Merry Christmas and Happy New Year everyone! Hoping everyone has a good 2025 and we get some positive developments in the Halo franchise next year.
In this update: everyone tries to come to terms with what the Flood means, and the Covenant continues to fall to pieces. Although I suppose for everyone on High Charity getting caught in the middle of a civil war is far preferable to the city getting infested by the Gravemind.
Standard copyright disclaimer: I do not own Halo or any associated media, characters, or settings which are properties of 343 or Bungie. This is a work of fanfiction written purely for entertainment and not for monetary gain.
0900, 27 August 2550
Camp Scott, Installation 04, Iota Horologii System
"We must depart and glass the installation from orbit. It is the only way to be certain the infestation is contained."
Glassing your problems was a natural sangheili response, thought Chac Lon. And this time, the humans weren't upset.
After they made it out of the Forerunner installation, 343 Guilty Spark cheerily informed them that their efforts had reduced the Flood problem to the point that the local Sentinel force could deal with it, and they were free to leave. Neither, the humans, sangheili, nor the kig-yar lingered a moment more than they had to, and flew back to Camp Scott as fast as their Pelicans could carry them. The monitor followed along, somehow arriving before any of them.
Back at the UNSC base, the Spartans revealed that they'd found and destroyed no less than three room sized agglomerations of Flood, seemingly made up of dozens of jiralhanae, unggoy, and kig-yar corpses. 343 Guilty Spark, happily as ever, reported that these were proto-Graveminds, and that they indicated that the Flood was mere hours away from achieving true sentience. If that had happened, protocol would have given him no choice but to ensure activation of the ring, by any means necessary. But, since the Spartans (despite their inferior equipment, as the monitor repeatedly mentioned), had dealt with them, there was no need to activate the ring. For now, at least. After that, 343 Guilty Spark left to go coordinate the Sentinels' cleanup of the site, leaving the UNSC to process exactly what had just happened.
Colonel Gagne decided that the first order of business was to give everyone involved at least 24 hours of rest to process what they had seen. And get some sleep. Which Chac Lon was entirely unable to do, so he lying awake in his tent. He'd kicked out all but half a dozen of his closest friends, the ones who'd worked with him the longest. All the other random kig-yar didn't need to hear about this, not yet.
Right now he was apologizing to Shaon Tol after snapping at her for not telling him about the Flood earlier.
"Did you honestly think I wouldn't have warned you if I knew what you were walking into? I told you about the rumors and hearsay I heard, but it was never anything like this." Shaon Tol said, feathers flaring in annoyance.
"Sorry, I know, I'm just shaken. Take an hour to get my heart rate down and my mind starts going insane. Probably for the better the humans left their strong alcohol back on the planet." Chac Lon sighed.
"I'd be stealing it out of your hand." Shim Vol said, as she stared at the ceiling, wide awake. She was taking it about as well as Chac Lon was. "Feel bad for all those other kig-yar the jiralhanae sent in with them. Hope the Sentinels got them quick at least."
"Those Sentinels and that monitor are what I'm more scared of." Thac Vol had stayed back at the camp, pulling guard duty while Chac Lon and the rest went into the Forerunner structure. But what the other kig-yar told her was enough to scare her. "It already sounds like it's going insane, what if it decides it has to fire the ring next time one of these Flood things shows up. Didn't you say that would kill everyone in the galaxy, Covenant, kig-yar, human?"
"Yes." Chac Lon responded.
"We need to blow up the ring. The humans probably have some warheads left, we take off and crack this ring in half." Thac Vol continued.
"Silence! That monitor will hear you!" Shim Vol hissed.
"We can't destroy this ring." Chac Lon said, waving everyone else silent. "And not just because of the monitor. Those things killed the Forerunners, and they were far beyond the humans or the Covenant." He looked at Shaon Tol, who nodded. "These rings are the only way they had of beating the Flood, and it's the only thing we have now. Which means we need to keep it as a last resort, and, figure out a way around it. Shaon Tol, I need two things from you. First, star data on anywhere there might be somewhere livable outside the main part of the galaxy. Star clusters in the galactic halo, stars that got kicked out by the black hole at the center of the galaxy, one of those little galaxies that orbits ours, anything."
