StarDestroyer.Net BBS

Rated R for violence and adult themes.


HALO: In the Face of Betrayal

Introduction: A Heretic's Oath

"Even the foulest demon may seduce the unwary when it comes clad in the armor of gods." – Sangheili philosopher

Jara 'Tazaanvu felt extremely anxious. He steepled his hands, the tips of his fingers and thumbs touching. Briefly, he closed his amber eyes and focused his strength inwards. When his eyes reopened, the uncertainty had vanished. He looked over the large group of Sangheili and Unggoy that watched him in rapt attention and felt a small flare of hope. Perhaps with luck and skill, they would not die here.

Enough. It was time.

He stepped forward, although he knew he already had their undivided attention. "I know you are all on edge," he said smoothly, somehow managing to keep his voice from shaking. "So I am going to keep this short. The rumors that had been spreading around are true. Our friends on the mining station are dead."

A hushed murmuring ran through the crowd. One of the tall Sangheili stepped forward and raised an arm. "Then we have no fuel?"

Jara blinked once. "It would go without saying, Maqu, that if our friends were unable to return, then we would not have the fuel they went to retrieve." There was another round of murmurings, more excited this time. Jara maintained his calm exterior while silently cursing Kade's foolish mistake.

Kade 'Ilsenevu, the leader of the group known as Shining Light, had accompanied the expedition down to the Forerunner mining station on the gas giant. The expedition should not have been necessary, but Kade's arrogance had led to him running their lone transport nearly dry before stopping to look for a new source of fuel. Then, he had made the monumental mistake of transmitting a sermon from the poorly-defended mining station while in the very shadow of High Charity. It had been a taunt, a barb set in the skin of the Covenant leaders, showing them that a heretic could operate under their very nose without them knowing. The Covenant response had been nothing short of brutal. Their Special Operations had annihilated the expedition and killed Kade within hours of his transmission.

"Is it true that an Arbiter killed Kade?" another Sangheili shouted.

Jara briefly considered lying, then decided against it. "That is true as well," he said. The whisperings grew louder, more anxious, almost frenzied. One Sangheili in particular alarmed Jara. Unlike the others, he did not become more animated in fear and anxiety. He slumped forward, as though already defeated.

"An Arbiter," he said mournfully. "We are already dead."

"No!" Jara shouted forcefully. The whispers died, leaving a silence that seemed charged with electricity. "We are not defeated! We can survive and we will!"

"But an Arbiter!"

"They are death incarnate!"

"He will kill us all!"

"He will not!" Jara shouted again as he felt his anger begin to build.

"He killed Kade!"

Jara waved the shouted comment away. "For all his knowledge, Kade was not infallible. We all knew our ship was running low on fuel, but he chose to keep going, running us right to the last drop before even considering finding another source. And even when we managed to sneak into the same system as the very leaders of the Covenant and find a viable source, Kade made the foolish mistake of baiting the Council while in a position that was effectively undefendable. Kade was intelligent, and he was charismatic...but he was not without fault. Realize that."

Jara paused a moment to let his words sink in. "Now, we are not going to die, for two reasons. First, we have been silent ever since we landed. Unlike Kade, we have given the Covenant no reason to hunt us down. Second, our hiding place could not be better. The Covenant will not come here unless they are given a very good reason, which we are most certainly not going to give them."

He paused again and looked over the group, searching for one very certain pair of eyes. He found them and locked his own to that crimson gaze. "The Covenant will not stay here forever," he said firmly. "Sooner or later, they will leave. Until then, we can keep our heads down and our mouths shut, and we will be left alone."

The crimson eyes blinked, and the comment Jara knew had been coming finally manifested. "But what then?" said a voice that flowed like oil. "We do not have the fuel to make a jump even to the edge of the system."

"I know that," Jara said. "When the Covenant has gone and left us to our own devices, we will spread out and search this ring. It is shattered, yes, but the Forerunners must have given it some type of power source, and for that, it would have needed fuel. Besides which, we may be able to salvage some from one of the ships that was destroyed in the battle here." He held up his hands to preempt any comments. "I know it is a long shot, but we have faced long odds before, and we likely will again, but we all knew that this would be the case when we joined the Shining Light."

Nobody spoke, and Jara knew they were rallying. "We are heretics," he said. "We are the despised. We are the hated. From the time we were born, we were told that heretics only deserved death. You Sangheili, all of your names end in the vu honorific to let everyone know that you are worthless. You Unggoy, many of you have names that only we have given you because your birth names were taken from you when you chose to follow this path."

