• Chapter 2: It Will Be Blood •

"As per your request to hear of any irregularities in the education of your son, Baval, herein is my report of what happened during the Rite of First Blood. This report is not due to anything going wrong, but rather due to an... oddity that I had made note of in the course of things.

As you well know, the Rite of First Blood is an important step in the education of our young ones. The students are gathered into groups of five and told that they will be getting to make their first kill in service to the Clan. A typical reaction is excitement or trepidation, and Baval was excited. They are then brought out on a hunt for small game in a controlled area, usually younger virath or stray quillicks that the local farmers or Huntmasters are paid to corral. This is typically where many students begin to have doubts, but none are permitted to leave until each has slain one animal.

A wide array of reactions to this exercise are common and expected. Many children are sickened or disturbed by this experience, some acquire a fear of death, some are unfazed and carry on without incident, and some gain an unhealthy pleasure from it. The education of each student is then modified to address whatever their stumbling-block happens to be. As with all Clans since time immemorial, every adult must be willing to take life in defense of their home and family, and while they must not hesitate, neither should they enjoy killing for killing's sake. A warrior may enjoy combat, but a warrior who loses sight of the reason for it is a danger to himself and to the Clan. The Rite of First Blood aids in this.

Baval succeeded in the task. Followed the order without question, and dispatched his target with little hesitation. No immediate reaction could be discerned but, rather unusually for him, he was subdued and quiet for the rest of the exercise and the rest of the day. I only questioned him when he was slow to begin eating his evening-meal.

Baval became withdrawn and required further coaxing before he responded. He asked a series of questions. Why the animals had to die. Whether an alternative could have been sought. Where creatures go after death.

I answered honestly. That the animals were killed so that the students could learn to hunt and learn what it means to take life in service of the Clan. That the only alternative was for them to be unprepared for the day that they would have to fight in battle. That animal-souls are forever preserved in states of sleep, in the vaults of Paradise, awaiting the day they are once again needed by those who follow in the Gods' footsteps after completing the Great Journey.

I asked Baval if he understood all of this, and he said that he did. I left the matter there, but observed that he ate little and spoke little for the rest of the night and for most of the day, afterward, before returning to his normal behavior. Just some units ago, I asked if he was well and if he had thought more on the matter. He said that had. I asked if he would repeat the exercise if instructed to, and his exact words were: `yes. I will not enjoy it. But it is necessary`.

All of this is to say that you have a very thoughtful, introspective son, Lady Protector. Many of the other children have nothing to say of the exercise, or in the worst cases, had to be disciplined for inappropriate behavior. I suspect Baval will mature into a wise young man, indeed..."

— Educational Report of Scholarmistress of Korkosa, Hesha 'Korkos | Dated September 4th, 2499 UNSC Military Calendar / 1,974 Charity Revolutions after the War of Wills / 1,707 Sanghelios Years after the War of Beginnings...

The journey was relatively short.

The Kmiro'sich-pattern world-patroller, named "Ghostly Privateer", sailed up through Malurok's sky, leaving behind the vast plains and fields of Korkosa, leaving behind the green-orange panoply of colors that characterized Aggr'El, leaving behind the lime-on-jade continent of Au'Ra'Va, and eventually: leaving behind Malurok. If one looked down upon the planet as the Privateer reached the world's exosphere, they would see the numerous island-chains stretched into vague circles known as The Silent Rings, believed to be the result of several asteroid impacts in the distant past; they would see the vast stretches of rocky desert that dominated much of the world's equator, named the Keshal Badlands, whose surfaces featured only the occasional sprouting towers of Keeps and Clans whose infrastructure and cities were largely underground in vast caverns and hives. They would see the vast, dark oceans from which much of the world's people derived their food— the grand proliferation of edible kelp and sea-grasses staining the seas with a purple tinge visible only from high in the atmosphere.

Malurok was a beautiful world, indeed. Baval only avoided taking in the view because he knew he would imagine it set aflame or subjected to plasma-bombardment...
Instead, he focused on the view ahead through the forward viewport, and on the Privateer's destination.

As blue turned to black, as a stunning array of stars came into view, and as the Privateer left the confines of Malurok's mesosphere, the world-patroller began to tilt and twist. The viewport's display spun with color as their flight-path changed, from flying directly "upward" to meandering into a rough equivalent of an orbit. Baval made a cursory glance of the pilot's control-interface, and saw some indication of their new course. Time-until-arrival: two quadrals.

The time passed like nothing. Stars panned "above" him, and the surface of Malurok rolled "below". Distant spots of discoloration tickled his vision, the occasional object passed at prodigious speed— all stations and ships and satellites that were his people's property. One of which was their destination, and was now slowly coming into view.
Hovering at the point where Malurok's exosphere began was a small, pale speck that stayed perfectly still in the viewport's screen, but slowly began to grow. And as it filled the viewport, moment by moment, Baval felt a sense of... not quite calm, not quite relief, press upon him. He could only compare it to the feeling of learning that what one thought was an oncoming catastrophe would be merely a severe conundrum. A feeling that came with a problem being made no less important, but made... simpler.
He supposed it was only a natural reaction to the sight of the flagship of Malurok's Lance-Fleet.

The Benefaction of Providence loomed large, indeed; a Kerel-pattern Examiner, though one that differed from most. Precisely eighteen-thousand units in length, rather than the more standard seventeen-and-a-half-thousand. Its outer-hull had been designed to appear as smooth and featureless as a mirror, with all weapon-emplacements and hangar-bays hidden under collapsible and folding hull-extensions. This allowed the ship's surface to proudly display a series of cruiser-sized, flat embossments in the shape of symbols and Sangheili script of metallic gold, contrasting with the rest of the hull's original bone-white shading.
The Forerunner Glyphs for "prudence", "patience", and "serenity" were visible, front and center, on the Benefaction's hooked bow, as the Privateer approached it head-on— light from Greaw and Jomel shined on a set of Zanar-sized Sangheili words just beneath the bow's horizontal bisection, reading "Logistics Comes Before All Else". An old aphorism from Sanghelios's ancient myths. Such decoration was considered a gaudy affectation in the Covenant Empire, one that certainly would have come with at least some resistance from the shipwrights contracted to design it.

The Benefaction had been custom-built to the specifications of one Imperial Admiral Dragol Jar 'Volai exactly one-hundred-forty-two Charity Revolutions ago. Jar 'Volai had been instrumental in revealing and quelling a conspiracy against the High Council by a collection of Ministries, in what was later-known as the "Fallow-Heart Heresy" and the subsequent "Cleric's War". As part of Jar 'Volai's following fame and reverence, and due to him having been near the end of his life regardless, he had spent much of his wealth in ship-building and naval innovation. The Benefaction of Providence had been fully funded and freed from a term of service in the Covenant's fleets— slated purely for the use of any High Kaidon of Malurok, forevermore, as a gift from the Admiral to his beloved home-world.

