Chapter 25 – Superare

May 10th, 2545 (08:48 Hours – Military Calendar)

Aquilla System, Actium

High Mediolanum, Republic of Pavia

Eastern City Limits

:********:

If Duncan was awestruck before, he was lost for words now.

It was nearly impossible to take his eyes off the two figures in the plains, one of whom was standing and the other lying before him. It was unsettlingly strange seeing an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper standing in front of an Elite that was seemingly bowing down to them, something that normally would never have happened. Usually, it would be the other way around with the human about to be slaughtered by the Elite. But that norm had been inverted. Even David had slung Goliath with a rock from a distance. Mito had gone straight up to the thing and cut it down by its own heels.

That wasn't to suggest, however, that he hadn't paid for it. There were sizable burn marks crisscrossing his armor, some of which were still aglow. The most notable was a scar that ran diagonally across his face. It went down from his forehead above the right eye, cut across his nose then stopped at the cheek just beneath his left eye. While it was thin and would likely fade overtime, it was still a pronounced battle scar, one he would probably be living with for the rest of his life.

With the Field Marshal out of commission, his worries shifted to the two Elites still keeping them pinned underfoot and what to do about them. Or more importantly, what would these Ultras do now? Whether they bought into the whole 'honorable exchange of lives for a duel' idea remained to be seen. Now that their leader had been killed right in front of them, he doubted they had any intention to honor it.

He spotted his MA37 lying off to his right, just out of reach. He tried for it anyway when the Ultra keeping him down had looked to its counterpart, probably trying to figure out what they would do next. His arm moved slowly across the grass in the hopes that it wouldn't catch their attention, only to stop a few centimeters short. As expected, it was barely out of reach.

He was about to try hooking a finger into a groove on the rifle butt when a voice came over his comms.

"Ep-3 to Ep-1 and Ep-8, I've got a visual on a pair of hinge-heads using you two as footstools. Want me to engage, over?"

It was almost amazing how relieving it was to hear that semi-serious, semi-sarcastic voice, at least under these circumstances. Duncan stopped himself from turning his head to look to the Staff less the Elites pick up on the fact that another factor had just come into play.

"Ep-1 to Ep-3, can you confirm you have eyes on both?" The Staff asked.

"The one on top of you is chatting with his buddy whose standing on Irish and pointing at Master Samurai over there."

Duncan looked up. To Deaks' credit, the Ultra on top of him was indeed talking to its comrade and pointing over at Mito.

"Good enough." The Staff took in a deep breath, weighing their options. He made a few minute movements on his end. "Alright, I can reach my M90 from here. Take out the one on top of me first then the other, no more than a one-second interval or we're dead."

"Pierce or splatter?" Deaks asked like a waiter taking orders.

"Don't take any chances."

"Splatter it is then."

Duncan tensed, preparing to reach for his rifle.

The initial shot struck dead-center in the back of the first Ultra's helmeted head, blowing out energy shielding, bits of armor, blood and brain matter in a fine spray as it passed through the forehead. The Elite never got a chance to even grunt. It merely fell forward, limp.

White it was still in mid-fall, the Staff rolled free of it, grabbed his shotgun and pumped a round into the one standing on Duncan, flaring its shields and gaining its attention. The move kept the Ultra's rising plasma rifle from executing Epsilon's cryptanalyst. Before the second was up, another sniper round caught the last Elite in a similar fashion to the first, destroying its already weakened shields to extricate a thick spray of blood and brain out of an eye-visor.

The moment it started tumbling back, Duncan pulled himself out from under it like a rug, sending it crashing the rest of the way. Taking his rifle up again he quickly ran over to his former captor, planted his boot on its chest and spent a three-round burst into its spasming head to finish it off.

"Hey-hey-hey, watch the teeth." Deaks whined. "I didn't save you guys just for you to mess up my prize."

