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Halo; The Great Journey (Chapter 2)
Posted By: Marlek<razz9900@hotmail.com>
Date: 30 June 2006, 5:20 pm
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CHAPTER II
Ninth Age of Reclamation: Step of righteous deed
Earth; aboard Covenant Carrier Assiduous Clairvoyant, High Prophet of Regret's inner sanctum.
Heti Yumamee and his apprentice, Kilii Manjaree, quietly stood at attention before the frail-looking creature eased in its floating throne. He could tell Kilii wanted nothing more than spilling the High Prophet's red blood on the floor, much like the humans. But Heti knew better; for the blood of a prophet, he would pay with his own blood—his entire lineage will pay with their blood, too. Of course, Kilii is blue Sangheili, just needed seven more human lives and he'd reach a thousand to receive red armor.
"Sangheili," the Prophet's throne inched forward, sending a wave of fear through the room, bowing Honor Guards and the two Elites to their knees. "Explain this…atrocity which befell the Cogent Hoplite."
Heti Yumamee snapped up, but didn't dare line sight with the frail creature. "Noble Prophet of Regret," he started. "Two of their small ships fled our Seraph scout parties. We intended to injure their primitive gun from below…" he paused, looking for the right and most respectful words. A stupid move, trying the patience of a Hierarch. "While we readied to burn their pestilent concoction, one of our anti-matter bombs fell at the Cogent Hoplite." The Sangheili smoothed out his deep voice even more, "We fired, but reported the target was much too small. We tried a second blow, and one of their ships recklessly jumped to its doom and shielded the object. The Cogent Hoplite's shipmaster reported a breach in the engine room. Regrettably, that was the last we transmitted."
"Hmm…" Regret's three-fingered hand drummed his fleshy beard. Either assessing the report…or contemplating whether or not to hang Heti Yumamee and Kilii Manjaree for fleeing the Cogent Hoplite at its final hour. Regret's facial muscles struck up in cold malice. But the creature feigned empathy and thoughtfully locked its fingers together. "And so you did what you had to…" its throne hovered closer to the two Sangheili. "But what of the assailant?"
"Noble Prophet of Regret," Heti softly spoke the preamble. "We suspect it to be the work of The Demon—"
"The Demon is here!?" The Prophet's voice boomed and echoed the chamber, sounding as though an angry God has spoken. Heti's maw dried, unsure of how to placate the prophet. The Sangheili bowed its head even lower, grubbing at the Prophet's feet. He knew this must have disgusted Kilii Manjaree. "A pox on its blackened soul." Regret snarled, "Send a team to purify the holy ground—and while at it, bring me the correspondence from The Prophets of Pride and Justice."
"Here," Kilii Manjaree's four fingers folded out a data crystal, he reluctantly added, "my lord." The Prophet's features reflected deep thought. Probably in a lapse of actual empathy—Kilii was merely fourteen, a mere child even by Sangheili standards. The Prophet eased into its throne and fit the data crystal into an appropriate slot on the armrest. An artificial letter popped up in front of Regret.
Compliments, Holy One
from the Prophets of Justice and Pride
We have the foretold one aboard our flagship Decorum of Conceit, and have plied it with queries of The Great Journey. So far, the Prophetic Warrior displays odd behavior—claiming to know nought of The Great Journey nor her proper identity. The Prophet of Justice advised to hold Adelaide in the holding pens. We've given the human its rudiments and left a captain of our Sangheili, Jirele, to ensure the human's safety. Jirele claims to have heard the human speak of 'John, find the icon, ring', 'history repeats it self' and 'one man like a demon'. Pride and I conjectured the chosen one refers to The Demon and the tragedy at one of the Sacred Rings. Perhaps the human is crucial to The Great Journey.
With Care, Sincerity and Great Reverence—The Prophets of Pride and Justice
Regret snapped off the letter and turned to the Elites, an opportunistic glint in its bulbous, beady eyes. "Share this with the High Prophets of Truth and Mercy; I believe Adelaide may be an alternative to an Oracle."
"It will be done," Heti gently whispered. The Prophet waved a hand and the Honor Guards stood straight, ornate halberds at the ready. Heti Yumamee and Kilii Manjaree slowly rose to their hooves and left the chamber. Outside, Heti roughly elbowed his comrade and said, "Careful, young one. You greatly disrespect the Hierarch. A second time will be pardoned in blood."
Kilii Manjaree's mandibles snapped at the air—didn't taste like metal, no bugs watching them. "I no longer know my faith in the prophets," it answered. "All Sangheili have heard of how Bracktanus murdered our brother in cold blood within spitting distance of a holy place. The Hierarchs overlooked the matter and moved on. If it were not a brute, the aggressor would surely have been quartered."
"The Counselors had brought the matter to the High Prophet of Mercy's attention, too. The Holy One dismissed it as petty bickering which shall not happen again. Leave it as it is, Kilii, and bide your ire for cleansing the holy land." The two Sangheili strode down a series of loosely pentagon-shaped hallways, walls lined with majestic dashes of purple, alit with a faint gleam of purple. Automatic doors folded away at their presence and shut behind them. They soon arrived before a large dropship hangar.
"Look," Kilii tapped his mentor's broad shoulder. "Jiralhanae fold away our Harbingers and replace them with new Phantoms." Heti's elongated neck, thick with muscle, spun and tracked a pair of vaguely simian beasts pinch a control terminal with their claws. One Harbinger—consisting of two tube-like pods, adhered to a pilot's square-like compartment—lowered to Assiduous Clairvoyant's disposal shacks below deck. Heti had seen that the dropship's bottom-mounted shade turret sheared away, and it was peppered in odd black dots—accursed human munitions. A new Phantom took its place, sporting a vibrant shade of purple, three shade turrets at its bottom corners, and a grav-lift at its belly.
