Chapter 17 – Receptio
(7th Cycle, 21 Units - Covenant Battle Calendar), 9th Age of Reclamation
Covenant Holy City High Charity
Sanctum of the Hierarchs
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Supreme Commander Rho Barutamee walked to what was certainly his doom. He was certain of that much since the request for his presence at the Sanctum of the Hierarchs could mean nothing else. They, the ones responsible for his fated mission, were however not the ones responsible for its partial failure or the consequential loss of most of his fleet. And that was why he was doomed.
As his personal transport arrived at the Spires of Gifting, he received his first indication of his punishment to come. A team of Honor Guards were waiting at the docks to escort him across the city. 'Escort' being the key word used by their superior. Barutamee was not convinced. It made more sense that the Hierarchs wanted to stop him from escaping or killing himself once he reached the city. From there, they would have a secure meeting wherein they would pass judgement on him, thereby finishing his clan, his career, his reputation and, if he was fortunate, his life. He hoped the last option would be first. At least then he could possibly redeem himself, whether in riskier servitude or in an honorable self-disembowelment.
The flight across the city was brisk. The Honor Guards remained stoic and silent, as was to be expected. They were unlikely to tell him anything of the fate they were leading him to and he was even less likely to ask. He would face his fate on his feet, not on his knees while groveling for knowledge or clemency. That and he preferred not to know what he already suspected.
The propulsion platform landed at the outer tower that housed their destination. From there, it was a brisk walk through the usual channels and passageways that culminated in a final corridor. Then to the sanctum.
If the walk before it was brisk, the stroll down the lengthy outer sanctum was the longest of his life. Every step drew him closer to the doors of the inner sanctum at the far end. Each one felt like an admission of guilt. He could feel the gazes of the Honor Guards on his right and left. Though their disciplined forms remained steadfast, their eyes curiously followed after him, maybe wondering 'What is this failure, this blot on the record of our kin doing on such hallowed grounds?'. That was the question he knew he would be asking himself if he were in their position and someone else in his. Sadly, he was the one treading across a floor that he was not worthy enough to speak of, yet alone walk upon.
Halfway to the doors, a thought crossed his mind that brought a well-deserved grimace to his face.
The sole reason he was not already dead was because his mission was not a complete failure. That was only because of its one success; the recovery of the oracle...at the hands of the Jirilhanae.
Following their defeat, his fleet had regrouped with the Divine Confession and her escorts before limping back to Covenant-controlled space.
Their return was met with much confusion on the BattleNet. No one was expecting them to come back so soon and with so few. All he had left to his claim of 'Supreme Commander' were a single ORS-class heavy cruiser, a pair of CCS battlecruisers, a handful of heavy corvettes and the Long Night of Solace.
That out of a fleet of 62.
He was ruined, or he would have been were it not for Tartarus. Prior to their landing at the Spires of Gifting, the commander of the Bearers of Preeminent Sanctitude informed him of what had happened on their secret mission; of what became of his Devoted Sentries and the ultimate recovery of their charge. He was suspicious of the claims Tartarus maid of Ludumee. He did indeed permit the Field Marshal and his Zealots to keep the Jirilhanae and everyone else to the sidelines of their search. How then were they, the greatest warriors in his fleet, killed by a small band of human shock troopers? A band of imps which the Jirilhanae admitted they never found. Tartarus seemed to be aware of how it looked as well. He tried to convince him that the human reinforcements were indeed present. He went so far as to offer hard proof in that one of his packs was ambushed and suffered heavy casualties at their hand. He could not confirm their numbers beyond two.
Two? Had he lost his best warriors to a force which no one was certain there were ever more than two of them? No. Tartarus had something to hide. It was too obvious to ignore but too late to do anything about it.
After their arrival and the presence of the oracle became known, they were immediately summoned to attend a meeting. It was not just any meeting but one before the eyes of the High Council itself. Where better to boast of the discovery of the greatest find since the 9th age of Reclamation began?