Duncan stepped off the corpse and took in the first breath unencumbered by the weight of an alien more than twice his size. "I've seen your collections. You've got enough molars from these things, don't you?"

"Minors and Majors only, not Ultras. Those are premium collector's items. And don't even get me started on that Field Marshal."

The Staff kicked the other Elite in the neck to make sure it was actually down. Satisfied that it didn't respond, he sighed. "Good luck getting over here for them then." He looked around. "Where are you anyway?"

"Check your six o'clock relative to the bridge."

The two of them turned back to the damaged drawbridge where the blue flames from the plasma charge were only just beginning to subside. Beyond the walls of fire was the interstate highway running across the plains that they'd used to get here. There was nothing but grass. Then an even closer look drew them to the 30-meter-tall section of the 3rd Premiere Wall that rose up in the background from where it crested the plains, marking the city's eastern boundaries.

A small black dot was on a wide expanse of the wall between the two nearest gatehouse terminals. Using their visors, they maxed their views to 2x magnification, enabling them to see the prone ODST lying on the other end of a bipod-mounted sniper rifle. Deaks waved back at them. "Hey family, did you miss me?"

"You know, I honestly completely forgot you weren't with us." Duncan replied, prompting a dead silence from the corporal. "Not trying to say you didn't matter or anything but-"

"You were probably too busy being unconscious to notice anyway. A Flight Lieutenant for a 24th Hornet squadron had me folded in as a temporary attachment, said they needed somebody who could do long-range overwatch while they patrolled target buildings."

"I know all that." The Staff said. "It's the part where you wound up on top of the wall that still isn't clear."

Deaks shrugged. "Happened to be in the area flying ahead of Column C when I got a callout from Heck, said you guys might need some help. Since it was our last objective, I convinced them to drop me off nearby so I could check on you while they stayed to their patrols. Low and behold..."

"No-no, I get that part." Duncan said. "But how did you get, you know," He pointed to the wall. "Up there. I didn't see a Gatehouse come in."

"That wall's 100 meters tall, trooper." The Staff added. "I'd like to know the answer to that myself, especially since I didn't hear any Hornets fly you in."

Deaks held up three fingers in succession. "Three words people: cracks, crevices and creativity."

Duncan and the Staff shared a confused glance.

"Hey guys, over here!"

They turned back to the plains on their end. Mito was moving towards them from the now burning wreck of the crashed Phantom. He was carrying someone over his shoulder whose identity became all the more obvious by the humanoid shape and purple robes. It was the Minister of Iconography, or rather his dead body. Mito looked to be struggling to carry it away, having gotten to it just in time to save it from the growing flames around the dropship.

"Can you lend me a hand with this guy!?"

Duncan and the Staff ran over and helped him drag the sorry bag of flesh to the edge of the drawbridge.

The Staff patted the katana-carrying ODST on the back. "Good job taking down that Field Marshal like you did, trooper. That was...unexpected." He suddenly grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him towards himself. "But do me a favor, don't do that kind of insane martial arts stuff too often or things like this," He pointed to the new scar running over his face. "will be the least of your concerns."

Mito swallowed nervously and gave an unconscious bow, realized his mistake then stood at attention. "Sorry sir, it was just the best I could think of at the time."

The Staff looked between the ODST and the dead Field Marshal a short way off. He nodded at length. "That was one hell of a fight though. Keep that kind of energy up and you might just last in this outfit. But from now on, don't forget to use this," He tapped on his own shotgun. "before you use this," He pointed to the katana. "if you can help it, understood?"

Mito nodded as well. "Understood sir." He paused as he glanced at the prophet. "So... what do we do with him?"

"We're bringing his pretty face back to command. They'll want to keep their hands on him, if ONI doesn't get him first somehow."

"Or..." Duncan thought aloud. "We could use him now."