He spread his hands. "We are the hated, but understand this. We are also the feared. We are what pass through the minds of the so-called Prophets in their moments of doubt and fear. We are their nightmares. We are hunted down and destroyed not because we are nothing, but because we are everything. It was with words that the Prophets created their bastard Covenant, and it is with words that it can be torn apart again. I will not dwell on reasons, because you know them as well as I. Just know that you may walk with your head held as high as any Sangheili Arbiter or Unggoy patriarch, and remember that though we walk the hard road, there is a light waiting for us at the end."

The group was still for a few moments. Then, they began to file out in ones and twos. Some spoke quietly as they left. In many ways, it reminded Jara of the way they had entered, with one crucial difference; their posture had changed from one of despair and defeat to one of confidence. Jara kept his expression carefully blank, as the last thing he wanted now was for someone to misinterpret a smile or frown and set off another wildfire rumor.

Within a few minutes, the room was empty of all but Jara and the Sangheili with burning crimson eyes. "That was a wonderful speech," he said.

Jara sighed and felt his rigid stance dissolve. Suddenly, he felt a million years old. "If it was, I can't see it," he replied. "I only said what needed to be said."

"Exactly," the other replied. "Jara, they needed hope. You gave it to them. With Kade gone, they needed a leader who could stand up and take his place. You've given them that. With you, they have something to believe in. Something to fight for. Something to live for."

Jara shrugged. "I wish that I could be as enthusiastic as they are, Ilor. I can't help but feel that we are like a flickering candle in the midst of a storm. One breath of wind too many, and..." Jara brought his digits together, then quickly spread them to suggest the final burst of flame.

Ilor raised one hand to waist level and slowly let it glide from left to right, a gesture that suggested tranquility. "You are tired, my friend. Tired and put-upon. When you wake up tomorrow, your spirits will be higher." There was a long silence, and Ilor cocked his head to one side. "You are troubled."

"I'm not Kade," Jara said shortly. "I don't know if I can keep this group from falling apart without him."

Ilor set his jaws into a smile. "No, you are not Kade. You're better than him." That caught Jara's attention and he swung his head up as Ilor continued. "Kade kept this group together by sheer force of personality. He dealt with conflict by stamping both parties down. He believed that any problem would sort itself out as soon as he looked at it." Ilor pressed his palms together and looked directly into Jara's eyes. "You're different from him. You look to ease the troubles of those under you. You lead by emotion, not strength, and the proof of it is what happened in this room just moments ago." Ilor's head tilted the other way. "As long as you watch over them, the others will believe that they are more than just a flame in a storm. Perhaps they will liken themselves to the devouring inferno that scours the surface of a world."

Jara smiled slightly. "And what about me, my friend? Am I the cannon that launches the fire? But what if the cannon malfunctions?"

Ilor stepped closer. "I know you better than that, Jara 'Tazaanvu," he said with a chuckle. "You're like a leech. When hope surrounds you, you are hopeful. When despair closes its noose, you despair. But you do not give in. You fight despair with memories of hope, and that is what makes you a worthy leader."

Silence fell. Jara reached out and gently touched Ilor's lower right jaw. "And what about you, my friend?" he asked. "What about your hope? What about your own fire?"

Ilor's hand closed around Jara's and pressed it to his neck. "You've already rekindled it, my friend."

There were no more words.

Good start...and I like how the Elites look at the Arbiter, really ties in nicely on how they are honored and such.

It's a good start. Now give us more.

Very good work, Kuj.

Very nice.

I like how your stories are focusing on how the species of the Covenant think. Very good.

My story, on the other hand, is proving to be a pain to write. No matter what I write it just doesnt sound good and I start over. It is such a pain to have a great story in my head but just cant get it on to paper in the way I want.

Chapter 1: Excellence in Adversity

"When brothers clash, the entire clan suffers." – Lekgolo proverb

Alve closed his eyes to shut out the irritating lights. He held his body rigidly, waiting for the tension in his limbs to reach the breaking point.

One deep breath.

Another.

There it was.

Eyes still closed, Alve took a sliding step forward, then snapped the rest of his body to follow, bringing one knee up and delivering an open-handed blow to his nonexistent opponent. He froze for a moment, then contorted, turning in his spot and throwing an elbow-knuckle blow to the area behind him. A moment later, he leaned his upper body forward and blew his breath out, falling and turning the move into a forward roll that ended with him on one knee and delivering another open-hand strike.