Their reception at the High Council Chamber included Barutamee himself and an entourage of his surviving shipmasters. And the Bearers. The explicit orders given to him by the Ministry of Fervent Intercession were that they were not to be excluded in any fashion from the proceedings. It made him wonder how the higher echelons of Covenant society already knew who was responsible for the triumph, especially given that he was yet to provide a full report. He suspected Tartarus was behind it but who else? Who would he, a Jirilhanae, know with such high connections that they could circumvent the normal procedures of a relic requisition at the drop of a hat?
The oracle was brought in at the head of their procession. It was stored in a mobile stasis field carried in on the shoulders of none other than the Bearers. Its entrance into the chamber was met by a general clamor of applause from the members of the council. However, Barutamee was certain the Sangheili councilors were doing their best to ignore the identity of those carrying it. For once, as much as he loathed to admit it, the Bearers of Preeminent Sanctitude had lived up to their namesake.
The blessed one was laid before the Hierarchs. The High Prophets of Truth, Mercy and Regret led by example. They bowed their heads low in reverence. They worshipped the oracle and welcomed it to High Charity. Then after a time they heaped praise upon praise on those who had recovered it.
Barutamee remembered seeing the grin of pure, unbridled pride on the face of Tartarus. It was the exact sight he had hoped never to see: a Jirilhanae being praised alongside a Sangheili. There was an oddness about the entire occasion because of it. Nevertheless, the oracle was recovered and those who brought it were applauded as heroes of the faith. Their names would forever be immortalized in the annals of the Covenant for this deed: Sangheili names and Jirilhanae ones as well.
It could not be helped. Neither could his being summoned now. He knew it was coming, that the Hierarchs were only waiting for the right time to handle the disaster behind the triumph. Unlike the acquisition of the oracle, the near annihilation of the Fleet of Valiant Prudence and the failure to destroy the human world were assignable to his account alone. He was at the helm of the invasion. As supreme commander, his guilt was undeniable. So he readied himself. He fortified his spirit so that it would not waver in what could very well be his final hour. He was thankful to fill his lungs with the air from the hallowed halls as he approached the entrance.
He began the walk up the short incline. The first set of doors slid apart before him like two heavy boulders. The next set slid away in a similar fashion, their rumbling echo reverberating off the walls of the inner sanctum.
It was empty. The central holotank was inactive. Most of the room's light came through the viewing glass that dominated the other side. Beyond it lay the glowing visage of a reddish orange gas giant where High Charity and its defense fleet had come to orbit.
There was no one present, or so he thought until his eyes adjusted to the light. A silhouette of a Sangheili stood before the central dais. The figure turned towards him but he still could not make out their appearance. Putting a hand above his eyes allowed him to see more clearly.
From the golden armor and the purple cloak to the stately bearing and the discerning eyes, Barutamee recognized his equal.
"Vadamee?"
Thel Vadamee, the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice, stood before him with a look just as confused as his own. "Barutamee?"
The Honor Guards escorted him over to the holotank. Then, once he was in place, they returned to the doors and left the room.
Barutamee looked around, searching for any clues that were to be found in the luxurious aesthetics of his surroundings. After several seconds of finding nothing, he turned to meet the gaze of the only other person in the room. "Do you know why we are here, or at least why you are?"
Thel shook his head. "I received orders to come here in order to convene with the Hierarchs on a matter of great importance, though as to what that matter is precisely, I was not told. Why? Do you not know your own purposes here either?"
"Oh, I know it." Barutamee sarcastically chortled. "I am certain it is to my own damnation that I am here."
Thel's mandibles folded in as he fell silent, observing his fellow supreme commander. Barutamee could sense he was being judged and rightfully so. It was a rare thing for a commander not only to lose a naval engagement with the numbers he possessed but to also lose most of the ships that comprised its ranks. He deserved every bit of criticism for his incompetence. However, instead of criticism, Thel exhaled the last of the occasion's tension.
"At the very least, the oracle is safe and you and what ships are left to your name have survived. The Gods showed you mercy even in that terrible loss, that they did not see you and your subordinates wiped clean from their creation. Be grateful because you might yet receive more mercy."