The assault-carrier's design had been optimized for maximizing troop and ordinance capacity. The Benefaction could carry sixty-thousand warriors and a crew of four-hundred. For as long as it remained guarding Malurok, however, it could function adequately with two-hundred crew, and for the purposes of the mission at-hand, ten-thousand warriors were aboard. Were it necessary or feasible, the Benefaction could sport four Tier-Four Excavator platforms, three-hundred heavy-vehicles, a thousand light-vehicles, a hundred warrior-transports and ship-breachers, and a thousand strikecraft. It had no such Excavators any longer, of course, but it had most of the rest of its maximum complement of hardware.
Part of what allowed this carrying capacity was its larger size and the scaling back of its weapon-systems, having roughly half the number of point-defense weaponry of other Kerel-pattern ships and sacrificing any heavy plasma beam-emitters for a handful more torpedo silos. This, however, allowed each weapon to have marginally greater power-output than average, and was deemed a worthy trade-off.

Or at least, that was all that Baval's artisan-engineers could tell him about the vessel. He couldn't pretend to be overly familiar with all of it.

As the Ghostly Privateer neared the ship's bow and veered to bypass it, the Benefaction's forward launch-bay came into view. Where such an Examiner would typically bear an open, gaping yawn, the Benefaction presented closed mandibles. The twin "tusks" on either side of the launch-bay on most Kerel-pattern vessels, long considered iconic due to their resemblance to the forward-facing horns of a Sanghelios bull resh, were usually the site of auxiliary generators used to project an additional shield over the launch-bay when not in use. Imperial Admiral 'Volai had diverged from this doctrine, and instead designed said tusks to be able to hinge inward and meet in the middle, sealing tight. Marginally less protection in exchange for less power-draw from the ship's reactors.

The Privateer swerved to one side, around the forward launch-bay and to one side of the carrier. The anterior-port launch-bay soon came into view, bisected down the middle in two, gigantic openings— each large enough to permit a pair of Deutoros-pattern Excavators to just about walk through it side-by-side, with another pair of Excavators sat atop them. A shimmering, teal energy-barrier concealed the inside of the ship from view and the Pilot directed the world-patroller to fly toward it. As the Privateer neared the curtain of blue, Baval closed his eyes and drew a deep breath... though couldn't say why...

His eyes opened, and the sight of the Benefaction's immense hangar did much to distract him from his anxieties.

Stretching twelve-hundred units into the distance, he could spot the other side's anterior-starboard launch-bay. To the left were several titanic, shallow ramps across the width of the hangar that led upwards and out to the forward launch-bay's berth-spines, where its strikecraft and were stored for easy use; to the right lay a vast stretch of open space that the Lich's viewport did not allow him to see more than a sliver of, though he could spot a portion of the large gravity-lift that the carrier boasted. Taking up much of the empty space were inert vehicles of all sorts, lined up in organized rows by their type and purpose— more world-patrollers, swift-tanks, mortar-tanks, skyhunters, scout-bikes, light-transports, ground patrollers, some light excavators. Baval knew that they had a Battlesuit or three stored somewhere on this ship, if he recalled correctly...

A muted whine shuddered through the Privateer, and a tug of momentum pulled at him. The pilot had placed the vessel in a stationary hover, and the tell-tale hum of the gravity-lift sounded.

Baval's upper-mandibles ratcheted outward as his eyes glazed over. All the events that had led him to this moment played out in his mind. The choices made and all the things that went into them. He asked himself if everything he'd done thus far was reasonable, rational, respectable... and he shook himself back to wakefulness. He already knew the answer.

I do not know. But I must act with all the certainty of one who does, he thought.

"My thanks", he intoned to the pilot, turning around and making to disembark...

Koroda Keme Joko stepped up beside him and flexed an arm upwards, particle-rifle still held straight upwards in the other. Baval, knowing it to be a request to speak, answered "yes, Koroda?"

A mild, rumbling monotone issued forth from the Khantolekgolo, the worms that comprised his exposed "torso" visibly shuddering in rhythmic waves in order to generate speech. Baval, as always, had to remind himself to focus his gaze on the four camera-lenses fixed into Koroda's cephalic cowling, although he couldn't be certain that it was truly necessary.

"In case of combat: my presence, necessary?" Koroda asked. As was typical, it took Baval an extra heartbeat or so to decipher the intonation.

"Assuming that there is a fight to be had, my friend, I would guess not. We have no exo-harness designed to fit you", he said.

"Need for oxygen: minimal", Koroda protested.

Baval huffed a laugh. "I'm aware that your kind can survive extended periods without air, or in a vacuum, but the amount of bromine on To'val would be deadly to you, regardless. I'd rather you not die to a corrosive liquid simply because you were under-dressed".

There was a pause, as Koroda's faux-digitigrade feet shifted, idly.

"To'val dress-code... irksome", he said. This drew an exhale of humor from Baval's nose. He could never be certain if the worm-man's bouts of dry humor were intentional, but he appreciated it, nevertheless.

"I'll be sure to have a word with the mining guilds about that", Baval said, beginning to walk away. Making his way down the ramp to the lower deck, he found most of the rest of the world-patroller's passengers filing one-by-one into the gravity-lift. The Keepwards were going first, so as to prepare to meet any hostiles ahead of his exit— hardly necessary, but a matter of protocol and pride. He took his place at the back of the procession, with Koroda following suit, as it filed out in short order.

As the last Sangheili in front of him stepped into the aperture and disappeared from sight, Baval paused, taking the moment to let his guard drop where none of his people could see him. He surmised that he may as well get ahead of himself and expel the frantic energies from himself now, rather than later...
He sighed and growled, vigorously shaking his head and neck, stomping each of his hooves, and thumping a fist to his harness several times. He muttered to himself a handful of idle mantras. "Take the helm... control the reins... take the helm... follow your instincts... do as you can... do as you should... obsessive thought is the bane of good sense... take the helm... you have succeeded before, and you will do it again".

Drawing in a deep breath, Baval twisted himself side-to-side, drawing muted pops from his spine... and then stepped nearer to the gravity-lift's open, violet maw.

"Koroda..." Baval, said, looking at the worm-man over one shoulder.

"Here", Koroda said.

"You know that I cannot afford to be questioned or doubted in front of my men while I am in command", he said, "do you remember the signal I told you to use? If ever you believe I am making the wrong decision?". There hadn't been a need for that plan in over two years...

There was a pause, as Koroda's "shoulders" hiked upwards, the servos in the armor-frame's joints whirring. A mannerism that Baval had learned to be the rough equivalent of a thoughtful hum or squint.

"Innocuously: drop weapon onto floor. Or. Touch hand to nearby wall, twice", Koroda recited, easily.

Baval nodded, thinking for a moment. "Just to ensure I will notice you, you should try to stay in my field-of-view whenever I have my arms crossed. Is that feasible?"

"Parameters. Acknowledged", Koroda said. "Failure. Unlikely".

Baval's mandibles clasped together in a genuine smile at the vote of confidence.

"What was it that Thel said, last night? `I truly could not do without you`", he said, mostly to himself, bemusedly.

"Assessment. Accurate", said Koroda.

Baval chuckled. Two jokes in one day was a rarity for the gestalt.

"Thank you, Koroda. Let us make a good day of this", he said, stepping off the ledge and into the pull of the lift.