The other two turned to him for him to explain himself. He pointed to his helmet. "Right now, I've got a link running to every holo-pedestal in High Mediolanum and God-only-knows where else. From what I saw of those recordings from Mr. Icon, he was claiming to be immortal even though he was already a goner. But the Covies in the city don't know that." He jabbed a thumb at the minister's body. "Not yet."

It didn't take more than a second for them to piece together the picture he was forming.

"Makes sense." Deaks replied over the comm.

The Staff pointed Mito to the body. "Help me with this, Ep-10, we're putting on a show and they'll need to see us for it to be believable."

"Yessir."

The two of them each pulled one of the arms over their shoulders and hoisted the minister up between them, ignoring the head that hung limply from a bleeding neck. "Alright, come on Ep-8, get an eyeful for the camera."

Duncan got in front of them and made sure the recording was still going. As he did, Mito, being helmetless, put on a bright smile, a stark contrast to the deadened and open-mouthed face of the prophet.

"Yeah, you guys go have fun playing with your little prophet corpse over there." Deaks said. "Hope your yearbook comes out alright."

"You're jealous, aren't you?" Duncan asked.

"Me? No, of course not. What do you take me for, some sort of deeply disturbed pseudo-sadist?"

"Well, yes actually."

"Huh...well in that case, yeah, I am kind of jealous of you."

"You can have your own turn with it once we're done here." The Staff said drily.

Mito looked at the prophet's open mouth that dripped blood then peered back at the far-off wall. "Hey, Ep-3, I heard you say something about teeth. How come you don't want the prophet's canines?"

"Who ever said I didn't? So help me, I would jump over there now to take that sword you're so good at swinging and remove a few of those wisdom teeth with it. That'd be a hell of a time. Speaking of which, we've just about won here anyway. Know what that means?"

"The deal was if we win the planet back then you could use it, not just the city."

Deaks let out a defeated sigh. "You're a real piece of work, Ep-10. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"And what does that make you for going along with the deal anyway?"

"It makes me a man with a green targeting reticle aimed at the back of your head."

"Take the shot and you lose the sword."

"Nah." Deaks laughed. "I'm sure you'd just dodge it anyway or cut the bullet in half before it reached you...weirdo."

"Copy that. Oh, and another thing, did you get up there in time to see me fight that guy?"

"Yeah, I came at the tail-end of things though."

"...You know I could've died, right? Is there a reason you didn't take the shot when you could've or what?"

Deaks hesitated. "To be honest, I wanted to see if you'd actually win, figured you must've known something I didn't if you tried going at it anyways. Surprise-surprise, guess you did."

"No-no, that still means you had the shot. You could've helped."

"And miss out on all that?" Deaks laughed. "Nah."

"You're a real piece of work, corporal, you know that?" Mito deadpanned.

"I know."

"You suck."

"Thank you."

Duncan took the golden opportunity before him to catch different angles of the prophet. He almost felt like some 20th century cinematographer making film reels of some famous actor decked out in aesthetic robes for a Broadway-worthy story. The only difference was that he was using much better, alien technology and that the actor for the role wasn't just playing dead. He knew once he was done, he would have to find some way to edit the video to keep it looping on the broadcast, that along with the victory Mito had just pulled off with the Field Marshal. That way they would be dealing two death-blows to the Covenant's morale across the city, making them see that both their military and religious leaders were now dead prop-pieces in his macabre movie.

When he was done, they lay the body aside. He used his BDU's local software to edit a clip of the recording of the prophet and of the Field Marshal's death, then mingled with the translation suite to have it transmitted on a loop.

"We'll call in with the 24th Air Recon to see if anyone's in the area." The Staff said. "Hopefully someone can pick us up."

"If not, then we might be here for a while." Duncan noted as he looked to the city walls. "They better win back there."

Then something caught his eye, something he hadn't noticed that he hadn't noticed it in the first place, like a giant red flag in his face that had been waving in the breeze for the last hour.

For what seemed the first time that morning he saw the shining, dark-purple metal pipelines. He'd seen a number of them during his time in the city and even up to the recent chase. But he had never seen so many of them before.