They were encouraging words, Barutamee thought, especially from someone like Thel, a Sangheili who from the very beginning of his naval career knew nothing other than success after success. Victory after victory, conquest after conquest and accolade after accolade. But that was exactly why Barutamee hated the kind word. It was as if Thel was rubbing the salt of his own successes into the wounds wrought by his equal's lack thereof. And even then, they were equal in rank but not in accomplishments. In the field, one mattered far more than the other.
"Perhaps." Barutamee relented, hiding the flickering embers of envy from his tone. He eyed one of the doors just as it slid open before three hovering gravity thrones, and sitting upon them, the stern figures of the triumvirate. "Perhaps not."
He immediately joined Thel in kneeling at their sudden arrival.
Leading the way was the High Prophet of Truth with Regret on his right and Mercy on his left. The group of Honor Guards escorting them stopped at the threshold. They turned and stationed themselves in the outside corridor. The doors slid shut, leaving inside only the two Sangheili commanders and the three holiest of the San'Shyuum.
The Hierarchs floated towards the holotank and gathered around its opposite side.
"Commanders Vadamee and Barutamee, welcome." Truth said in his perpetually tranquil voice. "Arise."
Yet as the two arose, Barutamee was far from tranquil, merely steeling his outward appearance to hide the concern lurking beneath.
"There is something we must discuss with you."
"As it relates to your respective purposes within the Covenant no less." Regret chimed in, his demeanor turning surprisingly jovial.
Truth raised a hand to calm his fellow Prophet. "Rest assured, it is to both of your benefits what we have come to relate to you. You may find peace in that. However, your goals will not be so much peace as they will be to pursue destruction."
"The annihilation of the heretical race." Mercy said in his preacherly manner. "Those whose hearts are hardened by their vile deeds must be expunged from the galaxy, and you, Vadamee, Barutamee, have been chosen to play a special role in their final destruction."
"Indeed." Truth reached for the control module built into the armrest of his throne. He tapped it with a finger. A moment later, the central dais warmed and its luminous stasis field activated. Mechanisms within the upper part of the dais shifted and moved synchronously with components in the ceiling. A sizable hole was opened. From it, an object slowly floated down until it lay in the very middle of the stasis field.
Barutamee was immediately able to discern its purpose by its design. It was a metal sphere the size of his head. It levitated within the center of several diamond-like housing frames that were in-laid within each other as the layers of a planet around its core. They looked to naturally repel gravity and the intricate lines of light that flowed through them led to a spot at the sphere's center: a circle of glass paneling. He could tell it was a luminary. However, it was unlike any he had ever seen before. The lights within its frame were as reddish orange as the nearby gas giant, not the same as the regular whitish blue illumination of most luminaries. Moreover, from this glass paneling on the sphere glowed a kind of forked Forerunner symbol he was unfamiliar with: 'YI'
In a moment he understood the magnitude of what he was beholding, as did Thel. They both kneeled in order to show the rightful reverence that was due to the new oracle.
"Rise, commanders, and stay on your feet." Truth commanded. Once they were standing again, he raised a hand towards it. "This, Barutamee, is the ancient one which you and the Jirilhanae recovered. Its presence here is in no small part due to your actions and that of the Bearers."
"As divine providence so willed it." Mercy intruded and floated closer to the oracle, his milky eyes filling with amazement. "This is the newest form of the Holy One. I-"
"You worked to make it more manageable to move around." Regret said.
His casualness seemed to slight Mercy as he turned on his fellow Hierarch with visible chagrin. Barutamee pretended not to notice.
"I was permitted by the Gods to oversee its partial transition into a form no less wonderous than that in which they gifted it to us." Mercy replied matter-of-factly. "In this way, it will be enabled to guide us with its manifold wisdom to carry out the divine will for which it was purposed."
"Of course, of course." Regret said, rolling his eyes. Again, Barutamee pretended not to notice.
"Yes, as was willed by the Gods, and that will is the destruction of those that would destroy their holy relics." Truth admitted, turning the attention of the conversation back to the two Sangheili. He focused on Thel. "It is their justice. And who better to carry it out than the Fleet of Particular Justice." He turned next to Barutamee. "As Mercy says, it is also their manifold wisdom. And who better to see it through than the Fleet of Valiant Prudence."
"Or what is left of it." Regret said.