Heti's head bobbed up and down—impressed. "I did not know Jiralhanae commandeered our war machines."
"Jiralhanae have been rising upon Elite ranks, master. They police High Charity's lower districts with special diligence against our brothers and even aspire to be the Hierarchs Honor Guards."
"Quite troublesome…but enough for now, perhaps we shall discuss our matter afterwards." Heti stepped up to a weapons shack behind the two Jiralhanae, one of its black, beady eyes checked the Brutes, a hand policed a fresh plasma-rifle, another hand curled over an Energy Sword's hilt, just in case.
"Another of your incompetents," a Jiralhanae grumbled over Heti's shoulder, "has become an Arbiter." Everything in the hangar froze—grunts trembled at the news, other Sangheili spun and snapped the Brute in sight, and Drones held their wings. Only the muted hum of ignorant Jackal shields whined. Apparently even they were too dumbstruck to shut them off.
"Stay your tongue, beast," Heti snapped. "Such libel is poison."
The Brute gave a low, throaty laugh, two massive hands beating the thick brown hide on its belly. "I do not jest to Sangheili…" its maw, filled with jagged razorblade teeth, let out a derisive bark and it pumped its chest, closing in on the Sangheili. Heti spun, the air hissed and crackled, projecting a heat wave at the Brute's face.
"Careful," it warned, "I doubt your hide can take its bite."
The Brute's face twisted, it towered at least a head over the Sangheili. Heti stepped closer, blade handed. Heti risked a side glance at Kilii, two Needlers already trained on the second Brute.
The red Sangheili, far wiser than the Brute and the apprentice, just knew better. It took a step back, the magnetic field containing its blade's plasma failed, and spiked the hangar's temperature. Heti cocked his head, the apprentice grabbed a new plasma rifle on the weapons crate and followed him to the shaft of blue light beneath a Phantom. The light ferried them up to the ship's passenger chamber.
"Master!" Kilii whispered just low enough for the pair of Unngoy to not hear. His face sharpened at a foolishly brave Grunt not to have cowered, sending it fast on its stumpy feet. "What have you done!? Every moment it lives, our shame increases ten-fold!"
"I am aware of that," Heti coolly whispered. "A berserk Brute can be quite troublesome. Surely it would have skinned those Kig-yar and you, too. And I fear there are much more humans to kill than we realized. The first party has yet to post a report."
"The shame," Kilii blindly protested, "what of the shame!?"
"I am aware of that, too," The Energy Sword's hilt parked aside its hip. Heti's mandibles gently folded up—a smile…which leapt to Kilii's young features. Platoons of Unngoy, each mastered by one Sangheili, arrived through the Phantom's grav lift. Heti checked the life-support lamps on his armor's arms and bottom calves—glowing a healthy shade of orange—he was in perfect shape. It courteously minded Kilii's, and he was just as fine. Shortly, the hangar door folded away and the Phantom leapt into the holy land's atmosphere.
A video from the Phantom's forward cams snapped to each Sangheili's optical nerves—directly feeding to their eyes a crisp photograph of angular buildings, strange veins on the ground littered with innocuous rectangular war-machines, still burning after the first wave of the crusade. Heti thought they were odd, lacking the contemptible green tint, the four black and rugged cylinders its corners, and the rotating turret at the rear he had seen countless times on the Sacred Ring.
A pair of Phantoms raced in their advance, folding up Kilii's mandibles. He knew well the two spec-ops Sangheili in there. "Behold!" he yelped aloud, "the field of battle!" A tiny plaza zoomed into view over the forward cam. It looked exceptionally old in Heti's eyes, even for the humans' filthy tenements. A pair of greenish human dropships quickly fled. Heti saw one stay behind and hoist up a dark-skinned human with two smaller ones in her hands. It turned his bowels, stiffened his mandibles—both cowardice and an insult. They flee and spit in his face while at it?
Two towering plants shuddered away as the Phantom eased into the cramped plaza. Kilii leapt into the grav-lift's well, landed with a dull thud on the floor. Heti, the Sangheili with their grunt companions and one Kig-yar sniper followed.
"Look at it!" Kilii pumped a salvo of plasma into the writhing human warrior in a corner where he had beat it into. It one wore green garments, a tough headdress, and held a black cudgel. "It begs like Unngoy!"
Kilii motioned forward and stabbed a hoof into its back, it whimpered and gushed red blood from the maw. Kilii's mandibles folded up in delight, watching its chest pump faster and faster, then finally cease a moment later.
Heti prudently went by the creature and policed its cudgel. The Sangheili's beady eyes scanned the length of the weapon. It didn't like it—didn't have a satisfying heft. The Elite curiously ringed its long digit around the triggering mechanism, and nothing happened.
"It is broken?" Heti incriminated the apprentice.
"The human did this—" Kilii yanked a projecting metal rod on the weapon's shaft, causing a metallic clank. "—and then pressed this—" The SMG gently vibrated in the Sangheili's palm, one end flashing orange in sync with a chain of tiny explosions. It ceased after ten heartbeats.
"Worthless," Heti wrenched it from the apprentice and threw at the dead human warrior. He turned and faced the Kig-yar and six platoons of grunts, led by Elite warriors. He ordered all fellow Sangheili, "remain hidden in these dwellings. Slay any humans on sight. All else will aid securing this filthy tenement so long the Prophet of Regret whims it necessary!" Roars of confirmation echoed the small locus. Grunts blindly cheered Sangheili, better not upset their masters or they'll be fed to the Jackals if not used shielding human munitions.
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