Hey Folks, Grubkiller here.
I've decided to expand this chapter. It originally ended with the Flood outbreak beginning, but since the Arbiter Alpha moon mission was released by the digsite team in the modding community, I've decided to make another chapter about that, and combine most of the Arbiter and Oracle chapter into one, and end the Heretic leader's arc next chapter.
Hope you enjoy.
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Deep in the bowels of High Charity, the disgraced former fleet master, formerly known as Thel Vadamee, was regaining consciousness, and found himself being dragged through a dark hallway. Two Jiralhanae warriors pulled him along by his arms as Tartarus strode ahead. Thel heard
the familiar ring of a Covenant door closing behind him. Still gathering a sense of his surroundings, he noticed prison cells on either side of them.
A sharp talon reached out from one of the cells in an attempt to grab the tortured Sangheili.
The cells were filled with villainous Kig-Yar.
He felt the searing pain on his chest and remembered his public branding.
The Mark of Shame.
It didn't matter where they were taking him.
To a cell? To his execution?
No matter. As far as he was concerned, he was dead.
He had brought shame to his family, his keep, and his fleet, and to his gods. There was no coming back from all of this. Everything from his old life had been stripped away from him.
His rank, his homeland, even his own name. There was no telling what would become of his wives and children back home, whether they were all put to death or simply banished from Vadam Keep, he was not sure. Either way, he would never see them again. His name would never be carved into the wall of the Vadam Keep like so many other sangheili from his noble line.
It would be like he never existed.
As they passed through the jail cells on their way to their destination, the brutes carrying him started to complain.
"How much further must we heft this baggage?" One asked. "Any cell will do."
"Why not toss him in with this lot?" His companion asked, nodding his snout over to a cell full of jackals that were hissing and clawing through the bars of their cell at anyone who passed by. "They could use the meat."
"Them? What about us? My belly aches - and his flesh is seared, just the way I like it."
"Quiet!" Tartarus growled. "You two whimper like Grunts fresh off the teat. He's not meant for the jails. The Hierarchs have something special in mind."
The three brutes and their prisoner move out onto a platform overlooking a large indoor tower, which matched the smooth, purple covenant architecture of the holy city. They rode a gravity lift down to the walkway leading up to it and pass dozens of Elite warriors wearing crimson red armor and ornate headdresses, who stood at attention on either side of the path. They were honor guardsmen of the hierarchs, and they stood tall with their energy staves, ready to kill anything that moved incorrectly.
As the brutes walked passed them, Tartarus allowed a low rumble to escape his mouth. It was no secret that the two species despised one another. The elites were at the top of the hierarchy alongside the prophets, and the brutes were considered lesser.
Brutes like Tartarus hated playing second fiddle to a creature that was physically lesser then him. But he did the prophets bidding. Soon the Great Journey would begin and transport them all to paradise.
They entered the building, which had a tall ceiling, and the room inside was circular, which caskets lining the wall from floor to ceiling. On the ground floor, hovering front of a large capsule, were the two prophets of Truth and Mercy.
Tartarus dropped to one knee and put his fist over his chest. His two pack mates knelt down as well, forcing their prisoner to do the same.
"Noble Prophets of Truth and Mercy. I have brought the incompetent."
"You may leave, Tartarus." Truth said, the words rasping from his lips.
This surprised the chieftain. "But...I thought—"
"And take your Brutes with you." Truth ordered with a dismissive wave of his hand.
For the briefest of moments, the chieftain hesitated. But he turned to his brutes.
"Release the prisoner."
Without a word, they dropped the prisoner to his knees before they lumbered out of the room, leaving the prisoner in the company of the hierarchs. As the prisoner got to his knees, he made sure to cover his mark of shame in their presence.
"The Council decided to have you hung by your entrails and your corpse paraded through the city. But ultimately, the terms of your execution are up to me." The High Prophet of Truth said.
"I am already dead." The prisoner muttered.
"Indeed. Do you know where we are?" Truth said.
The prisoner looked up again at the caskets, and the murals of the covenant's history could be seen, showcasing the many different events that forged the Covenant for thousands of years.
"The Mausoleum of the Arbiter." He finally said.
"Quite so." Truth said, gesturing to the walls and displays of history all around them. "Here rests the vanguard of the Great Journey. Every Arbiter, from first to last. Each one created and consumed in times of extraordinary crisis."
"The Taming of the Hunters, theGrunt Rebellion-" Mercy spoke up next, his withered hand shaking as he pointed at the tombs all around them. "were it not for the Arbiters, the Covenant would have broken long ago!"
Before the Covenant, the Prophets and Elites fought an endless war against each other about the nature of the forerunner technology they discovered. But they concluded it with a peace treaty that was their binding covenant.
The nature of the Covenant itself was that the Elites would defend the Prophets, and the holy objects they discovered. Meanwhile the Prophets deciphered the holy relics, doling out the technology they found and adapting them for Covenant use. Their eventual hope was to unlock what the races would need to do to join the Great Journey. Much like the mysterious race of the Forerunners had done all those thousands of years ago when they disappeared from the galaxy, leaving only their artifacts behind. Since then, they found new species to absorb into the covenant, but it wasn't always peaceful. Whenever there was a crisis within the Covenant, an Arbiter was called upon to resolve it.
"Even on my knees, I do not belong in their presence." The prisoner said.
"Halo's destruction was your error, and you rightly bear the blame." Truth continued. "But the Council was... overzealous. We know you are no heretic." Truth pressed a button and hologram of another elite appeared on his throne's armchair. "This is the true face of heresy, one who would subvert our faith and incite rebellion against the High Council."
Truth presses a button on his chair and a miniature hologram of a Sangheili in abnormal equipment appears.
"Our Prophets are false! Open your eyes, my brothers! They would use the faith of our forefathers to bring ruin to us all! The Great Journey is a-"
Truth cut off the hologram.
"This heretic, andthose who follow him, must be silenced."
"Their slander offends all who walk the Path!"
The disgraced Elite's hearts sank.
"What use am I? I can no longer command ships, lead troops into battle-"
"Not as you are, no. But become the Arbiter...and you shall be set loose against this heresy with our blessing."
The large capsule in the center of the chamber floated down to the ground in front of the prisoner, opening to reveal a suit of ancient armor surrounded by white light. The prisoner, momentarily speechless, stares at the armor for a moment, before turning back to the prophets.