As he continued his movements, the world seemed to drop away from around him. Alve forgot about the annoying lights, forgot about the feel of the pad beneath his feet, forgot about all the little bothersome details of life, and focused instead upon the burning in his muscles, the cold rush of air through his lungs, and the furious pumping of his heart.

The ancient movements felt good, crisp, relaxing as he replicated them one by one, paying homage to his teachers with each perfectly executed blow, block, roll, and turn. Sloth was a demon on his shoulder, urging him to stop and relax, but he ignored it, refusing to finish until he had seen the series through to the end.

He spun, weaving a pair of imaginary knives through the air as he stretched his arms out until they strained. Finally, his spin ended with him crouched on the floor, his hands resting to either side of him. Slowly, he stepped back and began to gather himself up, unfolding his body into a standing position. His hands came in towards his sides and he held them palms down; what his instructors had referred to as the 'go easy' position. Finally, he became still, standing a full eight feet and four inches high; a giant by human standards.

Alve was a bit short for a Sangheili, but he made up for it with dedication.

He exhaled one final time and relaxed, opening his emerald eyes to the world. The irritating white lights of the training room resumed burning at his retinas, and he submitted to the urge to narrow his eyes again. That was when a hollow clapping sound caught his attention, and he turned to find a very unwelcome figure watching him from the room's entrance.

"You make a pretty dancer," the Jiralhanae chieftain said.

Alve resisted the impulse to make some snappish retort and kept his reply tranquil. "Sangheili warriors have learned these exercises for generations," he said as he began his cool-down routine. "I don't think a few training sessions would be wasted on you, either." The huge figure snorted in amusement. A moment later, he stepped into the light and Alve immediately wished he hadn't.

The hugely muscled Erebus was nearly twice Alve's size. His fur was the color of blue steel, his eyes a dark red, and his teeth a dull yellow. He stank like the carrion he ate and his only clothes were the greaves on his legs, the boots on his feet, and the small communicator latched onto his left wrist. Intellectually, Alve knew that Erebus was a dangerous figure. He was a lesser chieftain, and dozens of Jiralhanae reported to him directly, while his superior, Tartarus, seemed to be getting closer and closer to the Prophets as time went on. Emotionally, that didn't stop him from wishing he could rip the arrogant creature's head off.

"My people don't need to learn little dances to know how to fight," he said in his deep bass voice, and Alve felt his temper begin to rise. "We do it all on our own."

"Yes," Alve said sarcastically. "You make wonderful savages."

Erebus stepped forward, his eyes flaring angrily, and Alve knew he should've kept his mouth shut. He knew he could take the chieftain, but the Prophets looked down on people who picked fights with other members of the military. As Erebus shouldered his way into the room, Alve took a step back, careful to keep his weight balanced. When the huge figure finally reached the training mat, he stopped and deliberately cracked his knuckles. In the deadly silence, it sounded like tree branches being snapped.

"I will give you one opportunity," Erebus said darkly. "Either take back that remark or I will pound you into the mat."

"Captain Alve 'Essonee against one Jiralhanae? I'm surprised he hasn't knocked you on your back already," a new voice said. Both Alve and Erebus turned in surprise two see a new pair of figures. Alve felt his heart leap as he recognized both of them; both from his own team. Ensu 'Pulomee, his sniper, stood with one hand on his hip and his other tapping his lower jaw. Meras 'Mequalee, his scout and the squad's only female, leaned against the frame of the entrance, her slender arms deliberately crossed against her chest, her bright hazel eyes fixed on him. She noticed his look and tilted her head in an expression of amusement.

"Maybe one of us should soften him up before Erebus steps in," she commented. "After all, we know him pretty well."

Erebus snorted in contempt. "I don't need your help, Sangheili bitch."

Meras' eyes widened in anger and she pushed her slender frame away from the door, bringing herself to her full eight-foot-nine height. Meras was typical of Sangheili females; tall and slender with a delicate frame – but every member of Alve's squad had learned, some the hard way, to never cross her when she looked like that.

She started into the room but Ensu set a hand on her upper arm in warning. "Let them get into it," he said calmly. "I've got ten on the captain. Care to put some down?"

She subsided again, though the fire in her eyes didn't fade completely. "Not on winners, that's a sure thing. Time limit. I say the big guy's down and not getting up in thirty seconds."

"Twenty."

"Done."

