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Description
Chapter 4: Shadow Games

Esam 'Mijumee eased himself against the wall, careful of his aching muscles. For the past several hours he had been dragging crates across the underground facility, as well as trekking back and forth from site to site. Overseer 'Oegulee had been running him ragged, handling extra projects and lending support to lost or confused infantry units. He figured it was probably revenge for earlier "undermining" the Major's authority.

At the moment, Esli 'Sarodee was taking a rest cycle, so Esam withdrew his Lumidex and cycled through the Battle Net, looking for a way to dispel his boredom.

One thread caught his eye. Highlighting it, he saw that a new and unidentified rune had been uncovered at a site where—if the data was to be believed—the Inquisition had uncovered the control room to Halo. Suppressing his excitement over that, he focused on the marker itself and the discussion that followed.

Most of the Inquisitors had dismissed it as nonsense, or without proper context; only a few had actually attempted to match the curves and dashes to their complicated meanings, and had come up with the term "reclamation."

Yet, looking at it, that didn't seem quite right. Esam traced his claw over the screen, following the lines carefully. He remembered his earlier discovery of the "parasite" rune, how complicated but straightforward it seemed. This shared some of those traits, but it was something different. Before, he had sensed something foreboding, but this was much further in the future, and more... optimistic.

There it was. It was reclamation, but subtle variances revealed it to be a proper noun, rather than an abstract ideal.

Not "reclamation," he typed into the Lumidex, but "reclaimer."

//

The arid environment below the Truth and Reconciliation was not ideal for cover, but Oriné 'Fulsamee surmised that the Special Operations were not called upon for ideal conditions. It was still night, but he could no longer see the day/night terminator on other parts of the right; soon, dawn would arrive.

Slowly, Oriné 'Fulsamee advanced behind Ionill 'Ongyomee, gripping his training rifle tightly. It had been many years since he held such a weapon, usually meant for Elite Juniors at war colleges across Covenant space, but the memory of its particular quirks surfaced easily from his muscles. It didn't handle exactly like the plasma rifles it was meant to mimic, and one had to lead more than with genuine plasma.

The commander held a weapon also meant for training, but it more closely resembled the Covenant's Carbine as a precision weapon. Yarna 'Orgalmee's weapon was exactly like Oriné's, and the Grunts carried training analogues to the plasma pistol. Elsewhere in the ravine, the other team carried a similar armament.

They—collectively designated "Hallowed Unit"—crept up the incline, 'Ongyomee leading from the front. He signaled for them to drop low and keyed his active camouflage. The massive Sangheili faded from view, and Oriné could no longer track him. A few moments later the commander reappeared and knelt down.

Enemy sentries, he said through hand motion, two ahead. Engage active camouflage, flank and eliminate. The newly-christened Operatives indicated their comprehension and did as they were ordered.

Oriné held his rifle close to his chest. He was unused to the active camouflage system, having only trained with it sparingly at Institution. Most Operatives, he understood, were forced to spend days while camouflaged in order to learn how to operate without seeing one's own limbs. Mentally he ran through the location of his equipment, knowing that he couldn't see it if he had to find it in a hurry.

The two sentries were vigilant, but wore the cobalt armor of Inquisitor Minors. They nervously glanced around, inexperienced but understanding this was only an exercise. From what Oriné could tell, they were maintaining patrol of a set area: lack of other personnel suggested that they still hadn't found their objective, but rather just encountered the enemy perimeter.

'Ongyomee had been drilling them in proper procedure for a couple of hours. Oriné had yet to actually implement any of these techniques, so he took to this scenario with some anxiety. He quietly slipped behind one and matched him step for step, waiting for the telling breeze of Yarna to fall in beside him. When Oriné felt it, he raised his weapon and fired a single bolt. Instantly, the Inquisitor's armor—pre-set to the training stance—seized up and the Sangheili fell to the ground. Beside him, the other Elite did the same.

The commander faded into view nearby. "Very good," he rumbled. The others took this as a sign to decloak as well. "Ordinarily it is wise to avoid the discharging of weapons, as they could betray your position, but I think our opponents would find your silent takedowns more lethal than is appropriate."

Oriné nodded. "As you say, Excellency."

"The route to our objective will be fraught with foes, and from here on we cannot risk the discovery of bodies. We will endeavor to complete our mission while remaining undetected.

"Forward, warriors."

//

Ignil 'Quarmee was thoroughly exhausted by the time he returned to his office on Halo. Shortly after his meeting with Field Master 'Putumee, another Inquisitor unit had contacted him with problems of their own. In one of the more mountainous regions, the Shadow transport they had been using—one of the rare non-combat ground vehicles the Fleet of Burning Judgment had at its disposal—had unexpectedly toppled into a ravine. He rerouted his dropship so he could see the damage himself, then contacted the Fleet of Particular Justice for support.

That had been followed by a heated argument between himself and the Supreme Commander. 'Quarmee had requested the use of a Phantom, as it had a more robust gravity lift than the Spirit and would be able to lift the Shadow out with no difficulty. The Supreme Commander had flatly refused, stating that the handful of Phantoms he possessed were reserved for use by the Prophet and Special Operations teams.