"What of the Council?" He asked.
The elderly prophet of Mercy, his partially blinded eyes piercing through the elite.
"The tasks you must undertake as the Arbiter are perilous, suicidal. You will die, as each Arbiter has before you. The Council will have their corpse."
The Elite rose, striding over to the armor. He paused before it in awe, before looking to the pods containing the bodies of the Arbiters who fell before him. He reaches up and takes the helmet of the Arbiter, and places it upon his head before turning back to the Hierarchs.
"What would you have your Arbiter do?"
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Threshold's orbit, en route to forerunner facility.
A trio of phantoms zoomed through the air, flying passed bits of debris that had been floating away from the remains the sacred ring before they plunged down into the surface of the orange gas giant.
Threshold.
An entire lance of Special Operations Elites and their Grunt support were crammed into the crew bay of the lead phantom. They were led by an Ultra, a battle-scarred veteran of multiple campaigns.
R'tas Vadumee.
His most distinguishing feature was the fact that his left mandibles were reduced to stubs protruding from his face. The result of a run-in with the parasite above the very ring that burned in orbit above them.
He marched around the crew bay, observing his men.
The stench in the air reeked of methane, no doubt from the Unggoy that were packed into the crew bay as well.
The Unggoy, "Grunts" as the humans called them, were short, bred too fast, and were individually weak. The Unggoy, however, wore triangular methane tanks and breathing masks over their flattened, squashed faces. Most elites found them useless for intense fighting, but in large enough numbers they were very effective, so R'tas made a point in putting them to use on his missions. The Unggoy were a part of the Covenant, and thus were to be used in the war against the apostate humans, and whomever else stood against the Covenant, even if they were once his own kin.
"It is strange," R'tas heard one of his warriors say.
He marched up to the elite who spoke.
"What is it?" He asked.
The elite hesitated for moment, as his commander looked into his eyes.
"The Prophets have demanded we destroy our enemies and allow no heretic to live." He started. "But this time they were once our brothers. What could have possessed them to bring themselves low to the level of the filthy humans?
"The Path is strict, brother—it brooks no deviation, no remorse. We are zealots. We serve the Way. These are our orders. We do not question them." R'tas said as he began marching around the cabin. "When we joined the Covenant, we took anoath!"
The Elites snapped to attention and began reciting the oath that their leader was referring to. "According to our station! All without exception!" They called in unison.
R'tas looked his warriors over. Lean and tall, their muted brown skin was almost all hidden by sturdy armor. Covenant armor. Their long-necked heads were sheathed in helmets of the same material, and their large eyes gleamed in the flickering light of the hall. They were all well built, powerful, overly trained since birth, specimens of Sangheili warriors. All poised to do the Prophets' bidding.
"On the blood of our fathers, on the blood of our sons...we swore to uphold the Covenant!"
"Even to our dying breath!" They said in unison
"Those who would break this oath are Heretics, worthy of neither pity, nor mercy! Even now they use our lords' creations to broadcast their lies!"
Meanwhile, the Unggoy grumbled about being forced to listen to another battle chant from their elite superiors, and about being forced to wear their heavy tanks and their itchy masks into battle, but did as they were told. Everywhere the hiss and occasional wispy stink of methane filled the air in the boarding craft due to the lines of Unggoy staring straight ahead, trying not to be noticed by any of the Sangheili Elites on board.
"We shall grind them into dust!" The Elites continued.
The Commander of the spec ops unit turned to his men and bellowed. "And continue our march to glorious salvation!"
The battle hardened warriors of the Covenant let out a cheer as they checked and re-checked their weapons one last time. They were unholstered, and they dare not re-holster them. A drawn weapon demanded blood, and one didn't draw a weapon in Sangheili culture unless you intended to use it, even if it was a just a gun.
But R'tas noticed something strange. Amidst the chorus of Sangheili roars and weapons checks, there was one member of his race that did not join in. The new Arbiter. The blade of the prophets, and once a disgraced elite.
R'tas walked up to the silent warrior.
"This armor suits you. But it cannot hide thatmark." He began.
"Nothing ever will."
"You are the Arbiter, the will of the Prophets. But these are my Elites. Their lives matter to me. Yours does not."
"That makes two of us." The Arbiter said.
"Hmmm." The commander looked at the elite thoughtfully, not knowing what the make of the new Arbiter originally. He nodded his head with respect and walked up to the pilot's cabin at the front of the ship.
The winds were ripping the ship around violently, and the pilots had to fight with them in order to see their ships straight. Eventually the clouds parted slightly, and they were able to see their target.
A large forerunner platform. A mining facility of sorts. This is where the heretic broadcasts had originated from. Heretic using the creation of the gods to broadcast their lies. Disgusting.
It was forbidden to alter the technologies that the Prophets passed down, or to defile what the Forerunners had left behind. But to use it to challenge the very existence and nature of the forerunners was blasphemy.
It was time to destroy them with extreme prejudice.
But their approach soon revealed a large vortex beneath the facility. A storm was ripping through the atmosphere, making it nearly impossible to navigate.
"Leader, there is no doubt: the storm will strike the facility!" One pilot said over the comm.
"We'll be long gone before it arrives." R'tas said.
The Phantoms continue to fly lower, near the top of one of several towers sticking out from the center of the main structure.
"Commander, I'm not detecting any signs of resistance."
"The storm has masked our approach, and it should have their local battle-net in disarray. We have the element of surprise... for now." He turned his head over his shoulder and called out to his troops. "Warriors, prepare for combat!"
As the phantoms cam to a stop and hovered over the platform, they engaged their gravity lifts, and Covenant troops started to descend, touching down on the platform and fanning out, preparing to gain entry to the facility.
The Arbiter wasted no time walking up to the lift and descending below. As he touched down, he pressed the button on the thick bar of metal in his hand that had been lying casually by his side. The energy sword flicked into being with a crack of ionized air from the handle as the twin half ovals of blue plasma appeared.
The twin blades crackled with fury, and he engaged his active camouflage like the rest of his brothers, becoming nothing more than a whisper in the storm.
It was time to do the prophet's bidding and quell this heresy without incident.