Erebus narrowed his eyes and Alve held his breath. The Jiralhanae looked at the pair in the door, back to Alve, then towards the pair again. He snorted and straightened. "You Sangheili cling together like a pack of vermin," he said contemptuously. He turned back towards Alve. "I'll let you off...this time," he said darkly. Then he turned and stomped out of the room, passing between Ensu and Meras as they separated to let him through.

Once Erebus was gone, Ensu turned back to Alve. "You shouldn't have picked a fight with him," he said, his tone wavering between you-should-know-better and no-offense-intended.

Alve straightened. "I didn't mean to," he said as he breathed the tension away. "It just came out."

"I think we should've given him a good thrashing," Meras said. Her eyes narrowed. "The Jiralhanae are getting too greedy. They're the youngest members of the Covenant, but they swagger around like they invented the concept. I'm getting sick of their arrogance."

"There is little that would be gained by beating up one of their chieftains," Ensu said meditatively. "They would react as to an insult to be avenged, rather than a lesson to be learned."

"Maybe," Meras said, her voice saying she wasn't convinced. "But I'm not forgetting what he called me." Her eyes flashed. "It's going to be paid back in full."

Alve tilted his head. "You never were much of a peaceful arth'tak, were you Meras?"

"My father always insisted that my temper would disgrace our family," she said with a short laugh.

"We know," both of the others said, and the last vestige of confrontation left the room as they laughed. As it trailed off, Alve touched Ensu on the arm. "How is Vene?" he asked.

Ensu grew serious. "Better," he said. "He claims he's back to full health, but he still hitches when he attempts to breathe deeply." There was a pause. "It was a close thing," Ensu said quietly. "For a while, I didn't think he would make it."

Meras snorted. "You're entirely too pessimistic," she said. "Vene took that blast like an insect bite."

"And nearly lost a lung because of it," Ensu reminded her.

In the silence that followed, there was a short chittering at the room's entrance. The three soldiers turned to see a lone male Kig-Yar dressed in the uniform worn by retainers of the Prophets. He cocked his head. "Captain Alve 'Essonee?" he asked.

'Essonee nodded and stepped forward. "That's me," he said.

"The great and noble Prophet of Truth requires your presence, alone, in the Chamber of Inquiry precisely one hour from now," the birdlike creature said.

Alve nodded. "Thank you. Tell the Prophet I will not disappoint him."

The Kig-Yar bowed and left. Alve turned back to find his subordinates staring at him. "Alright, what did you do?" Meras asked.

Alve blinked. "Nothing."

"The Prophets don't call you up for an inquiry for nothing," Ensu said.

"Perhaps he has a mission for us," Alve said. He saw his comrades' reaction to that comment and stifled a chuckle. Ensu and Meras reared in unison and turned to look at each other in excitement. "Well," he added after a moment, "we won't learn anything by standing here. I've got to go get cleaned up and get my armor on if I've got to appear before the Prophet of Truth. I'll see you when it's over."

"If you survive," Meras said.

Alve snorted as he walked out. "And you say Ensu's pessimistic," he said over his shoulder.

Very good, I like the tension between the Brutes and the Elites. Plus some good characterization of the group itself.

Yay, let's hear it for chicks (plural)!

Zaia wrote:Yay, let's hear it for chicks (plural)!

I'll ditto that, and add on "Even if they're alien ones!"

I really like it, and as someone else said I'm really enjoying the characterization.

Very good. Hey, when I finally get my chapter done, would you be interested in reviewing it for me?

*applauds* nice bits.*offers cookies, waves, poof*

Chapter 2: Crusade


"There's no difference between reckless pilots and reckless politicians except the number of bodies to count when the odds catch up." – Yanme'e pilots' joke

Alve felt jittery, but forced himself to keep his stride even. He was a Sangheili captain, and to show fear, especially of a superior, was inconceivable. Nevertheless, this was the Prophet of Truth, not simply his own commander. The comparison was virtually nonexistent.

He banished the feeling of insecurity and squared his shoulders as he approached the door to the Chamber of Inquiry, attempting to make a display of himself as he walked. Not all Sangheili could wear the coveted white armor, after all. Any captain worth his rank would do the same.

Even so, he knew he paled in comparison to the pair of Sangheili he approached right now. Standing on either side of the door, the personal guard of the Prophet of Truth wore beautiful gold and orange ceremonial armor, looking like gods themselves. Each of them held a long staff weapon topped with a short plasma blade, a blade that could eviscerate him in an instant if he made a wrong move.