At last, he had devised a plan that used two Spirits and several cables to physically lift the Shadow, which was mostly successful but still resulted in one of the anti-gravity supports on the ground vehicle being damaged. It had been sent back to Truth and Reconciliation for repair, but until it was fixed, the Inquisitor unit could make no more headway toward its objective.

His desk flashed with multiple messages, mostly troop movements and equipment requests from other Inquisitors. He approved them all and then turned his attention to two that were more out of the ordinary.

The first was a directive from the Prophet, stating that outposts currently occupied by Covenant forces were to be examined "with due diligence" by Inquisitor teams, just in case one of them proved significant. That was fine; the Field Commander had already ordered a team to begin scouring the lower levels for anything important. At last report, they said certain passages went deeper than initial estimates. Shortly thereafter they had gone too deep and communication had been lost.

Reminded, 'Quarmee tasked a small infantry detachment to descend and check on them.

The other message pertained to recent human movement in the local sector. Patrols were reporting transient human contact, but whenever they pursued, the humans seemed to vanish. Sentries also reported motion and extreme range for the ground sensors, but weren't able to definitively state if it was human-related or not.

He filed that message away and followed up with orders to report any further contact to the nearest infantry officer. Additionally, he decided to deploy a few Hunter pairs around the base as forward guards. If the humans were planning an attack, he wanted to be prepared.

Beyond that, there were other matters at hand. Inquisitors from all over the ring were filing regular investigation reports about their various findings. Halo was proving to be immensely complex, but he had expected as much. It was the divine engine by which the Forerunners ascended to divinity: it had to be complicated; otherwise anyone could become a god.

Still, he found himself lost in the technical detail being unearthed by the dedicated explorers, and was only snapped out of his reverie several hours later by a very insistent alarm. A strobing light indicated a high-priority alert from the Inquisitor team at the suspected control room. He brought up the message:

To all forces:

Human elements have begun a local assault. Their current target is unknown, but feared to be the control room for which all our work has been dedicated.

We humbly request the support of any Army and Inquisitor units available.

Unconfirmed reports of Demon involvement.

He cursed. If the humans were indeed attempting to gain control of the region, they could irreversibly hamper the Covenant's progress towards the Great Journey. The sacred ring was too important to lose, even to the efforts of a Demon.

He cleared the alarm and started to rise, pausing only when he realized the siren had not ceased. There was another alert, this one a live transmission.

"Field Commander," spoke an anonymous Sangheili, "we have dire news."

"What is it, warrior?"

"A human attack force has been sighted on approach. It will arrive at the perimeter in seven minutes."

'Quarmee resisted the urge to slam his fist against the desk. "I will be up in a moment," he replied curtly, cutting the connection immediately thereafter.

The control room would have to rely on local forces after all.

//

Oriné 'Fulsamee's muscles ached, but he did not waiver. The twin electric-blue prongs of his plasma sword cut geometric patterns in the air as he swung, but Commander 'Ongyomee was too fast. He blocked the attack and countered, Oriné barely able to move his head out of the way in time. Concern trickled down his neck. These were not practice weapons. If he moved wrong, the commander would take off his head.

'Ongyomee settled his stance. "You are improving, 'Fulsamee, but you are far from mastery. Were this not an accelerated program, you would spend many more months working to perfect your form. As it is, we have only hours."

Oriné bowed. "You are too kind, Excellency." Truth be told, he had not used his sword in combat for many years. His blade, he felt, was tainted by the events immediately following his sister's public execution as a heretic. It had not felt right even carrying it into battle, though as a Minor he was not authorized to draw it except in the direst circumstances.

His new station as a Prophet Blessed, however, required he be well-versed in sword technique. Commander 'Ongyomee, following the exercises below the ship, brought the team back up to Truth and Reconciliation for further training. The Unggoy were currently drilling in the use of plasma turrets under the direction of Ofoff, who had previously been a gunner of some skill.

Meanwhile, Oriné and Yarna had been pulled into a vacant storage bay to learn the art of the sword. 'Ongyomee had briefly educated them in the three battle forms—kilic, flor, and kard—before launching straight into practice.

"Step back, 'Fulsamee," 'Ongyomee ordered. "I would have 'Orgalmee as my opponent next."

Yarna stepped forward, to his credit showing no signs of anxiety. While Oriné had only killed with his sword once, Yarna had never wielded his blade against a living opponent.

The two sparred, leaving Oriné to observe. Yarna did well, but the commander flowed between movements like graceful water maneuvering around a clumsy and stubborn rock. Several times Oriné's fellow Operative left a large opening in his defense that could have been exploited by an opponent with any modicum of skill; each time, the commander feinted towards it but did not follow through with a killing blow.

Oriné relaxed slightly. Perhaps 'Ongyomee did care whether his new Operatives survived his training.

The pair fought for several bouts until a loud chime interrupted them.

"For Special Operations Commander 'Ongyomee," said a voice over the Ship Net, "a message awaits at the terminal."