"Sounds like you already know enough not to need my help." Shaon Tol said, smiling.
"My sister had a head for this kind of thing, she used to read astronomy texts to me when I was a hatchling. Thank the gods at least a little of it stuck in my head." Chac Lon stared at the ceiling for a moment. "Second thing; the Forerunners kept the samples of kig-yar and everyone else they used to repopulate the galaxy after they used this place for the first time somewhere. Somewhere that was same from the Flood and the ring firing. Find it. Dig through any old legend, find a relic dealer and hold a dagger to their throat, do whatever you have to."
"And if we do find somewhere, do we load up a ship with every kig-yar we can fit in it and make a run for it?" Shim Vol asked.
"Yes. Steal some human liner filled with cryotubes, stuff it with kig-yar, and hope they survive the trip across the void. More than one if you can, gods only know how long it would take slipspace drives to cross the void." Or even if they could. Slipspace travel wasn't a simple linear acceleration of travel in 'real' space, it varied, ebbed and flowed. In well-traveled space that the Covenant had governed for centuries, the quirks were known pretty well. But for all Chac Lon knew outside the galaxy travel through slipspace was like running uphill in mud without a Forerunner drive.
"So, if the Flood gets off the ring, before it fires, we need to steal ships from the humans, stuff kig-yar into them, freeze them, and send them off to somewhere we don't even know exists?" Shim Vol said, without a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "Terrible as it is I don't have a better idea."
"Right."
There was a few moment's pause. "How are the humans handling this?" Shaon Tol asked.
"The regular ones, the ones we were with, they're full of fear just like we are." Chac Lon said.
"And the Demons?"
"You think they would tell me if they were afraid? I still haven't seen any of their faces."
They sat for a few more minutes, quietly talking with each other. Then, there was rustling outside the tent, and the sound of footsteps. Just as Chac Lon pulled himself upright, Shim Vol looked outside the tent, then quickly jerked her head back in.
"The four-jaw boss is here!" She hissed under her breath, and pointed toward the entrance.
"Probably don't call him that." Chac Lon muttered under his breath, as he sat up the rest of the way and grabbed an undergarment to cover his upper body. "How many does he have with him?"
"It's just him."
That was odd. The sangheili hadn't showed any desire to engage with the kig-yar any more than the humans could force them to, and why would they? In the Covenant, the two species resented each other, and while individuals could get on well with each other most kig-yar and sangheili didn't talk to each other more than they had to. And when they did, the sangheili made it clear that they were the top of the Covenant, not the kig-yar.
Unless this sangheili was extremely confident that he was more powerful than Chac Lon and all his friends. Which, given his rank in the Covenant before recent events, might not actually be wrong.
"Very well, let him in. Weapons ready, but don't point anything at him."
The tent flap opened, and the sangheili came inside. As always, he was clad in his gold armor, and though he carried no other weapons, the hilt of his energy sword was at his side. Chac Lon saw him grimace briefly as he inhaled. The humans had complained about the smell before, clearly the sangheili did not enjoy it either. Still, the sangheili quickly recomposed himself, and locked eyes with Chac Lon.
"Are you well, kig-yar? I would discuss certain matters with you."
"Well enough, after what I saw earlier." Chac Lon gestured to his compatriots around him. "Is it anything you can't say to my crew?"
"No, I suppose even if I spoke only to you they would hear anything concerning them soon enough."
"You know me well." Chac Lon adjusted himself. "I apologize, this place isn't exactly made for someone of your stature."
"It is no matter." The sangheili replied, as he sat himself down on a cot.
"If you want answers about the things we saw in that place, Shaon Tol over there is my resident expert on everything Forerunner. Even she doesn't know much about them. So I won't be much help." Chac Lon said, before adding; "Besides, from what I saw, you faced worse than we did."
