that lay open before him, and slowly climbed the small ramp while the two Prophet Hierarchs watched. White fog billowed out of the sarcophagus as Thel paused before the sacred armor which lay within. He reached in and took the helmet. Staring into the iridescent shine reflecting off the large, curved beak at the front of the helmet, Thel caught a glimpse of his own reflection. The gravity of his new situation began to sink ever deeper into him.

So, this is how my story is to conclude. So be it.

After only a moment's consideration, Thel put the helmet on. It fit perfectly, curving slightly upward at the back while the frontal beak sloped down over his nose. He turned to face the High Prophets, a newfound determination in his voice and a fire in his eyes.

"What would you have your Arbiter do?"

Following the departure of the newly minted Arbiter, High Prophet of Truth, Ord Casto, bid farewell to his fellow Hierarch and left the mausoleum. Along with his contingent of loyal honor guards, Truth boarded his personal Granion aircraft. The large, elongated vessel differed significantly from typical Covenant design templates, possessing a bulbous prow which comprised the main bulk of the vehicle and a long, thin tail which terminated in a pair of horizonal flukes that aided the barge's smooth avigation.

Complementing the typical purplish hues of Covenant nanolaminate plating was a latticework of ornate golden trimmings which bestowed the craft with an unusually regal appearance. This was in-keeping with the Granion's exclusive ownerships by the highest echelons of Covenant society; only the most powerful and influential could hope to procure one as a personal vehicle.

As the Granion soared through the skies over the sweeping expanse of the Golden City; home to the most affluent within the entire Covenant, and whose dwellings blessed them with the magnificent view of the Dreadnought situated at the center of High Charity, the Prophet of Truth sat within his private cabin, hands steepled in contemplation as he reflected over the events of the past several cycles.

The loss of the Halo ring of which the Covenant had spent eons searching; the object in which they would use to follow in their God's footsteps, had been a devastating blow to the alliance's faith. There had been no choice: the one who had overseen the war effort on Halo had to be punished. There had been no choice. Every loyal member of the Covenant demanded blood, and as the one true heretic, the most heinous of human demons, had so far escaped their wrath, they had to make an example of the next best thing.

This was to say nothing of the loss of the Unyielding Hierophant and its five-hundred strong fleet. Truth's personal fleet. The existence of this fleet had been kept secret from almost every creature in the Covenant not directly stationed within, including his fellow Hierarchs. The fleet had been commanded exclusively by the Jiralhanae, of whom Truth had come to increasingly rely on over the past dozen annual cycles.

He had assembled this fleet following his discovery of the human homeworld. This planet, called "Earth" by the humans, had been discovered thanks to the infiltration of a human stealth ship by a Covenant counter-cyberintrusion program a short time before the destruction of the human fortress world. This program had managed to successfully transmit swathes of information to the Covenant, the most significant having been the existence of the fabled gateway to the Ark, and the planet on which it was located as being the cradle world of their hated enemy. The Prophet of Truth had swiftly seized this information cache and kept it hidden from even his two fellow Hierarchs.

To see it all vanish before his very eyes had galled Truth to his core. He had been forced to reconstruct his fleet from the beginning, while having the surviving crews from the few remaining warships quietly executed at Tartarus' hand to prevent panic about the destruction of such an enormous force at the hands of a scant few human demons from reaching the greater Covenant.

The only saving grace from the calamity was the procurement of three slivers of a Forerunner crystal that had been thought lost It had been discovered during the invasion of Reach and Truth, knowing of its significance regarding the unlocking of the Ark's portal, had dedicated forces to extract it. During the ensuing skirmishes, the crystal had been destroyed by the blasphemous humans within their "Eridanus" system. Truth held hope that the few remaining splinters of the artifact would still be enough to fulfill his purposes.

These purposes would soon come to fruition. Truth knew that the balance of power was delicate. Scheming and backstabbing were rampant within the highest levels of Covenant society, and even among the Hierarchs themselves. Truth knew that he needed to consolidate his power, and quickly. The High Prophet of Regret in particular was undoubtedly plotting his own moves, and Truth had to ensure that he was ready when this happened.

The Prophet's communicator buzzed, a transmission secured with the highest levels of encryption, and he heard the deep, rumbling voice of a Jiralhanae.

"Noble Prophet," Tartarus spoke. "I have received word from my chieftains in Regret's fleet. They have taken heavy losses at the human world, and the Hierarch is preparing to flee."