Baval Med 'Korkos dropped to the hangar-bay floor with a metallic "clang" of greaved hoofs meeting alloy. He saw his eighteen Keepwards standing guard in two rows, before him; he saw the twenty Wardens that had been aboard the world-patroller knelt in waiting for him to disembark... and Baval stepped from the gravity-lift's violet pillar of light a different man. Gone were the fears and doubts. For now, at least...

He had a job to do.

He strode forth as Koroda floated down from the world-patroller. He stood tall, waving a hand with pointing digits to the Wardens kneeling in wait, the signal for them to be at ease and go about their duties. As the Wardens did so, standing in unison and beginning to file away, Baval waved his other hand in a vague circle and clenched it into a fist. As-expected, the Keepwards immediately fell into formation behind him and Koroda. As Baval did all this, he found his inner-monologue remaining pleasantly in-control. He took care to adopt a relaxed, deliberate gait, and additionally took care not to look around for the envoy (that would have undoubtedly been sent to meet him) with too much urgency.

It was an idea culturally known as a "Predator's Stride", based on the notion that the highest predator of an ecosystem never moves quickly or hurriedly if it does not need to, and that to carry the impression of a leader: one should walk as though the earth itself feared them, and as though they had nothing to fear from it.
Baval did not know how much truth there was to that, and did not especially care to find out— he merely did it because it cost him nothing not to. And because he did not need any potential challenges that may arise from the small chance that failing to uphold it may bring about some sort of misfortune...

Luckily, said envoy arrived in short order.

Baval spotted a Sangheili some two-hundred units away— another Warden, but in addition to a black-and-gold assault-harness, also wore a gold cape over one shoulder to indicate an ordained command-position. The Warden held his helmet against his uncloaked side, bearing to the world an angular, gray-scale face and jutting mandibles that extended almost a finger-length past his nose. He caught Baval's eye and raised his cloaked arm in hail, striding forward to meet him.

"Recognize him, Koroda?", Baval asked, unsure if he knew this man.

No reply came, which Baval knew to mean a negative.

As the Warden came within a few dozen units, he dropped to one knee, fist held to chest.

"Greetings, High Kaidon", he said, head bowing low in an unnecessary act of deference, voice a stone-cold monotone that did not match his face very well, at all. "I am Warden Pesh 'Acroskor. I am the Benefaction's Second. Your presence aboard this ship is an honor".

"An honor for me, as well", Baval responded, waving to Pesh that he could stand. Already adopting his standard approach to command, Baval's mind fell into a cold state of muted thunder behind walls of steel— his thoughts largely relegated to background calculations and forethought, while his focus remained on maintaining an outward air of control and dignity. What to say, when to say it, how to say it, and how to get as he wanted and needed all the while— all built on observations and experiences of the last thirty years.
"I trust the Ship-Marshall sent you down to avail me of new developments?".

Pesh 'Acroskor stood and nodded. "Yes, High Kaidon. Although there are none to speak of, as of yet. No change has been obvious, no sightings of import. The mining-guilds and labor-forces on To'val have reported nothing, and there is still no word from the silent five". The "silent five" being the five mining-installations that ceased all communications in the last six days.

Baval nodded, nonplussed, "unsurprising. Very well, then. I will speak with the Ship-Marshall and take command, shortly. You may go about your business".

Pesh put fist to chest again, "by your will, High Kaidon". He made to begin walking away, but paused, gaze elevating as he appearing confused. Baval looked over his shoulder and, seeing a second world-patroller craft entering through the teal energy-barrier while the one that had brought him here exited, bit down on the urge to kick himself. How could he have forgotten?

He decided to play it off as best he could...

He turned on his heel and gestured toward the arriving craft. "Ah. It seems that my protégé has arrived". He silently bristled beneath his armor as the Keepwards looked to one another in confusion, proceeding to hurriedly move out of the way and form ranks to either side of him. The more anxious parts of him felt as though he were skating the edge between eccentricity and oddness, already...

The newly-arrived world-patroller halted some dozens of units away and its gravity-lift activated. Soon, a large figure dropped from the lift-hatch and floated downwards, seeming to kick its legs a bit as it neared the ground before clumsily stumbling out of the gravity-field's energy. Veb'ch, the Hiveseeker whom Baval had agreed to take under his instruction.

Though difficult to spot from in front of the craft, Baval saw the bay-doors on the world-patroller's port-side shutter open, and as Veb'ch approached, ten Yanme'e of smaller stature leapt from them and took to the wing, maneuvering under the craft and swiftly joining Veb'ch on the ground. More gold-carapace Hivewards wielding their customary pole-arms, more than likely Veb'ch's personal guard. They followed their Hiveseeker in a small mob, apparently attempting to imitate his march. Baval noted with a squint of curiosity that a few of them bumped into each other along the way, or got the heads of their armor-banes tangled with one another's. It occurred to him that a drastic change in circumstance tended to confuse Yanme'e coordination with one another.

"Your protégé is a Yanme'e prince, High Kaidon?", Pesh asked, clearly quite confused if the feeling had crept into his monotone.

"Yes. An agreement with one of the Concert of Twelve. He is to be my shadow for the foreseeable future", Baval said, making certain not to allow any uncertainty in his explanation, and keeping his gaze locked ahead.

"That is... new".

"Highly irregular, yes", Baval admitted, hoping that adding an element of humor would dash any hints of displeasure at the development, "but it should cost little and may yield some long-term benefits. And while he is aboard, he can coordinate our Yanme'e auxiliaries better than we can".

"I see", said the ship's Second, regaining his typical lack of intonation. "I shall go to inform the Ship-Marshall of your arrival, then".

Baval nodded his assent, stepping forward as Pesh promptly marched away. By then, Veb'ch and his Hivewards amassed in a loose formation before him, and Baval noted that each of the gold-shells bore Plasma Pistols in what looked to be specialized leather holsters on their left-femurs; he also noted that a signal unit was strapped to Veb'ch's upper-arm, possibly the same one used by his mother. Veb'ch also had a plasma-rifle in his own holster...

Baval stood before Veb'ch as the Hiveseeker's antennae (a good deal longer and meatier than on his guards) visibly twitched before orienting directly forward, toward him. The Yanme'e prince's head-segment twisted to one side, compound eyes catching the glint of a light from far above, maxillae swiveling in their sockets...
And Baval realized that that he had no idea what to say. Mild panic seized him for the three or so heartbeats that passed between them, as he could hear the quiet shifting of armor to either side— no doubt his Keepwards looking to one another in confusion. He forced himself to speak.

"Are you well, Veb'ch?", his mandibles and syrinx forced out faster than his mind could halt them, tone coming across as mildly confused. He promptly suppressed a pained wince at his own choice of words.

By the blood, I am utterly hopeless...

The Yanme'e prince emitted a small series of clicking noises.

Another heartbeat passed. The sound of distant shouting — a commander demanding a report about maintenance — reached his ears and, however irrationally, made him feel as though it added to the awkwardness he'd inadvertently cultivated...