While it was a saying that one can't see the forest for the trees, that didn't necessarily apply here. That was because it was gradually dawning on him that he couldn't have known how many pipes there were in the city until he'd left it.

There weren't just dozens of pipelines running through High Mediolanum, but hundreds, all of which stemmed from smaller networks that started underwater at the coast then branched out like alveoli in a lung or nerves in a brain throughout all three Tiers.

And they didn't stop there.

These pipes crested the 3rd Premiere Wall, coming up and down its height so that they continued into the plains. They were built over bridges or extended over the north-to-south chasm that divided the inner plains before proceeding into the outer grasslands. From there they spanned well out of sight into Pavia's interior.

He marveled at how he hadn't seen all of this before. He wondered if it was because it was so massive that he could hardly notice it, like how a person can't perceive the entirety of the planet they live on, only seeing from one horizon to the next and leaving the rest up to detached calculations and educated guesses.

What also struck him with concern was that it didn't just keep fanning out in an omnidirectional, nebulous pattern. Instead, the hundreds of pipes appeared like a series of parallel and jointed lines headed in a single, predestined direction: East.

By then the Staff and Mito had also taken notice and quietly came to his side to look out over the view.

"...Where do you think those lead?" Duncan asked hoarsely.

The Staff stared out at the scene for a moment longer. "Don't know." He sighed. "But we're going to find out."

:********:

After clearing out half the list from his roster of objectives, Colonel Garrison was leading Column C out of a network of smaller roads and street-side firefights into the boulevards of northeastern Lerapetra. Ahead of them was the 20-story, sapphire shaped building that served as the Intersystem Embassy for Ulterin-Aquilla relations. It had been at least, until the fall of Miridem late last year. The building looked to have been undergoing renovations up until just prior to the invasion, likely due to the exorcism of the diplomatic institution that once served there but was now no longer needed. Today it was nothing more than a reminder of past colonial authority that had been subsumed by the war, and what was going on in the surrounding boulevard was merely the final stage of that.

At the head of his Convoy-7 and 9 were 4 Elephants. Another 4 operated in pairs to protect the northern and southern wings of their east-bound spearhead formation. Though it was somewhat difficult to maintain through the mazework of streets and skyscrapers and different elements often getting slowed by smaller actions, for the most part they were keeping up and on-schedule. Close-range air support from the accompanying Hornet squadrons strafed the streets to help blow through heavily fortified barricades quickly. For some of the highways, they were too heavily defended for even the Elephants to push through. Those required a bit more finesse, meaning having Gadsden call in an ASGM-missile strike from a Longsword Squadron. All the same, instances of severely stiff defenses were becoming less and less frequent.

Lieutenant Colonel Serakovich's Column A had started increasingly running into trench-line positions dug into the asphalt of streets in southeastern Megara. In response, he had Krauss go ahead of him, using fast-action groups mainly comprised of Rocket Hogs and Hornets running offense to outmaneuver and smoke out the entrenched enemy. The entire column was reportedly on their way to the first midway point between them and the premiere wall.

Colonel Mentieth's Column B had recently linked up with Warrant Officer Ludowski's Convoy-10 who were having trouble dealing with a pair of Scarabs that had descended upon the Luna Alta in Chalcis. Reports had come in about a minute ago that they had just helped them mop up the two assault platforms and were working on clearing the skies of Banshees.

Column C wasn't necessarily having a hard time of it in Lerapetra. The resistance was falling apart unexpectedly fast, so much so that Garrison had a hard time wrapping his head around it. Though his group was pressing them hard, the Covenant forces in the area had started breaking and retreating on their own. Marine rifleman, turret fire and cannonades were becoming less and less necessary to move forward.

At the Ulterin System Embassy a similar scene was playing out.

