Chapter 56 – Furia

(5th Cycle, 19 Units – Covenant Battle Calendar), 9th Age of Reclamation

Covenant Ket-pattern Battlecruiser Diligent Atonement

Enroute to Epsilon Eridani System

:********:

If there truly was a hell then Supreme Commander Rho 'Barutamee was in it. Deservedly so. There could not be a more just reward for such heresy than for his spirit to be consigned forever to the bowels of damnation. So was the rightful fate of all heretics that dared to defy the will of the Gods and their prophets.

Fleetmaster Ruca Voramee believed that with the full force of his being, body, soul and spirit. Anything less would have been intolerable.

Barutamee's betrayal was even more so.

The last time the Fleet of Particular Justice had travelled to the holy city, Ruca distinctly remembered waiting for his superior officer to depart from a meeting. It was no ordinary convention of warriors either, but an assembly within the Sanctum of the Hierarchs itself. The Prophets had called for another audience with Thel, bringing about a scenario that they had both agreed never to find themselves in again, namely after that troublesome inter-fleet debacle over the world the humans called 'Actium'.

Neither of them wanted a repeat of that conundrum if they could help it, or to have it whispered once again among their peers that a lesser prophet was killed in their theater of the war. What ensued, however, was arguably worse.

It was one thing to allow a prophet to perish, whatever their rank.

It was another to fail in carrying out their decrees.

But to deliberately disobey them was an entirely foreign concept.

Shame could be dealt to the account of any warrior who failed to carry out his master's will. The destruction of an entire bloodline could be meted out for not providing adequate protection for their betters. These things were simple. It could be argued in either case that the flesh had failed where the spirit was willing.

But to deliberately go against the word of their lords required a certain degree of premeditation, an abominable unification of body and soul in protest of a holy mandate:

Rebellion.

And it was not only against a lesser ranked San'Shyuum.

All three of the Hierarchs, Truth, Mercy and Regret, the entire Triumvirate, had attended that meeting in the sanctum. It was their word to Thel that demanded that Barutamee's fleet of Valiant Prudence be attached to Particular Justice as a scouting element. There was to be some autonomy on the former's part for archeological research and reliquary recovery. Combat, however, was to fall into the hands of Particular Justice along with any human worlds that Prudence came across during their expeditions into hostile space.

Barutamee would search for reliquaries.

Thel would handle the battles.

That was the order.

So why then was Particular Justice not even the second fleet, but among those of a third wave coming to do battle at this newly discovered world, one Barutamee had told them nothing about?

Barely a few days earlier, Particular Justice was on a routine resupply and refueling stop. Following a lengthy patrol of systems formerly inhabited by the humans, the fleet had jumped to a pre-planned rendezvous point. There, they were embraced by the succoring arms of the massive refit-battle station, Unyielding Hierophant. The orbital command and control center and its accompanying fleet elements held authority over that sector of the front. For a station the size of an ancient asteroid, its acutely concave, almost hourglass dimensions vaguely reminded Ruca of an old Arum that he used to play with as a boy. Its two bulbous ends and the nigh anorexic nexus that bridged the gap between them were nothing short of a marvel of ingenuity.

He was hardly given more than a few units to appreciate the sight before they, along with several other fleets in the local volume, were contacted by the upper echelons aboard the Hierophant.

A new human world had been discovered.

Ruca was elated, no less even than Thel was, despite the supreme commander's efforts to always control his outward appearance. Neither he, Ruca nor any of his fellow Fleetmasters wished for a continuation of their duties patrolling long abandoned sectors of space that some higher officer refused to acknowledge as such.

The elation did not last.

As more information trickled in about the upcoming engagement, the excitement withered away, and what grew in its place was a seething rage at a battle already in progress. A battle they should have long been a part of.

The Fleet of Valiant Prudence had discovered a massive reliquary on the human world.

It then, under the command of none other than Barutamee, proceeded to attack said world...against the explicit word of the Hierarchs.

There was worry at first, the kind that could only be wrought by the hearts of servants who feared that their vows to their Gods had been broken by another. Ruca could not say for a certainty whether the Prophets would somehow find fault with Particular Justice for Prudence's rebellion. An old fear briefly reared its ugly head at the back of his thoughts only to be ultimately quelled by Thel himself. The supreme commander assuaged his concerns as well as those raging across the fleet. Just as they had done with Theophanic Revelation, they could claim that their 'allies' had acted without their knowledge or agreement, and they were well within their right to declare it so.