He came to a stop before the two guards and came to attention. Seconds ticked by as he held the position. Although he couldn't see their eyes or hear their hushed whispers, he knew that each of them was checking him for hidden weapons and confirming his identity. If the slightest anomaly was found, they would be perfectly within their rights to slice him in half if they chose. When one finally stepped forward, Alve barely managed to keep from jumping.

"Captain Alve 'Essonee?" the guard asked, though both knew who he was.

'Essonee nodded. "I have received the summons of the noble and mighty Prophet of Truth," he said. "I have come as he asked."

The other guard stepped forward. "You may not go before the Prophet while armed," he said. "Surrender your weapons." Alve took his plasma rifle in one hand and his deactivated plasma sword in the other and handed each to one guard.

He had worn no plasma grenades; that might well have been taken as a display of insolence.

The two guards stepped back to their position. The door opened quietly, though Alve had neither seen nor heard any trigger command. "You may enter," the first guard said.

Alve bowed quickly. "My thanks," he said as he stepped past them and into the chamber itself. The Chamber of Inquiry was an enormous room that could seat hundreds around a large holographic projector. It was often used as a briefing room for the highest military leaders of the Covenant. Right now only a single light was on, wreathing the projector in a halo of white and illuminating a single figure.

"Ah, right on time," the Prophet of Truth said as he looked up from his floating chair. The Prophet looked like a spindly, helpless creature, but the power he wielded in the Covenant was second to none. More realistically, Alve knew he had a cannon built into his hoverthrone that could incinerate him if he made any attempt on the Prophet's life.

As Alve bowed, he noticed a third figure in the room. Bigger than Erebus and even shaggier, Tartarus was the highest of Jiralhanae chieftains and had become one of the Prophets' most favored servants as of late. In one hand he held a huge weapon called a gravity hammer. A part of Alve's mind rankled at having to bow to a Prophet in the presence of such a barbarian.

"Rise, captain," Truth said, shaking him from his thoughts. "You must be wondering why I have summoned you here."

Alve nodded. "I cannot deny that I have wondered, noble Prophet," he said.

Truth interlaced his fingers and looked Alve directly in the eyes. "I have a task for you," he said.

Alve snapped to attention. "I will do as ordered, noble Prophet," he said.

Truth waved the comment away. "Calm yourself," he said. "There is something I would like you to see." He gestured at the projector, which promptly lit up with a still scene of a Sangheili special operations soldier standing before a wall of some tan material, facing off to the left. "You know of the Arbiter?" the Prophet said.

Alve hitched. "The position itself, or the newest holder of it?" he asked without thinking.

Truth smiled. "Quite so," he said enigmatically. He gestured at the still image. "I recently dispatched him on his first mission, one that involved cleaning out a nest of heretics that had occupied a mining installation of the Forerunners. In this he was extremely successful, though his victory necessitated the destruction of the station. During the fighting, he failed to notice something that struck me as very unusual. I want to see if anything in this recording strikes you as odd." Silently, Truth reached out and tapped a button. The projection came to life, the Sangheili soldier moving left and the camera following him. Alve realized that the recording must have come directly from the Arbiter's own helmet.

Truth, Alve, and Tartarus watched as the recorded image moved through hallways, open areas, elevators, conveyor belts as the Arbiter used his sword to slaughter his way through the heretics. Alve found himself quietly impressed. His own sword work was above par, but the handling the Arbiter showed was nothing short of masterful. As the recording continued, Alve tried to keep an eye open for what the Prophet wanted him to see, but nothing he saw struck him as unusual.

Finally, the Arbiter dealt with the leader of the heretic group himself, charging recklessly through a storm of plasma fire to dispatch him with a single cut of the sword. As the image turned back to face the rest of the loyal troops as they entered the hangar, the Prophet suddenly reached forward and tapped a control that made it freeze. "There," he said. "Do you see it?"

Alve narrowed his eyes. He had a funny feeling that there was something wrong with the scene, but couldn't quite pin it down. What was it? He ran through a quick checklist. Troops, bodies, cargo, weapons, the ship-

He suddenly pointed. "That ship," he said.

The Prophet steepled his hands. "Yes?" he said, his tone implying expectation.

Alve brushed aside his qualms and continued. "That type of ship is a short-range transport. It's not built for inter-system use."

The corners of the Prophet's mouth slowly turned up in a smile. "Precisely, captain. In fact, a complete catalog of our sensor data turns up no trace at all of any multisystem-class ship in use besides our own fleet here, though we have found evidence of the shuttle's path to the mining station. What does that tell you?"