'Ongyomee powered off his sword. "Hold for now," he said. Yarna bowed. The commander walked to the far wall, where a small terminal rested in an alcove.

Oriné stepped closer to his friend. "How do you feel?"

"Like I have been run over several times by a tank," Yarna muttered. He inspected the deactivated hilt in his hand with one part disdain and another part distant sadness. "My father is an expert with the blade, claimed to be descended from a Swordsman line. I don't share his gift."

The younger Operative nodded. Long ago, before their integration into the Covenant, the Sangheili people had believed the qualities of a good swordsman could not be confined to a single Lineage. Those skilled enough were given a special suffix, "-ai," and forbidden to Bond with any one mate. Instead, they could sire a child with whomever they wished, Bonded or not; being possessed of the so-called "Swordsman gene" also had political clout.

A few Lineages clung to those roots, though the social edicts associated with being a Swordsman had been done away with many generations prior, and some families still used the -ai suffix to this day.

Oriné rolled the name 'Orgalmai around in his head a few times. It sounded alien.

"Warriors!"

The shout came from across the bay. Both Operatives straightened to attention as 'Ongyomee signaled them. "Come, we are to be deployed."

"Yes, Excellency." Both joined their commander as he left the bay, summoning the Unggoy to a nearby armory as he went. Inside, a hologram emitter had been installed in the center of the room, with weapons racks emanating from it like spokes on a wheel. It currently showed a three-dimensional image of Halo; as each member of Hallowed Unit entered they said a prayer.

"Your ears," 'Ongyomee said. "It is believed that a possible site of interest has been located in the lower levels of a Forerunner structure here"—he indicated a specific sector on the ring—"that is currently being used as a base for our forces. The Inquisitor unit sent to investigate has not reported back in quite some time, but it is believed that they are too deep to access the Battle Net. We must go in, locate them, and help them search.

"There is a complication: this outpost has come under attack by a moderately-sized human force. The local garrison is having difficulty repelling the assault, and other reinforcements have been delayed by similar aggressive pushes elsewhere.

"When we land, we will assist the ground forces in breaking the human movement and proceed into the tunnels below to search for the Inquisitors." His hardened eyes swept over his unit. "We will know more once we arrive. Arm yourselves for prolonged combat."

Oriné automatically gravitated towards a rack of plasma rifles. He selected two, double-checked their charge, and attached them to his magnetic holsters. He next chose five plasma grenades and fixed them to his hip.

He wanted to maintain a light armament to allow for in-field reconfiguration. His new Special Operations armor was lighter and easier to move in, and had boosted shields to compensate. It could also maintain both shields and active camouflage at the same time, a feat unrivaled in the standard infantry harness.

The other members of Hallowed Unit made their choices. 'Ongyomee selected a plasma rifle and left it at that; Yarna chose a plasma rifle as his sidearm and took down a Needler as well. Ononn and Gagaw seized Fuel Rod Cannons off the racks; Ofoff bundled up a plasma turret in his almost comically small arms.

However, Rurut hesitated. He seemed torn.

Oriné stepped up behind him. "Would you care for a suggestion?"

The Unggoy looked up at him, wary. "Yes."

Oriné pulled down a Needler and grabbed a satchel of extra grenades. "You are good with grenades," he said. "In practice, I do not think there was a target you missed. However, you are a terrible shot. The guidance system in the Needler will compensate somewhat for your inability." He handed both to the Grunt. "Do not rely on it too much."

"Thank you," Rurut said.

"Stay firm, and you will kill many humans this day."

Oriné watched as the Unggoy waddled off to join its comrades. Yarna eyed Oriné carefully. "You certainly seem to favor that one."

"He is intelligent," Oriné replied. "When you speak, he listens."

The other clicked his mandibles. "So you say."

The commander barked an order, and Hallowed Unit filed out of the armory, bound for the dropship hangar. 'Ongyomee fell into step with Oriné as they walked.

"You have a good rapport with the unit, 'Fulsamee."

"Thank you, Excellency."

"You and 'Orgalmee are close in skill, but I feel that you are slightly ahead. I am designating you my sub-Commander for this outing. If your performance is sufficient, I will make it an official posting."

Oriné fought to keep his composure. Hours into his Special Operations career and he was already in a position of leadership. The situation tempered his excitement: 'Ongyomee needed a sub-Commander, and his options were limited. He did not consider Yarna qualified, and it was rare for an Unggoy to be given the position.

"Yes, Excellency. I will not fail."

'Ongyomee chuffed. "See that you do not."

//

It had been several hours since Esam 'Mijumee last rested. His team had soldiered on, driven by both the infantry among them and their own anxiety. After finding the room of doors, the Inquisitors had discovered chambers far more scientific in their purpose than what they had so far discovered. Ancient consoles were scattered about, the sterile remains of a laboratory in which some equipment still functioned.

They spent copious amounts of time documenting, analyzing, and collecting items of interest. None of them wanted to stop working, and so took advantage of the presence of the Army: several Kig-Yar had been repurposed from their combat roles into couriers, running messages and objects too inscrutable or important to be handled on-site.