Inside the facility, Yapyap sprang to his feet with a startled yelp, as his motion scanner started to go off. The squat alien, a Grunt clad in beat up brown armor, fumbled and dropped the beeping device. He keened in fear and retrieved the device with a trembling claw. If the scanner had been damaged, the Elites would use his body as reactor shielding.
Even though they had broken free from the Prophet's lies, they still maintained the old hierarchical system, which his people all the way at the bottom.
If his masters learned he'd been asleep at his post, they might do far worse than kill him. Well, at least there were no Jackals on the station to be given over to.
Yapyap shuddered at the thought.
Two elites who were on patrol nearby were having a conversation.
Yapyap keened his hearing to pick up what they were saying.
"Any word on our missing brothers?"
"Still nothing, and given what sleeps here, I fear they are lost."
"Surely the Oracle will protect us..."
"Perhaps. But his Sentinels are too few. Better we protect ourselves!"
That's when they started walking over to him. He snapped back to attention and made it look like he was working exceptionally well. Still trying to get it working. When it did, all he got was static anyway.
"You grunts stay here." One of the two elites said. "We'll call when we need you."
And the two Elites walked off up the ramp and to the level above.
"Hmph, they won't call." Yapyap muttered to himself.
Fortunately, his scanner still worked, and the diminutive alien sighed with relief. Three contacts appeared on his scanner for the briefest second, before succumbing to the storm's interference once again. He reached for the warning klaxon but relaxed as his detector identified the contacts—Phantom drop ships, and noted that they were rapidly flying away from the station that concealed Yapyap's cadre from the distant Covenant forces above the planet.
Yapyap snorted. It was odd that the flight wasn't listed on his patrol schedule, especially out in this storm. He considered alerting his superiors, then thought better of it. It was best not to question such things.
Be ignored. Live another day. That was his creed.
He nestled back into his sleeping spot alongside his kin, reset the motion detector to long range, and prayed it wouldn't go off again. He curled into a tight ball and was about to fall into a deep sleep when something grabbed his neck and choked him. As his air was cut off and his eyes started to pop out of their sockets, he saw ghostly shimmers wave past him and his brothers, who were either choked like himself or were impaled with beams of energy.
They started to fade into view, and just before the life was choked out of him he saw Elite and Grunts securing the room.
But they weren't his brothers.
The first swipe of the Arbiter's angry-sounding sword dug deep into the heretic elite's back, spearing him on the tip of the concentrated plasma. To his credit the heretic did not scream.
His brothers began to set up firing positions on the balcony, overlooking the next room, which had several long energy belts carrying containers of gas to their destination. What their purpose was for, he could not tell, but that mattered not.
The Covenant launched their attack on the unsuspecting heretics below.
The team's pair of snipers picked off a couple heretic elites before the Arbiter and the rest of the troops unleashed a storm on the grunts below, annihilating everything they saw.
"Forward, brothers!" One of the elites said. "There
The grunts moved forward with the heavy weapons they carried, while the Arbiter and two of the Spec ops elites moved on ahead, and made their way down below.
They engaged their active camouflage, as a pair of heretic grunts started marching towards the origin of the sounds they must have heard from below. But just before they past by, their heads were smashed in by invisible plasma rifles, which the Arbiter used like a club. After stealthily clearing out more heretic troops, the commander's voice crackled through their comm units.
"There should be a ship hangar bay directly below you. Find a way down." R'tas Vadumee said.
They eventually found an elevator, and waited for the rest of the strike team to climb aboard, before the Arbiter pressed the button, and they began their descent.
When they were about halfway down, the elevator passed through an enclosed transparent shaft that allowed to look out over the main hanger below them, which consisted of two levels and a high ceiling.
The Arbiter and the rest of the strike team engaged their active camouflage, suspecting the transparent could be two-way
A massive transparent door stood between the hanger and the gaseous skies of Threshold. Aside from a myriad of Heretic troops that patrolled the hanger and the Seraph fighter they guarded, the Arbiter noticed several flying machines.
They were made of some type of silvery material, roughly cylindrical but with angular edges. Winglike, squarish fins shifted and slid like rudders as the device bobbed in the air. They patrolled the hanger or carried gas containers to more of the energy belts that ran along the hanger's outer edges.
"Sentinals," the Arbiter said. "The holy warriors of the sacred rings."
The other elites looked out over the hanger.
"Why are they not cleansing the heretic filth?" One elite asked the Arbiter, who clicked his mandibles, the equivalent of a shrug.
"More of our lords' creations have been turned against us?!" Another one exclaimed, baring his teeth. "Is nothing sacred to these traitors?"
When the elevator came to a rest, one of the heretic elites walked up to it with a confused look on his face, wondering why an empty elevator was sent down. His confusion was answered by twin spears of concentrated plasma trusting through his chest.
"The Prophet of Truth sends his regards," The Arbiter called out to the rest of the hanger, and the battle begun.
The sentinels responded to the commotion beeping a warning to their nearby comrades. Red lasers split the air into jagged shapes as robots burned a Spec Ops elite down, and a few grunts.
The Covenant strike force returned fire, machines exploded or flew out of control, showering the Arbiter and his brothers with bits of hot metal. The heretic troops joined the fray as well, and a bloody brawl for control of the hanger ensued.
The Arbiter barely had time to duck, though, as the next two heretics bearing energy swords of their own hit the floor in front of him. Their crackling energy weapons just barely missed his head. But their overeager swings doomed them. Even as their energy swords passed by him, Arbiter was coming back up to a full stand, slicing the sword arm of the nearest heretic elite clear off his body. The last heretic backpedaled, looking for room to defend himself, realizing that this was not a simple job anymore. The moment of hesitation allowed the Arbiter to blast him with his plasma rifle, and the elite stumbled and fell off the ledge to the hanger floor below.
More heretic reinforcements were starting to arrive, and more Covenant troops fell, but not before taking several heretics with them.
"Arbiter. Clear the hanger and open its door, so I may drop the second lance."
"More Heretics! In the passage below us! Hurry Arbiter!" One of the Spec ops troops called out.
The Arbiter burst through a corridor off the side of the hanger underneath the second floor at a full run and aimed a plasma rifle down its length, blasting anything that got in his way, before he stopped at the forerunner designed door controls: A pair of small, glowing orbs hung suspended above a roughly rectangular frame of blue matte metal. Floating within the frame were a series of pulsing, shifting displays— semitransparent.