But Prudence had not acted alone.

For whatever reason, shortly after they engaged with the human forces, they sent out the proper call for reinforcements...directly to the Ministry of Resolution.

Stranger still, the call hadn't come from Barutamee himself.

It seemed to all that one or more of his shipmasters had seemingly gone behind his back to send the message, usurping not only his authority but also Thel's in a bid to get in touch with the very ministry overseeing the entire war effort.

Another fleet was dispatched to reinforce them, while Particular Justice remained in the dark.

Until now.

The news was that the commander of Prudence had met his end due to some devastating sleight of hand on the part of the humans. If the rumors over the battlenet were to be believed, the vermin had committed the deed via the use of one of his corvettes.

Ruca found that part amusing at least. It was fitting, really, that one so contemptable should meet his demise by the works of one of his own ships.

Yet Ruca was also troubled by the news. Whatever the case, the act had not only destroyed Barutamee but also his flagship, the Sh'wada-pattern supercarrier Long Night of Solace. He had beheld that carrier for himself during their fleet's last anchorage at the holy city. Just one kilometer shy of Hierophant's own length, it was a gigantic, beautiful beast of divine inspiration and mechanical engineering. It was his first time seeing one, and as far as he knew, there were not very many of its kind in service throughout the navy.

It was a loss to be sure, and one of the few they had suffered in their war against the humans that he was relatively certain they could never replace.

The thought of it made his ire rise. It made him hate Barutamee that much more, that his insufferable impotence had led to such a waste.

It was a pity that such a fine gift from the Gods was given to such a fool.

Had it been given to Particular Justice, they could have put it to a much better, far deadlier use.

And still, the Fleetmaster was further unsettled by the tidings.

Again, if the rumors were true, the enemy had used a corvette to destroy Barutamee, meaning that they had not only boarded but commandeered one of his ships. The idea of humans running through the decks of Diligent Atonement made Ruca's skin crawl.

It was a defilement, an indignity.

It was also a warning.

The humans were getting desperate, so desperate that they were willing to steal one of their vessels. Shipmasters of heavily damaged warships had a well-established tradition of enacting self-destruction protocols if they were at risk of being captured. Death at one's own hand was a greater honor than to let one's ship fall into the hands of the enemy. And still, the latter had not only tried but succeeded.

Then there was the added point that the fleet sent by the Ministry of Resolution was not considered sufficient for the task at hand.

Two separate fleets were doing battle on the same planet and both were in need of assistance.

That told Ruca everything he needed to know. This newfound ferocity from the humans did not stem from the magnitude of their opponent as much as from the magnitude of what they were trying to defend.

What was this world?

Why was it so important that they were willing to resort to such exceptionally underhanded tactics, even for them?

Urzai Utaralee, his communications officer, was fluent in several of their languages including the one by which they had named the planet. When Ruca asked him if its name held any significance, Urzai only told him that the word itself was a verb rather than a title. It meant 'to hold one's hand out towards something in order to grasp or receive it'.

There was nothing to be gleaned from that except perhaps for a single thought that stuck out to him.

This world was not their homeworld. That much was obvious. Nevertheless, they were defending it as if it were, as if it were the very same planet that every commander in the Covenant Navy worth his salt had been avidly trying to add to their campaign commendations since the start of the war.

'To hold one's hand out towards something' could very well mean that this world marked their first successful attempt at taking hold of a planet outside their solar system. If that were so, if it were truly their first intersystem colony, then by the natural processes of technological progression and logical deduction, it could only mean two things.

The first was that they were putting everything they had on the line in the defense of one of if not the greatest jewel in their crumbling empire.

The other revelation, and by far the more consequential, was that their homeworld was close.

'Earth' was close.

The notion that the Covenant might be on the very verge of winning the war made his jaws tighten. The end of humanity may be near, he thought. Why else would the Ministry of Resolution send not two but three different naval detachments to deal with this latest stronghold? Something like that was almost unheard of. The battle soon to come would be mingled into the songs of generations, marked on the walls of Sangheili keeps, there to remain forever as a testament to their posterity of the storied sagas of their ancestors.