However, it was a tense several hours for Esam. As the foremost expert in cryptography currently available, he was called upon often to translate something for his fellow Inquisitors. So far, everything had a dark and forbidding undertone, and it seemed every other symbol he came across was that of the unmistakable warning from earlier.

He moved from chamber to chamber, lending aid and advice. He felt like a de-facto Overseer, but also understood his popularity only extended to the immediate area. Strangely, he found it distasteful, and hurried to find a way to either move on or go back.

One Inquisitor rose up, holding a hand-held terminal. "I require a Kig-Yar!"

Esam glanced around. No Kig-Yar were around, all sent out on errands. He seized the chance and strode over. "What is it?"

The Inquisitor eyed him carefully. "This unit still functions, but I cannot make it display its contents. I would like to send it to the surface for examination by an Engineer."

"I will take it."

Esam held out his hand. The other Inquisitor hesitated, clearly concerned with the possibility of Esam stealing credit.

"You have my guarantee that its discovery will be recorded in your name."

The unit was handed over, and Esam held his ticket for escape tight in his hands. He left the area, heading back into the room of doors. It was quieter here; no other teams were moving through, and his group would not return here until the further chambers were completely documented.

He breathed deeply and began to stroll around at a relaxed pace. He disliked the fervent rush that characterized the Inquisitors, but it couldn't be avoided. Their role demanded a hurried methodology; when they were deployed to human worlds on recovery missions, they were usually given a short timeline by whatever Fleet Master they served, detailing how long they had until the surface was destroyed.

To Esam, these things required time and caution, a careful hand.

Warmth spread from his palm. Esam glanced down and started: the screen on the Forerunner device had come alive. He brought it up to his eyes, attempting to discern what had changed to make it work. There was only one visible symbol, flashing intently in the center of the screen.

"Unseal."

Esam looked around. In his wandering, he had ascended the levels until he came upon a door that he hadn't noticed before. It was unique in the room as the only one without a warning symbol above it.

It was, besides the one his team had already pried open, the only door that was still locked.

Esam touched the symbol on the terminal. The door split along its seams and parted with a small hiss. Beyond was a dark and narrow passage, but as he took an unconscious step past the threshold, the unit in his hand made a sound. Suddenly, inactive grates and panels exploded into life, briefly searing an after-image into Esam's eyes.

The tingling fear in his mind returned, but he forced it down. He had never before encountered such a responsive environment while exploring Forerunner ruins. The device in his hands was not magnetic and would not adhere to his holster, so instead of taking out his Lumidex to make notes he simply continued forward.

Eventually he came to an elevator platform. He stopped to inspect the control panel, but it was very basic: it could only stop on two levels, this one and one further down. There was nothing else in the room, so he boarded and pressed the hologram. The platform dropped precipitously fast, but Esam barely felt it, either from an inertial dampener or perhaps just plain excitement. Lights flashed by, changing their hue ever slightly the lower into the facility he descended.

When the platform came to a rest, Esam found himself in a small room with only one door. He consulted the terminal; it said "Control" with a directional signal pointing towards the door.

He moved on, walking through the still and silent passage. It was cramped compared to the Forerunner structures he usually studied. Halls tended to be wide and tall, covered in blue light panels and glassy structures. They were grandiose compared to this small, utilitarian space: the only light provided were motes of an orange hue that made it difficult for the Sangheili to see.

The excitement from earlier slowly turned to dread. He was completely cut off from his fellow Inquisitors and the Infantry; he was too deep to access the Battle Net. A sensible warrior, he realized, would turn back now and return with more forces, but it was a sense of wonder and deep, primal curiosity that drove him on.

Still, his free hand drifted to his sidearm.

He reached the room the terminal led him to and stopped, overwhelmed. Surrounding him were true color two-dimensional holograms depicting what was going on in the rest of the facility. He saw Inquisitorial teams as they carefully combed through the artifacts, the infantry on guard upstairs; even Overseer 'Oegulee, who had found a quiet place to clean his armor.

The more he investigated, the more it seemed to be a security control station of some kind. He could cycle the holograms around, even to what seemed like other facilities scattered across the ring. He had a limited control over where the viewpoint looked in each room, though it would only move so much.

However, everything was done via the hand-held unit. None of the terminals in the room were active; they were all dark. Only one seemed independently powered, hooked up to the one screen that showed a dark nothingness. Esam walked over and examined it, recognizing the "Reclaimer" symbol from earlier. He reached out a finger and gently touched it, but withdrew it immediately as a stabbing pain shot up his arm. The tip of his finger had been burned.

The hand-held warmed in his other palm again. There was another "unseal" symbol visible upon its surface, which Esam keyed.

The terminal came to life. It was no image, but instead a record. A very complete and thorough record, Esam realized as he scrolled through it. At first his excitement made him too eager and he moved quickly through, trying to get a feel for what it was he had found. However, the gravity of what was reading slowed him down until he was carefully absorbing every word.

That fear, primal and cold, returned. This time, there was nothing he could do to control it.

