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Description
Chapter 5: Descent

When the Spirit touched down, Oriné 'Fulsamee stepped out warily behind Commander 'Ongyomee—the forest was almost peaceful, but here and there the thunder of an explosion or the staccato of human weapons broke the illusion. The two Operatives took careful stock of their surroundings and waved the Unggoy out. As soon as all of Hallowed Unit had disembarked, 'Ongyomee signaled the dropship to lift off and return to the Truth and Reconciliation.

Once the ship was out of sight, the commander turned to the team. "We shall endeavor to disrupt the human attack force, but our ultimate goal is to reach the outpost and lend our expertise to searching its depths." He waved them forward and cloaked; the rest did the same.

As they moved, Oriné observed the environment. The forest was made up of seemingly one type of tree, a species similar to the human "pine" but also bearing resemblance to the bunu trees on Sanghelios, the kind that could be found at higher altitudes and in cooler environments. Their leaves resembled needles like the pine, but they were softer, more malleable. He risked plucking one off a branch as they passed, a ghost admiring the foliage.

Yarna 'Orgalmee's voice was a whisper beside him. "Does your expertise now extend to flora, as well?"

Oriné said nothing. He crushed the leaf between his claws and let it fall.

The sound of battle grew louder, Hallowed Unit now close enough to hear the return register of Covenant weaponry. Up ahead, Oriné could see tents of the sort that humans erected when they did not plan a long occupation. One had a white and red symbol emblazoned on the canvas, the kind he identified from his time at Institution as the symbol for their Healers.

He wondered if it would be a target, but none of his teammates seemed to be stopping. He continued on his way.

A moment later the commander reappeared. Oriné and the others followed suit.

Plasma grenades, full volley, he signaled. Fuel Rod Cannons fire from behind, cloak, evade. Hold fire until through enemy. Fuel Rod Cannons again, plasma rifle fire as retreat. The members of Hallowed Unit signaled their comprehension before reengaging their active camouflage.

The attack was sudden when launched. Each warrior primed and threw two grenades, all twelve landing in a spread out formation. When they detonated, the resulting chaos cleared a center lane and put the humans on alert; with their attention split, the incoming fire from the Covenant forces on the other side intensified.

Ononn and Gagaw decloaked to avoid straining their camouflage systems and fired their Fuel Rod Cannons directly into the separated humans. Blossoms of vibrant green energy consumed the soldiers, sending many screaming and bleeding to the ground.

They were panicking now, firing wildly into the forest around them. The gunners cloaked before they were spotted. Oriné heard 'Ongyomee's quiet order to move and sprinted forward, moving through the space provided by the attack. Bullets zinged past but nothing struck him. That was a good thing: his shields would have lit up under the impact, betraying his presence.

Once clear, the Grunts turned and fired another volley as the Elites began a withering cover fire. Oriné used both plasma rifles, sending an alternating stream of constant plasma at the human soldiers. By now they figured out what was attacking them, but it was too late to effectively counterattack as Hallowed Unit retreated for the outpost a mere four hundred yards away.

The Covenant had organized well. Human forces were closing in, but the facility in which they had set up their outpost had a substantial platform that towered over the forest floor. Jackal snipers had set up along its edge, firing Needlers and plasma pistols down into the human forces. Had they beam rifles, their effectiveness would have been increased exponentially.

Hallowed Unit decloaked and climbed up the heavily-guarded ramp to the platform. 'Ongyomee glanced around and gestured to the edge of the platform. "Ofoff, place your turret there and rain damnation upon these vile heretics." The Grunt nodded and waddled into position. A moment later the weapon was pouring its deadly plasma into the forest, pausing occasionally to prevent overheating.

A Minor rushed past, but the commander reached out and seized his shoulder. "Where is your Zealot?"

"He oversees the battle, Excellency. Follow me and I shall lead you to him."

The Minor brought them to an overhang that allowed an ample, if risky view of the surrounding battle. Oriné instantly recognized Field Commander 'Quarmee from their conversation... just over a day ago, he realized with a start. Had it truly been so short a time?

'Quarmee accepted a Lumidex from the Minor before turning to 'Ongyomee. "It seems fate has reintroduced us, Operative."

"Indeed so, Field Commander," replied the dark Sangheili. "If only the circumstances were better."

The Field Commander grunted his agreement. "The humans must have followed one of my resupply dropships and realized this was a command post. Our latest intelligence suggests they have a construct with them on the ring that can access our Battle Net." He thumbed through the contents of the Lumidex. "Furthermore, it seems that a great deal of the reinforcements meant for my engagement here are being repurposed."

Oriné cocked his head. "For what?"

'Quarmee eyed him, a glimmer of recognition gracing his features. "A myriad of reasons. Another human assault is underway in the area we believe to house the control room, a small force of soldiers and the Demon. Some of the other outposts in this section of the ring are also sending out distress signals, though the details are unknown to me at this time."

Commotion erupted below them. Oriné peered over the edge and saw a Hunter pair in battle stance, firing their mounted Fuel Rod Guns into the advancing humans. The hulking creatures in battleship-rated armor moved forward slowly, protecting their vulnerable waists and necks with thick shields made of impenetrable alloys.

One of the humans launched a rocket; the closest Hunter swatted it aside with its shield and fired again.

'Quarmee fiddled with the Lumidex. "I am directing all further dropships bound to this outpost to land behind the enemy lines and worry them down from the rear. With their attention split I can begin my counteroffensive, and the battle should be won within the hour."

"We greatly weakened their line where we penetrated, Excellency," said Oriné. "If we give you our approach route, any incoming infantry should find less resistance there."

"Very well." The Field Commander smiled. "You are an ambitious one, 'Fulsamee, though I suppose I should call you Operative now, too. A Prophet Blessed, eh? How have you fared?"

"This is my first deployment, Excellency."