And then Veb'ch reached up with an arm and touched a few buttons on the signal unit he wore. Baval blinked as the Yanme'e made the same series of clicking noises, and then touched the same series of buttons, again. He put his hands on his hips, now somewhat curious, as Veb'ch proceeded to spend at least a full cental fiddling with the device, more and more hurriedly, as the signal unit was evidently misbehaving. He noticed that a few of the Hivewards' elytra ratcheted upward in quick spasms, a piece of Yanme'e body-language he happened to remember indicated agitation or stress.

Finally, the device made a three-tone chime, a blue light on its surface turning green, and Veb'ch's head-segment realigned to face him once more. The prince spoke...

And the device repeated his words in generic, male Sangheili.

"Yes. I am well-sanguine-alighted", the device churned out.

Baval blinked again. And let out a breath through his nostrils.

Well... at least I won't be alone in making a meal of this...

"Good. Come along, then. We have work to do, and priorities to set for your apprenticeship", he said turning around. He deftly weaved around Koroda, who had been standing a bit too close behind, and proceeded to walk deeper into the Benefaction's hangar-bay, toward the immense gravity-lift at the center of the chamber.

He looked over his shoulder as he went, finding Veb'ch trotting ahead to catch up to him as the Keepwards and Hivewards proceeded to attempt to follow while maintaining a buffer of space between one another— the former in a double-file column, and the latter in a loose blob. Koroda, meanwhile, seemed to take a few moments to observe his surroundings before following, which Baval knew to be his typical habit in an unfamiliar place.
Veb'ch walked up to Baval's side and swayed his head side-to-side, seemingly taking in the environment, as it was likely the Hiveseeker's first time off-world. Baval mentally ran through a short checklist of what he might need to know, going forward. He observed the Yanme'e out of the corner of his eye as he led the procession on a path between groups of vehicles that would require no funneling.

"I have some questions", Baval said, "not the least of which being: what exactly does Queen Kith'ikama expect me to be able to teach you that she cannot teach, herself?".

A sequence of clicks and keens came after a moment, soon translating into, "I am not completely certain. She may simply expect-foretell that I will learn more of your people. I have not had large-vast experience with your hive-kind-race before this sun".

"Hm", Baval grunted. "Not especially helpful of her. What things do you have experience in, at present?". He hoped that wasn't too broad a question.

The Yanme'e prince emitted a brief whistle. "Language. Games. Organizing-collating resources. Mathematics. Strategy-Map-Control. Tactics. I can fight. I can shoot. Mother directed-coordinated me in a mock-battle with another Queen's children. I led my sibling-protectors".

"Did you win?", Baval asked.

There was a pause as Veb'ch's elytra flapped upward.

"No. Mother told me I did well in the fighting. I bested-elevated over the other Hiveseeker, and my choice-shapes allowed my siblings to eliminate two of the enemy for each of our lost-faded. But the enemy took the objective-goal quickly", Veb'ch explained.

Baval's eyes narrowed in thought. "What did you learn from it?".

There was another pause. Baval turned his head to the Hiveseeker, finding his antennae unusually still on his head.

"Mother said... that I allowed myself to be distracted-strayed by the enemy. A battle is almost never an objective-goal in itself, but merely a distraction from the true objective-goal", his translator ground out slower than usual, "otherwise-at-the-root... I cannot claim to have learned anything from it".

"I see", Baval said, turning over the information in his mind as he wondered if that experience was a sore one for the bug-man. Good fighter, good tactician, but lacking command-experience?
He started mentally-spitballing ways to address that short-coming, even as he continued to speak...

"I know little of any domestic skills that would be useful to your kind, but... given that you are part of Ikama Hive, I assume you have some experience in ship-building and architecture?", he asked.

"Yes. Helped build many things. Learned much of ship-maintenance", the Hiveseeker said. "Also command-coordinated in repairing Clan Iavor's collapsed theater-hall, in region Dorsu".

Baval nodded with a surprised hum, "I had heard about that. Some sort of power-system malfunction. Apparently repaired in less than a fortnight".

"Yes", Veb'ch affirmed. "I... am joyed-comforted in building. All proceeds as planned-predicted. If something is wrong-mutated, you see it, you know it, and you can fix it".

Sounds like Reff, Baval thought, remembering one of the very few times that the man had spoken at-length about anything. Mostly about the applications of ceramics in armor.

"Can you pilot or drive? Such as one of the vehicles in this hangar, I mean?", Baval asked.

"I... cannot pilot anything. I can drive a scout-bike, swift-tank, or light-transport", he replied, quickly.

They were nearing the edge of the gravity-lift, a large, circular platform with six shallow ramps on all sides leading to a flat top, a hundred units across in total diameter. Baval came to a halt and turned to face the Hiveseeker.

"Well. All considered, I think I only have one more question for you", he said. "What do you want to learn, in my service?".

Veb'ch seemed to stare at him, antennae going still once more. Baval waited patiently, absentmindedly nodding to Koroda as he caught up to them, and to the Keepwards as they halted in formation not far behind. The Hivewards arrived some heartbeats later, some Yanme'e vocalizations catching his ear but meaning nothing to him.
The Hiveseeker turned his head toward the group to his left and seemed to linger when regarding the Hivewards that were his body-guards for the foreseeable future. Veb'ch's hands briefly rubbed together, as though cold, which Baval knew to be a fidgeting habit common to younger members of the Yanme'e race. Then the Hiveseeker directed his attention back to Baval.

"Learning-acquiring more of how to command... and... long-sight would be the most useful", his translator said.

Believing he already knew the gist of what it meant, Baval still asked, "what is `long-sight`, pray tell?".

Veb'ch's hands rubbed together again, legs shifting stance, "to see more than what is before you. To predict where the zephyrs will blow and when. To see... potential?". The translator seemed to exaggerate a questioning tone at the end of the sentence.

Baval nodded, hands on his hips as he thought to himself.

"Well, I must confess, Veb'ch... I am not much of a teacher. But, hopefully, I can teach by example. The quickest path to learning from me would be for you to stay close by, to watch, and to listen. I do not know how much direct experience you will get from my tutelage... but I can guarantee that you will at least gain something from it", he said, at length.

He then looked to the Keepwards and Hivewards, a slight issue coming to mind.

"In which case, having a security-detail of this size everywhere we walk will become... unwieldy", he said. He raised a hand upwards, palm outstretched as he turned to face the Keepwards.

"Most of you can go to secure my quarters for a prolonged stay, should it be necessary. It should be the Shipmaster's suite nearest to the bridge, top-floor, labeled zero-zero-one-one", he commanded, "while you wait there, you can decide on guard-shifts. Three of you can remain with me as I conduct my business. As always, Koroda will be as though he were part of the family, and for as long as we are here: Veb'ch shall be considered an esteemed diplomat to Clan Korkos. Guard them with your life as you would mine".

The Keepwards, in unison, tapped the butts of their energy-lances on the floor and put fist to chest. "It will be done!", they declared, promptly beginning to quietly discuss amongst themselves who should stay or go...