He reached out and pressed his palm into the light, and the door started to open, allowing the powerful wind to rush through the hanger.
"Hold your positions. I'm making my approach," said the Phantom pilot again.
That's when a phantom dropship hovered into view, firing its plasma cannons to support the remains of the Covenant's strike force. Despite their best efforts, the heretic resistance melted away under the firepower of the phantom and the Covenant reinforcements that it dropped.
Realizing their situation was hopeless, the remaining heretics broke and fled deeper into the station.
The Covenant now lorded over the hanger.
"Spread out and search the station." R'tas said over the comm, still directing his troops from the Phantoms "Find the leaders of these Heretics."
Covenant forces fanned out, searching through the different parts of this arm of the station, while the Arbiter took one squad and continued to descend down to the lower levels of the facility, encountering only token resistance here and there.
There had to be more heretics aboard this station than the pitiful few who'd tried to hold off the boarding party. The angular facility with its sharp corners, steep ramps, and boxy layout reeked of a larger contingent of heretic traitors.
Arbiter crossed another bulkhead and turned to his left, further down another hallway that slanted down like the rest they followed. There it was, that scent again: a pungent smell.
Heretics.
They were here recently, but no longer. They must have retreated to a core area, deep inside the facility.
Behind him a team of Spec-ops elites padded along with him, keeping a full 360 degree path of fire at the ready in case of an ambush. Their long, leathery necks craned around, their eagle-like eyes scanning the nooks and crannies of the station's ancient corridors for the enemy.
"Cowards." One elite cursed. "They flee before us like small forest creatures before a fire."
An apt metaphor, were it humans they were fighting before burning their world. But these were elites, using a holy relic for protection.
"Be cautious," the Arbiter warned. "They outnumber us and know the layout of the station better than us. That gives them an advantage. They will fight us on their terms."
After passing through several more rooms, they finally came across a large window, which looked out over the rest of the station, and a landing platform that was build into the station's hull. There were several heretic elites on the platform, including their leader Sesa 'Refumee, who was boarding a banshee.
"Heretic boss. You see?! You see?!" A grunt called out frantically.
The Arbiter was able to pick up a voice over his comm unit. I crackled from the storm's interference, but he could hear bits of it.
"zzzz-al with them, my broth-zzzzzz. I will defend the or-zzzzzz. Its-zzzzzzz-not be silenced."
One of the Spec-ops elites slashed his sword against the glass out of anger, but all it left was a glowing slash, but no cut.
"I will gut that traitor if its the last thing I do," he hissed at the Arbiter, who watched the display of anger without any emotion.
Then, the whining roar of heretic plasma fire ripped through the room, and their armor flared.
"Blood," the elite who slashed the window swore, as he calmly turned and lobbed grenades through one of the doors that opened.
"So they finally attack." The Arbiter said calmly, before his mandibles split open as he roared a challenge down the corridor and charged with his sword in one hand and his plasma rifle in the other.
He downed a pair of sentinels, which crashed to the floor with a metallic clang before they exploded.
Thel leapt through the smoke and chaos of the explosion, his armor dinged, nicked, and its energy shield flaring due to the hot bits of metal. He shot the first grunt he saw as he landed back on the deck. The second grunt tried to run. Thel was too close to shoot him: he snapped the butt of the energy rifle into the short alien's face and watched it slump to the floor. Weak, very weak.
A heretic elite tried to swing his rifle at the Arbiter, but he slashed through his arm and his neck, severing both, splattering blood across the wall and allowing both appendages to roll across the floor.
Eventually, he found himself outside on the platform of banshees that he just saw the Heretic leader take off from, and the rest of his team emerged from the opposite door, sporting several fresh injuries. They nodded their heads at him, and he did the same likewise.
The Arbiter looked at the banshees, and then back at his team. "Brothers, secure this section of the station." He said. They nodded and without another word, he moved into the single-seat aircraft, and activated its power plant.
He wondered why the heretics hadn't used the ships to fly off with their leader, was thankful that they hadn't, and eyed the instrument panel. His take-off was a bit shaky thanks to the strong winds around him but it wasn't long before the flight began to smooth out, and the Banshee started to climb.
The storm was getting progressively worse, which meant that visibility was poor. But he gunned the engines and tore off in the direction he saw the Heretic leader go in.
"Commander Vadumee. We've located the heretic leader, but he's on the move. I have acquired a banshee and have given chase."
"Look sharp Arbiter." R'tas responded over the comm. "The Heretics are mobilizing their air forces. Get after their leader, but watch your back. I'm sending one of our Phantoms to support you."
The Arbiter's attack ship made good speed, and the different arms and platforms of the station were quite closer together than one might realize, so it wasn't long before he spotted the well-lit platforms which jutted out from the station, as well as the enemy fire which lashed up to greet him. The word was out, it seemed—and the Heretics didn't want any visitors.
Rather than pass by them, the Arbiter decided to carry out a couple of strafing runs first. He swooped low and used the Banshee's plasma and fuel rod cannons to sweep the platform clear of sentries before moving on.
That's when a flight of banshees and several sentinels started to converge on his location. But before they could attack, a Covenant phantom appeared and unleashed a barrage of plasma from the turrets on its undercarriage. Grunt door gunners revealed themselves and unleashed fuel rod and plasma rounds of their own onto the heretics.
The Phantom's pilot reached out to the Arbiter. "The Heretics have weapons emplacements all over the facility, Arbiter. We'll take them out, one by one, until we find the Heretic Leader."
A few captured heretic banshees, under Covenant management, joined the Arbiter, and they engaged in aerial battles with their enemies. The Sentinels trailed smoke and slammed into the sides of the facility. Banshees exploded, sending their pilot and parts into the swirling vortex below.
Shade turrets that were set up on the different platforms were blasted to pieces. Grunts and Elites were blasted off of ledges and into the storm below. Sentinel forges were blasted until no more sentinels emerged from them.
Soon, only the Covenant forces controlled the skies.
But no matter how many emplacements and landing zones they cleared out on the station's exterior, the Heretic Leader was nowhere to be found as was reported by the other Covenant forces in the area.
"Commander, we have eliminated the heretic emplacements, but we have not found the Heretic leader."
"We have killed many heretics as well, but there is no sign of their leader."