The two diverging boulevards curved and met at the embassy. Convoy-7 was clearing out the northern boulevard and Convoy-9 was handling the southern one. The Hornets streamed through using Class-2 Guided Missiles to soften up the defenses. With the Elephants pushing abandoned cars out of traffic lanes, they cleared the way for the Scorpion tanks coming up behind them to devastate Shade and plasma cannon positions dug in on the sidewalks and behind decorative tree-lanes. The Marine companies came in last to mop up any stragglers.

Garrison's Elephant was leading them on the northern boulevard and Taylors' on the south. Amidst the downpour coming from the Hornets the two of them were mixing turret fire into the carnage.

High-caliber bullets tore through the sides of cars and the gas tanks of Grunts hiding behind them, pockmarking street lights and blowing out Jackal shields, stuttering across sidewalks and riddling Elites retreating from burning Shades.

The Elephants kept pushing until they reached the outer-edges of the embassy's parking lot. Of the dozen or so Shades that were waiting for them there, half had been reduced to bonfires by the Hornets. The rest were abandoned.

Save for a few fleeing Grunts and some Jackals that were already turning tail, the lot was relatively empty.

The two Elephants pushed in, crunching cars beneath their treads. Marines flowed in behind them. They combed through the individual vehicular spaces, executing Grunts trying to hide under cars. Then they switched their attention to the doors. The first squad blew them open with a breaching charge and the rest of their platoon followed them inside. While a small detachment would stay behind, as a number of others already had at several strategic locations back west, the rest of the column would continue eastward up the boulevard.

No matter how closely Garrison listened in he didn't hear any reports from squads within the embassy of hostile contacts. The tear-drop shaped building had a balcony on both ends of each level all the way to the top floor, providing more than enough defensible positions from which to cause trouble for the convoy below. Not one of them was occupied.

In under five minutes the platoon captain informed him that the building was clear. It was good news. This way they could move faster to the next objective. Still, the point remained; why had the Covenant given up this position so easily? Their defenses were practically disintegrating before UNSC forces even arrived. Elements of the 24th Air Recon that had gone ahead of them to secure objectives in the Grevena and Mandra Blocks were reporting similar sights. Covenant positions were falling apart in those areas and diffusing across the city with a notable concentration headed south, possibly to link up with other forces. The disorganized and observably confused manner of their mass-withdrawal was strange. There were even some reports of firefights breaking out between different species, namely Grunts and Jackals, on the streets of Mandra closest to the wall. There was no real way to explain all the chaos other than that Covenant forces in the city must have been rendered leaderless. Even with that explanation, it still didn't give an answer as to why they were breaking ranks, mainly the Elites who were known for fighting to their very last. So why were they now suddenly running?

"Hey Gary." Taylors said over a private channel, sounding focused on something else. "Check this out." He planted a Nav marker on a set of objects beneath the front veranda of the embassy. There stood a trio of holo-pedestals, all three being active and displaying a series of recordings.

Upon increasing his visor's magnification, Garrison's eyes went wide.

The image displayed was a feed showing the Minister of Iconography, very much dead, being held up between two ODSTs, one with a helmet and the other smiling with a scar running across his face. He recognized the latter as Private Ikimoto, one of the new additions he'd assigned to Epsilon back before they were on the defensive at the Clay-Antonia Shipyards.

He was speechless. Someway, somehow, Epsilon had actually gotten their hands on the prophet. Not only that but they had confirmed he was KIA, and were actively confirming it now to everyone else by displaying his corpse like a trophy.

A few seconds passed before the image changed, showing an interchange of swords between a katana-wielding ODST and a Field Marshal. It showed the fierce battle between the two before ending 30 seconds later with the execution of the Elite, one who was very likely the commander of Covenant forces in the city. Afterwards, the feed looped back to the dead prophet.

He turned to Taylors who was already looking his way.

"Your guys?"

Garrison gave a slow nod. "I'm not exactly sure how they got him but...looks like they did."