Description
Chapter 4: Shadow Games

Esam 'Mijumee eased himself against the wall, careful of his aching muscles. For the past several hours he had been dragging crates across the underground facility, as well as trekking back and forth from site to site. Overseer 'Oegulee had been running him ragged, handling extra projects and lending support to lost or confused infantry units. He figured it was probably revenge for earlier "undermining" the Major's authority.

At the moment, Esli 'Sarodee was taking a rest cycle, so Esam withdrew his Lumidex and cycled through the Battle Net, looking for a way to dispel his boredom.

One thread caught his eye. Highlighting it, he saw that a new and unidentified rune had been uncovered at a site where—if the data was to be believed—the Inquisition had uncovered the control room to Halo. Suppressing his excitement over that, he focused on the marker itself and the discussion that followed.

Most of the Inquisitors had dismissed it as nonsense, or without proper context; only a few had actually attempted to match the curves and dashes to their complicated meanings, and had come up with the term "reclamation."

Yet, looking at it, that didn't seem quite right. Esam traced his claw over the screen, following the lines carefully. He remembered his earlier discovery of the "parasite" rune, how complicated but straightforward it seemed. This shared some of those traits, but it was something different. Before, he had sensed something foreboding, but this was much further in the future, and more... optimistic.

There it was. It was reclamation, but subtle variances revealed it to be a proper noun, rather than an abstract ideal.

Not "reclamation," he typed into the Lumidex, but "reclaimer."

//

The arid environment below the Truth and Reconciliation was not ideal for cover, but Oriné 'Fulsamee surmised that the Special Operations were not called upon for ideal conditions. It was still night, but he could no longer see the day/night terminator on other parts of the right; soon, dawn would arrive.

Slowly, Oriné 'Fulsamee advanced behind Ionill 'Ongyomee, gripping his training rifle tightly. It had been many years since he held such a weapon, usually meant for Elite Juniors at war colleges across Covenant space, but the memory of its particular quirks surfaced easily from his muscles. It didn't handle exactly like the plasma rifles it was meant to mimic, and one had to lead more than with genuine plasma.

The commander held a weapon also meant for training, but it more closely resembled the Covenant's Carbine as a precision weapon. Yarna 'Orgalmee's weapon was exactly like Oriné's, and the Grunts carried training analogues to the plasma pistol. Elsewhere in the ravine, the other team carried a similar armament.

They—collectively designated "Hallowed Unit"—crept up the incline, 'Ongyomee leading from the front. He signaled for them to drop low and keyed his active camouflage. The massive Sangheili faded from view, and Oriné could no longer track him. A few moments later the commander reappeared and knelt down.

Enemy sentries, he said through hand motion, two ahead. Engage active camouflage, flank and eliminate. The newly-christened Operatives indicated their comprehension and did as they were ordered.

Oriné held his rifle close to his chest. He was unused to the active camouflage system, having only trained with it sparingly at Institution. Most Operatives, he understood, were forced to spend days while camouflaged in order to learn how to operate without seeing one's own limbs. Mentally he ran through the location of his equipment, knowing that he couldn't see it if he had to find it in a hurry.

The two sentries were vigilant, but wore the cobalt armor of Inquisitor Minors. They nervously glanced around, inexperienced but understanding this was only an exercise. From what Oriné could tell, they were maintaining patrol of a set area: lack of other personnel suggested that they still hadn't found their objective, but rather just encountered the enemy perimeter.

'Ongyomee had been drilling them in proper procedure for a couple of hours. Oriné had yet to actually implement any of these techniques, so he took to this scenario with some anxiety. He quietly slipped behind one and matched him step for step, waiting for the telling breeze of Yarna to fall in beside him. When Oriné felt it, he raised his weapon and fired a single bolt. Instantly, the Inquisitor's armor—pre-set to the training stance—seized up and the Sangheili fell to the ground. Beside him, the other Elite did the same.

The commander faded into view nearby. "Very good," he rumbled. The others took this as a sign to decloak as well. "Ordinarily it is wise to avoid the discharging of weapons, as they could betray your position, but I think our opponents would find your silent takedowns more lethal than is appropriate."

Oriné nodded. "As you say, Excellency."

"The route to our objective will be fraught with foes, and from here on we cannot risk the discovery of bodies. We will endeavor to complete our mission while remaining undetected.

"Forward, warriors."

//

Ignil 'Quarmee was thoroughly exhausted by the time he returned to his office on Halo. Shortly after his meeting with Field Master 'Putumee, another Inquisitor unit had contacted him with problems of their own. In one of the more mountainous regions, the Shadow transport they had been using—one of the rare non-combat ground vehicles the Fleet of Burning Judgment had at its disposal—had unexpectedly toppled into a ravine. He rerouted his dropship so he could see the damage himself, then contacted the Fleet of Particular Justice for support.

That had been followed by a heated argument between himself and the Supreme Commander. 'Quarmee had requested the use of a Phantom, as it had a more robust gravity lift than the Spirit and would be able to lift the Shadow out with no difficulty. The Supreme Commander had flatly refused, stating that the handful of Phantoms he possessed were reserved for use by the Prophet and Special Operations teams.