"Then we must keep searching." R'tas said.
That's when the Arbiter started taking fire from another arm of the station. It didn't look like any of his brothers dealt with it yet. So he flew by it, strafing it with his plasma cannons.
That's when he noticed a single banshee parked on the enclosed platform. "Leader," Arbiter said, "I've tracked the Heretic leader to another part of the station."
"Then clear that landing zone. We're on our way."
Arbiter swooped low and used the Banshee's plasma and fuel rod cannons to sweep the platform clear of sentries before decelerating for what he hoped would be an unopposed landing. The Banshee crunched into the platform, bounced once, then ground to a halt. The Arbiter dismounted, just as a phantom hovered overhead, disembarking a squad of Covenant troops led by the half-jawed Ultra, R'tas Vadumee.
"Forerunners be praised!" One of the Elites chanted when he saw the Arbiter.
R'tas walked up to the squad. "Open the door." He ordered one elite. He obeyed and pressed several keyes on the holographic panel, and the hatch slid open.
Two Special Operations Elites covered the entrance with their plasma rifles while Special Operations Grunts filed into the room beyond to secure it. The two Elites cautiously advance, followed by Rtas 'Vadumee and the Arbiter.
They moved through the facility, room by room, but the entire situation was different from what they had expected. Why was there no Heretic security team? If the platform was heavily guarded, and if this was indeed where the Heretic leader fled, then surely the Covenant strike team would have encountered resistance by now.
That's when they opened another door, which looked to be some containment lab. There was green-brown ooze splattered across the floor, along with broken containment cases, with their liquid contents all over the floor.
Just as the strike team was securing the room, Rtas passed the threshold of the door, and then he paused, sniffing the air audibly.
"What is it?" The Arbiter asked.
R'tas looked at him, before looking around the room at the brown ooze splattered across the floor, the walls, and ceilings.
"That stench...I've smelled it before." He said as he walked into the room.
They pushed deeper into the facility, still facing no resistance, but seeing more containers with broken glass everywhere. They they found a room with with a large transparent door. There was a firefight in the level below. But the room was dark and covered in some smoke. The Heretic elites were firing at strange creatures with guttural, squishy growls.
And something else.
Something big.
They couldn't make it out through the shadows, but the Covenant forces engaged their active camouflage as they tried to make out the spectacle below. The Heretics continued to fire, but the massive creature still kept attacking them, and the smaller creatures were equally relentless.
"By the Rings. What is that?" The Arbiter asked.
As they continued to watch the scene below them, which was nearly impossible due to the lack of lights and foggy atmosphere.
The Grunts started whimpering in fear.
"Quiet." Another Elite ordered the Grunts.
The Heretics stopped firing suddenly, and the massive creature suddenly disappeared.
"It's moved on. Quickly, before it returns, let's find theHeretic Leader and finish him off."
The Covenant strike force, still cloaked, continued into the next room, which had even more shattered glass containers, and this time, deformed bodies. Heretic elites lay on the ground with their chest burst open, and more of the brown substance from earlier was smeared across the floor.
R'tas investigated one of the dead elites, looking more closely at his ripped open chest.
Other heretic bodies lay sprawled around the area as well. Elite blood slicked the walls and floor, along with more brown-green fluids.
"What happened here?" One of the other elites asked the Commander, who didn't respond.
The grunts were getting more nervous by the minute.
"Me have bad feeling about this." One said.
"You always have bad feeling!" Another shot back. "You had bad feeling about morning food nipple!"
"Close your jaws, or I shall bind them shut!" An Elite threatened.
A high-pitched whining sound started to emanate from above, before the Elites looked up and noticed a floating orb entering the room. It floated down and the image of the Heretic Leader materialized into thin air
"See! Heretic!" One of the Grunts called out before the rest started firing frantically at the image, which shimmered under the impacts.
"Hold your fire." R'tas commanded. "Hold your fire!"
The Grunts ceased fire and the hologram of Sesa Refumee looked around at the Covenant troops, his gaze resting on the Arbiter.
"I wondered who the Prophets would send to silence me. An Arbiter... I'm flattered."
"He's using a holo-drone. He must be close." The Arbiter said.
R'tas turned to the Heretic leader. "Come out, so we may kill you."
Sesa 'Refumee's hologram chuckled. "Get in line."
The hologram fizzled out and faded completely, and the silver holo-drone, which was the size of a plasma grenade, fell to the ground, powerless.
That's when the Elites' motion scanners started showing small dots appearing all around them.
They looked around, pointing their guns in all directions. The Grunts' eyes started darting from one shadow to the next.
"Leader! There!" One Elite called out, pointing to a clutch of shadows as they heard muffled squelching sounds.
There was a cry of pain as something landed on a Grunt's back. Then another.
"GET IT OFF OF ME!" He screamed as he started running around, arms flailing, before the small bulbous creatures drove several needlelike penetrators through his skin, and aimed it down toward his spine. He dropped his weapon, tried to grab the thing that rode his shoulders, and thrashed back and forth.
"Get away! Get away!" Another grunt yelled, running away from the horde of creatures.
R'tas Vadumee had been in the Covenant military for longer than most. Along the way, he had only seen what was happening right now, once above the sacred ring. What skittered across the metal floor and attached itself to a few of his warriors.
Dozens of white blobs, each maybe half a meter in diameter, and equipped with a cluster of writhing tentacles, skittered and bobbed in a loose formation, then sprang in the direction of his men. The tentacles propelled them several meters in a single leap.
The Arbiter and the Commander equipped their energy swords, preparing to swing them through whatever creatures got too close.
"Stand firm!" R'tas called out. "The Flood is upon us!"
The other Elites and Grunts started firing (the grunts more panicked) into the mass of creatures. They popped with surprising force. The tiny explosions caused more to burst into feathery shards, but it seemed as if dozens more took their place.
The dead bodies that were on the floor earlier were suddenly shuffling around, with tentacles protruding from their injuries and extra claws and limbs sprouting out of nowhere all over their grotesquely deformed bodies. When they attacked, they struck very hard, and had little regard for their own safety even as they were filled with plasma rounds. Some even got back up after 'dying' multiple times.
The Arbiter, R'tas, and two of the remaining Elites used their energy swords to slash through them to put them down for good.