The brutality of the offhand comment earned no reaction from Barutamee. No visible one. Inside, he was being buried beneath the weight of his own shame and refused to dig himself out. He deserved every bit of it, but the condemnation from the very mouth of a Hierarch made him want to slit his own throat. He restrained himself. Doing such a thing at the feet of the Hierarchs would be outrageously improper. So he stayed silent within the throes of his torment and listened.
"Your mission is plain and divinely ordained." Truth said. "Barutamee, since you are partly responsible for giving us the oracle, you will be entrusted with this luminary."
Barutamee felt his hearts skip a beat. The earlier shame vanished and his mind raced. "Forgive me, Holy One, but did you say I will be the one to receive it? The oracle's luminary?"
Truth lightly dipped his head. "Those were my words, yes."
He snuck a glance at Thel who did not appear to be impacted by the news whatsoever. Still, Barutamee could not believe it. Then when he could, he reveled in it. Thel was right. Perhaps he was brought here to be shown mercy.
"Thank you, Holy One. I will use it wisely."
"Yes, you will, but do not be so hasty. I have yet to tell you what you will be using it for. From hereon, the status of the Fleet of Valiant Prudence has been changed. Though it will continue its functions as an advanced scouting fleet, it will also serve purely the purposes of archeological research and recovery. Combat and planetary cleansing are no longer to be its purview or prerogative. That is to fall to the Fleet of Particular Justice to which it will now be attached."
Barutamee could no longer hide it. By the time the Prophet had finished, his mandibles had drooped and his shoulders slackened, losing all semblances of pride they once held. He was being downsized, shunted, put to the side of an 'equal'. His tongue paralyzed, his jaw unresponsive, he glanced at Thel who looked just as unphased as before.
Truth also turned to the commander. "To you, Vadamee, and your fleet will be given the right to engage with any human worlds discovered by Valiant Prudence. If any are found during their search for relics, Barutamee is to immediately inform you so that Particular Justice will be sent to handle the matter. In case of an emergency, I have also authorized that additional fleets should be attached to yours to offer maximum potency at your discretion. That way we might yet avoid-"
Barutamee's tongue and mind loosened and he suddenly found himself bowing his head and speaking out of turn. "Forgive me, Hierarch, for my failure, though it is great. I know it and I am repentant. Let me avenge that loss. Let me return to that vermin world with a restored fleet. On my life, I will leave a new star in that rotten system. I swear it. I only need-"
"You have had your chance." Truth said, silencing him. "And now you are being given another. Even if it is not the one you wish, it is the one we grant."
"B-, but I can accomplish this my-"
"Do not tempt the Gods!" Mercy said. "This is their salvation to you. Take it and live! Deny it and die! It is that simple."
"A sad truth, really." Regret passively agreed, rounding on the commander. "That world no longer matters to us. We have what we needed from it. You have no other path to choose except the one that leads to you holding on to your life, as if the care of such a luminary is not gift enough. You should be grateful."
Barutamee caught himself. The veiled threats were no longer veiled. Again, he looked out the corner of his eye and saw Thel watching him with no expression other than that of a warning.
"...Forgive me for my interruption, Holy Ones. It will not happen again." With that, he retreated into himself and stayed quiet.
"Good." Truth said. "Now that it is established, Vadamee, do you have anything to ask or say?"
"No, Hierarchs. It is as you say. May the will of the Gods and their Prophets be done."
"Good. This mission will fall to both of you. One will be given a powerful luminary that will enable him to find more relics than any fleet that has come before, as well as more human worlds. The other will be given sole authority to oversee the destruction of those worlds that are found to be infested with our foe. In so doing, we will hasten our chances of finding greater treasures left behind to us as well as hastening the downfall of those that would destroy them. This will be a task force commanded between two Supreme commanders, both of the same rank but of different roles. Neither of you are superior to or a subordinate of the other but are equals of differing strengths and aims. That is what will make you effective here. Do not forget that."
As the two commanders sounded off their expected agreement, Regret unexpectedly voiced his own. "Yes. Do not forget it, that it is a task force led by Sangheili who will lead the way." Regret turned his throne ever so slightly to aim a subtle grin at Truth. The latter stared him down placidly for a moment before returning to the pair.