"No need for honorifics. The Prophet Blessed function outside the normal chain of command. They cannot afford to have their delicate operations upset by the likes of me."

There was a loud crack. Instinctively Oriné ducked, his brain identifying the sound of a sniper rifle before his conscious mind. 'Ongyomee was already on the ground; 'Quarmee perhaps a second slower. For a tense moment they waited, wondering who the target was.

From below sounded a long, mournful howl: one of the Hunters, calling out its rage over its fallen Bond Brother. Oriné risked a look and saw one of the behemoths sprawled out on the ground, unmoving, a growing puddle of orange ichors below it. The other pounded its shield into the ground and began to rampage, tearing through human and Covenant alike without regard for friend or foe.

If they survived, the Lekgolo would become inconsolable in its sorrow, perhaps even deconstructing their Hunter gestalt and dying slowly as the individual worms. A Bond Brother was a hermaphroditic lover, trading worms between them in order to maintain a certain genetic diversity. In a way, losing a Bond Brother was like losing a part of yourself.

"Well," muttered 'Quarmee as he pulled himself to his feet. "That will take care of that part of the line. The outcome is inevitable, now." He looked to Commander 'Ongyomee. "I suppose you may proceed into the structure. I sent a lance of infantry down earlier and have not heard back."

"I do not need your approval, Field Commander, but I appreciate it all the same." He gestured to the rest of Hallowed Unit, summoning Ofoff away from his turret. "We will proceed down into the facility. Our primary objective is to locate and assess the primary power drain in this sector and decide its usefulness to the Great Journey. If we can, we shall locate and recover the missing infantry and Inquisitors.

"Given the record of communications difficulties, we will require an Operative to stay behind and act as a Battle Net relay."

Gagaw's hand went up immediately. 'Ongyomee looked him over. "You understand, Gagaw, that by remaining up here you will forfeit all rights to glory and honor in the name of the Prophets?"

"It disappoints me, Excellency," said Gagaw, sounding a bit too smug, "but it is a job that must be done. The Prophet Blessed do not seek glory or honor, but act only in the interest of furthering the Hierarch's will."

"Very well. Onward, warriors."

//

Esli 'Sarodee awoke from a dark dream.

He and part of his team had been allowed a brief rest by Overseer 'Oegulee, having worked near the point of exhaustion. His good friend Esam should have been with them, but he had wandered off a while ago and couldn't be found. 'Oegulee was in a rage but unwilling to spare anyone to search.

The last pieces of the dream fell out of his mind as he woke and stretched, leaving only a profound feeling of unease, like cold tentacles around his soul. One by one he roused the slumbering Sangheili and Unggoy to prepare them for another grueling work period.

Nearby, the Overseer cycled through a Lumidex.

"News, Excellency?" asked Esli as he walked over.

"The latest reports from the forward exploration teams," replied the Major, eyes narrowed, voice slurring a little from fatigue. "One of the groups has found a large and heavily locked door that impedes any further progress. They need a team to open it."

"Have you rested?"

'Oegulee waved him off. "I do not need rest, I need results. We will go. Inquisitor 'Mijumee may be our greatest cryptographer, but you, Inquisitor 'Sarodee, know how to bypass locks very well."

Esli hesitated before nodding. "As you say, Excellency."

The Major grunted. "Let's go."

It was an uneventful trip down. This forward team in particular had broken off from the other scouting groups and gone straight down a spiraling chasm, setting up illumination and markers as they went. It was easy for the Inquisitor team to follow their progress.

Tension mounted in the air. This deep, the Forerunners clearly eschewed their normal grandiosity and lavishness in favor of sheer practicality. Places such as this served as a reminder to Esli that, for all its religious overtones and sacred altars, Halo was still a machine. He had always held a different view from the traditional Divinidex, one passed down his Lineage for generations: while following in the Forerunners' footsteps was acceptable, it would be better for the Covenant to merely use their relics as a guideline, to achieve progress on their own that rivaled that of their predecessors. Only then would they truly be worthy of becoming gods.

It was an unusual view for a Sangheili. Prior to the Covenant, they had believed all Forerunner artifacts to be sacrosanct and forbade anyone from trying to improve upon them. It was the Prophets that introduced the idea of using the ancient technology as a base for still greater things.

The 'Sarod Lineage had long been considered outcasts, but in the Covenant they had found vindication.

At the bottom and down a long, narrow hall they came to an antechamber that held little of interest except for a massive door. It was partially illuminated, and where it lit up it was a deep and warning red. It seemed inelegant and brutal for something made by the Forerunners, even this far into the mechanisms of Halo.

The forward team idled about, accompanied by an infantry lance. Some Inquisitors made a show of checking the walls, floor, and ceiling for markings, but it was clear they were making no progress.

As Overseer 'Oegulee talked to the forward team's Major, Esli watched the infantry stand around, looking dazed. They were clearly overwhelmed by what they were seeing, this deep relic that could signal the end of mortality and the start of the Great Journey.

He walked over and nudged one of the other Inquisitors. "Why is the Army so far down? I thought they were restricted to the uppermost levels."

"Many forward teams at other facilities have fallen silent," replied the other, sounding distant and uninterested. "Our commander was concerned that the humans might have somehow gotten this deep and laid traps or ambushes."

Esli clicked his mandibles and turned away. It was at times like these that he missed Esam, with his quick wit and cleverness, always good for an interesting conversation.

'Oegulee waved at him. "Inquisitor 'Sarodee."

"Yes, Excellency?"

"Begin unlocking this door. We must proceed if we are to locate the source of such high energy."

Esli nodded. Unlocking Forerunner systems was an inherently tricky thing: the ancient computers—though it seemed like such an inadequate word—used circular defense patterns against intrusion, constantly deleted and remade pathways, even became physically dangerous with particularly sensitive data. It was almost as if the Forerunners had deliberately made it difficult for the Sangheili to operate the terminals.