Alve hesitated, then spoke. "If the only ship on the mining station was a shuttle, their true transport must be hidden somewhere."

Truth nodded. "Again, well done. Now, the final conclusion, please."

A pause. "We may not have gotten all of the heretics," he finally said.

Truth clapped his hands once. "Perfect!" he said. "Very good indeed, captain."

"And I suppose you summoned me because you want my Special Operations to deal with their nest?" Alve asked.

"Even better, captain."

Alve cocked his head. "And if you have summoned me specifically, you must have already found their location."

Truth nodded solemnly. "And this is why you have attained your rank, Alve 'Essonee." In the shadows behind the Prophet, Tartarus looked away and huffed quietly. Either unaware of or unconcerned with the Jiralhanae's actions, Truth tapped another control. The image of the hangar dissolved and was replaced by a shot of the destroyed ring hanging in space. Before Alve could take in the full scene, a rectangle drew itself over one end of the largest ring fragment and the scene zoomed in. Again the rectangle formed and the scene zoomed right up to the surface of the ring. In the twisted wreckage at the edge of the fragment, Alve saw something that definitely did not belong there.

Without being prompted, he raised a hand to the projection and touched the image of the ship nestled there. "An inter-system transport," he said softly.

Truth nodded. "Exactly. We have found our heretics. Now it is time to crush them."

Oooo... the drama. Do continue.

Very cool...and nice inclusion of Tartarus and showing some of the interbits dispersed in Halo 2.

I am glad some one else noticed what I did. How was the Heretic Leader going to escape the system in a Seraph fighter?

Oh, and I also believe that station was a bio-warfare/flood storage facility. On the elevator that you ride downwards, there are canisters. And in these canisters are flood infection forms. Makes you wonder.

Good.

Chapter 3: Left Hand, Right Hand

"Maybe you can't drink poison, but your rival certainly can." – Kig-Yar matriarch

Tartarus kept his face carefully blank as the Sangheili captain all but jumped up and down in excitement. He suppressed a snort of contempt, fully aware of what the consequences would be for drawing the Prophet's ire at the wrong moment.

"How are we to mount our attack, noble Prophet?" the captain was saying. "Will we have support from the fleet?"

You wish, Tartarus thought with a measure of satisfaction. He kept the smirk from his face as Truth shook his head.

"No, Captain 'Essonee," the Prophet said. "This fleet, along with High Charity itself, will soon be leaving this system for a...certain location, and we cannot wait for the extermination of a group of heretics. However, you will not be without aid. Do you recall the name Hallowed Avenger?"

"That was the ship of...the ship that led the fleet here," the Sangheili said, careful to avoid using the former name of the Arbiter.

"Precisely," Truth replied. "It is currently under the leadership of Ship Master Uje 'Letousee, who has been dropping not-so-subtle hints to both myself and my brother Prophet of Mercy that he is determined to redeem himself for the failure that he has become associated with. When the fleet leaves, Hallowed Avenger, with you and your team aboard, will make for the heretics and hunt down each and every last one of them. When your task is complete, you and the Hallowed Avenger will rejoin the fleet. Ship Master 'Letousee will know where to go."

Tartarus tuned them out as they discussed the particulars of the operation. He already knew most of what they would discuss, having helped the Prophet with the details earlier in the day. The fact that the Prophet had chosen a team of Sangheili and Unggoy over his own Jiralhanae still smarted, and he was sorely tempted to take his hammer to the head of that fawning little weasel.

He quickly discontinued that train of thought before his hand could tighten on the shaft of his hammer. Taking care to move only his eyes, he looked up into the shadowed recesses of the chamber. Tartarus' night vision was not especially good, but he could still make out the dim forms of the Sangheili guardians stationed around the perimeter of the room. Unlike the two outside, these all carried Covenant beam rifles, notorious for their deadly accuracy. Within his range of vision, Tartarus could discern three of them aiming at 'Essonee, ready to take him out if he so much as twitched wrong. Somewhere behind him, he knew that there were other rifles being kept trained on him.

High Guards trusted nobody.

Someday, it will be my Jiralhanae up there, he thought with satisfaction. That thought brought him back to the present situation. He had recommended a squad of his own warriors, but the Prophet had overruled him, saying that the Jiralhanae did not yet have the experience to deal with such an insidious enemy. Tartarus had ground his teeth in frustration all the way to the Chamber of Inquiry.