"The luminary will be provided to your personal ship shortly, Barutamee. Once it is in your possession and your fleet is fully resupplied, you will begin your mission. As for you, Vadamee, you will be free to return to your original assignments. Only be on your guard for when your fellow commander should warn you of a new one. That is all. You are free to leave. Go with our blessing."
The two commanders bowed their heads. Then they both turned and headed for the same set of doors which slid apart for them.
As they walked out of the chamber, Barutamee fell in beside the other Sangheili. However, he refused to speak. He wanted to first be clear of the Guards in the hall leading to the outer sanctum.
He was briefly hurled into the maelstrom of his inner thoughts. It was a swirling storm of lofty notions that were brought low, made high again then twisted on their heads. He felt dizzy. Aside from the obvious reason there was another that bothered him. This was his second time receiving a direct mission from the Hierarchs. It seemed to him, though he was hesitant to think it, that they were circumventing the Ministry of Fervent Intercession's line of authority, those to which he reported, as well as that of the other ministries. That they were gradually subsuming more power into their direct control for unclear reasons. This was not the first time he had heard of the Hierarchs delivering more orders personally than they had been before. It was simply his first time, or rather his second, being a part of it.
As the next doors opened and they walked down into the outer sanctum, his suspicions turned towards Vadamee. The Honor Guards were finally far enough away for him to talk. "You looked calm in there, like you have experience with this, with them."
Thel, ever stoic, focused straight ahead. "This is not my first assignment. I can say that much."
"Directly from on-high?"
"Yes."
"I see." Barutamee paused to consider how much attention the Sangheili's accomplishments earned him; an embittering thought. "So, as it stands, I am to report to you then?"
"Informed is the word they used." Thel assured. "And as an equal, not a subordinate."
"An equal? What do you mean?" He ran his hand through the cloak trailing at his back. "What is equal between us other than this fabric draped over my shoulders and this armor on my skin? No, brother, there is nothing equal between us other than that we are Sangheili and that we are commanders, but we are not all supreme. Our rank makes us the same in name but not in quality. It is accomplishments that are the true marker between you and I, and on those scales, I have been deemed lesser than you. Do not deny it or, by the Gods, I will call you a liar."
Thel didn't deny it. He didn't affirm it either. He kept quiet and kept walking.
"Say it. Say you are superior to me."
Thel finally turned his head to him as they walked. "And what good would that do you? Will that change your position? Will it alter the situation you're in?"
"No, but it would prove to me that I am right. That is all I want, to be right again."
"...I cannot offer you what you seek, Rho."
"And what am I after, commander?"
"Confidence. You want someone to restore a measure of certainty into your life again, even if it means the certainty of an insult. That way you could at least start from there and build yourself back up again. I cannot give you that."
Barutamee was silenced at his fellow commander's perceptiveness. He shut his eyes tight at the memories that such wisdom had touched upon, and when he could no longer hold them back, he looked up to the vaulted ceiling. "Should I have lost there, Thel? Should I have lost all my ships? Should I have sent more to stop the platforms?" He looked down to his hands. "There is too much blood on these. Even now, I can feel their spirits condemning me. I failed them, but what else could I have done? I've been asking myself that since I returned. I cannot eat, I cannot sleep because of it. The only answer I have received is that I should be dead right along with them, and yet I am forced to keep living with the shame while you live with the glory." His hands balled into fists. "As far as I am concerned, I am already damned."
Thel watched him for a long moment but said nothing. After a few steps he replied: "Penance."
"What?"
"That is why you are still alive. You are being made to give penance. What you feel now is contrition. In fulfilling this role, you are regaining the honor you lost. This is your chance to redeem yourself. As the Prophet of Mercy said, take it and live."
"Or deny it and die." Barutamee muttered to himself.
"So choose life then."
"...You seem to know a great deal about redemption. I might be prying when I ask this: is there some grievous sin you've committed to know these things?"
Thel shook his head. "No. However, I have seen it, brothers lost to pride and confusion. Theirs is an ugly fate. I will not share in it and I wish to spare others of it as well."