Almost immediately the Inquisitor Minor could tell this was a dangerous terminal. Tell-tale heat washed over his hand as he reached out to initiate the unlocking sequence. He drew back momentarily and dialed his insulation up to maximum strength in his gauntlets. With locks this sophisticated, at best they would be dark and unresponsive; at worst, they pulsed with a stabbing heat.

After finishing his standard infantry curriculum at war college, Esli had joined the Inquisitors and apprenticed under a master locksmith who taught him everything there was to know about Forerunner holographic locks. The young Sangheili had taken to it quickly and earnestly, doing very well in his studies. That aptitude had gotten him chosen for this fleet, and he believed a certain favor with the gods had made sure he was there when it discovered Halo.

He wondered what his master would say about this lock. Several minutes into the process and Esli realized it was the most complicated and powerful system he had ever seen. There was a set of icons that, near as he could tell, should have unlocked the door, but they failed to respond to him at all. It was as if he didn't even exist; they didn't register his ability to stand there and touch them. Instead, he resorted to several workarounds that he had learned and improvised over his years in the Inquisition, but at every step of the way he was bombarded by myriad texts and warnings.

His understanding was too vague to properly grasp anything but the overall urgency. Here and there, though, he saw the symbols of warning Esam had pointed out, as well as one icon he had analyzed while they were still on the surface: a sun surrounded by seven rings with a glyph in the middle. Esli still didn't know what it meant, but the whole thing made him uneasy enough to stop.

The Overseer was quickly at his back, towering over him. "What is the matter?"

"I hesitate to continue, Excellency," Esli muttered. "This lock is the strongest I've ever seen, perhaps the strongest ever encountered by any Inquisitor. What's more, at every step it warns the user of some great cataclysm." He stood up. "See for yourself."

'Oegulee knelt and read, squinting his eyes against exhaustion. A pang of sympathy echoed through Esli for the Major, but when he rose again he was more alert, perhaps even a little afraid.

"Push on," he said in a low, breathless voice. "It would not do to fail the Prophets now."

"Yes, Excellency." Resigned to the nigh-impossible task, Esli worked for another hour before the lock finally disengaged. He stood and sighed, fatigue sweeping over him all over again, both physically and emotionally. Several other Inquisitors growled their approval, some bumping his shoulder in admiration.

As the scouting team prepared to move forward, Esli hung back and took out his Lumidex. He archived and transmitted his steps for deactivating the highly advanced locking system; that way, if any other team happened across such a door, they would be able to unlock it more swiftly. However, he also included a notation about the constant, insistent warnings so no one could be surprised by what lay within... whatever it was.

'Oegulee bumped his shoulder. "Well done. We are moving with the forward team, to help in case there are more locks."

The door had slid open by now, heaving itself aside on slow mechanisms. Beyond was dark and foreboding, and Esli felt a stab of panic at the thought of proceeding. Quickly he squashed it.

"As you command, Excellency," he said.

//

The horrible account unfolded before Esam 'Mijumee. Though he could not understand all of it, the Inquisitor understood enough.

Halo was no divine engine. Long ago, the Forerunners had encountered a force so terrifying and omnicidal that they were afraid, so powerful that all their weapons and technology were unable to stem the tide. It was called the Flood. It swept across the galaxy, felling worlds in days, transforming and corrupting everything the Forerunners had built during their galactic reign.

In their desperation, the Forerunners had built Halo, an array of multiple such ring worlds as some kind of last resort. The consequences of using it were catastrophic, and though his translation skills were inadequate for uncovering exactly what these consequences were, Esam understood one thing: it had something to do with why the Forerunners had disappeared.

Panic and dread ate away at him. He felt a profound pain in his soul. The Covenant was built on a lie, or if not a lie then at least a great misinterpretation. Whatever had happened to the Forerunners was indeed related to the Halos, but it had little to do with achieving godhood; that much was certain.

There was no Great Journey. The Covenant was eager to activate a weapon, one that was quite possibly pointed at the galaxy itself.

How far along was the excavation? Esam frantically tried several different commands in his hand-held unit, controlling the terminals of what he suspected was a kind of observation room. Though Halo had been built to stop the Flood, it had also been designed to study this abomination. Deep in the recesses of Halo were samples that survived, locked in storage since the last time the rings had been activated.

He read the scrolling status screens as fast as he could. The Covenant's activities had already woken several subsystems that hadn't been powered in many millennia. He realized with a start that the Inquisitors, his own team even, had nearly breached the final layer of security. If they moved too much further down, unlocked too many more doors, the Flood would be unleashed.

Life itself was at risk.

Esam turned to leave, determined to go back the way he came and stop the excavation. The others needed to see his data, the recordings and notes of what he had found stored safely on his Lumidex.

A hatch opened near the ceiling and something strange floated down. It was orb-shaped and made of a silvery metal with a single blue "eye" on what Esam could only guess was the front.

It took him a moment to recall what it was from the scriptures.

Despite everything, he fell to his knees in reverence. "The holy Oracle."

Sounds, deep and ancient, rumbled forth from it. Was it trying to speak?

"I do not understand, Oracle, but I am not worthy."

"Brosh'kai ngor vannin onlken?"

"I don't..."

"Non te portum est. Non Repostor es. Cur tandem hic veneras?"

Esam felt overwhelmed. "Oracle, I cannot understand you."

"Local dialect parsed from observed and recorded data," it said. "Greetings! I am 343 Guilty Spark, Monitor of Installation 04." The Oracle bobbed in the air. Esam felt like he was under intense scrutiny. "You should not be here. This area is off-limits to unauthorized personnel, and you are most certainly unauthorized."