Baval then observed as Veb'ch tapped a button on his signal unit and turned to his Hivewards, chattering a long series of clicks, whistles, and keens. The Hiveward all visibly stilled at their Hiveseeker's voice and, when he had ceased speaking, all of them raised their elytra in unison, wings buzzing to life and lifting them off of the ground. Five of them then flew off in one direction, heading toward the forward launch-bays, and the remaining three simply hovered fifteen-or-so units above the ground.

Veb'ch tapped the same button on his signal unit, which promptly relayed as he spoke, "five have gone to find the habitation-dome to bring word-scent of my presence. Three will remain, and keep out of the way".

True enough, Baval could just about spot the five departing Yanme'e fly up to a very distant hole in the hangar's ceiling and disappear into it. Baval realized it was one of dozens of passages specially-carved through the ship's superstructure for the use of the Yanme'e crew, with specialized paint lining every entrance that, to a Yanme'e's vision, appeared like a bright-neon signal. Like all other Syfon or Kerel-pattern ships in Malurok's fleets, at least one of the hunting and nature-preserve domes aboard the Benefaction were designated as the crew-space for any Yanme'e that may be aboard— generally sectioned off and left to the Yanme'e's care. The Benefaction had around six-hundred Yanme'e that lived and worked on it for most of the year, if Baval remembered correctly...

Seeing that the three that remained were dutifully hovering on stand-by, he nodded at the Hiveseeker. "Very good, then. We will make our way to the bridge. We've likely kept the Ship-Marshall waiting more than long enough", he said, turning and making his way up the gravity-lift's ramp. The flat platform at the top had seven, bright rings inlaid into it— a large one (ten units across) in the middle with six smaller ones arranged around it. Each was a translocation-pad and were the most efficient method of navigating through the ship. Other translocation-pads could be found at various focal-points on the Benefaction, and Baval had long been thankful not to have to walk half a dread merely to navigate his own ship.

Fifteen of the Keepwards promptly marched up to the large pad, a batch of five arranging themselves inside it before one of them opened a circular hatch in the center of the circle and pressed a few switches. The glowing ring in which they stood glowed brighter, creating a building hum, before a flash of light enveloped each Sangheili, who then disappeared.
As another five Keepwards began to do the same thing, Baval knelt and opened the operation-hatch of the nearest smaller pad. He briefly paused as he struggled to remember which switches to press to get as he wanted...
Eventually, figuring it out, he set the pad to open a portal to the bow, quickly stepping away from the circle after closing the hatch. A cascade of light and energy flowed from the ring in the floor, coalescing to a point just above and then fanning outward, forming a hovering hourglass-shape that hurt to look directly into for too long. Baval thought for a moment before stepping into it...

"Have you ever used a translocation-pad, Veb'ch?", he asked, turning at the hip to see him.

"I have not. Nor seen one".

"Then you're already learning something. I do not know if it works the same for Yanme'e, but try to exhale before stepping into the aperture. Otherwise, you may have a coughing fit on the other end", he advised, proceeding to do as he'd suggested.

Just before he was teleported away, he heard the Yanme'e's signal unit manage to eek out the phrase: "Yanme'e do not have diaphragms—" before it was cut off.

Translocation was always an odd experience. You step into the energy, you feel a pang of vertigo, perhaps a sting in your ears, and then you set foot on the other end. It was slightly different for everyone. Baval always experienced a stretching of his vision down to a point in front of him, a microsecond of darkness and silence... and then he was out, usually with a slight itch in his mandibles. Some felt nothing at all and stepped through it as though it were a curtain of falling water; others report migraines for many minutes after usage, and some rare cases made people unable to use it without vomiting their stomach-contents afterward and reported experiencing a long moment of breathless darkness and dizziness.

After the translocation, Baval moved forward a few paces before turning around, finding himself in a large junction of wide corridors going in four directions— a set of five translocation-pads in a circular chamber that joined the main arteries. This was the primary junction that supported traffic throughout the Benefaction's hooked bow, and while the hangar-bay had been the same combination of purples, blues, and grays as it had been during the reign of the Covenant, these halls bore jade-green wall-paneling, black floor-plates, gray ceilings, and light-fixtures that glowed a soft gold. A trio of Sangheili bearing the armor of Third-Order Commanders were waiting for him, and immediately knelt in supplication, even as he was preemptively indicating for them to be at ease...

A few heartbeats after he'd come out, Veb'ch came into existence in a flash of light... and immediately stumbled forward and fell. Baval, acting on instinct, caught the Hiveseeker's arm and hefted him up, surprised at how light the Yanme'e was, despite his size. A small part of him noted the oddity of how glossy and smooth the Yanme'e's carapace felt to the touch, and he gently shook Veb'ch's shoulder— or what amounted to a shoulder.

"Dizziness, is it?", he asked, half-dragging Veb'ch further away from the "t-pad".

A staccato keening followed by a wet grumble was translated to, "I cannot tell-find which way is up-skyward". The Hiveseeker shook his head-segment, antennae fluttering violently, finding his feet again and proceeding to rub his hands together a third time. Baval nodded, "a typical experience for the first time. You will adapt to it, quickly".

Already, more light flashed above the t-pad, Koroda stepping out of nowhere and nonchalantly trotting past Baval. In short order, the three Keep and Hivewards translated through, with the Yanme'e experiencing similar disorientation as Veb'ch, though it wasn't long before all were ready to move on.

Baval led the way to the bridge and command-center, located in the middle of the ship's "neck" like on all such Examiners. The three Commanders who had witnessed his arrival followed, giving him updates on various proceedings— the ship's fuel-reserves, current troop-numbers, the status of the other ships that were slated to accompany the Benefaction on its short trip to To'val, et cetera. All was business-as-usual, and generally as he'd expected coming into this affair.
On the short walk to the bridge, it briefly occurred to him that he was doing relatively well, thus far, and hadn't had too much cause for doubt, yet. He gratefully put aside that thought, knowing that focusing on it would bring about exactly the doubt he wished to avoid...

On reaching the Bridge, a pair of Wardens guarded the door and gave respectful salutes at Baval's appearance. The Third-Order Commanders bid farewell to their High Kaidon and went back the way they came. The group entered the bridge, and standing in an orderly formation to greet them were the bridge's highest crew, including Pesh 'Acroskor... and the Ship-Marshall, bearing a harness of the same kind as Baval's, only green with a gold stripe down the left side of the front and back-plates. He additionally bore a black cape over one shoulder to indicate a brevet command-position...
Ship-Marshall (and Blademaster) Taro 'Kesavai had been the man whom Baval had left in charge of Malurok's Lance-Fleet, essentially acting as its Admiral in Baval's absence. 'Kesavai had used to be Nar 'Kesavai, a Fleetmaster of the old Covenant, and though Baval knew little of the man personally, he knew enough to more than respect his experience and dedication to Malurok's safety...
Part of what made Baval certain that 'Kesavai was the right man for the job was what happened shortly after he'd been forced to kill 'Kesavai's father.