At last, he had devised a plan that used two Spirits and several cables to physically lift the Shadow, which was mostly successful but still resulted in one of the anti-gravity supports on the ground vehicle being damaged. It had been sent back to Truth and Reconciliation for repair, but until it was fixed, the Inquisitor unit could make no more headway toward its objective.

His desk flashed with multiple messages, mostly troop movements and equipment requests from other Inquisitors. He approved them all and then turned his attention to two that were more out of the ordinary.

The first was a directive from the Prophet, stating that outposts currently occupied by Covenant forces were to be examined "with due diligence" by Inquisitor teams, just in case one of them proved significant. That was fine; the Field Commander had already ordered a team to begin scouring the lower levels for anything important. At last report, they said certain passages went deeper than initial estimates. Shortly thereafter they had gone too deep and communication had been lost.

Reminded, 'Quarmee tasked a small infantry detachment to descend and check on them.

The other message pertained to recent human movement in the local sector. Patrols were reporting transient human contact, but whenever they pursued, the humans seemed to vanish. Sentries also reported motion and extreme range for the ground sensors, but weren't able to definitively state if it was human-related or not.

He filed that message away and followed up with orders to report any further contact to the nearest infantry officer. Additionally, he decided to deploy a few Hunter pairs around the base as forward guards. If the humans were planning an attack, he wanted to be prepared.

Beyond that, there were other matters at hand. Inquisitors from all over the ring were filing regular investigation reports about their various findings. Halo was proving to be immensely complex, but he had expected as much. It was the divine engine by which the Forerunners ascended to divinity: it had to be complicated; otherwise anyone could become a god.

Still, he found himself lost in the technical detail being unearthed by the dedicated explorers, and was only snapped out of his reverie several hours later by a very insistent alarm. A strobing light indicated a high-priority alert from the Inquisitor team at the suspected control room. He brought up the message:

To all forces:

Human elements have begun a local assault. Their current target is unknown, but feared to be the control room for which all our work has been dedicated.

We humbly request the support of any Army and Inquisitor units available.

Unconfirmed reports of Demon involvement.

He cursed. If the humans were indeed attempting to gain control of the region, they could irreversibly hamper the Covenant's progress towards the Great Journey. The sacred ring was too important to lose, even to the efforts of a Demon.

He cleared the alarm and started to rise, pausing only when he realized the siren had not ceased. There was another alert, this one a live transmission.

"Field Commander," spoke an anonymous Sangheili, "we have dire news."

"What is it, warrior?"

"A human attack force has been sighted on approach. It will arrive at the perimeter in seven minutes."

'Quarmee resisted the urge to slam his fist against the desk. "I will be up in a moment," he replied curtly, cutting the connection immediately thereafter.

The control room would have to rely on local forces after all.

//

Oriné 'Fulsamee's muscles ached, but he did not waiver. The twin electric-blue prongs of his plasma sword cut geometric patterns in the air as he swung, but Commander 'Ongyomee was too fast. He blocked the attack and countered, Oriné barely able to move his head out of the way in time. Concern trickled down his neck. These were not practice weapons. If he moved wrong, the commander would take off his head.

'Ongyomee settled his stance. "You are improving, 'Fulsamee, but you are far from mastery. Were this not an accelerated program, you would spend many more months working to perfect your form. As it is, we have only hours."

Oriné bowed. "You are too kind, Excellency." Truth be told, he had not used his sword in combat for many years. His blade, he felt, was tainted by the events immediately following his sister's public execution as a heretic. It had not felt right even carrying it into battle, though as a Minor he was not authorized to draw it except in the direst circumstances.

His new station as a Prophet Blessed, however, required he be well-versed in sword technique. Commander 'Ongyomee, following the exercises below the ship, brought the team back up to Truth and Reconciliation for further training. The Unggoy were currently drilling in the use of plasma turrets under the direction of Ofoff, who had previously been a gunner of some skill.

Meanwhile, Oriné and Yarna had been pulled into a vacant storage bay to learn the art of the sword. 'Ongyomee had briefly educated them in the three battle forms—kilic, flor, and kard—before launching straight into practice.

"Step back, 'Fulsamee," 'Ongyomee ordered. "I would have 'Orgalmee as my opponent next."

Yarna stepped forward, to his credit showing no signs of anxiety. While Oriné had only killed with his sword once, Yarna had never wielded his blade against a living opponent.

The two sparred, leaving Oriné to observe. Yarna did well, but the commander flowed between movements like graceful water maneuvering around a clumsy and stubborn rock. Several times Oriné's fellow Operative left a large opening in his defense that could have been exploited by an opponent with any modicum of skill; each time, the commander feinted towards it but did not follow through with a killing blow.

Oriné relaxed slightly. Perhaps 'Ongyomee did care whether his new Operatives survived his training.

The pair fought for several bouts until a loud chime interrupted them.

"For Special Operations Commander 'Ongyomee," said a voice over the Ship Net, "a message awaits at the terminal."