Though he made no outward show of it, every muscle in his body tensed with rigid anticipation.

Glory awaited and so did blood.

One could not be had in any meaningful sense without the other. Even so, the realization slowly calmed him down that it would not only be the blood of humans that would be shed in abundance. The loss of a behemoth like Long Night of Solace outside the confines of a proper naval engagement had made that much clear to him.

He needed to remain cautious.

The entire Sub-Fleet of Lawful Unction would need to remain wary no matter what threat they were ultimately set against.

Perhaps he could say the same of Particular Justice. However, he contented himself with his own corner of the fleet for now and the 10 ships that he could personally count under his command.

"Fleetmaster, capacitors have successfully diverted 80% of available plasma to our torpedo silos."

The voice of Zora 'Tou Serulee, Atonement's Weapons Officer, broke Ruca out of his train of thought.

"Send the remaining 20% to the forward plasma cannons." He replied. "Continue to keep an eye on our reserves."

He lifted his head and refocused on his surroundings, the wide, columned chamber of Diligent Atonement's bridge. Standing atop the raised platform at the very center, Ruca was encompassed on almost every side by projections of varying importance, from mildly relevant reports from stations around the ship to vital streams of data transmitting directly from the cruiser's most critical apparatuses. Everything from crew displacements and automatic air quality checks to engine outputs and weapon dispositions, he had it all at his fingertips. As the light of the projections constantly flickered and flashed off the sleek dimensions of his golden armor, he paid little heed to it. Most of his thought was given instead to the large forward screen that dominated the front of the bridge.

Slipspace was always an interesting thing to behold.

Despite how many times he had seen it, the spectacle somehow managed to retain its unique appeal.

The vast, roiling nothingness spanned out in every direction. The experience was akin to looking down into a ludicrously polluted pool of water that by some violation of the laws of nature was able to remain crystal clear. It was both stubbornly opaque and endlessly transparent.

They would be emerging from it soon.

When that time came, the battle would be joined. They needed to be ready.

"Fleetmaster, forward plasma cannons?" Zora questioned.

Ruca peered over his shoulder, looking back down the ramp of the command platform towards the rearward console stations. There were two of them at the ends of the pair of secondary command centers that entrenched the floor on either side of the ramp. Urzai stood at his communications station on the left while Arzon resided at his weapons station on the right, both fully dressed in their orange combat harnesses.

Zora was looking up at him curiously.

"My order stands." Ruca declared. "This world, this battle, will be unlike any other we have experienced so far in this war. If the humans are willing to take over one of our own ships to use them against us, then we must be prepared for anything."

Zora gave him a questing look. "But they are humans. They are no better than the Kig-Yar pirates that Resolution used to hunt for sport."

"And they are getting desperate, desperate enough that they could destroy a beast like the Solace and hold back the advances of a secondary support fleet for as long as they have. Do not underestimate them, Zora. They are vermin, but they are resourceful vermin. How else could they have survived this long?"

Urzai stopped what he was doing to cut him a prodding glance. "Are you...praising them, Fleetmaster?"

"I am examining them. Saying your enemy is capable of doing you harm is not the same as saying they are more powerful than you. A foe who lacks the upper hand still has two of his own with which to fight."

"I believe our ancients gave us that proverb for dealing with other Sangheili." Zora pointed out. "Not this ilk."

"They faced other threats in their time that would have inspired such wisdom. This is no different. In every battle your enemy always has a say in how things will unfold, however great or small it may be in the end."

"...Do you believe they can win?"

Ruca slowly turned again from his vigil of the nothingness of slipspace, aiming a heavy-lidded stare at the weapons officer that prompted him to elaborate.

"I heard the same as you, Fleetmaster, that the only reason we officially found this planet was because of a tracking device placed on one of their ships following a battle at another of their worlds. A battle we lost."

Ruca stared at him a moment longer, then turned away to resume his observance of the void. "The humans may win a few battles, but they will never win this war."

"Perhaps they would if every commander was as inept as Barutamee."

The Fleetmaster looked down at the one who had spoken.

Atonement's Navigations Officer, Fal Cassumee sat at his station on the ground floor directly between the command platform and the forward viewing screen. He was armored in a similar fashion to his fellow bridge officers and remained equally as attentive to his duties.