"I am Inquisitor Esam 'Mijumee," said the Sangheili, averting his eyes. This was an unexpected turn of events. "I am here on a holy mission of the Covenant, but I fear we have overstepped our—"

The Oracle zipped over his head, intent on the screens behind him. The previously dead terminals warmed and lit at its approach. "Unauthorized access throughout the installation," it said. "You meddlers have made quite a deep intrusion. I am afraid the security and defense systems in this area have become degraded. I should have intervened earlier."

"Oracle," said Esam, rising to his feet, "my brothers are close to awakening the Flood..." He trailed off, mandibles slackening in horror, as one of the screens showed his friend Esli 'Sarodee unlocking the final door. As it slid aside, the terminals screamed in silent alarm. Esam didn't need to see the scrolling iconography to know that the Covenant had just crossed a threshold, gone too far.

"You fools," he muttered, watching as the Inquisition team—his Inquisition team—marched blindly into certain death. "What have you done?"

"Containment has been breached," the Oracle said, sounding rather matter-of-fact. "I will endeavor to control the local outbreak, but reports are coming in from across the installation of similar intrusions." It turned to face Esam. "You have landed advanced starships on the installation in clear violation of protocol. If the outbreak were to spread beyond local space, the consequences would be incalculable."

Esam remembered the Truth and Reconciliation, still undergoing repairs. "If the Flood were to escape," he said, "the galaxy would be victim to its scourge once again. What must be done?"

"Sentinel defense systems are offline," said the Oracle. "I must reactivate them and seek a Reclaimer to begin containment protocols."

"How may I help, holy Oracle?"

"Your kind has already interfered enough. I detect a large number of drive signatures in close proximity to the installation. I recommend warning them away, so that the Flood may not leave this installation."

Without another word, the Oracle went back up through the hatch in the ceiling, which shortly resealed itself. Esam was left to stare dumbfounded after it, unsure of what just happened. He shook his head to dispel his uncertainty and turned back to the corridor. If he acted quickly, perhaps all was not lost.

//

The ramps became steeper the further Hallowed Unit went into the darkness. They were accompanied by two additional lances of infantry, Elites and a mixture of Grunts and Jackals. Though Oriné did not mind them, 'Ongyomee eyed them with a resentful glare.

"Sub-Commander 'Fulsamee," he called out, waving Oriné closer. "Do you know why the Field Commander dispatched these warriors with us?"

Oriné clicked his mandibles. "I would assume, Excellency, that he is simply concerned for his base. It wouldn't do for us to find an infiltration point of the humans' and he not be instantly aware of it."

'Ongyomee huffed. "You and 'Orgalmee keep your eyes on them."

"You don't trust the Field Commander?"

"Trust does not come easily to those in my position, sub-Commander." His mandibles twisted into a sardonic grin. "You will discover the individual joys of the Prophet Blessed soon enough."

Oriné fell back and communicated silently with Yarna, who in turn fell back even further to better observe the infantry.

The whole thing twisted Oriné's stomachs around each other. He would be shocked at such in-fighting within the Covenant if his personal history had not revealed such internecine conflict to him long ago. He still remembered when he heard of the Judge of the High Council's assassination, how the Hierarchs had rushed to do away with the position entirely and rid the Sangheili of even more political clout.

Politics were outside the young warrior's realm of interest, but it still gave him a chill to think about it.

Eventually they reached a consistently level position, and soon after found their way blocked by a large door. It was a massive obstruction; Oriné doubted whether a dozen Wraith tanks could burn through it in fewer than a hundred years.

'Ongyomee glowered at it. "We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Doubtful the Inquisitors would have come this way."

"Perhaps they did, Excellency." Oriné stepped forward and examined the door. Upon closer inspection, the answer presented itself. "Look here, this hologram."

The commander squinted at it. "It is in the Forerunner hieroglyphs. 'Fulsamee, can you read the language of the ancients?"

"Only what I remember from Institution, but this symbol was common enough in the study of Knowledge. It means the door is unlocked, so it must be sealed from the other side, likely by an Inquisitor device."

Rurut the Grunt had wandered up, now standing with the two Elites. "But why would the Inquisitors do that?"

Oriné pressed his mandibles together, thinking hard. The door was emblazoned with many other symbols, but nothing he could recognize. It was possible that the Inquisitor team had found something and felt the need to close the door, either to prevent others from getting in...

Or to keep something from getting out.

Looking at the door, Oriné felt a primal fear building behind his eyes.

'Ongyomee was not so deterred. "Rurut, access the Battle Net and search for the device's signature to unlock it. 'Fulsamee, watch the door. 'Orgalmee, take up rear guard." The team fell into place, the two additional Grunts preparing to cover whichever direction was needed. The infantry took up defensive positions amongst themselves, but seemed unconcerned for the well-being of the Prophet Blessed.

Minutes passed as Rurut worked his way through the Battle Net. At one point he stopped and hesitated, weighing something in his mind before reaching out a trembling claw and initializing the Inquisitor's lockdown device.

Slowly the door opened. Hallowed Unit moved in and checked the area, finding the device in question solidly attached to the door. Upon closer inspection, it was slick with Sangheili blood.

"Tight formation," 'Ongyomee hissed. "Something is not right."

The team moved forward more slowly and cautiously this time. Rurut sidled up to Oriné, still holding the Lumidex that gave him the device's unlock code. "Excellency, I am greatly unnerved."

"It is a mystery," said Oriné in a low voice, "but one with a rational answer. Perhaps there was an accident and one of the Inquisitors was wounded. Maybe it involved a radiation leak and they had to seal off the rest of the base."

Rurut nodded. "Possibly. When I accessed the device, there was a message warning of horrible consequences to come if the door was opened." He became less visibly agitated. "A radiation leak, of course. By now it would have dissipated. The Inquisitors were surely overreacting."

Oriné nodded and waved him on, but he wasn't so sure himself.