He went back to watching the Sangheili captain as he sycophantically agreed with everything the Prophet said. Tartarus imagined placing one of his own chieftains in the alien's place, how he would point out flaws in the plan and make corrections as he saw fit. That thought led to him remembering that this particular captain had, in fact, had brushes with one of his chieftains by the name of Erebus.

That led to yet another thought, and another...

Before Tartarus knew it, the Sangheili had saluted and left, leaving him alone with the Prophet and half a dozen guards aiming rifles at him. "I am confidant he will succeed," Truth was saying.

"Yes, of course," Tartarus said quickly.

Truth arched an eyebrow. "You do not approve?"

Tartarus silently cursed himself for forgetting how perceptive Truth was. At times, it seemed like the Prophet could see right through him. "I remain unconvinced that he is a better choice than my own men," he said.

"I am aware of this, Tartarus, but my decision still stands," Truth said. "Captain 'Essonee and his Special Operations team will deal with the heretics, leaving us free to deal with greater matters."

"Of course, noble Prophet," he said with a nod.

Truth waved a hand dismissively and turned away from him. "Leave me for now, Tartarus. I wish to contemplate the coming events alone. I will summon you when I have need of you again."

Tartarus bowed respectively and left the room, taking care to ensure that his stride did not appear hurried. As soon as the door closed behind him, however, he broke into a jog and went to summon a transport to take him to the Jiralhanae quarter of the High Charity.

The Yanme'e pilot of the small ship kept his peace as they flew, giving Tartarus time to admire the massive central chamber of the spacegoing city. They had nothing like this back home. The city stretched for hundreds of square kilometers, all encased within a single giant metal shell that protected it from the vacuum of space.

The Yanme'e skillfully landed the transport, setting down without even a noticeable bump. Tartarus nodded his appreciation as he stepped off and the insect chirped a goodbye as he walked away. The sights and scents of his own people washed over him and he felt his mood beginning to improve. He made his way to one of the largest buildings and stepped inside without even acknowledging the guards standing to either side of the doorway. He walked the halls until coming to a certain room filled with Jiralhanae on their off time. Some played games. Some huddled together and talked.

Tartarus thumped the end of his hammer on the floor to get their attention and barked, "Erebus!"

The steel-furred chieftain stood up at the other end of the room. "Here, Tartarus," he said as he made his way towards the greater chieftain. "Is there something I can do for you?"

Tartarus looked him in the eye. "Alve 'Essonee," he said without preamble.

Erebus' lip curled into a sneer. "What about him?"

"You do not get along with him, do you?"

Erebus shook his shaggy head, sending a wave through his fur. "No. In fact, I nearly had a fight with him earlier today."

Tartarus grinned savagely. "What if I could set things up for you to knock him out of the picture permanently, and in front of the Prophets no less?"

A slow smile spread across Erebus' face. "You've got my full and complete attention, Tartarus."

Very good, but I want more chicks still.

Interesting.

Coolness, setting up for something large down the road.

Chapter 4: Beginning the End

"Life disrupts plans and plans disrupt life, so remember to live your plans instead of planning your life." – Sangheili saying

The lights of the control room were mostly turned off to conserve power. The fact that this created an intensely romantic atmosphere was a completely unintentional side effect. Even so, it was a side effect that Kalis 'Setauvu greatly appreciated. She leaned over the computer bank, eyes sliding closed in pleasure as she felt Rota's hot breath on her skin. He reached up and gently caressed her neck just the way she liked it and she shuddered, her hands clutching at the console for support. Her jaws unconsciously spread wide as she tilted her head back and moaned. Her chest heaved as she gulped at the air.

Rota's arm wrapped itself around her midsection and he stepped forward to press against her. His body felt warm, almost hot to the touch, and it seemed to her that a fire had wrapped itself around and inside her, igniting the vast reserves of passions that she always kept hidden during daily life.

Rota nuzzled her upper left jaw from behind and she opened an eye to look at him. His piercing blue gaze looked back in a way that made her shudder a second time. Rota's intense blue eyes – a rare trait among Sangheili – had been what had attracted Kalis to him in the beginning. They'd both been much younger then; young, foolhardy, and not yet disgraced. When they'd first met he'd called her deo'galv'ena – 'beloved and beautiful,' a term that she had found both amusing and endearing.

He had been a young member of the military; she the daughter of a minor merchant whose father had forbidden her to seek a mate until she was older. The illicit affair that had followed that first meeting had drawn them closer together than most couples on their homeworld and had served as the foundation for their joining the Shining Light.