"What makes you say that?" The sangheili replied, curious.
"The humans I and were in repurposed spacesuits, your sangheili were in the armor you are used to fighting in. And you have shields and those blades of yours, that are perfect for cutting apart abominations like we saw. And your kind is just stronger than kig-yar, and you're doubtless more skilled at fighting like that than I am." Chac Lon paused to take a breath. "If you had all those advantages, and still some of you died, you must have faced much worse than us!"
After Chac Lon finished, the visitor sat silent for a few minutes. Chac Lon started to worry he'd somehow offended him, and that he was about to get a white-hot blade through his belly. Then, with a pensive look on his face, the sangheili spoke.
"'One day that shall pass.' One of your kind said that to me years ago, when I told him that the sangheili led the Covenant because of our strength. I did not believe him. And yet, here I sit, in the camp of my sworn enemy, in the tent of a race I once ignored." He laughed, bitterly.
Chac Lon sat surprised, silent, along with the rest of the kig-yar. This was not how he had expected the conversation to go. But, should he have been surprised? This sangheili was clearly more thoughtful than most Chac Lon had run into, perhaps he sought out a different perspective as a way of dealing with the Covenant's betrayal. For his part, Chac Lon wouldn't have lived as long as he had if he wasn't capable of dealing with a change in topic on short notice.
"You think you all getting stabbed in the back here wasn't a one time thing? Even before running to the humans I wasn't an expert on the Covenant's internal politics, but your people's position looked untouchable."
"Still, even if you are impious it is obvious you are no simpleton. You know of the Writ of Union, and the bond it forged between the sangheili and san'shyuum after years of conflict?" Chac Lon nodded affirmatively. "There have always been murmurs of discontent, even when it was only two species in the Covenant. The Prophets never truly considered themselves equal to the sangheili, and there were always sangheili who chafed at being governed by such a weak species. But in the last few days, I have realized there were two main causes that led to the widening fracture; the elevation of the jiralhanae, and the war with the humans."
"Trust me, I have no love for those brutes."
"The humans' name for them is apt, these events have shown me. The home world of the jiralhanae was devastated by their warlike nature, the arrival of the Covenant saved them from themselves. Is it any wonder they devoted themselves to the Covenant with such fervency? And that the Prophets would use them as a tool? The jiralhanae possess great strength, surpassing all save the mgalekgolo. More than sufficient to keep kig-yar and unggoy in line, but without their own culture or propensity to ask questions like the sangheili."
"And then the war with the humans, sangheili start thinking more than they should, and the Prophets start looking for a way to get rid of you. But how do they do that without tearing apart the Covenant?" Chac Lon thought out loud. "You sangheili are in charge of most of the ships, most armies of the Covenant, and have centuries of experience in command. To say nothing of all the civilian sangheili in the Covenant; traders, scribes, everyone else. Why would they willingly rip the guts out of the Covenant in the middle of the war with the humans? Let's be honest, these humans were getting thrashed, their home worlds would have been found and glassed soon enough."
"Even before I left High Charity for this ring there were signs of tension. More and more jiralhanae were being given positions of power and prestige, and even command of some minor vessels. I sense that the Prophets were only waiting for an excuse to act. And from what happened on this ring, it seems they found one. Likely this was Truth's doing; Regret has always been a friend of the sangheili, and Mercy cares more for the scriptures than governance."
"Wasn't that the point of there being three hierarchs? To keep any one of them from doing something stupid?" Shaon Tol asked.
"Doubtless Truth found some way to keep Regret silent, and then Mercy would no issue. It matters little. I know now, like you found out, that the Prophets' rule was built on lies." The sangheili frowned and sighed, as he thought for a moment. "Since I am here, I would ask for the story of how you found the truth of the Forerunners' link to the humans. I know you will say that it is easy for you to stop believing something you never truly believed in the first place, but I have not known any kig-yar to work with the humans for any reason other than greed or the Prophets' schemes."