"Wretched parasites! Rise up and I will kill you! Again and again!" Arbiter bellowed as he swung his blade through another reanimated body.
But it was as if a floodgate had opened somewhere, as a new wave of the obscene, podlike creatures rolled out of the darkness to overwhelm the Covenant. Elites and Grunts fired in every direction. Many lost their balance as two, three, or even four of the aliens managed to get a grip on them and pull them down.
"Heretic fools! What have they done?" One Elite cried out as he was soon forced to turn his weapon on one of his former comrades.
"Commander, we must regroup!" The Arbiter called out.
R'tas nodded and opened the door leading out of the containment lab. "Warriors, fall back! Destroy the lab!"
The Arbiter and the Special Operations team exited the lab. As the Elites held off the flood, the grunts started tossing grenades into the room, as the doors slammed shut over one flood forms arm, severing it, a series of explosions shook the deck from the other side of the door.
"What now commander?" One of the Elites asked.
"We continue our mission. But first we must cut through the labs and reach the rendezvous to link up with our reinforcement. Arbiter, take point. I'll bring up the rear. Unggoy, middle position. And so the Arbiter and half of the remaining Elites took point and led the strike team through the labs.
Eventually, they found a massive elevator platform, already controlled by several Flood combat forms. But they were battling with the Heretic sentinels. Lasers hissed and sizzled as the robots struck their opponents down, but the Flood forms, having absorbed the knowledge of their victims, returned fire, and brought down several of the angular drones.
"Quickly, let us secure this lift. Make short work of this abomination," the Arbiter said, as he drew his sword and slashed at the nearest flood creatures.
The rest of the strike force arrived to sterilize what was left.
What followed next was a most painfully long and dangerous elevator ride any of them have ever, or would ever, take.
Flood forms attacked them around the clock, sniping from the ledges above, jumping down to bash whatever victim they could get their deformed hands on, or simply allowed the small pod infectors to just swarm over the elevator. Since this turned out to be a cargo elevator for flood specimens, there was no shortage of them, as they latched onto even more Covenant troops, forcing the rest to turn their guns on them and put them down.
Sentinels attacked as well, causing the Elites' shields to flare and shimmer, forcing them to take cover and return fire.
Eventually, they were able to take more of these before more flood forms arrived on the elevator, which was nearing its destination.
As the strike team tried to hold them off, a grunt primed a grenade and was about to throw it, when a carbine round from a flood form speared him right through the head. He dropped the grenade from his lifeless hand and it rolled over to the strike force.
"Grenade! Everybody duck!" One of the grunts shouted.
The strike force dove for cover, but not before the grenade enveloped most of the remaining grunts and one of the elites.
Soon, they finally reached the bottom of the shaft and the elevator came to a complete stop.
"Commander, I do not wish to stay here any longer than we have to," One of the remaining elites said.
"Agreed. Let's move," R'tas said.
The remains of the strike force left the elevator and continued to move through the facility. Every now and then they came across dead bodies, both flood and heretic.
"We should have brought weapons to burn these bodies. Every one is a potential vessel for the Flood." One of the Elites said.
That's when they entered another room, which was actually an enclosed hallway that was lined with windows overlooking a massive rectangular lab with two floors.
Down below, the Covenant strike team discovered what looked like full-fledged battle that was underway between Heretic troops and the parasite. They briefly considered engaging the targets—there was certainly no shortage of them. They held his fire instead, and lingered behind the columns and tall windows.
Many flood forms rushed into the room, including large misshapen things that would explode when fired upon. They were walking incubators, which started spewing up to a dozen infection forms in every direction she they detonated, thereby multiplying the number of threats that had to be contended with.
Heretic plasma turrets were set up on several platformed islands that dotted the room, but despite their best efforts, they were being overrun by the swarms of infection pods.
"This place is filled with the parasite, not even Heretics deserve this!" One of the Covenant Elites whispered.
The Arbiter found himself agreeing with the sentiment, and briefly considered joining the fight. But decided against it.
After a hellish battle, the combatants had annihilated one another, which left the Covenant free to jump down and secure the room, finishing off what was left of the flood forms before they could infect the bodies all over again.
As R'tas and his troops secured the Lab, securing ammo and destroying as many of the flood bodies as possible, one of the Spec Ops Elites was use trying to slice the door that served as the exit, which would lead to their intended rendezvous point.
The Arbiter and two Elites were patrolling the perimeter, when they heard the muffled sounds of battle nearby. They prepared themselves as the sounds started to get older and louder.
That's when a door opened up above, and several Heretic troops rushed through.
"Heretics! Above!" Arbiter called out, before he and the other two elites cut loose with plasma fire. But the Heretics barely seemed to acknowledge them. They weren't trying to take the room back. They were running.
From what?
As the last Heretic dropped dead, it became clear immediately what it was.
It was huge. More than twice as tall as the Arbiter was. It was a large bulbous body that sat on long legs that looked like skinny tree trunks. It had two large tentacle arms, both tipped with what looked like sharpened clubs.
The creature had little tentacles protruding from a large socket at the center of its 'face'.
"By the Rings! What is this? Some abomination from the ancient texts?!" One of the Elites exclaimed, as Commander Vadum came over with the rest of the remaining troops.
"It must be the creature we saw earlier," the Arbiter said, remembering the giant shadow that tore through ranks of Heretic troops earlier when they first entered the labs.
The socket blinked at them, and it let out a loud roar as it rushed towards them, flailing its whip-like arms at the Elites.
"It comes!" R'tas shouted. "Prepare yourselves, brothers!"
The Arbiter and the rest of the Covenant troops opened fire with everything they had. Even the last of the grunts, who manned the portable plasma turrets, unleashed a storm of blue plasma blasts into the creature.
But it just shrugged off everything they threw at it, and dished it back out in return. It whipped its tentacle arms around, flailing at the Covenant troops. They were battered away, or slashed across their bodies, cutting through their armor like, and cutting elites down where they stood.
One Elite that tried to rush in with his sword was impaled and then flung across the room, purple blood smearing against the metal floor. The creature charged at the grunt gunners that were still desperately trying to fill it with plasma until it dropped, but it's hide was tough and it continued to charge at them. It slashed its tentacles through the file of grunts, destroying their turrets and pulverizing the small creatures, panting the deck with luminous blue blood and releasing gases from their ruptured tanks.