Description
Chapter 5: Descent

When the Spirit touched down, Oriné 'Fulsamee stepped out warily behind Commander 'Ongyomee—the forest was almost peaceful, but here and there the thunder of an explosion or the staccato of human weapons broke the illusion. The two Operatives took careful stock of their surroundings and waved the Unggoy out. As soon as all of Hallowed Unit had disembarked, 'Ongyomee signaled the dropship to lift off and return to the Truth and Reconciliation.

Once the ship was out of sight, the commander turned to the team. "We shall endeavor to disrupt the human attack force, but our ultimate goal is to reach the outpost and lend our expertise to searching its depths." He waved them forward and cloaked; the rest did the same.

As they moved, Oriné observed the environment. The forest was made up of seemingly one type of tree, a species similar to the human "pine" but also bearing resemblance to the bunu trees on Sanghelios, the kind that could be found at higher altitudes and in cooler environments. Their leaves resembled needles like the pine, but they were softer, more malleable. He risked plucking one off a branch as they passed, a ghost admiring the foliage.

Yarna 'Orgalmee's voice was a whisper beside him. "Does your expertise now extend to flora, as well?"

Oriné said nothing. He crushed the leaf between his claws and let it fall.

The sound of battle grew louder, Hallowed Unit now close enough to hear the return register of Covenant weaponry. Up ahead, Oriné could see tents of the sort that humans erected when they did not plan a long occupation. One had a white and red symbol emblazoned on the canvas, the kind he identified from his time at Institution as the symbol for their Healers.

He wondered if it would be a target, but none of his teammates seemed to be stopping. He continued on his way.

A moment later the commander reappeared. Oriné and the others followed suit.

Plasma grenades, full volley, he signaled. Fuel Rod Cannons fire from behind, cloak, evade. Hold fire until through enemy. Fuel Rod Cannons again, plasma rifle fire as retreat. The members of Hallowed Unit signaled their comprehension before reengaging their active camouflage.

The attack was sudden when launched. Each warrior primed and threw two grenades, all twelve landing in a spread out formation. When they detonated, the resulting chaos cleared a center lane and put the humans on alert; with their attention split, the incoming fire from the Covenant forces on the other side intensified.

Ononn and Gagaw decloaked to avoid straining their camouflage systems and fired their Fuel Rod Cannons directly into the separated humans. Blossoms of vibrant green energy consumed the soldiers, sending many screaming and bleeding to the ground.

They were panicking now, firing wildly into the forest around them. The gunners cloaked before they were spotted. Oriné heard 'Ongyomee's quiet order to move and sprinted forward, moving through the space provided by the attack. Bullets zinged past but nothing struck him. That was a good thing: his shields would have lit up under the impact, betraying his presence.

Once clear, the Grunts turned and fired another volley as the Elites began a withering cover fire. Oriné used both plasma rifles, sending an alternating stream of constant plasma at the human soldiers. By now they figured out what was attacking them, but it was too late to effectively counterattack as Hallowed Unit retreated for the outpost a mere four hundred yards away.

The Covenant had organized well. Human forces were closing in, but the facility in which they had set up their outpost had a substantial platform that towered over the forest floor. Jackal snipers had set up along its edge, firing Needlers and plasma pistols down into the human forces. Had they beam rifles, their effectiveness would have been increased exponentially.

Hallowed Unit decloaked and climbed up the heavily-guarded ramp to the platform. 'Ongyomee glanced around and gestured to the edge of the platform. "Ofoff, place your turret there and rain damnation upon these vile heretics." The Grunt nodded and waddled into position. A moment later the weapon was pouring its deadly plasma into the forest, pausing occasionally to prevent overheating.

A Minor rushed past, but the commander reached out and seized his shoulder. "Where is your Zealot?"

"He oversees the battle, Excellency. Follow me and I shall lead you to him."

The Minor brought them to an overhang that allowed an ample, if risky view of the surrounding battle. Oriné instantly recognized Field Commander 'Quarmee from their conversation... just over a day ago, he realized with a start. Had it truly been so short a time?

'Quarmee accepted a Lumidex from the Minor before turning to 'Ongyomee. "It seems fate has reintroduced us, Operative."

"Indeed so, Field Commander," replied the dark Sangheili. "If only the circumstances were better."

The Field Commander grunted his agreement. "The humans must have followed one of my resupply dropships and realized this was a command post. Our latest intelligence suggests they have a construct with them on the ring that can access our Battle Net." He thumbed through the contents of the Lumidex. "Furthermore, it seems that a great deal of the reinforcements meant for my engagement here are being repurposed."

Oriné cocked his head. "For what?"

'Quarmee eyed him, a glimmer of recognition gracing his features. "A myriad of reasons. Another human assault is underway in the area we believe to house the control room, a small force of soldiers and the Demon. Some of the other outposts in this section of the ring are also sending out distress signals, though the details are unknown to me at this time."

Commotion erupted below them. Oriné peered over the edge and saw a Hunter pair in battle stance, firing their mounted Fuel Rod Guns into the advancing humans. The hulking creatures in battleship-rated armor moved forward slowly, protecting their vulnerable waists and necks with thick shields made of impenetrable alloys.

One of the humans launched a rocket; the closest Hunter swatted it aside with its shield and fired again.

'Quarmee fiddled with the Lumidex. "I am directing all further dropships bound to this outpost to land behind the enemy lines and worry them down from the rear. With their attention split I can begin my counteroffensive, and the battle should be won within the hour."

"We greatly weakened their line where we penetrated, Excellency," said Oriné. "If we give you our approach route, any incoming infantry should find less resistance there."

"Very well." The Field Commander smiled. "You are an ambitious one, 'Fulsamee, though I suppose I should call you Operative now, too. A Prophet Blessed, eh? How have you fared?"

"This is my first deployment, Excellency."