Though he was just as focused on the void, Ruca could appreciate the comment for what it was. "Do not speak evil of your superiors, Fal. It is dishonorable."

Fal picked up on the sarcasm and replied in the same manner. "Is it dishonorable to mock the dishonorable?"

Ruca didn't respond, but the humor hadn't missed its mark, and his mandibles parted slightly in an expression that the humans would have called a 'smile'.

Urzai, Zora and Fal were his oldest and most loyal crew. The three of them had served as his bridge officers for as long as he had been commissioned as a Fleetmaster. In another life he could have called them brothers, but that of course would have broken down the fine wall that a superior must always maintain between himself and his subordinates. Even then, he allowed more banter from them than perhaps most officers in the fleets would be willing to tolerate, a byproduct of working together on the same ship for years on end.

"I am only glad I do not serve Valiant Prudence." Fal added. "Otherwise, I might have courted the idea that I could challenge our supreme commander to an honor duel and win his command for myself."

"A blessing from the Gods." Ruca replied. "Rest assured, an honor duel with ours would not end well for you, or anyone for that matter."

"I will take your word for it, Fleetmaster." Fal shot him a knowing look before returning to his console. "A worthy leader indeed."

Ruca eyed one of the holographic projections around the platform as it displayed the rising percentage of plasma being diverted to the forward cannons. "How much further, Fal?"

"Half a unit remains to our journey. It is almost time."

"Fleetmaster?" Urzai called. "We are being hailed. It's the commander."

Ruca stood straight and rounded on the communications officer. "Send it through."

He took a few steps back from the center of the command platform and waited.

A moment later, a new holographic projection flashed into being over the heart of the platform.

The familiar figure appeared before him of a Sangheili in armor similar to his own sitting upon a command throne, his personal cloak draped around his feet. Even sitting down, the projection ensured that the two of them remained face to face.

For all his patience, Thel Vadamee was not one to be kept waiting.

Ruca knew that from experience. Whenever it came to his superior officer, he always remained prompt. Thel often had to keep communications quick and to the point as it related to affairs within the fleet.

Ruca stood at attention. "Supreme Commander."

Thel began with an acknowledging nod. "Our attack is imminent. Update me on the status of Lawful Unction. Are your ships ready?"

"I have already given the word to prepare whatever plasma isn't being reserved for slipspace transit to offensive weapons." Ruca replied. "We will emerge on the rightmost flank of the fleet's formation per your orders."

"Good." Thel leaned back into his seat, his head dipping slightly in what Ruca had long learned to recognize as relief. "My other Fleetmasters tell me they are still making final preparations. It seems that there is some hesitation within Particular Justice. Some are troubled."

Ruca cocked his head inquisitively. "Troubled? What troubles them?"

Thel met his gaze. "The same thing no doubt that troubled you."

Ruca remained silent. There were many ways he could have interpreted that statement. For the sake of leaving old bones buried, he relegated his suspicions to the present.

"Fear?" He asked.

Thel shook his head with measured deliberateness. "There is no fear in Particular Justice. And yet, there is hesitation still. From what I gather, some of the crews are mindful of our situation. The battle that we will soon find ourselves in promises to be a great one, perhaps beyond anything we have ever faced against the humans."

Ruca understood the concern.

He understood it far too well in fact.

"An engagement that demands such numbers can only be fierce in its outcome. Even knowing that, they should not hesitate given the glory that awaits us."

Thel gave him a look of faint agreement. "This is true. Nevertheless, what is soon to come has caused them to forget what is. They are too focused on the possibilities, strategies and counter strategies to an opponent whose disposition they know so little of. And now, we have found out a little more."

A new image appeared between Ruca and Thel, immediately grabbing the former's attention.

The display was not of a figure but of a location.

A strange one.

Carpeting sprawls of green, cone-like trees were his first indication that he was looking at something human. His next hint was the rectangular lot of civilization that sat at the very center of the trees. Rows of strange, semi-pyramidal structures that reminded him of tombs, various landing zones and windowed buildings spoke to some kind of special facility.

"Reconnaissance conducted by the first fleet sent by the Ministry of Resolution has provided us with additional intelligence on what the enemy has in store for us."

Ruca scrutinized the image, taking in the ornate architecture across the facility that suggested some higher purpose than the types of settlements and cities he was used to destroying. "Should I ask, or is it better to hold my peace?"