"It shrugs off our every assault!" The Arbiter shouted as he continued firing into it with his Carbine. "It must have a weak spot!"
That's when the creature turned towards the remains of the Strike team, and R'tas fired a plasma bolt into the socket in which the cluster of tentacles sprouted from. The creature stumbled, and shook its head, before it growled and tried to charge again.
"The eye, Arbiter!" R'tas yelled. "Aim for its eye!"
As one, the four remaining elites poured everything they had into the aforementioned eye socket and burned the tentacles off with the sheer amount of firepower. It eventually stumbled, flailing and roaring in frustration, before it started trying to feel its way around the lab, tripping and stumbling.
The Arbiter took note of this new behavior by the abomination
It must have been how it could see. The tentacles must have acted as sensory nodes. Now it was blind.
"Finish it!" R'tas called out.
The Arbiter and the other elites tossed plasma grenades at the creature, which detonated and blew chunks out of the alien's body. It fell to the ground, but it still twitched and jolted on the ground.
Not finished yet, the Elites activated their energy swords, let out a battle cry, and rushed the wounded creature, cutting and hacking and impaling whatever looked important until the creature finally stopped moving.
Covered in dark green ooze and panting heavily, The Arbiter, Vadumee, and the two remaining elites - all that remained of a entire lance of Covenant troops they started off with - began to make their way to the lab's exit.
They found the remains of the elite who had been trying to open the door.
He had succeeded, giving his life to ensure any of his brothers could escape.
"May you and the others begin the journey, brother." R'tas said, saluting his fallen warrior.
Arbiter bowed his head in respect. "May the Great Journey await you, and take you to the places our ancestors dream and sang of, and the Prophets speak of," he said.
The small pause to mourn the fallen was cut short by a roar in the distance, as more flood forms started to pour into the room. The last of the strike team went through the door, and shut it behind them, locking it to slow the flood down.
The Strike team made their way through the maze-like interior of the facility and eventually made their way to the landing zone, which was a large bridge that spanned outside, connecting one section of the station to the other.
It was absolutely swarmed with flood forms. The few Heretic troops that were in the area tried to slow down the parasite, bu they were hopelessly outmatched. Grunts fled and Elites were swarmed over as they tried to stand their ground.
The Arbiter observed one Heretic elite that was being consumed by a swarm of pod infectors threw himself over the side of the bridge, allowing the planet's core to have him rather than the infection.
A flight of Heretic banshees flew by, strafing the bridge, and destroying multiple flood forms. But that didn't seem to slow the flood down, who were now armed with much heavier weapons, taking some of the banshees down.
Commander Vadumee was reconnecting to the Covenant battle-net, which was in utter chaos. They had lost contact with several squads that were in other parts of the station. But he eventually got through to the phantoms that were still above them.
"Commander, the flood have spread throughout the station, and the storm is about to hit. We cannot maintain our position." The lead pilot called out over the comm.
"Bring the phantoms closer to the mine and drop our reinforcements." Vadumee said calmly. "We're not leaving until the leader of these Heretics is dead."
The three phantoms cut through the clouds and drifted over the bridge, strafing it with plasma fire. Flood forms returned fire with their weapons, which included fuel rod cannons.
Eventually, the area was clear.
As more reinforcements poured out of the phantoms, the heretics chose this exact moment to launch their counterattack. They emerged from platforms and out of hatches to fire upon the Covenant troops and the phantoms that unloaded them. Grunts with fuel rod cannons and plasma turrets on both sides exchanged fire. Elite snipers picked off Sentinels that were deploying from above, and Elite swordsmen clashed with one another at close range. There was even an attempt by several Heretic grunts to launch suicide charges against the Covenant LZ, but they were gunned down before they could get too close to the LZ.
The Heretics began their retreat.
The Arbiter followed them with half of the strike force, while Commander Vadumee waited for the rest of the reinforcements to deploy.
He led the strike force over winding ramps and twisting corridors, moving from room to room, slaughtering every heretic they could find. There had been no sign of the one enemy they wanted most, but it was early yet, and he could be around the next corner.
They kept up this pattern until they found themselves in the heart of the station, where a full scale battle between the Flood and the Heretics was underway. The Heretics were on the back-foot, until a flight of sentinels used their energy beams to cut down and burn the flood bodies.
But there were always more bodies where that came from, as more and more pod infectors entered the room.
As the Covenant tried to push through the chaos, cutting down both sides, one heretic elite was trying to escape the battle.
"Heretic boss! You see, you see?" One of the grunts called out.
The Arbiter, who was in the middle of a sword fight with heretic elite, side-stepped the warrior, twisted his sword arm, got behind him, and drove his sword into the back of his opponent's neck. Then he started bolting towards the Heretic leader, plasma pistol in his non-sword hand, firing globs of green plasma down range.
Some bolts splashed off the Heretic's shields, and the rest were simply absorbed by an energy shield that just appeared between the Arbiter and the Heretic. The Arbiter looked passed the Heretic for a moment, spotting a large hanger and what appeared to be a Seraph fighter docked inside.
The Arbiter skidded to a halt just before the shield, while the Heretic looked over his shoulder at his would-be assassin.
Sesa 'Refumee stared at him for a second. "This will save me from the storm, but you will be consumed."
Then a door closed behind the shield, and the Arbiter angrily pounded his fist on it, causing energy to ripple outward from the impact.
Commander Vadumee and the rest of the strike force arrived, just as the others were mopping up the rest of the room.
"Arbiter, where is he?" R'tas asked as he walked up with two other Elites flanking him.
The Arbiter growled as he gestured over his shoulder.
R'tas looked at the shield door. "Stinking Flood-bait boxed himself in tight. We'll never break through this!"
Seconds later, the floor shuddered loudly beneath them. And they could hear a loud creak resonating through the station.
"By the prophets. What was that?!" R'tas asked aloud.
High above, in the station's uppermost levels, Kola 'Baothee of Sesa 'Refumee's faction, made his way up top. As he did, more of his brothers and the parasite forces began to do battle on the different platforms and balconies above. But the 'Bandolee continued to slip by.
Ashamed by the ignominy of it, but consistent with his orders, the Elite waited until there was a clear path for him to slip through. Grunts and members of his own race had charged out to meet the parasite, and for the most part, they held their ground, at least when sentinels were nearby for support.