Memories both painful and blissful melted away as Rota began to undo the clasps on the flight suit she wore. His hand slipped inside and she gasped as he ran it across her bare flesh. Her hands simultaneously wanted to curl up and stiffen out, and she impulsively reached over her shoulder to clutch at the back of his head. He leaned down until his head drew even with her own. With his crystal blue eye looking directly into hers, he reached up with his free hand and touched her lower jaw.

Gently, he turned her head towards his and kissed her in Sangheili fashion. His muzzle and the tips of his jaws pressed against hers and she felt jolted as if by electricity as the glands nestled there responded to the contact. Her eyes again closed of their own accord and she turned in his arms to face him. Reaching up, she took hold of his armor and gently tugged at it, her meaning obvious. Her ears barely caught the chuckle he made deep in his throat as he reached back and undid the clamps that held the armor to his body. It came away and she cast it to the floor, quickly returning her hands to the sensitive flesh that had been beneath it. She felt him shiver as he began to pull her flight suit down over her shoulders and she let a husky laugh escape her.

He had just coaxed her arms out of the sleeves when they were interrupted. So deep in each other were they that it took several seconds for the soft beeping of the sensors to register. Once it had done so, they froze, unwilling to look away from each other both because of their own burning desires and the ever-present dread that the sensors were warning them of incoming enemies. The moment passed however, and they quickly disentangled themselves and dashed to the pertinent station, leaving their clothing in disarray.

Rota's hands flew over the console, coaxing the information out of it. "Grid Six, one hundred forty thousand ketras," he said.

"That's the Covenant fleet," Kalis said aloud, even though they both knew it. They exchanged a worried glance before Rota swallowed his fear and called up a visual. The staggeringly huge fleet jumped into existence before their eyes. It was exactly the same as it had been for some time, with one difference: the fleet was now peppered with bright points of white light. Kalis' jaws spread in astonishment. "They're leaving!" she exclaimed.

Indeed, the massive cruisers, carriers, and destroyers of the Covenant fleet were entering subspace, the points of light marking their departure. "They're really going," Rota whispered. As the words left his lips, the impossible bulk of High Charity itself jumped out of the system in a blast of light. "We did it!" Rota exclaimed, pounding his fists on the console in elation. Kalis whooped and Rota turned to crush her in his arms, lifting her off the deck and swinging her in a circle.

A moment passed and their exuberance faded. They turned back to face the screen as the last of the Covenant ships exited into subspace. "That's all of them – no, wait," Rota said as his hands again tapped the controls. "One cruiser-class ship left. It's changing orientation, moving to..." Rota slowly trailed off as the visual showed them every stomach-turning moment of the massive cruiser turning in their direction and lighting its engines.

"Check their course," Kalis said, unwilling to believe her eyes. Rota did not respond. "Check their course!" she snapped, and he leapt to the task, quickly plotting an invisible line along the cruiser's current heading. His voice trembled a bit as he announced his findings.

"They'll intercept the ring in four hours."

Kalis squeezed her eyes closed for a moment. In mere moments, she had gone from overjoyed to horrified. Then she took a breath and felt herself solidify. She plucked a communicator from the console and thumbed it on. "Ilor, are you there?"

"I'm here, Kalis," he said in his perpetually calm and flowing voice. "What's the problem?"

"I've got a short in one of the bridge stations up here," she lied easily. "I'd like you to come take a look at it."

He didn't track her meaning. "So? You can take care of it, can't you?"

She brought the comlink closer to her mouth and spoke more slowly. "I'd really appreciate it if you came up and helped me, Ilor."

He caught the inflection in her voice this time. "I'll be up there soon," he said quickly, and the line clicked off.

By the time Ilor got to the bridge, both Rota and Kalis were fully clothed and monitoring the screens closely. "What's the situation?" he said even before the door had closed behind him.

"Our cover's blown," Rota said, his voice now steady. "Covenant cruiser identified as the Hallowed Avenger closing in on out position. They'll be here in less than four hours."

Ilor studied the sensor data for a moment, then picked up the communicator and punched in a number. "Jara, get up here. Now."

Dammit, I wanted Sangheili porn... grrr... no matter. It's still wonderfully good. Keep it up.

EDIT: First.

Ah, well lovemaking for later...still good chapter.

Kuja, I love you. I want to have your babies.

And speaking of babies, how do you think the Sangheili reproduce?