"It is no consequence, Tartarus."

Thanks to his loyal agents within the Fleet of Sacred Consecration, Truth had already known his fellow High Prophet's destination long before this moment – just one more fact he had kept from Regret. Truth suspected that due to his unpreparedness, Regret had not known the status of Earth as humanity's homeworld. Characteristically rash and headstrong, he had put himself in a precarious position and would no doubt contact Truth himself pleading for his understanding.

Truth had long suffered the younger Prophet's impetuous nature. Far too often, they had butted heads when it came to matters of the greatest importance to the Covenant. Occasionally, these disputes had caused carefully laid plans by Truth to be thwarted, such as Regret's unknowing interference in Truth's plans to discover the human homeworld near the beginning of the War of Annihilation. Were it not for Regret, the eradication of the humans might have been completed long ago.

And now, he might have a way to get rid of this thorn in his side.

"Have your Jiralhanae… remove the Sangheili within the fleet and on the surface of the world. And do it swiftly, before word can spread. This is but the first step of our ascension."

"Yes, Noble Prophet." Tartarus replied. Truth could hear the glee within the Jiralhanae chieftain's voice. The Jiralhanae had been waiting a long time for this moment, and Tartarus had been selected as the instigator; the one who would lead their people when the time for battle came. The High Prophet knew that once this move was carried out, their subsequent move against the Sangheili at large would not be long behind.

"What of Regret, High One?"

"If he manages to escape from the planet, I have other plans in mind for Regret. And if he doesn't… well, you know this is of no importance. He will fall at the human's hand – an example of yet another failure by the Sangheili – or your brethren…" Truth let that statement hang in the air.

"I understand." Tartarus replied. "And what of the incompetent?"

A slight smirk tugged at the corners of the Prophet's thin, salamandrine lips. He knew that the chieftain would have no doubt questioned Truth's decision to spare the condemned Sangheili from a protracted execution.

"He can serve some use to the Covenant," Truth said. "Despite my feelings for the Sangheili, 'Vadamee is undoubtedly an extremely capable warrior, and it would be a waste to dispose of him needlessly. And as his failure matches the magnitude of his talents, I can see no greater purpose for him than to serve as Arbiter.

"He shall serve as the perfect instrument to purge the heresy festering on the mine within the nearby gas giant's atmosphere. Such a movement threatens to shatter the bonds that keep our Covenant together. It must be eradicated before we can initiate the next phase of our plan. And if fortune smiles on us, he shall find his fate on that station."

"Yes, High One," Tartarus responded in his gruff voice.

Truth cut the communication and settled back on his throne. Yes, events were certainly crowding upon him. It would only be a short time until his plans were fully realized. And what this would entail would be the greatest shake-up in the structure of the Covenant within the entirety of its three-thousand-year existence. Truth would no longer suffer a species of which he had long held animosity for, which had held power for far too long and who had proven themselves unable to continue to lead the Covenant's vast military.

He glanced out of the Granion's viewport, glimpsing the smooth, tetrahedral shape of the Forerunner Dreadnought situated at the heart of the Golden City, towering over the surrounding skyscrapers and office structures surrounding it.

"Soon," Truth said in a quiet voice, absentmindedly stroking the wattle that hung beneath his chin. "Soon."

As countless vessels of all shapes and sizes swarmed around the enormous spine trailing below High Charity, a trio of Kez'katu-pattern Phantom dropships soared away from the hive of activity. The brilliant blue light of their twin impulse drive systems illuminated the darkness of space as they passed the broken, shattered remnants of the once-mighty Halo installation. Across its shattered surface, enormous flames still burned bright, clearly visible from space.

The dropships angled towards the enormous, amber-hued gas giant that Halo had once orbited. Even from orbit, huge gaseous swirls could be seen wreathing the planet's volatile hydrogen-helium atmosphere. Their destination was one of the many gas mining complexes situated within the upper atmosphere of Threshold. It was here that the heretical movement had been born, and at the command of the Hierarchs, it was where the movement would die.

Within the central Phantom, lines of Special Operations Officers stood along both sides of the craft's spacious troop bay. These Sangheili represented some of the most well-trained and talented warriors within the whole Covenant. Clad in their signature deep blue, almost black combat harnesses, each Sangheili within the Spec Ops unit had been battle-tested and stood ready to slaughter those who had defied the Covenant.