'Ongyomee powered off his sword. "Hold for now," he said. Yarna bowed. The commander walked to the far wall, where a small terminal rested in an alcove.

Oriné stepped closer to his friend. "How do you feel?"

"Like I have been run over several times by a tank," Yarna muttered. He inspected the deactivated hilt in his hand with one part disdain and another part distant sadness. "My father is an expert with the blade, claimed to be descended from a Swordsman line. I don't share his gift."

The younger Operative nodded. Long ago, before their integration into the Covenant, the Sangheili people had believed the qualities of a good swordsman could not be confined to a single Lineage. Those skilled enough were given a special suffix, "-ai," and forbidden to Bond with any one mate. Instead, they could sire a child with whomever they wished, Bonded or not; being possessed of the so-called "Swordsman gene" also had political clout.

A few Lineages clung to those roots, though the social edicts associated with being a Swordsman had been done away with many generations prior, and some families still used the -ai suffix to this day.

Oriné rolled the name 'Orgalmai around in his head a few times. It sounded alien.

"Warriors!"

The shout came from across the bay. Both Operatives straightened to attention as 'Ongyomee signaled them. "Come, we are to be deployed."

"Yes, Excellency." Both joined their commander as he left the bay, summoning the Unggoy to a nearby armory as he went. Inside, a hologram emitter had been installed in the center of the room, with weapons racks emanating from it like spokes on a wheel. It currently showed a three-dimensional image of Halo; as each member of Hallowed Unit entered they said a prayer.

"Your ears," 'Ongyomee said. "It is believed that a possible site of interest has been located in the lower levels of a Forerunner structure here"—he indicated a specific sector on the ring—"that is currently being used as a base for our forces. The Inquisitor unit sent to investigate has not reported back in quite some time, but it is believed that they are too deep to access the Battle Net. We must go in, locate them, and help them search.

"There is a complication: this outpost has come under attack by a moderately-sized human force. The local garrison is having difficulty repelling the assault, and other reinforcements have been delayed by similar aggressive pushes elsewhere.

"When we land, we will assist the ground forces in breaking the human movement and proceed into the tunnels below to search for the Inquisitors." His hardened eyes swept over his unit. "We will know more once we arrive. Arm yourselves for prolonged combat."

Oriné automatically gravitated towards a rack of plasma rifles. He selected two, double-checked their charge, and attached them to his magnetic holsters. He next chose five plasma grenades and fixed them to his hip.

He wanted to maintain a light armament to allow for in-field reconfiguration. His new Special Operations armor was lighter and easier to move in, and had boosted shields to compensate. It could also maintain both shields and active camouflage at the same time, a feat unrivaled in the standard infantry harness.

The other members of Hallowed Unit made their choices. 'Ongyomee selected a plasma rifle and left it at that; Yarna chose a plasma rifle as his sidearm and took down a Needler as well. Ononn and Gagaw seized Fuel Rod Cannons off the racks; Ofoff bundled up a plasma turret in his almost comically small arms.

However, Rurut hesitated. He seemed torn.

Oriné stepped up behind him. "Would you care for a suggestion?"

The Unggoy looked up at him, wary. "Yes."

Oriné pulled down a Needler and grabbed a satchel of extra grenades. "You are good with grenades," he said. "In practice, I do not think there was a target you missed. However, you are a terrible shot. The guidance system in the Needler will compensate somewhat for your inability." He handed both to the Grunt. "Do not rely on it too much."

"Thank you," Rurut said.

"Stay firm, and you will kill many humans this day."

Oriné watched as the Unggoy waddled off to join its comrades. Yarna eyed Oriné carefully. "You certainly seem to favor that one."

"He is intelligent," Oriné replied. "When you speak, he listens."

The other clicked his mandibles. "So you say."

The commander barked an order, and Hallowed Unit filed out of the armory, bound for the dropship hangar. 'Ongyomee fell into step with Oriné as they walked.

"You have a good rapport with the unit, 'Fulsamee."

"Thank you, Excellency."

"You and 'Orgalmee are close in skill, but I feel that you are slightly ahead. I am designating you my sub-Commander for this outing. If your performance is sufficient, I will make it an official posting."

Oriné fought to keep his composure. Hours into his Special Operations career and he was already in a position of leadership. The situation tempered his excitement: 'Ongyomee needed a sub-Commander, and his options were limited. He did not consider Yarna qualified, and it was rare for an Unggoy to be given the position.

"Yes, Excellency. I will not fail."

'Ongyomee chuffed. "See that you do not."

//

It had been several hours since Esam 'Mijumee last rested. His team had soldiered on, driven by both the infantry among them and their own anxiety. After finding the room of doors, the Inquisitors had discovered chambers far more scientific in their purpose than what they had so far discovered. Ancient consoles were scattered about, the sterile remains of a laboratory in which some equipment still functioned.

They spent copious amounts of time documenting, analyzing, and collecting items of interest. None of them wanted to stop working, and so took advantage of the presence of the Army: several Kig-Yar had been repurposed from their combat roles into couriers, running messages and objects too inscrutable or important to be handled on-site.