Not long after Baval had wrested the Jade Throne from his own father, and therefore, assumed the role of High Kaidon: he had a few challengers to deal with. He did not know all of their reasons for it, certainly along the lines of fear or ambition, but the former Kaidon of Clan Kesav (by the name of "Baro") was one who had made his motivations quite clear.
Baro 'Kesavee (and he had made a point to keep the old suffix) wished to enforce continued belief in the Forerunners, despite the Covenant's end, and was decidedly unhappy about Baval's choice to abstain from ordaining any religion as Malurok's official faith. Baval would have been quite happy to allow the Kesav Clan to believe whatever it wanted in its own borders, but when 'Kesavee issued an official challenge and declared his intent to make Malurok into a holy-world like it "should have been": Baval agreed to a duel with marginally less reluctance than when he had agreed to the last five duels with other Kaidons...

'Kesavee died, with much of Kesav's standing going with him. And when Baval had taken command of Malurok's fleets and found 'Kesavai its de facto leader, he had (perhaps foolishly) asked whether 'Kesavai would have any misgivings about serving his will, on account of the damage done to his Clan.
'Kesavai explained that 'Kesavee had been his father, which Baval hadn't known. When Baval asked if that would be a problem, 'Kesavai said: "I have no quarrel with you, but if you question my rectitude again: I may. I am not my Clan's failings, nor am I my father's avenger. You will speak not a word more of this if you wish me to remain so... High Kaidon".

Baval spoke not a word more of it. And 'Kesavai had been a loyal servant, ever since.

Taro 'Kesavai now stood stock-still, observing the approaching party with a gaze that spoke of self-certainty. The dozen-or-so Sangheili who stood to one side of him constituted some of the Benefaction's longest-serving permanent crew, and all of them stood at attention. They would not kneel, at least not for the moment. There was protocol to observe and, ever an observer of the proper traditions, 'Kesavai had seemingly insisted on seeing them through before any pleasantries could be had...

Baval held out a hand to signal his entourage to stay put as he stepped forward, making a show of looking each member of the crew in the eye, and then 'Kesavai, before he then bowed at the waist before them with his arms to either side, left leg stretching backward across the floor as he bent forward. When 'Kesavai and the assembled crew saluted him in return, and not a moment before: Baval proceeded to speak the Words of Retrieval, which had been spoken by leaders returning to command-positions before him for four-thousand years...
"I return to my ship and fleet. I find it glorified by its actions. I find it exalted in its condition. May I glorify and exalt, in turn, as I resume my station".

At this point, 'Kesavai and the bridge-crew could refuse to relinquish command of the ship and fleet to him, if they wished. He would have assumed command, regardless, and reserved the right to exile or kill any of them for insubordination. But as was often the case: the point was not that one could do things by force, but rather, that they did not have to...

As was the custom, 'Kesavai waited a few heartbeats before giving his answer.

"May you glorify and exalt us, as we have your ship and fleet", he said, his voice a placid tone that bordered on a mumble but never failed to be clear in its diction. The Blademaster then tugged the cape from his shoulder and knelt, the crew of the bridge following suit. Once they had, Baval stood back up to his full height, and smiled as he finished the recitation...

"May it be so".

"May it be so, High Kaidon. May it be so, Admiral", they replied.

And that was it. Baval was officially in full command of the Benefaction of Providence and Malurok's Lance-Fleet. The bridge-crew promptly stood and set about whatever tasks were their obligation. One of them swiftly manned a comm-station and opened SHIPCOM and INTERSHIPCOM channels to give a broad address, causing Baval's helmet to vibrate on one side as it received the broadcast...

"High Kaidon Baval 'Korkos has resumed command of the Lance-Fleet and the Benefaction of Providence. He now stands as Admiral", came the words over a set of booming speakers that all about the ship, as over the Battle-Network.

Taro 'Kesavai stepped nearer, presenting the cape he had worn, folded in half. "May I be graced with the Honor of retaining my position as Ship-Marshall, as you are now the Admiral of the fleet, High Kaidon?". It was, of course, almost a given that Baval would have 'Kesavai continue to be the Benefaction's proper caretaker, but it was always polite and of good sense to ask such in the official manner. And 'Kesavai was nothing if not a stringent adherent to all the codes...

"You may, Ship-Marshall", Baval assented, holding out his hands to accept the cape, waiting for 'Kesavai to drop it into his hands, and promptly cast it over his shoulders to mimic wearing it... before immediately removing it and handing it back to 'Kesavai, the formality observed. The Blademaster took it with a nod and tucked one corner of it behind the rim of his cuisse, before holding his arms behind his back in a pose so common to him that it felt odd to see him doing otherwise. As this last procedure was completed, 'Kesavai's manner and expression gained a quality that made the man appear, simultaneously, "almost bored" and "almost irritated" to an untrained eye, but Baval had known the man long enough to know this was merely his version of being at-ease.

"May I ask who you have brought onto my command-bridge, Admiral?", Taro inquired, head turning to acknowledge the rest of the arrivals for the first time.

Baval turned, finding Koroda and Veb'ch standing at relative attention, the Keepwards to Koroda's left and Hivewards to Veb'ch's right. He gestured to each, as he addressed them...
"You already know Koroda-Keme-Joko, of course, who you may consider the leader of my Keepwards. This is Apprentice Hiveseeker Veb'ch, who will be my protege for the foreseeable future as part of a... we shall say trade-agreement with one of the Concert of Twelve– Ikama Hive, specifically. Serving as Veb'ch's own personal security are his Hivewards. For as long as he is a member of the crew, we may expect him to be able to command our Yanme'e with greater efficiency than is typical", he said, having practiced this exact explanation at least twice before, that morning.

"I see. Shall I have a com-unit provided to him?". 'Kesavai was already gesturing at one of the nearby bridge-crew, who stood at attention, ready to fulfill the order...

"Yes. Are the preparations for our journey to To'val completed?". Said crew-member promptly went to one side of the room and searched through a container set into the wall, plucking out a small device. An Ikishi-pattern Yanme'e communications-circlet.

"It will only be one unit longer before we are ready to leave, as the Undying Blade and Unending Vitriol are still awaiting a new shipment of ammunition. A clerical error, I am told. The journey itself should not take longer than a quarter-unit", 'Kesavai said.

Baval nodded (as Veb'ch took the circlet from the crew-member and attempted to wear it, incorrectly), declaring, "very well. Inform me when the fleet is ready to go. I will be in the port-side training-yard".

The Blademaster saluted and bent at the waist. "It will be done, Admiral".

Baval nodded, turning on his heel and gesturing for the others to follow him, feeling... a small degree of satisfaction. The extra hour of time before decisions would need to be made was welcome. 'Kesavai's diligence always made things simpler. Baval only hoped that things would continue to be as simple, going forward...


Twenty minutes later...

Not far from the bridge or primary-junction, along the outermost sides of the ship's "neck", were the training and Blademaster's yards; each was a series of large chambers arranged in a pair of staggered lines, joined by wide corridors lined with equipment-lockers. Simulation-suites for advanced-combat and shooting-practice could be found, but many of the chambers were dedicated to arenas in which hand-to-hand and melee-weapons could be practiced in earnest— the hunting-domes and nature-preserves, further fore in the ship, were sometimes used for mock-battles and wildlife-hunts which would incorporate all the facets of combat, put together. The Benefaction of Providence and its crew were lucky to have relatively-modern and unblemished training-yards to use...