In addition to the Sangheili, a line of Unggoy wearing similarly colored armor stood in the center of the troop bay, separated from each row of Sangheili by a space of five units. In contrast to rank-and-file troops, these Unggoy wore methane tanks with two tall prongs on either side that jutted upwards as well as rebreathers that covered their entire faces, with two small green horizontal lenses serving as optics.

The Sangheili who had once been Thel 'Vadamee, Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice, stood towards the end of one of the lines of Sangheili. He was no longer a respected commander. But just another soldier to be expended on the battlefield. He was a disgraced warrior whose only hope was to redeem his honor in death. Until this happened, he knew none of the Sangheili would respect him again.

A tall Sangheili wearing a bright white harness that stood in stark contrast to the armor of his subordinates, as well as the darkened interior of the Phantom, strode down the orderly lines of Spec Ops troops. His low, baritone voice rang throughout the dropship as he addressed his soldiers.

"When we joined the Covenant, we took an oath!"

"According to our station! All without exception!" the assembled Sangheili chorused. The newly christened Arbiter remained silent. It was no longer his place to engage in the camaraderie of his fellow Sangheili. He was an outsider.

"On the blood of our fathers, on the blood of our sons… we swore to uphold the Covenant!" 'Vadumee continued, his orange eyes briefly meeting each Sangheili as he passed them.

"Even to our dying breath!" 'Vadumee's men answered.

The Special Operations Commander crossed to the other side of the bay and began to walk down the opposite direction.

"Those who would break this oath are heretics, worthy of neither pity, nor mercy! Even now, they use our lords' creations to broadcast their lies!"

As he spoke, one of the Sangheili held his particle beam rifle to his chest, and one of the Unggoy anxiously fiddled with his companion's methane tank, earning a quiet, but angry retort.

"We shall grind them into dust!" The Sangheili rattled off as 'Vadumee reached the end of the assembled troops and turned to face them. The Spec Ops Commander made a fist as he finished his oration.

"And continue our march to glorious salvation!"

By now, the Phantoms had entered Threshold's upper atmosphere, and they plunged through the reddish-orange clouds of ammonium hydrosulfide towards an enormous installation stationed within. But this was not their destination. Instead, the facility they sought was in fact the smaller structure that dangled below, attached by a single long cable. Below this structure, an enormous maelstrom churned.

Commander 'Vadumee stopped in front of his former Supreme Commander, his eyes glancing at the ancient, curved plates of the Arbiter body armor. The two hinged jawbones on the right side of his face twitched slightly. 'Vadumee's two left mandibles were almost completely missing. They had been lost in a duel with his own sub-commander, who had fallen victim to the Flood parasite during the events of the battle at Halo.

Thel remembered issuing the command to 'Vadumee and his team to investigate the Infinite Succor, an agricultural support ship attached to the Fleet of Particular Justice. The vessel had transmitted a distress signal, but it had been incomplete. Suspecting the humans, he had sent the Special Operations to investigate.

What he had been wholly unprepared for was 'Vadumee to return to the Seeker of Truth alone, heavily injured and telling of the parasitic outbreak that had broken out on the ship. While the commander had managed to fly the compromised vessel into the system's sun before the parasite could escape, it had cost him almost everything, including the distinctive wounds to his face. This wound had earned him the nickname of 'Half-Jaw'.

"This armor suits you," 'Vadumee said, a hint of sorrow in his voice. "But it cannot hide that mark."

"Nothing ever will." Thel replied, his shame permeating his voice. He knew that for the remainder of his short life, he would feel the burden of the Mark of Shame, long after the physical pain had subsided.

"You are the Arbiter, the will of the Prophets." 'Vadumee took a step closer to Thel, his eyes glaring into Thel's own. "But these are my Sangheili. Their lives matter to me. Yours does not."

As the nearby Sangheili in the troop bay watched on, Thel replied, his voice heavy.

"That makes two of us."

"Hmmm…" the Half-Jaw said, nodding his head before walking away. Thel could still hear perhaps a modicum of respect in his former subordinate's voice.

The flight of Phantoms dropped below the massive structure and flew in over the gas mine suspended below. The vaguely grappling-hook shaped facility had two thick arms which were illuminated with tendrils of flowing blue energy, two smaller modules and one central structure of which was attached to the cable.

"Leader, there is no doubt: the storm will strike the facility." The pilot of the lead Phantom's voice came in through the team's local battle network.