"This is Barutamee's bane, or rather one of many." The view of the facility rapidly zoomed outwards until it eventually became a wide observation of some kind of continent, and then a planet. The mosaic ball of green landmasses and blue seas was clothed in a vaporous robe of intermingling weather systems.

A red dot glimmered in the planet's orbit. Close to the equator, the dot resolved into the image of a structure that resembled something close to an ancient sword, blade, hilt and handle included. Yet he didn't have to be there physically to know that it was too large to be anything like what it resembled. It was no sword, but it certainly was a weapon.

Just as Ruca understood what he was seeing, another structure flickered into being in another part of the planet's orbit.

And another.

And three more.

The count continued to climb until it settled somewhere close to two dozen, each of them scattered at various positions over the planet's exosphere.

"You have seen these before." Thel said.

Ruca nodded. "Their orbital defense platforms. I heard they used these to decimate Barutamee's fleet. They turned the tide of that battle in mere moments. It has been quite some time since last we've faced this particular tool of theirs."

"So then you remember how effective they are."

"I once watched one of these destroy three of my cruisers in a single shot." Ruca said, his lower mandibles clenching with a silent anger at the memory. "Yes, commander, I remember."

"Then you will also recall their weakness."

The image zoomed back in, barreling through the planet's atmosphere at high speed before settling high above the same rectangular facility from earlier. Shortly thereafter, six other facilities were highlighted in a red glow. They were located across what appeared to be a region of expansive forests, furrowing valleys and vast mountain ranges.

"Their generator facilities." Ruca noted.

"Correct. These complexes allow their orbital platforms to sustain a higher rate of fire against our forces than they would typically be capable of on their own. There are at least 20 of them that will be present at the engagement, each one more than capable of slaying a carrier."

Thel's hands grasped the arms of his throne tighter as he leaned forward. "We need them neutralized."

"Am I to organize a ground assault?" Ruca asked.

"No. It has already been organized, at least within our fleet. You will be its spearhead. I want you to send your best ground officer to oversee the initial invasion via dropship. The destruction of the generators will be assigned to him. Once that is accomplished, the threat posed by the defense platforms can be more easily addressed."

"I believe Field Marshal Zotamee will be an excellent choice for this. It will be a hard-won fight, but if they push through, they could overwhelm their defenses and capture their installations. They will pave a path for us to lower our casualties. By the Gods, commander, I see the victory this will bring already."

"...Do you?"

Ruca went quiet, sensing that there was more yet to be said.

"They will pave a path for us, but they will do so over the corpses of our comrades." Thel said, his voice solemn. "You know I do not hold ultimate authority over this armada. Were it so, I would have every fleet work in concert with Particular Justice. But it is not so. The Ministry of Resolution remains firmly at the helm, and so far, they have seen fit to let us act under own discretion. They want this world to burn, but their only concerns are for the ends, not the means. The commanders of the fleets of Righteous Vigilance and Holy Respite have refused to even consider this approach. They prefer to meet the humans head on, ship to ship, regardless of the cost."

"That...is not as surprising as I would have thought. They are...warriors of great valor at least."

Thel huffed. "Great valor, little wisdom. Vigilance even wishes to lead the attack with Respite on their heels. The other fleets are of a similar mind in this. Do not doubt my words, Fleetmaster, when I say that they will be slaughtered."

Ruca stared hard at the planet and even harder at the generator facilities. "And what will we do about it?"

"What more can we do but watch? Justice will remain within the rearguard of the overall formation. We will wait for them to have their fill of their own blood while limiting our losses. Then once they limp back to us, I will propose my plan again. They will not be of the same spirit as they were when they refused my counsel."

"There is no glory to be had in the massacre of one's own troops." Ruca said.

"Precisely. Once they are humbled, they will be willing to lend us their strength and make our operation that much more likely to succeed."

"And then you will lead us?"

"...Yes, perhaps not by authority but by example."

"I see..."

"This troubles you?" Thel asked, discerning his trepidation.

"...We must stand back and witness the deaths of our brothers. Yes...that troubles me."

The supreme commander's authoritative tone became tempered by a quiet note of empathy. "It is no longer a matter of your will or mine, but theirs. We will not utterly forsake them. We will still lend them our support in the opening volleys, but I will not allow us to be put into a position where we must suffer the cost of the arrogance of others. These commanders are not as experienced with these defensive systems as we are. We learned their toll firsthand. Our brothers have not, and they refuse to heed our calls for caution, so they must learn for themselves. And once they have, we will be there to guide them."