Chac Lon was intrigued. He'd have to ask about that last bit sometime. But right now it was his turn to tell his story. "Well, to be fair, it did start as greed. I took my four ships to launch a raid on an outlying human colony. One that was part of their 'insurrection', that the UNSC ignored and did not defend. A piece of ripe fruit for the taking. And it was. Then, buried in a mineshaft, we found the relic..."
Over the next hour, Chac Lon, Shaon Tol, Shim Vol, and the rest of the kig-yar recounted the story of the Forerunner relic they had found, their discovery of Erde-Tyrene, and how they had allied with the humans out of desperation after realizing what they had uncovered. At the end of the story, the sangheili sat in contemplation for some minutes. Chac Lon motioned for his friends to remain silent. Clearly the sangheili had a lot going through his mind, and if he'd come here to see Chac Lon's advice he deserved the respect of thinking in silence. Finally, he spoke.
"The unggoy on your ships, I noticed they are not here. I presume they stayed with the humans?"
"Yes, I think the humans have even started recruiting unggoy from Covenant prisoners. Most of them have little love for kig-yar and less for the Covenant."
"There are some who truly believe the Great Journey. But still. The sangheili are cut off from the Covenant, and without us to hold it together the unggoy feel no attachment. You kig-yar never cared. Who knows what the mgalekgolo and yan'me want? Can the Prophets hold the Covenant together on the blind devotion of the jiralhanae and what scraps they can pick up from the other races. By their foolishness they have shattered a union that lasted ages!" The sangheili laughed. "Were it not so tragic it would be a comedy!"
"I want to make sure it shatters before it gets its hands on me." Chac Lon replied. "If working for the UNSC is the best way to do that, I'll do that."
"And this certainly has nothing to do with your desire to make money off them after the war is over."
"Perhaps." The T'vaoan smiled.
"As you say. Ten days ago I never thought I would have stood side by side with humans or heretics. And yet here we are. We must all do what we must." The sangheili stood up to leave. "I think I have gotten what I need. I must return to my men."
"That is... remarkably pragmatic for a sangheili. I wish you the best in our fight against the Covenant. By the way, I'm Chac Lon. What's your name?"
"Thel 'Vadam."
27 August 2550, Docking Spires, Covenant Holy City of High Charity
Gods willing, they would have been away from High Charity more than thirty hours ago. But the favor of the gods was fickle at best these times, thought Rtas 'Vadumee. At least the ship they and their kig-yar allies of convenience would use to get off this station was still docked, and they were finally getting near it.
The situation on High Charity was dire. Organized sangheili resistance was getting pushed into smaller and smaller areas of the station, and more and more were trying to make a run for it. On a more bittersweet note, the station was being heavily damaged by the fighting; unfortunate for the millions who still lived inside it, but at least the jiralhanae would not get their hands on its full power. Fierce fighting over the Assembly Forges only resulted in the destruction most of them, denying them to either faction. The shaking Rtas had felt two days ago was from the detonation of three of High Charity's backup power reactors, which caused a massive explosion that killed millions of civilians and shook the station to its very foundations.
Thankfully the main spine was still intact, and judging by the lighting and systems that were still working, the Forerunner Dreadnought remained atop its perch. Indeed, the destruction of the reactors, and other fighting in the area of the docks, could prove to be their salvation. From what Thalo 'Malokee had gleaned from the High Charity's computers, along with half a lance of file of sangheili warriors their group had absorbed, most of the powerful weapons in the lower part of the station were offline. They were either destroyed, or power had been diverted away from them to keep systems operational further up. Whatever the cause, it was a fortunate turn of events; a single hit from one of High Charity's most powerful weapons would vaporize the kig-yar freighter that was their ticket off the station.
"We are getting close to your vessel, Shipmistress Valat. I hope that it will not take long to make ready for departure?" Rtas asked the leader of the kig-yar and owner of their ship.
"She'll take a bit to startup from cold, but smuggling ships like mine have to be ready to leave at a moments' notice." Any pretenses about what the Brother of Commerce had been were long since gone. "Fair warning; without any unggoy to hire on you're all going to have to help out with running the ship. Unless you're fine with packaged rations."