"We'll be long gone before it arrives," 'Vadumee assured him.

The Phantoms swooped over a large platform on the exterior of the gas mine. Two of the three dropships engaged the gravity lifts in the center of their bellies. The first Phantom deployed a levy of four Unggoy and their Sangheili commander, while the second deployed another two Sangheili, followed by Thel. He felt the gentle sensation as the gravity lift dropped him gently to the grooved surface of the platform.

The moment Thel's unit, designated the first lance for this operation, was deployed, the Phantoms glided away from the platform towards a matching structure on the opposite side of the mine to deploy the rest of the strike force. With teams infiltrating from various points across the facility, Thel was sure that the heretic leader would soon be cornered and crushed.

"Warriors, prepare for combat!" the Half-Jaw barked over the COM. Thel glanced around him, watching as his fellow warriors moved forward. He drew the curved handle attached to his right thigh and hit the activation stud. The flat, two-pronged form of the fireblade ignited in his hand, a deadly assembly of superheated plasma contained within a magnetic field, fully charged and ready to spill the blood of those who would defy the Covenant.

Thel followed his team across the flat surface and down one of the two wide ramps that trailed downwards on both sides of the platform. He could taste the metallic tang of the gas giant's atmosphere even through the field projected from small filtration units within his armored mandible guards and he wondered precisely how much time they had until the whirling vortex brewing below swallowed them whole.

"We are the arm of the Prophets, Arbiter," 'Vadumee voice said. "And you are the blade. Be silent and swift, and we shall quell this heresy without incident."

The Spec Ops team assembled around a large, square door on the lower platform, a red diamond-shaped light emblazoned in the center. One of the Sangheili, a younger warrior named Ika 'Naskaree, moved up to a holographic control panel nearby and began to hack into the door's security protocols while the rest of the team waited nearby with their weapons ready.

"The storm has masked our approach, and it should have their local battle-net in disarray.," the Half-Jaw continued. "We have the element of surprise… for now."

A moment later, the door's three sections slid apart with a gentle hiss, in a manner not dissimilar from those within High Charity; just one of many ways the Covenant's own technology had been derived from those who had come before them, and whose transcendence they would one day follow.

With a nod from the lance's commander, the four Unggoy filed into the airlock, followed by the two Sangheili, and finally Thel. As soon as he was in, the doors closed and sealed, and a moment later, jets of pressurized gas sprayed from several points around the compartment as the pressure equalized.

"Engage active camouflage," the commander of the small unit ordered. Dru 'Gelamee was an experienced member of the Special Operations division. He was an accomplished sniper, and he clutched a Sulok-pattern particle beam rifle – the Covenant's preferred long rifle – in his four-fingered hands.

"Reveal yourselves only after the Arbiter has joined battle with the enemy."

Upon 'Gelamee's command, the entire lance sans Thel seemed to fade away into the background, becoming almost indistinguishable from the surrounding walls save for the slightest shimmer in the air. Provided they moved carefully, the team would be almost impossible for the enemy to spot.

"You may wish to do the same, Arbiter," 'Vadumee broke in. "But take heed: your armor's system is not as… new as ours. Your camouflage will not last forever."

This assessment from the commander was certainly true, and so Thel decided to only use his own camouflage when it was most prudent. The airlock door cycled open, and the team crept cautiously through into a larger room. The walls and floors were lined with the same geometric engravings as the exterior platform. Several thick pillars, each the size of a fully armored Mgalekgolo, were spaced at equidistant points around the area.

The raised catwalk a short distance away had what seemed to be a delivery system for the bulky canisters that were scattered around the area, and as Thel watched, he spotted one of the containers glide smoothly downward from a dispenser in the ceiling, through gaps in the catwalk and onto a conveyor belt somewhere out of sight.

Thel spotted several Unggoy sleeping near the ramps leading up to the catwalk. Unlike the armor donned by typical Covenant Unggoy, these wore bronze harnesses that were significantly more segmented in design and had many small purple lights adorning these plates. Instead of the typical pyramidal methane tanks worn by those within the Covenant, these Unggoy simply had two transparent tubes mounted on their backs, within which the methane-based atmosphere they breathed could be seen.