"...What remains of them."

"Do not grieve for lives that have not yet been lost. While it is still in our power, pray for the survivors, that they be many and not few. The Gods grant mercy to their servants as bountifully as they grant judgement to the heretic. Their favor will be the deciding factor in all this. Remember the words of our teachers. By blood and by faith, victory is the inheritance of the faithful. Trust in that."

"Is that an order, commander?" Ruca asked.

Thel observed him more closely, a trace of self-aware amusement in his eye. "Wisdom is not an order to the soul that understands."

Ruca almost smiled again. Perhaps he would have were it not for the heaviness of the occasion. He was going to offer a light-hearted response when Thel squared his shoulders. His demeanor changed and the time for brotherly advice ended.

"Inform Zotamee of his upcoming position at the head of the assault. When the time comes, his success will be key to our victory."

Ruca bowed his head. "As you command. Let the will of the Gods and their Prophets be done."

"That and one more thing, Fleetmaster."

"Speak it, commander, and it will be so."

"...Tread cautiously."

Ruca looked up and met his eyes again.

Thel was staring at the open palm of one of his hands as though he had seen something in it that wasn't there before. "This battle feels...different. I perceive that some great change is afoot. What, I cannot say for sure, but I sense the ending of things too high for me to grasp." The fingers on his open hand pensively curled inward but refused to close. "Be on your guard. The more watchful we are, the less wounds we will suffer in the long run."

"Perhaps the Gods have given you a premonition, commander. You sense the downfall of our enemies."

Thel's open hand clenched into a tight fist. "...Perhaps."

"If so, let it be swift."

Thel nodded in agreement. "Until we are deemed worthy to undertake the final journey."

Ruca dipped his head in a reverent bow. "And walk the path of transcendence."

As they finished the benediction of parting, the holographic projections of Thel and the defense generators vanished, leaving him alone on the command platform.

"Urzai, have you received the groundside coordinates for those generators?"

"I have." Urzai replied. "Routing the data back to your command consoles."

"Send them to Zotamee as well, and pass on the message of our intent to the rest of Lawful Unction."

"By your will, Fleetmaster."

Ruca turned again to the ever-deepening nothingness of slipspace on the forward screen.

He counted his ships in his mind.

Aside from his own, there were seven other cruisers, each of which he recalled by name.

Blessed Litany.

Righteous Scorn.

Truthful Messenger.

Sanctified Promise.

Undefiled Spirit.

Portentous Fury.

Arduous Precept.

He took a moment longer to remember his two destroyers.

Sacred Benediction.

Promised Affliction.

He repeated their names in his innermost thoughts as he understood with a growing sense of foreboding that some of them might be reduced to little more than a memory.

This battle would be different.

If even Thel, one of the hardiest warriors he had ever known could also sense that, then there was no denying it.

Many of them were going to die.

If that were so, if that were to be the final word, then there was nowhere else in the galaxy that he would rather be.

To suffer one's enemies to perish was one thing, and to suffer the death of oneself in service to the Gods was another.

Both were paths to victory.

In a time when humans most likely would have asked their captain if they were heading to their deaths, not one question was offered by his bridge crew. Not a single eye was opened in suspicion or a solitary voice raised in dissent.

Ruca allowed himself to savor the peace of the purest silence he had ever known.

They were ready.

:********:

Thel had never seen an armada of this size before. Their number was an astonishing thing to behold prior to their departure. Approximately 315 ships were dispatched from the local space around Unyielding Hierophant to the current engagement. The assembly of so much naval power was sufficient to lay siege to over a dozen systems at once. Not planets, systems. Their combined power could burn any ordinary human world to cinders in less than a day.

But their destination was no ordinary human world.

That much was clear.

One could only deign to send such might against a foe of equivalent or near equivalent strength.

That heretical species whose existence had been condemned to destruction was going to put up a fight unlike any he had seen before.

Glory and death awaited.

From his throne atop the primary command platform of the bridge, he was able to keep an eye on everything. A score of bridge officers manned their stations, doing so in row after row of consoles that descended outward from around the base of the platform's supports like a ripple of water. They were performing final checks, observing readouts, carrying out tertiary inspections on their plasma capacitors, readying his carrier for its return to real space.