"No need for honorifics. The Prophet Blessed function outside the normal chain of command. They cannot afford to have their delicate operations upset by the likes of me."

There was a loud crack. Instinctively Oriné ducked, his brain identifying the sound of a sniper rifle before his conscious mind. 'Ongyomee was already on the ground; 'Quarmee perhaps a second slower. For a tense moment they waited, wondering who the target was.

From below sounded a long, mournful howl: one of the Hunters, calling out its rage over its fallen Bond Brother. Oriné risked a look and saw one of the behemoths sprawled out on the ground, unmoving, a growing puddle of orange ichors below it. The other pounded its shield into the ground and began to rampage, tearing through human and Covenant alike without regard for friend or foe.

If they survived, the Lekgolo would become inconsolable in its sorrow, perhaps even deconstructing their Hunter gestalt and dying slowly as the individual worms. A Bond Brother was a hermaphroditic lover, trading worms between them in order to maintain a certain genetic diversity. In a way, losing a Bond Brother was like losing a part of yourself.

"Well," muttered 'Quarmee as he pulled himself to his feet. "That will take care of that part of the line. The outcome is inevitable, now." He looked to Commander 'Ongyomee. "I suppose you may proceed into the structure. I sent a lance of infantry down earlier and have not heard back."

"I do not need your approval, Field Commander, but I appreciate it all the same." He gestured to the rest of Hallowed Unit, summoning Ofoff away from his turret. "We will proceed down into the facility. Our primary objective is to locate and assess the primary power drain in this sector and decide its usefulness to the Great Journey. If we can, we shall locate and recover the missing infantry and Inquisitors.

"Given the record of communications difficulties, we will require an Operative to stay behind and act as a Battle Net relay."

Gagaw's hand went up immediately. 'Ongyomee looked him over. "You understand, Gagaw, that by remaining up here you will forfeit all rights to glory and honor in the name of the Prophets?"

"It disappoints me, Excellency," said Gagaw, sounding a bit too smug, "but it is a job that must be done. The Prophet Blessed do not seek glory or honor, but act only in the interest of furthering the Hierarch's will."

"Very well. Onward, warriors."

//

Esli 'Sarodee awoke from a dark dream.

He and part of his team had been allowed a brief rest by Overseer 'Oegulee, having worked near the point of exhaustion. His good friend Esam should have been with them, but he had wandered off a while ago and couldn't be found. 'Oegulee was in a rage but unwilling to spare anyone to search.

The last pieces of the dream fell out of his mind as he woke and stretched, leaving only a profound feeling of unease, like cold tentacles around his soul. One by one he roused the slumbering Sangheili and Unggoy to prepare them for another grueling work period.

Nearby, the Overseer cycled through a Lumidex.

"News, Excellency?" asked Esli as he walked over.

"The latest reports from the forward exploration teams," replied the Major, eyes narrowed, voice slurring a little from fatigue. "One of the groups has found a large and heavily locked door that impedes any further progress. They need a team to open it."

"Have you rested?"

'Oegulee waved him off. "I do not need rest, I need results. We will go. Inquisitor 'Mijumee may be our greatest cryptographer, but you, Inquisitor 'Sarodee, know how to bypass locks very well."

Esli hesitated before nodding. "As you say, Excellency."

The Major grunted. "Let's go."

It was an uneventful trip down. This forward team in particular had broken off from the other scouting groups and gone straight down a spiraling chasm, setting up illumination and markers as they went. It was easy for the Inquisitor team to follow their progress.

Tension mounted in the air. This deep, the Forerunners clearly eschewed their normal grandiosity and lavishness in favor of sheer practicality. Places such as this served as a reminder to Esli that, for all its religious overtones and sacred altars, Halo was still a machine. He had always held a different view from the traditional Divinidex, one passed down his Lineage for generations: while following in the Forerunners' footsteps was acceptable, it would be better for the Covenant to merely use their relics as a guideline, to achieve progress on their own that rivaled that of their predecessors. Only then would they truly be worthy of becoming gods.

It was an unusual view for a Sangheili. Prior to the Covenant, they had believed all Forerunner artifacts to be sacrosanct and forbade anyone from trying to improve upon them. It was the Prophets that introduced the idea of using the ancient technology as a base for still greater things.

The 'Sarod Lineage had long been considered outcasts, but in the Covenant they had found vindication.

At the bottom and down a long, narrow hall they came to an antechamber that held little of interest except for a massive door. It was partially illuminated, and where it lit up it was a deep and warning red. It seemed inelegant and brutal for something made by the Forerunners, even this far into the mechanisms of Halo.

The forward team idled about, accompanied by an infantry lance. Some Inquisitors made a show of checking the walls, floor, and ceiling for markings, but it was clear they were making no progress.

As Overseer 'Oegulee talked to the forward team's Major, Esli watched the infantry stand around, looking dazed. They were clearly overwhelmed by what they were seeing, this deep relic that could signal the end of mortality and the start of the Great Journey.

He walked over and nudged one of the other Inquisitors. "Why is the Army so far down? I thought they were restricted to the uppermost levels."

"Many forward teams at other facilities have fallen silent," replied the other, sounding distant and uninterested. "Our commander was concerned that the humans might have somehow gotten this deep and laid traps or ambushes."

Esli clicked his mandibles and turned away. It was at times like these that he missed Esam, with his quick wit and cleverness, always good for an interesting conversation.

'Oegulee waved at him. "Inquisitor 'Sarodee."

"Yes, Excellency?"

"Begin unlocking this door. We must proceed if we are to locate the source of such high energy."

Esli nodded. Unlocking Forerunner systems was an inherently tricky thing: the ancient computers—though it seemed like such an inadequate word—used circular defense patterns against intrusion, constantly deleted and remade pathways, even became physically dangerous with particularly sensitive data. It was almost as if the Forerunners had deliberately made it difficult for the Sangheili to operate the terminals.