However, it was a tense several hours for Esam. As the foremost expert in cryptography currently available, he was called upon often to translate something for his fellow Inquisitors. So far, everything had a dark and forbidding undertone, and it seemed every other symbol he came across was that of the unmistakable warning from earlier.

He moved from chamber to chamber, lending aid and advice. He felt like a de-facto Overseer, but also understood his popularity only extended to the immediate area. Strangely, he found it distasteful, and hurried to find a way to either move on or go back.

One Inquisitor rose up, holding a hand-held terminal. "I require a Kig-Yar!"

Esam glanced around. No Kig-Yar were around, all sent out on errands. He seized the chance and strode over. "What is it?"

The Inquisitor eyed him carefully. "This unit still functions, but I cannot make it display its contents. I would like to send it to the surface for examination by an Engineer."

"I will take it."

Esam held out his hand. The other Inquisitor hesitated, clearly concerned with the possibility of Esam stealing credit.

"You have my guarantee that its discovery will be recorded in your name."

The unit was handed over, and Esam held his ticket for escape tight in his hands. He left the area, heading back into the room of doors. It was quieter here; no other teams were moving through, and his group would not return here until the further chambers were completely documented.

He breathed deeply and began to stroll around at a relaxed pace. He disliked the fervent rush that characterized the Inquisitors, but it couldn't be avoided. Their role demanded a hurried methodology; when they were deployed to human worlds on recovery missions, they were usually given a short timeline by whatever Fleet Master they served, detailing how long they had until the surface was destroyed.

To Esam, these things required time and caution, a careful hand.

Warmth spread from his palm. Esam glanced down and started: the screen on the Forerunner device had come alive. He brought it up to his eyes, attempting to discern what had changed to make it work. There was only one visible symbol, flashing intently in the center of the screen.

"Unseal."

Esam looked around. In his wandering, he had ascended the levels until he came upon a door that he hadn't noticed before. It was unique in the room as the only one without a warning symbol above it.

It was, besides the one his team had already pried open, the only door that was still locked.

Esam touched the symbol on the terminal. The door split along its seams and parted with a small hiss. Beyond was a dark and narrow passage, but as he took an unconscious step past the threshold, the unit in his hand made a sound. Suddenly, inactive grates and panels exploded into life, briefly searing an after-image into Esam's eyes.

The tingling fear in his mind returned, but he forced it down. He had never before encountered such a responsive environment while exploring Forerunner ruins. The device in his hands was not magnetic and would not adhere to his holster, so instead of taking out his Lumidex to make notes he simply continued forward.

Eventually he came to an elevator platform. He stopped to inspect the control panel, but it was very basic: it could only stop on two levels, this one and one further down. There was nothing else in the room, so he boarded and pressed the hologram. The platform dropped precipitously fast, but Esam barely felt it, either from an inertial dampener or perhaps just plain excitement. Lights flashed by, changing their hue ever slightly the lower into the facility he descended.

When the platform came to a rest, Esam found himself in a small room with only one door. He consulted the terminal; it said "Control" with a directional signal pointing towards the door.

He moved on, walking through the still and silent passage. It was cramped compared to the Forerunner structures he usually studied. Halls tended to be wide and tall, covered in blue light panels and glassy structures. They were grandiose compared to this small, utilitarian space: the only light provided were motes of an orange hue that made it difficult for the Sangheili to see.

The excitement from earlier slowly turned to dread. He was completely cut off from his fellow Inquisitors and the Infantry; he was too deep to access the Battle Net. A sensible warrior, he realized, would turn back now and return with more forces, but it was a sense of wonder and deep, primal curiosity that drove him on.

Still, his free hand drifted to his sidearm.

He reached the room the terminal led him to and stopped, overwhelmed. Surrounding him were true color two-dimensional holograms depicting what was going on in the rest of the facility. He saw Inquisitorial teams as they carefully combed through the artifacts, the infantry on guard upstairs; even Overseer 'Oegulee, who had found a quiet place to clean his armor.

The more he investigated, the more it seemed to be a security control station of some kind. He could cycle the holograms around, even to what seemed like other facilities scattered across the ring. He had a limited control over where the viewpoint looked in each room, though it would only move so much.

However, everything was done via the hand-held unit. None of the terminals in the room were active; they were all dark. Only one seemed independently powered, hooked up to the one screen that showed a dark nothingness. Esam walked over and examined it, recognizing the "Reclaimer" symbol from earlier. He reached out a finger and gently touched it, but withdrew it immediately as a stabbing pain shot up his arm. The tip of his finger had been burned.

The hand-held warmed in his other palm again. There was another "unseal" symbol visible upon its surface, which Esam keyed.

The terminal came to life. It was no image, but instead a record. A very complete and thorough record, Esam realized as he scrolled through it. At first his excitement made him too eager and he moved quickly through, trying to get a feel for what it was he had found. However, the gravity of what was reading slowed him down until he was carefully absorbing every word.

That fear, primal and cold, returned. This time, there was nothing he could do to control it.