"We will do what we must. The priority now is to get off the station."
"Glad you agree, big guy."
The familiarity in Valat's tone still grated on 'Vadumee a bit, though he knew by now that there was no malice intended. Even if the kig-yar enjoyed watching the councilors tense up. Ten days ago the sangheili would have been within their rights to beat the kig-yar for such an offense. But over the last two days they had proved their worth, guiding their group through dingy parts of High Charity the Rtas had never seen. They even did what they could to help defend the group; Valat and the other kig-yar had picked off a small group of bandits that was likely trying to raid their food supplies yesterday.
Of course, the one time they ran into a jiralhanae patrol, it was the sangheili who did the fighting. The brutes had clearly not been expecting to run into anyone ask skilled as Rtas or his other special operations sangheili down here, and it showed. Three jiralhanae minors, a pair of kig-yar, and eight unggoy all perished within seconds. They didn't even know the sangheili were there until Rtas's blade sliced through the neck of their leader.
They were in the Spires of Gifting now, near the outer fringes of the station. For the first time in days, Rtas could see outside. He scanned the docks, searching for the Brother of Commerce. Most of the bays were empty, a far cry from when High Charity was peaceful and thousands of vessels docked here every day. Food will soon become a problem, he thought grimly. High Charity had some gardens of its own, but it was reliant on tithes from hundreds of Covenant worlds to feed its population. With the civil war ongoing around the station, few traders were willing to risk destruction, and the food supplies about the station were doubtlessly depleting at a quick rate. All the more imperative for them to get off quickly.
Valat had excitedly described her ship to 'Vadumee and the other sangheili in detail, so he knew what he was looking for. A long, cylinder shaped craft with pointed ends, and surrounded by three rings of six spherical gas tanks. Crafted from similar materials to sangheili vessels and painted the same colors, but lacking their elegant construction.
While the kig-yar shipmistress had confidence in her ship, Rtas was still uneasy. In a warship, he would have willingly engaged three times his number in jiralhanae ships and been confident of victory. Despite their skill in ground combat, and the assistance the Prophets had clearly given them, the jiralhanae lacked the centuries of naval experience the sangheili had. And a skilled commander like 'Vadumee could easily exploit their hot blood to draw them into traps and destroy them.
But the Brother of Commerce had no armament beyond a few point defense guns, barely enough to see off an inquisitive Banshee. He would have to hope that enemy ships around High Charity were spread thin enough for them to escape unnoticed. The amount of debris he could see glinting in the sunlight outside the window told him that the station's once-might defense fleet was heavily depleted. Hopefully most of the scrap was from enemy ships. But in his hearts, 'Vadumee knew that thousands of sangheili had perished outside.
"I recognize this intersection, we're almost there. Watch for anyone hiding near the docks, some kig-yar like to ambush crews once they've unlocked their ships." Valat said, pointing to the hallways ahead.
"Remind me again why we have to put up with your kind?" One of the councilors grumbled.
"Because I'm your best chance at getting off this station without getting a spike from a jiralhanae's hammer through your skull?" Valat shot back.
"You kig-yar grew fat off the sangheili's protection after we brought you into the Covenant, this is the least gratitude you could show."
"Hmmm, fair enough. You make a good point. But I'm not sure if all kig-yar would agree. Like that one that killed a battlecruiser with just a -"
"Don't push your luck." 'Vadumee cautioned, the tone of his voice making it clear that Valat should stay silent. The shipmistress responded with a sharp intake of breath, but got the hint.
The kig-yar's warning had merit, though. As they rounded a corner, the docking umbilical to the Brother of Commerce now within sight, 'Vadumee sensed something was wrong. He motioned for the councilors to get to cover; thankfully, they listened. (They had tried to fight alongside 'Vadumee's special operations sangheili and the others a few times, but after the death of two of them the commander managed to get it through their head they were more valuable alive than dead.) 'Vadumee paused and carefully scanned the area ahead.