Seeker of Truth would emerge either at or near the head of the arrowhead formation within which he had arranged the fleet of Particular Justice. His full intention was to lead from the front, despite keeping his forces in the rear of the opening exchange. He knew his fleet well. It was full of veteran shipmasters and crew who had decades of service under their belts and a matching amount of time to have grown accustomed to their ships. They were some of the best the Covenant Navy had to offer. He wasn't about to lose them because a few of his peers refused to see that they were running straight into the enemy's gun barrel. Still, he would provide what assistance he could to make sure as many of them survived as possible when their first advance finally broke against the orbital defenses like water against rock.

The voice of his chief navigations officer intruded on his contemplations. "Supreme Commander, the end of our journey is at hand. We will exit the slipstream in ten seconds."

"Prepare yourselves." Thel replied. "There is no telling what resistance we may encounter once we arrive."

He kept his eyes on the forward viewing screen, waiting for the dark emptiness of the alternative space to dissipate. It had proved to be a long journey. Long for him at least. Remaining mostly on his throne, he was forced to sit and deal with the anxious anticipation that the natural discipline of his mind was only barely keeping in check.

He stood up, allowing his cloak to drape around his feet as his navigations officer gave the final countdown.

"Reemerging in five...four...three...two..."

Reality reasserted itself as a pinpoint of light that suddenly expanded into an all-encompassing view as the veil of darkness parted before them. A host of stars appeared in front of them. Some near, some far, their luminosity reached out to them from across the firmament with varying intensities and in varying densities.

One of them was far brighter than the rest.

It was much larger as well, easily the size of a small coin where the others were little more than motes of light. It possessed a pale-yellow hue that immediately arrested Thel's attention.

It was the local star of the solar system.

Years of experience allowed him to gauge the magnitude of the celestial body, letting him know before his navigations officer could even bring it up that they had exited on the very edge of the system, exactly as planned.

Large flashes of light appeared on the viewing screen as several cruisers emerged from the bright envelopes of slipspace reentry. They were slightly ahead of Seeker of Truth, springing back into being from both above and below. It was a minor inconvenience. Despite the pinpoint manner with which the ships of the Covenant could reappear from the alternate space, there was always room for a miscalculation of one's reentry vector.

"Status." Thel demanded.

"We are partly out of formation, but Particular Justice and the rest of the armada are reemerging as we speak."

"Commander, our long-range sensors detect high levels of planetary and interplanetary communications as well as abundant ship signatures within this system." His chief sensory officer called out.

Thel nodded to himself. "Humans."

The forward screen changed, quickly zooming in on a sector of space closer to the core of the solar system. Soon it magnified into the image of a planet. The ball of geographic greens, oceanic blues and atmospheric whites was a mirror reflection of the one he was first shown.

There were other worlds in the system, but this was their target.

This was why they were here.

Everything else, every other target was a secondary consideration to the priority that was setting this single world ablaze.

The moment called to mind his last memory of the supreme commander of Valiant Prudence, his reluctance at hearing the decrees of the Hierarchs and his apparent reluctance to follow them. Barutamee was dead. There was no vengeance to be meted out on a soul that had already departed, one that had risked bringing the very same divine scrutiny over Thel that had once threatened his life.

There was only judgement, and Barutamee's was out of his hands.

The judgement of this world was not.

His blood boiled.

His hands turned to fists at his side.

Wrath sat as hot as fire in his chest and as cold as metal in his thoughts.

He had been slighted, and if he could not take out his rage on the instigators of his fury then he would take it out on this gathering of infidels.

"Commander, we've detected a small detonation not far from our reentry point." The sensory officer added. "It seems to have come from some sort of remote station."

"Did we fire on it?"

"Negative, it self-destructed."

Thel gave a grimace that could barely hide the dual forces of patient expectation and premeditated malice lurking beyond. "Then they know we're here."

"What are your orders, commander?" His navigations officer asked.

Thel stared long and hard at the distant visage of the planet.

"Advance." He replied before opening a direct line of communication to his entire fleet. "All ships of Particular Justice, fall in behind Holy Respite and Righteous Vigilance. Begin the assault."

Furia - Fury