"I'd bet the Covies are seeing this on every holo-pedestal in Mediolanum. Their commander's dead and so is their priest. No wonder they're running, they think their Gods have abandoned them."

Garrison thought there might very well be something more to it than that to deal such a serious blow to their morale. Either way, it was a win that was sorely needed, and if they claimed victory here, they would all owe Epsilon their thanks. He took one last look at the recordings on the holo-pedestals then returned his attention to the far end of the boulevard. "Then let's not give them any reason to think otherwise."

:********:

Fleetmaster Ruca Voramee, dressed in his golden combat harness, strode with a brisk pace down the length of the corridor before him. His eyes were heavy from endless days of fighting. He kept his focus straight ahead to the elevator on the far end of the pinkish-purple interior. It would take him up from the carrier's midship to the primary corridor that led to the bridge of the Ascendant Justice. However, his rock-solid demeanor momentarily slipped as a passing observation window caught his attention.

Actium's capital of Caerleon lay less than 10 kilometers below them. Ascendant Justice had only recently returned to a stable orbit over the settlement after breaking a sustained attempt by the humans to put them under siege. While Thel had established a strong defense in the mesosphere to prevent their position from being overrun, Ruca had led the Subfleet of Lawful Unction in defending against the threat from the stratosphere.

The first human battlegroup to try their hand at a run into the airways above Caerleon had attempted to drop off hundreds of their exoatmospheric insertion pods. Sadly, many of them had successfully slipped in close enough to deliver their quarry before his ships could stop them.

It had been an intense, close-quarters battle with sometimes only a few hundred meters separating combatant ships. But in the end, they had fought the battlegroup back, losing three of his battlecruisers for four of their heavy frigates and two destroyers. The other half of their remaining ships fled on the first day. In their wake, they deployed a number of smaller dropships and attack-craft that delivered even more troops. The fighting shifted to the ground where Covenant forces under Field Marshal Arzon Zotamee had dealt the human warriors that had managed to land one decisive blow after another, forcing them to retreat from the ground they'd gained in less defended areas.

At present, Caerleon was a city on fire in various locations. In several places that was due to the presence of crashed human ships. They were mostly the ones his subfleet had shot down on the second day that tried again to reclaim the skies, about five more frigates in exchange for another of his cruisers. The slain enemy ships had either crashed onto the cityscape, leaving long scars of destruction in their wake, or had landed in the nearby sea. The human wrecks closest to the shore protruded from the water while one farther out had sunken to the sea bottom with its entire crew, leaving behind only blotches of burning fuel on the surface. The remaining time up to today was spent having his ships swat the humans' smaller air support out of the skies, utilizing pulse laser barrages that kept Caerleon illuminated well into the night.

The other reason that the city was aflame in so many places was due to the fierce ground fighting. The human forces here had struggled tremendously to hold onto their territorial gains. However, without the air support they needed, most of their positions were gradually isolated from each other and routed.

After defeating a counter-push headed for what was presumed to be the building of central government for the planet, Zotamee had forced the majority of the remaining human forces into the dredged sea-canyon portions of the settlement. The Field Marshal was presently blockading their exits and preparing for a final push into the canyon regions mainly near the coast. The goal was to wipe them out before any further reinforcements arrived.

Then there was the matter of the other cities. Most of the coastal positions had fallen back into human hands. He could perceive that since the naval forces attacking Actium's western continent had been met mostly with success, they would see the capture of the capital as equally feasible. What they didn't know was that 70% of the Fleet of Particular Justice was actually located in, around or near Caerleon. That hubris could prove to be a great weakness, one that they could exploit if they were wise enough.

Then again, it was that exact same hubris lurking within Covenant affairs that made him worry all the while for the cities on the eastern continent, in particular the eastern capital of High Mediolanum.