After a few seconds, he saw them. Three jiralhanae crouched behind a set of terminals and a row of potted plants. They were mostly hidden, but one of them was sticking out just a bit. And once Rtas saw him and knew what to look for, it was easy to see the other two. Their armor was odd, and clearly nonstandard. Maybe these weren't Covenant soldiers, and just brigands taking advantage of the chaos? Regardless, they had to die. One of them was barely five paces from the entrance to the docking umbilical, there was no way they would be able to sneak past them.
'Vadumee aimed the carbine he'd picked up a few days earlier, sighted in on one of the jiralhanae, and fired. The round hit an unarmored part of it head and bored most of the way through the skull. The jiralhanae fell unconscious, bleeding. Two carbine shots from other sangheili felled the second. The third happened to be behind cover, and none of the sangheili had an angle on him. It dove behind a wall and stuck its arm out from behind the corner, blindly spraying plasma fire in 'Vadumee's general direction. It blindly tossed a grenade, forcing the sangheili to flinch back into cover. Deciding it was not bold enough to engage more than ten times its number of enemies alone, the jiralhanae bolted, fleeing further down into the docks.
For a split second, 'Vadumee thought about pursuing the jiralhanae. What if it was heading to alert more of its kind? But Rtas quickly realized that even if he was, their best bet was getting on the ship and getting out. He pointed at Valat, then the docking umbilical, and yelled for her to get it open. The kig-yar obliged, sprinting forward and rapidly tapping a pass code into a terminal. A doorway slid open, revealing a tube barely tall enough for a sangheili to stay upright.
The shipmistress was the first one on, followed by the rest of the kig-yar. After that the councilors followed, while 'Vadumee and his special operations sangheili stood watch. No more jiralhanae had shown up; he could hear plasma fire in the distance, but that was common these days. When the rest of the sangheili were aboard the ship, 'Vadumee took one last look outside, then went up the docking umbilical into the Brother of Commerce.
Inside the ship, the situation was far from uncontrolled, but it was much more chaotic than 'Vadumee was used to. The kig-yar chattered amongst themselves in their own language, while many of the sangheili milled about awkwardly, unsure what to do now that they were aboard the vessel. Valat and two of her deputies sat at the bridge of the ship, quickly flipping switches and typing into consoles. It was clear they had practice starting up the ship as fast as possible; already 'Vadumee could feel a high frequency vibration as the main reactor came up to power and the engines warmed up.
The undocking was abrupt, as Valat roughly backed the Brother of Commerce out of its docking bay as fast as its thrusters could push it. As it separated from the docking bay, the kig-yar began to spin the ship around to point away from the station. 'Vadumee was used to walking around on rapidly moving ships, and he made his way over to the shipmistress's chair even as the vessel was still orienting itself.
"What is you plan to get us away from High Charity?" Rtas asked.
The shipmistress didn't bother to turn and look at him as she responded.
"Simple. Get the engines up to maximum acceleration, point away from station and jump to slipspace once we hit the minimum distance. Short range jump, coordinates in empty space were preloaded into the borer before we docked here." The kig-yar paused to tap a few commands into her console. "You have the coordinates for that fallback system you mentioned?"
"I will have 'Malokee give them to you once we are away from High Charity. I entrusted the data pad to him."
"Great. This ship can run mostly automatic for now, but I'll need to talk to you once we get to slipspace." The ship vibrated again as the engines came up to full power, and the modified gas-hauler accelerated obliquely away from High Charity.
In normal times all ships entering and leaving the capital of the Covenant were closely tracked, and monitored for any deviation from normal protocols. Now, it took nearly a full minute for any of the vessels patrolling outside the station to notice the Brother of Commerce as it pulled away from the docks far faster than any freighter would in peacetime. A group of three sangheili vessels, two corvettes and a destroyer, noticed the vessel without any IFF tags and slowly turned to investigate it. Before they got remotely close to weapons range, the Brother of Commerce, and the sangheili and kig-yar inside it, disappeared into slipspace.