A Sangheili stood in the center of the room with his back turned to the open airlock door; evidently, he had not heard the team's entry. Similarly to his Unggoy cohorts, the Sangheili wore the atypical bronze harnesses of the Covenant's artifact hunting groups, very similar to that worn by their leader but instead of the antigravity pack he had noticed on the hologram on the Prophet of Truth's throne, the armor had four protruding fins on its rear plate.

The Sangheili's carbine was slung over his back. This relaxed stance, in conjunction with the dozing Unggoy, told Thel that the Half-Jaw's assumption that the interference from the nearby maelstrom had allowed them to insert onto the mine completely undetected. The Arbiter wondered if the heretic forces had a significant air force. While they had not mobilized anything to meet the Spec Ops team's Phantoms, this did not mean that assets couldn't be scrambled once their presence became known.

Thel ducked behind the nearest pillar and considered his next move. The rest of the team lurked behind other points of cover, waiting for the Arbiter to initiate combat. Before he could move, a shadow moved on the far wall, and the team remained stationary as a second Sangheili heretic walked down the ramp on the right side of the room and moved to address his fellow heretic.

"Any word on our missing brothers?"

"Still nothing," the first Sangheili said. "And given what sleeps here, I fear they are lost."

"Surely the Oracle will protect us…"

"Perhaps," the Sangheili scratched a mandible as he spoke. "But his Sentinels are too few. Better we protect ourselves!"

Thel heard footsteps as one of the Sangheili moved off. His mind began to work as he grasped the implications of what he had heard. A holy Oracle, here? One of the Covenant's many articles of faith dictated that the Oracles were the repositories of all knowledge regarding the Great Journey. The words spoken by such beings were the most sacred of truths, essential to their path to salvation.

Thus far, the Covenant had only encountered two Oracles throughout the entirety of its existence: the sacred Oracle at the heart of the Forerunner Dreadnought; the centerpiece of High Charity itself. To Thel's knowledge, this great monument to the Forerunner empire had remained almost entirely silent for generations.

Thel's own forces had observed an Oracle on the surface of Halo during the battle there, but they had been unable to establish contact, and he had assumed that it had been destroyed along with the sacred ring by the humans. Just another compounding desecration by their kind.

For an Oracle to be here, so close to the Halo… could the machine have survived the devastation somehow? Made its way here and contacted Sesa 'Refumee's team? But what did the possible presence of an Oracle have to do with the defection of these troops from the Covenant? Thel was troubled by these thoughts, but he resolved to find the answers, and soon.

The Arbiter engaged his armor's active camouflage module and crept up behind the nearest heretic Sangheili. With one swift movement, he wrapped his left hand around the foe's mouth while he rammed his ignited energy sword through the Sangheili's back, cutting through both hearts and killing him instantly.

Thel lowered the corpse to the ground silently. Nearby, the two Unggoy and the other Sangheili heretics lay dead on the ground, assassinated by the other members of the Spec Ops unit. Thel gave a slight nod of his head to 'Gelamee, who returned the gesture and crept up the ramp, his armor's modern camouflage systems allowing him to scout the area ahead more efficiently. While they may hold Thel in contempt for his failure at Halo, the Spec Ops warriors still held regard for his ability to command troops and for his skill in battle. They would follow his orders on this mission.

Several centals later, 'Gelamee returned to the rest of the lance. "More heretics patrol the next area, Arbiter," the commando reported. "Many Unggoy and several Sangheili. I do not anticipate that we will be able to kill all of them undetected."

"Well done, brother. I would ask that you remain on the catwalk and target the Sangheili. Once the rest of us are in position, I will signal for you to fire. With luck, we can neutralize them before they can muster a response."

"Yes, Arbiter," 'Gelamee said softly. Thel thought he could detect a hint of sorrow in the Sangheili's tone. He could sympathize. He had grown to despise the necessity of spilling the blood of those who he had once called kin. It had become all too easy to slaughter scores of humans in battle, but the occasions where 'Vadamee had found himself pitted against members of his own species still caused his mind to twist uncomfortably.

Regardless of this fact, their mission was of the highest importance. The heresy needed to be silenced before it caused a catastrophic fracturing within the Covenant. And if Thel was to be the instrument to prevent this possibility, then so be it.

'Gelamee reengaged his active camouflage and moved back up the ramp, followed by the rest of the first lance. One of the Unggoy in the team carried a folded Shepsu-pattern plasma cannon. Similar in appearance to an elongated plasma rifle, the cannon was a lightweight but brutally efficient emplacement that could be easily deployed and redeployed on the field. Thel directed the Unggoy to a position next to 'Gelamee, overlooking the next area. This would allow the smaller creature a clear line of sight on the threats below.