The very last update he'd received from that region of the world was that Covenant Forces had lost the 2nd Tier. Two thirds of the settlement were in human hands. That info was two days old and who knew what fate had befallen it now. However, he had a reasonable feeling that the present, face-to-face meeting that the Supreme Commander had called between the two of them would pertain to that very same topic.

He reached the elevator and had it take him up. The doors slid open shortly thereafter and he stepped swiftly into the next corridor.

The two Majors standing guard on either side of the door to the bridge became of interest to him. Their subtle expressions were often a good indication of circumstances on the bridge. Even though they both looked straight forward, the minute twitch in one's upper right mandible and the slightly lowered gaze of the other told him that something was very wrong. Discipline could be hampered by a Sangheili's inner state if it were riled up enough, but to this extent?

It was sufficient to make Ruca somewhat nervous as he stepped through the cycling doors.

The bridge of the Ascendant Justice was eerily silent. There was no activity either. All of the bridge officers were seated or standing at their stations whose circling glyphs and tasks were being ignored. Their focus instead was fully on the command platform. On it stood the purple-caped figure of Thel whose back was turned to him.

What shocked him right away was that Thel's shoulders were slumped. His normally proud and powerful stature was almost gone, leaving behind what Ruca understood as he walked up the ramp to be awe...and anger.

He stopped beside his Supreme Commander who paid no heed to his arrival. But Ruca hadn't been paying attention himself. His eyes, like Thel's, were also locked on the feed being projected from the main display.

Before them was a recording of a fight between two combatants: a Sangehili Field Marshal and a human shock trooper. It was taken from a low view, perhaps from a camera source lying prone. However, the way the perspective followed and tracked the fight made him think it was actually from a helmet, although he didn't recognize the format.

The engagement between the Field Marshal and shock trooper mostly revolved around the latter evading blows from the former over a grassy plain, with both eventually relying on different tactics to try and overcome the other. Eventually it returned to a close-quarters brawl of blades that ended in a near loss for the trooper up until the moment that he suddenly recovered and ran the Sangheili through.

It was nothing less than a shock to see. What surprised Ruca even more was that once his opponent was brought down to his knees, the shock trooper seemed to have a conversation with the Sangheili, both having taken off their helmets. Whatever was said wasn't so clear over the morning wind. Then, another shock.

He felt his breath hitch in his throat as the trooper used his sword to nearly decapitate the Field Marshal, slicing his throat open so that he bled out quickly. Amazingly, or perhaps most disturbing of all, was that the Sangheili had allowed the human to do so with no protest or resistance on his part whatsoever.

"Who..."

"Field Marshal Kozon Duracomee." Thel declared with deliberate slowness. "The commander of Covenant forces in the eastern capital."

Again, the feed changed. He winced at the sight of what came next and felt a searing weight settle in his chest.

The very same shock trooper from before was now with another. They were both holding up the dead body of a San'Shyuum. To worsen the matter, the human from before was baring his teeth in that way that his kind did as some expression of glee or satisfaction. But there was no glee or satisfaction to be found in what had just been shown.

"Is-...is that? It can't be..."

"It is." Thel said. "The Minister of Iconography, Prophet of Sanctity, Avuum Rezzic."

For a moment, Ruca refused to believe his ears. His eyes still saw too much and he could sense his own rising outrage as well as that of the other bridge crew who looked to sear the image into their minds, enflaming an even greater hatred for the humans than ever before. But he saw something different in Thel's eyes.

There was a simmering fury burning behind them, though not for the humans.

"Supreme Commander Beorda Niccoramee will pay with his life for this." Thel said with such vehemence that Ruca thought it would become so by his words alone. His ire only rose with each subsequent sentence. "After we are done here, we will leave for his location and arrest him. He will stand trial before the High Council for his crimes against the Covenant, against the Gods, and he will face a proper execution and, thereafter, damnation for his heresy. May the Gods be ever so merciful as to grant me the strength not to kill him myself before then."