Pride. Barutamee remembered the claws of it burrowing into him as he stood on the Long Night of Solace's bridge, watching his forces advance on that human world. He was so certain of victory then, and yet here he was certain of nothing now. Confusion.
"Thank you." he said. "There is some wisdom in that."
"I should hope so."
It was wise, yes. It was also wisdom that he did not need, not from a commander who rightfully enjoyed victory after victory. Defeat was an unfamiliar concept to him. How then could he know a thing about the true humility brought on by humiliation, unless he was false, unless he was indeed a liar. In his mind, Barutamee declared the Sangheili to be so. He likewise declared that he would do all in his power to stand on equal footing with him again. And then he would surpass him; he who was so perfect as to have never known the sting of defeat.
To start off on the right foot, as the doors at the end of the outer sanctum slid open, he made certain to move ahead so that his boots were the first to cross the threshold. His, not Thel's.
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Truth continued to observe the luminary even as Regret carried on with his one-sided argument. The angular housing of the oracle's inner components gave little hint as to the substantially larger housing, the one which Mercy's team of Huragok and Lekgolo worms had trouble extricating from the rest of it. It was a wonder of engineering and divine inspiration that something so powerful could be transitioned into something so small. When it became clear that Regret's rambling would not cease until he paid attention to him, he listened to his rambling.
"Which is why I can presume your reason for finally giving more spotlight to the Sangheili is to balance out the powers. You don't want to play your full hand as yet, and after the recent conundrum with Tartarus and the Bearers, you're trying to show to the council that you're still impartial. Am I wrong?"
Truth stared at him long for the third time that day. It was a continuation of a debate older than their most recent meeting. He turned to Mercy. The elderly San'Shyuum was too busy holding up his hands and praying silently towards the luminary, praying the blessing of the Gods upon it, to help him diffuse the situation.
"No." Truth lied. "But if I say yes, will that finally ease your mind?"
Regret laid back in his throne and smirked at him. "I am simply curious."
"You seemed too curious. During the meeting you made statements before those two that were...less than appropriate."
"Like what?"
"That it is a task force led by the Sangheili who will lead our way."
"The way." Regret grinned. "I was trying to remain 'impartial'."
Truth's eyes narrowed to slits. "Have you been using Hookah?"
"Oh no, what makes you think that?"
"I can smell it on your breath, as well as the herbal tea you had before you came from your chambers."
"Well, maybe. It makes me more honest, you see. More honest than you. At least I am willing to admit outright that I support and prefer the Sangheili...to the Jirilhanae."
If the younger, intoxicated San'Shyuum expected to rile him up, Truth decided that he would be disappointed. "Be careful, Regret." He said calmly. "Or your favoritism might become your downfall."
Regret's grin widened. "I could say the same of you, Ord."
A flicker of anger surged through Truth's soul at the lack of formality. Even if they knew each other for decades, even if they had plotted the overthrow of their predecessors together, he intended to maintain his old seniority. That same seniority he had when he was once Minister of Fortitude, when Regret was nothing more than a lowly Vice Minister of Tranquility, one who came rushing to his side with the news that would forever change their lives and that of the wider Covenant. "Watch yourself, Lod. There is still much to be done."
"And much to be done away with." Regret added, more as a statement of fact than an insult. Perhaps the herbal tea was starting to kick in. Regret always got more aggressive and agitated whenever he smoked too much. Hopefully he was sobering up. A random, or perhaps not so random laugh from the young San'Shyuum made him doubt that.
Truth turned back to the luminary floating before him. He waited for Mercy to finish praying. With a last utterance of whispered devotion, the older San'Shyuum's hands gracefully returned to his lap.
Seeing that he was done, Truth took a final look at the divine being housed within. "The truth is simple. Humanity is on its last legs. They are not infinite. They know their end is near. Their homeworld is fast becoming their final refuge, and this, the most powerful luminary of the Gods, will lead us to it."
He eyed the symbol glowing at its center.
"This war was started by the words of one oracle." He pressed his control module, causing the holotank to slowly transport the luminary back into the ceiling and off to its destination. He turned and floated towards the nearest set of doors with Regret and Mercy. "It is only fitting then that it should be ended by the silence of another."
Receptio – Reception