Baval sat upon a throne near the edge of a balcony, overlooking a circular arena in one such training-yard. Arenas like these (traditionally called a "Khojo") tended to be made of wrought and cut sandstone or granite, in the style of similar ones on Sanghelios in the eldest colony-worlds. The Benefaction's design instead used much the same nanolaminate-alloys that comprised most of the ship's interiors and hull, as a time-saving measure— natural minerals tended to be more difficult to clean blood off of.
The Khojo was filled almost to capacity, Sangheili of all ranks filling the circular terrace-seating surrounding the battle-floor while several Yanme'e clung upside-down to specially-added ceiling-rails by their cerci. Down on the battle-floor, a pair of young men were having a sparring-match, nude but for trouser-shorts and wielding steel quarter-staves. Apparently it was some variety of feud between the two that had come to a head, and as such, a pair of Wardens stood by on opposite sides of the battle-floor, ready to intervene to prevent a needless killing.

There were four balconies arranged above the terrace-seats, on four sides of the arena, reserved for those who had reached First-Order Commander rank, or higher, and featured cushioned thrones that had a commanding view of the action, though Koroda and the six 'Wards elected to remain standing.

"Who do you think will win, Koroda?", Baval asked.

There was a pause.

"Red one's footwork: lacking. Green one's defense: sloppy", said the worm-man, referring to the contestant's lower-wear having been dyed contrasting colors.
"Red one: showing greater fatigue. To err in judgement: likelier. Green one's window to exploit: limited".

Another pause...

"Wager on: red", Koroda declared.

Baval grunted, "agreed".

Down on the battle-floor, the Sangheili in red lunged forward in a slightly-too-obvious feint, raising his quarter-staff upwards before turning the downward swing into a thrust at his opponent's head and throat. The Sangheili in green saw this and made to exploit the opening by allowing the thrust to slip past his head, but wasn't quick enough with his own thrust aimed at the stomach and allowed Red to wrench his own staff downward, parrying the counter attack and knocking Green's weapon almost out of his hands. Only for Green to land a grazing hit with a punch to the face...

"Hive-maker Korkos", Veb'ch's signal unit suddenly chimed. Baval looked to his right out of the corner of his eye, finding the Yanme'e leaning over the guard-rail. At first, he thought the Hiveseeker was engrossed in the combat, but then he noticed Veb'ch's head-segment swaying in a few different directions, all around the Khojo.

"Yes, Veb'ch?".

"Why so many colors for armor?".

Baval blinked, unsure what the root of the question was.

"Sangheili have had varying colors for different ranks since at least the Age of Seven Worlds. It aids in coordination on the battlefield and in establishing impromptu chains of command", he explain.

There was a pause, long enough that he thought that might have been the extent of it, but the Yanme'e's posture didn't change and he could see his maxillae and antennae continuing to twitch.

"Why change them?", the Hiveseeker asked.

"You mean... since the end of the Covenant?", Baval clarified, guessing that that was the bigger question.

"Yes", Veb'ch replied, "it seems wasteful-indulgent to use time and resource-currency on color-change. Was... the Covenant system ineffective, in some way?".

Baval let out a small laugh he hadn't expected to, and shook his head. "No. It worked well enough. The reason we changed our regalia is the same as why we are still redecorating our ships, inside and out. Why those who serve in our fleets add `or` to their names, rather than `ee`. To better reflect Malurok and ourselves".

Veb'ch's head-segment turned to face him, antennae going still, as it asked, "but... why is that... important-pivotal?".

Baval made to reply, before grunting and thinking to himself, remembering that his own harness he was wearing wasn't technically the color or variety it should be, mostly because he hadn't bothered to change it out, yet. Miara, being Lady-Protector to Malurok's High Kaidon, had her own proper Command-Harness befitting her rank as Admiral of the Shield-Fleet. He thought on how to answer the question, as he hadn't had reason to put it into words, as of yet...

"We have changed many things about our military, after the Covenant fell. The way our ranks are structured, the service-paths one can take, the way they are all outfitted. We did this partially because it is relatively inexpensive, but mostly because... it is right that we should", he said.

Veb'ch reclined upon his seat, still focusing on Baval. "Why... is it... right?", the signal unit churned out with some difficulty.

"It... is likely different for Yanme'e—I only know that your people identify Hive-membership mostly by pheromone and scent—but for Sangheili... when one wears a mantle, when one takes on an appearance paired with a responsibility", he started explaining, figuring out his thesis as he went, "it... has an effect on you. It tinges your mind and your manner with the imperatives and... needs of your station. The Covenant's codes of regalia were proscribed with all of the connotations and duties of its foundations— the Great Journey, the will of the San'Shyuum, the... Writ of Union, and all the rest of it. The Great Schism, well... rendered all of those things moot".

Baval leaned forward and gestured with a hand at the crowds on the arena's terraces.

"The Covenant and its essence mean nothing to most of these warriors, and are... painful for some. If I asked these men and women to shed their blood and the blood of an enemy, while wearing the colors of a dead Empire that betrayed us... I would essentially be asking each of them to be at-odds with themselves. Even if the difference it makes is incredibly minimal... I believe there is still a difference. Thus... we wear the colors of Malurok, for we are Malurok's Lance".

Baval smiled to himself, pleased at his own ad hoc synthesis. He looked to Veb'ch, and asked, "do you understand?".

The Yanme'e stared at him for a long moment. Veb'ch eventually stood, looked out at the crowds of green and black and gold, rubbed his hands together... and then sat back down.

"Somewhat", his signal unit said. "It would be... it would be like wearing the word-scent of a rival Hive while trying to command-coordinate your own".

Baval nodded, "a bit, yes", reclining in his seat, satisfied with the lesson...


On hour later...

The Benefaction of Providence had arrived in high-orbit of the moon, To'val, at the head of a fleet of twenty. Two smaller Examiners flanked the Benefaction while four Advocate ships flanked those on each side. Three Executioners trailed the flagship, with five Coadjutators, three Conservators, and two Attack Ships behind them.

And within minutes of arriving and conducting a scan of the planetoid... the problem became obvious.

Baval 'Korkos, Taro 'Kesavai, Koroda, Pesh 'Acroskor, and Veb'ch were gathered in the bridge around the central holotank-table. A volumetric display projected a digital ghost-replica of To'val for all to see. And on the rust-orange globe it presented in exacting detail, five crimson icons flared in and out of existence in the center of the largest continent.

Taro input a short set of commands on the control-pad of the holotank, causing the display to zoom in on the region where the anomalies were detected, revealing an in-depth topographical map of an area comprising hundreds of dreads across. The five anomalies were consistent with the locations of the five mining-installations that had gone conspicuously silent. And the source of the anomalies was that the Benefaction's hyperscanner-systems returned a "nil" value in those five, specific areas, each area being around the size of a space-vessel. A "blank-spot" of information that should have been anything but "blank". The source of such scanning-disruption could only have been one thing...