Though armed with a Carbine, a pistol, and a sword, plus a half-dozen grenades, he continued to observe rather than fight, which meant that the Heretic sub-commander would rely on both his energy shielding and active camouflage to keep him alive. His role was to perform the ultimate sacrifice. He would die, so that the cause would survive. The concept, as outlined to him by his superior, was to carry out the ultimate act of dedication to their fight for freedom.
The Prophets had sent their attack dogs for one heretic at the end of the day. So he would make sure they didn't get him.
When 'Baothee reached the elevator, he heard the rhythmic growls and shuffling footsteps of the parasite behind him. He stepped inside the elevator and hit the button before they could board the lift. He had considered staying behind to put his former brothers out of their misery, thought better of it, and slipped onto the elevator
When he reached the top, Kola was greeted with yet another battle between flood and heretics. But they were not his immediate concern. None of them noticed the point where the metal appeared to be slightly distorted. He slipped away and found the large pillars that acted as tethers for the station. He pulled out his sword and activated the blade.
"Where are your false prophets now, Covenant?!" He asked under his breath as he swung his blade through the cable.
"Commander," one of the Phantom pilots called in. "The station is beginning to list. We can't explain why."
"They're trying to scuttle the station." Arbiter said behind him.
"How?" R'tas asked, turning around to see the Arbiter studying a holographic display of the facility.
Then the Arbiter pointed to the image before them. "The cable that holds this station aloft. They're trying to cut it. We need to get everyone back to the ships."
Vadumee's eyes widened. But then he nodded. The Commander looked around at his men. "Warriors, return to the landing zone! We'll have to find another way to scare the Heretic from his hole!"
The Covenant troops just stared at him. But eventually they relented and began to withdraw. Of course the grunts didn't need to be told twice. But some of the Elites lingered, before they relented as well.
But before they could begin to retrace their steps, the station continued to shudder due to the efforts of the treacherous heretics.
Then they heard a loud, sickening creak resonating throughout the station's arms.
"By the Prophets!" Vadum exclaimed.
The creaks started to get louder and louder before there was a sudden and violent CRACK!
There was a sudden loss of gravity, and the strike team were lifted off the ground, before they suddenly slammed into the deck. All of the Covenant warriors groaned in pain, whereas the grunts whimpered and whined.
"Leader. The station is in free fall!" The pilot said over the comm.
Arbiter looked at the hologram again, and its top had sheered off, before the hologram cut out completely.
Whatever the cable did to keep the station aloft must have also supplied power to the rest of the facility, including he lights, as red emergency lights flooded the room. The station was soon going to plunge into the planet's core, taking all aboard with it, parasite and Heretic alike. They all looked around, and the Arbiter spotted the shield that the Heretic had fled through. It had deactivated, and the door was unlocked.
"Commander, the barrier has lifted. Or way is clear." One of the Elites called out.
Vadumee and the Arbiter looked at each other, nodded, and prepared their weapons.
"Warriors, advance. If we die, the Heretic leader goes with us."
Then they all rushed the door, taking an oval-shaped elevator down to the lower levels of the doomed station.
As they fought their way through Heretics on their way to the nearby hanger, R'tas got on the comm and called in the Phantoms.
"Pilot, are you still on station?"
"Yes, Commander, the storm is difficult, but we're keeping pace as best we can."
Without another word, the Covenant strike team continued on, killing any Heretic that got in their way to the hanger that was in the schematics they had downloaded. But as they pushed further, the flood began to gain more access to the station, assimilating the heretics they had just killed.
That was when they came across the hanger door. It was locked.
"Destroy it," Vadum ordered.
A grunt placed an explosive on the door, primed it, and ran for cover with the others. The door disappeared in a brilliant white explosion, and the Covenant troops rushed through the doors and a great battle erupted.
Elites thought at close range, and grunts were blasted off their feet. But amidst the chaos, one Elite was entering a Seraph fighter, and taking off.
When the hanger door opened, the heretic leader jumped into a single Seraph fighter that was sitting inside. He dove into the cockpit, with two other heretic elites and took the controls, taking off through the large open doors and into the violent storm, preparing to leave the stricken station behind.
Arbiter fired his carbine into the large attack craft, landing several hits in a futile attempt to bring the craft down. Radioactive projectiles bounced off of the ship's heavy shields. But instead of flying away, the Seraph turned to face the Arbiter.
His eyes flared open in realization, and dove behind a large metal column just in time to dodge a storm of plasma rounds that struck where he last stood. Eventually, the craft seemed to lose interest, and it flew off towards the atmosphere.
The Arbiter let out a an angry roar as the ship escaped.
Then he heard a loud screeching sound behind him, and the Covenant forces in the hanger turned to face this new threat. More pod infectors flooded into the room, assimilating the dead heretics, and the combat forms rushed forward.
The Covenant strike team backed up to the edge of the open door, as the wind rushed through it, sheering off bits of debris. The Elites switched to their energy swords and maintained a perimeter, while the grunts tossed plasma grenades at the parasite.
Many forms were cut down, but many more came to take their place.
But just as all hope seemed lost, three phantoms zoomed out of nowhere and unleashed all of their firepower into the hanger, cutting down combat forms and sending pod infectors scattering.
One phantom hovered over the Strike team and engaged its gravity lift, which pulled the troops out one at a time, with the Arbiter leaving last.
"Let's go!" R'tas shouted.
Without a word, the pilots complied, and they tore up towards the storm, leaving the station and all aboard to make its final plunge.
The storm was tearing the whole structure apart. The platforms and structures that held the station together were coming apart, and eventually whole sections were ripped off, before they were crushed by the pressure.
There were several heretic banshees in the air, most likely making foolish attempts to escape. But they were soon ripped apart by the wind or smashed with debris that was ripped off the station and flew up.
The Arbiter fell on all fours, panting heavily.
"He escaped." Arbiter said. "He was able to make it to a seraph fighter and escape."
"Damn!" R'tas cursed, pounding his fist on the ship's interior. "Track down that Seraph and follow it, even if we have to chase him through slip-space."
"We already have him, Commander. It appears he is making his way towards the planet's moon."
"Then so are we." Arbiter said, as he prepared his weapons for the next encounter.
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