Thel deactivated his energy sword and instead drew his plasma rifle, before engaging his camo and moving down another ramp into the open room beyond. Three belts of blue energy ran the length of the room, ferrying more of the gas canisters down into a pit at the far end. More of the odd protrusions were spaced out across the chamber, and the Arbiter couldn't be sure if any foes lurked behind them, out of sight.

At least half a dozen Unggoy were asleep, curled up in tight balls on the floor while a similar number of their fellows were awake, but patrolling in a relaxed manner. Two Sangheili stood conversing at the far side of the chamber.

Crouching behind the nearest pillar, Thel took a moment to ensure the rest of his team were in position to strike and readied his own rifle. He sent a burst of static through his communications device to 'Gelamee. An instant later, a beam of bluish-purple light flashed across the chamber from the catwalk and struck one of the heretic Sangheili in the side of the head, drilling straight through and out the other side. A trail of blood and steam whistled out through the fatal wound, and the Sangheili toppled to the side and into the pit, dead before he knew what had hit him.

The second Sangheili jumped backwards in surprise but made a fatal error – he had leaped backwards into the very same pit. A surprised wail from the doomed Sangheili carried across the room, reaching the Spec Ops team.

As the dozing Unggoy startled awake from the commotion, the rest of the strike team commenced their attack. Plasma fire soon began to tear into the heretic forces from several points across the room. The mounted plasma cannon on the catwalk opened fire at the same time, sending a withering stream of plasma bolts into the surprised heretics.

As the torrent of fire burned through the heretic forces, Thel briefly wondered what the Unggoy firing the plasma cannon thought as he burned down so many of his own species. He spotted one of the Unggoy creeping up behind another barricade, a needler clenched in its thorny fist as it attempted to get close enough to fire on the plasma cannon. Thel let loose several shots from his plasma rifle, the white-hot bolts of plasma burning through the Unggoy's armor and then its hardened skin, riddling its scrawny torso and neck. It dropped with a gurgling cough, blue blood smearing the floor.

A few moments later, the noise of firing plasma weaponry subsided. Thel surveyed the carnage. Unggoy corpses littered the chamber, blood smeared across the floor along with severed appendages and chunks of viscera. Many more had been shredded up completely, consumed as the plasma fire ignited the flammable tubes on their backs.

With the area clear, the Unggoy on the plasma cannon allowed the emplacement to cool down, before dismantling it and stowing it on his back and drawing a plasma pistol and making its way down to rejoin Thel. 'Gelamee jumped down the catwalk, beam rifle at the ready and his face impassive.

Thel searched the mass of bodies, searching for survivors. He found only one, whimpering as it clutched the stump of its arm, which had been burned off at the elbow. The Arbiter lowered his plasma rifle and fired a single bolt into the fallen creature's head, vaporizing it. He then turned to the rest of the lance.

"Good work, brothers. But this is only the beginning," he rumbled. "The rest of the heretics in this place will soon suffer a similar fate."

The rest of the lance raised their fists to their chests and shouted in acknowledgement. With that, they proceeded to the other side of the chamber, where a pair of sloped ramps led them to a level underneath that which they had already traversed.

Thel heard an incoming elevator and signaled his team to engage their camouflage. He moved behind a nearby supply case and waited. Surely enough, several Unggoy soon presented themselves, warily sweeping the area in front of them with their plasma pistols and needlers. Their Sangheili commander stood behind them, aiming his carbine down the corridor Thel lurked in.

As the heretics approached his hiding place, Thel activated his own camouflage. The Unggoy moved past him, but Thel waited patiently. A moment later, the Sangheili began to follow. As he moved up to the crate, Thel reached out, wrapped his hand around the barrel of the heretic's weapon, and dragged its owner into view. Before the surprised warrior could react, Thel brought his own plasma rifle crashing down on the Sangheili's head, smashing his skull with a merciless blow.

As the Sangheili fell heavily to the floor, the Unggoy yelped in surprise and turned, but before they could act, the Spec Ops commandos emerged from behind them, snapping their necks easily with their long arms. They soon found the elevator the heretics had arrived on and boarded it. Once everyone was in, Thel hit the holographic console on the nearby wall and the elevator began to descend slowly, taking them deeper into the heart of the heretic station.