Deployment-spires. Foreign deployment-spires that weren't part of Malurok's Battle-Network. A (presumably) hostile force had made landfall on To'val and created clandestine staging-areas.

"Invasion, it is, then", Baval said, voice bordering on a grumble, scratching at the inside of his lower-left mandible. Already, he could feel an ache sprouting on the top of his head as thoughts raced on what to do about it...

"Do we have any information as to how an unsanctioned fleet of ships managed to enter the system without our fleets knowing about it?", he asked, looking around at several members of the bridge-crew, and then to 'Kesavai. "Have any ships translated in-system without declaring their intent, recently?".

"Our ships throughout the system have been monitoring all slipspace-arrivals for the last two years", 'Kesavai stated confidently, "the most recent ones were from at least three months ago— Kig-Yar and Unggoy trade-vessels from Y'Deio and Valyanop. Other than that, no slipspace-portals have been detected".

Baval grunted, glowering at the display of the five anomalies, restraining a sneer. "And unless someone has managed to design a borer that generates no radiation or light or energy: we would have detected any portals by now, if a fleet had arrived recently-enough to translate in-system and make landfall on To'val, so quickly".

"Have Greaw or Jomel emitted any higher-than-usual amounts of radiation? Solar-storms or flares that might have masked a portal?", one of the bridge-crew suggested.

"Not recently", countered 'Acroskor, "and not in such a way that would have prevented all our ships and stations around the system from detecting a portal-opening, even one at the very edge of the system".

"It is not unimportant", 'Kesavai said, "but how the intruders arrived here does not change the fact that they are here, nonetheless, and need to be confronted".

"Likely so", Baval said, "but if our detection-systems or security-methods have a flaw, it is a question worth considering".

He thought for a long moment, looking around at the gathered personnel, and sighed through his nostrils. Then, raising a brow, and deciding to take a wild chance at an answer, he turned to Veb'ch just beside him and asked, "how might a group of ships have translated in-system without our knowing it, Veb'ch?".

The Yanme'e's antennae twitched, head-segment tilting harshly to one side. Quicker than expected, Veb'ch answered...

"Perhaps they did not translate in-system".

Baval squinted, and caught 'Kesavai's eye as the Ship-Marshall snorted in surprise, perhaps involuntarily. A brief exchange of glances between them was had— 'Kesavai expressing skepticism, and Baval urging him to go along with the exercise, if only to humor it.

"How would they have gotten here, then?", Baval asked.

"Drifting?", Veb'ch replied.

'Kesavai's head shook. "Drifting?", he repeated, "we are to assume that a fleet of ships just... drifted into the system? That sounds... impractical, at best".

Baval thought on it, imagining how the suggested method might play out...

"If a fleet of ships translated out of slipspace far enough away from our stars' gravity-well that we wouldn't detect the portal-signature immediately... and then used their sub-light engines to build a respectable amount of momentum before, perhaps, cutting all their systems to a minimal power-expenditure... then they could have sailed into Greaw-Jomel on a proximity-course for To'val without our notice", Baval deduced. "Granted it would be a stroke of luck not to be sighted with a visual-scan or hyperscanner-sweep, but it wouldn't necessarily raise a flag".

All around the table looked to another and were visibly considering the scenario. "Would that not take an unreasonable amount of time?", asked one of Baval's Keepwards, "and carry the risk of incurring time-dilation?".

Pesh 'Acroskor answered the question, "a ship can accelerate to roughly sixty or seventy-percent light-speed before any significant dilation occurs. It has been done a number of times".
"Depending who is in command of the fleet, they may just be willing to spend a matter of weeks on a cold-drift course to enter the system, undetected", a crew-member added.

"Which may indicate that their forces cannot contend with ours on an even footing", 'Kesavai said, voice growing a tad darker, "or that they are extremely patient".

Baval smiled to himself, and nodded to Veb'ch. "An astute theory, Hiveseeker. We shall have to find out if it is true". Veb'ch nodded.

"Additional issue: purpose of invading To'val", Koroda spoke up.

"Quite", Baval agreed, "either way... intruders have entered our space without our notice or permission...". His voice grew darker toward the end of the sentence. He knew that this meant the official start of a campaign. To confront and drive out the invaders of Malurok's sovereign space. It was an infringement of Malurok's security, and whatever the intent behind it: hostility had to be assumed. One would not intrude into another's house in the dead of night if their intentions were pure...

A long moment passed, the air around the holotank-table building with electric intent. Most of the bridge-crew returned to their stations at a dismissal-gesture from 'Kesavai, who then stared at the hologram intently, leaning over it with his hands on the table. The Blademaster looked to Baval with an ever-inscrutable expression, and Baval broke eye-contact after only a few heartbeats. The display of the five anomaly-markers on To'val's surface flashed insistently, declaring that something must be done.

Baval bowed his head, closing his eyes as he leaned on the table. The events of the day that had led him here, the reality of the situation at-hand, what things were of greatest concern.
Part of him simply wished that none of it was happening and that he could have continued managing Korkosa with his family; part of him was angry about the invasion of his people's territory, as a matter of course... and part of him was caught between a bizarre feeling of relief and renewed anxiety. It was foreign invasion, and the course of action to take going forward was relatively clear to see... but questions always arose. Who were they? Why had they come? Why land on To'val? Why go to the effort of doing it secretly?

Baval sighed through his nostrils, working his mandibles around in their sockets.

Very well, then. Let the die be cast...

Baval straightened up, finding everyone looking to him to decide next steps. He looked to each of them—Koroda, Veb'ch, the Keepwards—and then to 'Kesavai... and spoke.

"It will be blood", he declared, his hearts already quickening their pace. 'Kesavai and the two other Sangheili saluted, and Baval ordered with a gesture, "broadcast an Ordinance of Reckoning on all channels and through the Battle-Network. An Unheralded Entry has been made in our territory, some of our people and property possibly harmed. If the invaders do not declare themselves in one-and-a-half units: their hostility will be assumed and we will be forced to exorcise them with all due violence".

Baval looked to one of the bridge-crew, a Sangheili he knew to be one of the communications-specialists. "Announce that an Unheralded Entry has been detected and an Ordinance issued, on SHIP and INTERSHIPCOM, then announce the formation of a Council of Masters— call for all Ship-Marshalls and Escort-Marshalls, as well as any Host-leaders, to attend in-person if they can or by holo-transmission if they can't".

The Sangheili saluted and marched off toward one of the communications consoles to carry out the orders.

If the invaders did not obey the Ordinance in the allotted time... they would be considered an enemy. The campaign would begin... and the Council of Masters would invariably hail Admiral Baval 'Korkos as "High Commander" of the effort...

A cold silence washed over Baval's mind, the Voices that stalked its darkest recesses falling quiet for the first time in weeks. His mandibles flexed and twitched involuntarily as he listened without hearing and saw without seeing. A part of him tentatively pleaded to whatever gods may have been watching...

Perhaps... if I dare to hope... perhaps this is a chance to be supreme commander, again, with justness. With... pride. Perhaps I may command men and women without being ashamed of it...