The entire bridge crew stood in silent, enraged agreement. He finally turned to Ruca. "You, Fleetmaster, will be a part of the task force I will lead to ensure his arrest, your subfleet along with Ardent Admonishment and Swift Repentance."

Ruca stood at attention. "I will work according to my station, Commander."

"And may we show no exception." Thel growled. "Not even for our own. Go now, that is all I wanted you to see to spare your own bridge crew from this sight. Make your preparations."

"When shall we depart?"

"After this next battle."

"Next?"

Thel looked past him to one of the communication's officers. "Give your report again, Nevumee."

The officer stood at attention. "We have several more human battlegroups bound for the capital from the two captured coastal cities. One group from the north and one from the south. Their current rate of speed shows they plan to arrive at the same time, just before noon. Their ship numbers and configurations closely resemble those of the original force that came on the first day of their counterattack."

Thel turned back to Ruca who nodded in understanding. "Shall we hold out and draw them in or finish them off while they are still two separate parties?"

"We will hold here. We shall give no further chances for them to seize ground from us. Once they are wounded enough and begin to retreat, we will slaughter them all the way back to their cities and retake those as well. Then we will head to the eastern interior to arrest Niccoramee. After that, I will seize emergency control of the 2nd Fleet of Theophanic Revelation as acting commander and use both it and Particular Justice to do what should have been done from the very beginning."

Ruca could hear the anger in his voice sooth to a content flame that was waiting for the right time to burn further. Thel had been waiting for this, and he could tell by the heated yet well-controlled look of determination and calculation in his countenance.

"May the Gods favor us with victory." Ruca said, bowing his head slightly.

"No." Thel corrected. "May we offer them victory as atonement for Niccoramee's great failure. We have already won, now it is simply time to correct the present order of things." The Supreme Commander glanced at the looping feed of the two dead leaders then gestured towards the door. "You are dismissed."

Ruca took the hint and walked off the platform. However, he stopped on the ramp to look back at Thel who'd turned to observe the display once more. Why his superior kept looking at it exactly was unclear. Even the rest of the bridge crew had started returning to their duties. Thel stood out as the sole exception in the way his attention seemed nearly affixed to the feed of the dead prophet and the slain Field Marshal.

He felt something that he hadn't expected to, and it left him uncertain as to why he felt it. He realized that he was worried about the Supreme Commander, about Thel and what manner of torment he was soon to wreak both on the rogue commander and on the humans. Still, the worry ran deeper to something he couldn't muster into words. The most he could think of was that it connected to their conversation on the command platform back when they had overseen the glassing of Miridem.

Then the Fleetmaster's own fixation began to glue to the display and the two deceased figures there.

It was a strange fight, to say the least, between the human and Sangheili. What caught him off guard the most was that there was a brief moment before the feed switched to the dead prophet where it showed the aftermath of the battle between Duracomee and the shock trooper. The latter appeared to bow before the slain Field Marshal, his enemy that had nearly killed him.

It left him with an uneasy feeling. The human had demonstrated a strange behavior indeed. If he hadn't known better, he might have even mistaken it for an open show of respect. But was it? And how? How could something like that ever possibly come from a human?"

That feeling began coming back again, the one he always hated, that pang of crippling uncertainty.

The unsettling nature of these events was so entangling that he deemed the matter to high for himself and cast it out of his focus. However, it was more so to silence the dissident voice in the back of his mind from trying to make a return. He'd dealt with it already, having sworn to himself it would not impede his actions again as long as he willed it so.

Still, before he could walk away, he saw the display change one last time to the slain San'Shyuum. The image of the dead Holy One hurt his heart beyond all reason. He was tempted to look away as he wondered at the intentions of the architect of this present, grand chaos. The words slipped out from his mind as whispers beneath his breath.

"Niccoramee, what in the name of the Gods have you done?" Then he thought better of the question as wisdom made him consider something else. "What in the name of the Gods have you been doing?"

Superare – Overcome