Almost immediately the Inquisitor Minor could tell this was a dangerous terminal. Tell-tale heat washed over his hand as he reached out to initiate the unlocking sequence. He drew back momentarily and dialed his insulation up to maximum strength in his gauntlets. With locks this sophisticated, at best they would be dark and unresponsive; at worst, they pulsed with a stabbing heat.

After finishing his standard infantry curriculum at war college, Esli had joined the Inquisitors and apprenticed under a master locksmith who taught him everything there was to know about Forerunner holographic locks. The young Sangheili had taken to it quickly and earnestly, doing very well in his studies. That aptitude had gotten him chosen for this fleet, and he believed a certain favor with the gods had made sure he was there when it discovered Halo.

He wondered what his master would say about this lock. Several minutes into the process and Esli realized it was the most complicated and powerful system he had ever seen. There was a set of icons that, near as he could tell, should have unlocked the door, but they failed to respond to him at all. It was as if he didn't even exist; they didn't register his ability to stand there and touch them. Instead, he resorted to several workarounds that he had learned and improvised over his years in the Inquisition, but at every step of the way he was bombarded by myriad texts and warnings.

His understanding was too vague to properly grasp anything but the overall urgency. Here and there, though, he saw the symbols of warning Esam had pointed out, as well as one icon he had analyzed while they were still on the surface: a sun surrounded by seven rings with a glyph in the middle. Esli still didn't know what it meant, but the whole thing made him uneasy enough to stop.

The Overseer was quickly at his back, towering over him. "What is the matter?"

"I hesitate to continue, Excellency," Esli muttered. "This lock is the strongest I've ever seen, perhaps the strongest ever encountered by any Inquisitor. What's more, at every step it warns the user of some great cataclysm." He stood up. "See for yourself."

'Oegulee knelt and read, squinting his eyes against exhaustion. A pang of sympathy echoed through Esli for the Major, but when he rose again he was more alert, perhaps even a little afraid.

"Push on," he said in a low, breathless voice. "It would not do to fail the Prophets now."

"Yes, Excellency." Resigned to the nigh-impossible task, Esli worked for another hour before the lock finally disengaged. He stood and sighed, fatigue sweeping over him all over again, both physically and emotionally. Several other Inquisitors growled their approval, some bumping his shoulder in admiration.

As the scouting team prepared to move forward, Esli hung back and took out his Lumidex. He archived and transmitted his steps for deactivating the highly advanced locking system; that way, if any other team happened across such a door, they would be able to unlock it more swiftly. However, he also included a notation about the constant, insistent warnings so no one could be surprised by what lay within... whatever it was.

'Oegulee bumped his shoulder. "Well done. We are moving with the forward team, to help in case there are more locks."

The door had slid open by now, heaving itself aside on slow mechanisms. Beyond was dark and foreboding, and Esli felt a stab of panic at the thought of proceeding. Quickly he squashed it.

"As you command, Excellency," he said.

//

The horrible account unfolded before Esam 'Mijumee. Though he could not understand all of it, the Inquisitor understood enough.

Halo was no divine engine. Long ago, the Forerunners had encountered a force so terrifying and omnicidal that they were afraid, so powerful that all their weapons and technology were unable to stem the tide. It was called the Flood. It swept across the galaxy, felling worlds in days, transforming and corrupting everything the Forerunners had built during their galactic reign.

In their desperation, the Forerunners had built Halo, an array of multiple such ring worlds as some kind of last resort. The consequences of using it were catastrophic, and though his translation skills were inadequate for uncovering exactly what these consequences were, Esam understood one thing: it had something to do with why the Forerunners had disappeared.

Panic and dread ate away at him. He felt a profound pain in his soul. The Covenant was built on a lie, or if not a lie then at least a great misinterpretation. Whatever had happened to the Forerunners was indeed related to the Halos, but it had little to do with achieving godhood; that much was certain.

There was no Great Journey. The Covenant was eager to activate a weapon, one that was quite possibly pointed at the galaxy itself.

How far along was the excavation? Esam frantically tried several different commands in his hand-held unit, controlling the terminals of what he suspected was a kind of observation room. Though Halo had been built to stop the Flood, it had also been designed to study this abomination. Deep in the recesses of Halo were samples that survived, locked in storage since the last time the rings had been activated.

He read the scrolling status screens as fast as he could. The Covenant's activities had already woken several subsystems that hadn't been powered in many millennia. He realized with a start that the Inquisitors, his own team even, had nearly breached the final layer of security. If they moved too much further down, unlocked too many more doors, the Flood would be unleashed.

Life itself was at risk.

Esam turned to leave, determined to go back the way he came and stop the excavation. The others needed to see his data, the recordings and notes of what he had found stored safely on his Lumidex.

A hatch opened near the ceiling and something strange floated down. It was orb-shaped and made of a silvery metal with a single blue "eye" on what Esam could only guess was the front.

It took him a moment to recall what it was from the scriptures.

Despite everything, he fell to his knees in reverence. "The holy Oracle."

Sounds, deep and ancient, rumbled forth from it. Was it trying to speak?

"I do not understand, Oracle, but I am not worthy."

"Brosh'kai ngor vannin onlken?"

"I don't..."

"Non te portum est. Non Repostor es. Cur tandem hic veneras?"

Esam felt overwhelmed. "Oracle, I cannot understand you."

"Local dialect parsed from observed and recorded data," it said. "Greetings! I am 343 Guilty Spark, Monitor of Installation 04." The Oracle bobbed in the air. Esam felt like he was under intense scrutiny. "You should not be here. This area is off-limits to unauthorized personnel, and you are most certainly unauthorized."

"I am Inquisitor Esam 'Mijumee," said the Sangheili, averting his eyes. This was an unexpected turn of events. "I am here on a holy mission of the Covenant, but I fear we have overstepped our—"

The Oracle zipped over his head, intent on the screens behind him. The previously dead terminals warmed and lit at its approach. "Unauthorized access throughout the installation," it said. "You meddlers have made quite a deep intrusion. I am afraid the security and defense systems in this area have become degraded. I should have intervened earlier."

"Oracle," said Esam, rising to his feet, "my brothers are close to awakening the Flood..." He trailed off, mandibles slackening in horror, as one of the screens showed his friend Esli 'Sarodee unlocking the final door. As it slid aside, the terminals screamed in silent alarm. Esam didn't need to see the scrolling iconography to know that the Covenant had just crossed a threshold, gone too far.

"You fools," he muttered, watching as the Inquisition team—his Inquisition team—marched blindly into certain death. "What have you done?"

"Containment has been breached," the Oracle said, sounding rather matter-of-fact. "I will endeavor to control the local outbreak, but reports are coming in from across the installation of similar intrusions." It turned to face Esam. "You have landed advanced starships on the installation in clear violation of protocol. If the outbreak were to spread beyond local space, the consequences would be incalculable."

Esam remembered the Truth and Reconciliation, still undergoing repairs. "If the Flood were to escape," he said, "the galaxy would be victim to its scourge once again. What must be done?"

"Sentinel defense systems are offline," said the Oracle. "I must reactivate them and seek a Reclaimer to begin containment protocols."

"How may I help, holy Oracle?"

"Your kind has already interfered enough. I detect a large number of drive signatures in close proximity to the installation. I recommend warning them away, so that the Flood may not leave this installation."

Without another word, the Oracle went back up through the hatch in the ceiling, which shortly resealed itself. Esam was left to stare dumbfounded after it, unsure of what just happened. He shook his head to dispel his uncertainty and turned back to the corridor. If he acted quickly, perhaps all was not lost.

//

The ramps became steeper the further Hallowed Unit went into the darkness. They were accompanied by two additional lances of infantry, Elites and a mixture of Grunts and Jackals. Though Oriné did not mind them, 'Ongyomee eyed them with a resentful glare.

"Sub-Commander 'Fulsamee," he called out, waving Oriné closer. "Do you know why the Field Commander dispatched these warriors with us?"

Oriné clicked his mandibles. "I would assume, Excellency, that he is simply concerned for his base. It wouldn't do for us to find an infiltration point of the humans' and he not be instantly aware of it."

'Ongyomee huffed. "You and 'Orgalmee keep your eyes on them."

"You don't trust the Field Commander?"

"Trust does not come easily to those in my position, sub-Commander." His mandibles twisted into a sardonic grin. "You will discover the individual joys of the Prophet Blessed soon enough."

Oriné fell back and communicated silently with Yarna, who in turn fell back even further to better observe the infantry.

The whole thing twisted Oriné's stomachs around each other. He would be shocked at such in-fighting within the Covenant if his personal history had not revealed such internecine conflict to him long ago. He still remembered when he heard of the Judge of the High Council's assassination, how the Hierarchs had rushed to do away with the position entirely and rid the Sangheili of even more political clout.

Politics were outside the young warrior's realm of interest, but it still gave him a chill to think about it.

Eventually they reached a consistently level position, and soon after found their way blocked by a large door. It was a massive obstruction; Oriné doubted whether a dozen Wraith tanks could burn through it in fewer than a hundred years.

'Ongyomee glowered at it. "We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere. Doubtful the Inquisitors would have come this way."

"Perhaps they did, Excellency." Oriné stepped forward and examined the door. Upon closer inspection, the answer presented itself. "Look here, this hologram."

The commander squinted at it. "It is in the Forerunner hieroglyphs. 'Fulsamee, can you read the language of the ancients?"

"Only what I remember from Institution, but this symbol was common enough in the study of Knowledge. It means the door is unlocked, so it must be sealed from the other side, likely by an Inquisitor device."

Rurut the Grunt had wandered up, now standing with the two Elites. "But why would the Inquisitors do that?"

Oriné pressed his mandibles together, thinking hard. The door was emblazoned with many other symbols, but nothing he could recognize. It was possible that the Inquisitor team had found something and felt the need to close the door, either to prevent others from getting in...

Or to keep something from getting out.

Looking at the door, Oriné felt a primal fear building behind his eyes.

'Ongyomee was not so deterred. "Rurut, access the Battle Net and search for the device's signature to unlock it. 'Fulsamee, watch the door. 'Orgalmee, take up rear guard." The team fell into place, the two additional Grunts preparing to cover whichever direction was needed. The infantry took up defensive positions amongst themselves, but seemed unconcerned for the well-being of the Prophet Blessed.

Minutes passed as Rurut worked his way through the Battle Net. At one point he stopped and hesitated, weighing something in his mind before reaching out a trembling claw and initializing the Inquisitor's lockdown device.

Slowly the door opened. Hallowed Unit moved in and checked the area, finding the device in question solidly attached to the door. Upon closer inspection, it was slick with Sangheili blood.

"Tight formation," 'Ongyomee hissed. "Something is not right."

The team moved forward more slowly and cautiously this time. Rurut sidled up to Oriné, still holding the Lumidex that gave him the device's unlock code. "Excellency, I am greatly unnerved."

"It is a mystery," said Oriné in a low voice, "but one with a rational answer. Perhaps there was an accident and one of the Inquisitors was wounded. Maybe it involved a radiation leak and they had to seal off the rest of the base."

Rurut nodded. "Possibly. When I accessed the device, there was a message warning of horrible consequences to come if the door was opened." He became less visibly agitated. "A radiation leak, of course. By now it would have dissipated. The Inquisitors were surely overreacting."

Oriné nodded and waved him on, but he wasn't so sure himself.