Part
33 - An elegant armour from a more civillised time
"It seems
we overestimated our ability to contain this infection," Colonel Miles
spoke, pacing around the room. John nodded in agreement, as did many
others around the room.
"How goes the Naval battle?" an Elite
Zealot asked, keeping his upper mandibles stationary. Elites tended to
do that when not in combat, forming an almost human-like mouth. Miles
sighed.
"Not good. Two more Flood ships have broken through,
spreading to both Russia and Northern America, and some parts of Asia,
and so the fact that we have effectively contained the outbreak in
England is irrelevant" that wasn't good. Those two countries had been
the world powers of Earth before the UNSC had formed, and still held
quite a lot of influence in it.
"As for the Naval battle
itself," Miles continued, running a hand across his face depressingly,
"well, we're winning that. But it won't matter if all of Earth is
infected,"
"We'll be able to beat them back--" Fred began to
argue, but the Colonel cut him off.
"Really Spartan? Our forces,
and the rest of the Elite's and the Covenant's are spread thin as it is.
The Flood are encountering little resistance here. And you've fought
them today. I know you have no past reference to compare them to 104,
but Master Chief, have you not noticed how much more combat effective
these Flood are?" Miles asked of John, who stood up, saluting.
"Sir,
yes sir. These Flood are definitely more powerful and organised than
the ones I have encountered previously, and I think it's safe to say
I've fought more of the Flood than anyone else alive today -- except the
Didact of course. I've seen some of them marching in squads, regimented
even. These are definitely not the mindless zombies we've seen before.
Even their appearance is more refined, smarter," John reported, and
Miles nodded as he did so.
"Exactly my thoughts Master Chief. And
so, if you'll all hear me out, I've come up with a plan," the Colonel
walked over to a Holographic Strategic Planning Table, and gently
pressed a button. A holographic version of Earth appeared, with Flood
and Council ships battling it out above its orbit. John realised he was
watching live footage shot from the Lunar colony.
"These are our
forces so far. We're pretty much decimating the Flood above ground.
However, this is what worries me," Miles pressed another button, and the
image suddenly zoomed in to Northern America, showing Washington DC
infested with Flood. Civilians were running, all being hunted down by
the ever ravenous infection forms. It was a cataclysm. John noted with
his sharp vision one infection form pounce on a screaming toddler of
around three years old. He turned away from the Holo-Strat, eyes
suddenly moist.
"Sir, permission to get to DC ASAP?" John
questioned Miles, who shook his head.
"I understand your reason
Chief, but I'll have to deny that request. Even if you clear out
Washington, there are still hundreds of cities across the globe in
trouble. You can't save them all," the Colonel replied, and John shook
his head angrily.
"But we can still save as many as possible sir.
Isn't that the job of a soldier?" the Spartan demanded angrily, moving
forward, and Miles took a step back without realising.
"It is
son. But I've got an idea. It's dangerous, perhaps even suicidal. But it
might give us all a chance to save Earth," the Colonel explained, and
John nodded curtly, sitting back down. He'd hear Miles out first.
"The
reason the Flood are so powerful this time is simple; their Gravemind
has grown huge, theoretically. It can command them even from here, and
has evidently realised this time around that organisation is the key to
success," Miles began. John nodded, waiting.
"While the Gravemind
lives, there is no way we can win. Therefore, I suggest we kill it."
There
was silence in the room for a few moments, before Johnson spoke up for
one of the first times.
"And how are we supposed to do that? With
all our forces engaged here, there's no way we can...Oh," the Sergeant
Major realised what Miles was suggesting, "you're saying we abandon
Earth, and go to Sangheilios,"
The Colonel grimaced, before
nodding. Then he shrugged.
"We wouldn't be abandoning Earth.
We'll come back, once the Gravemind is dead. But what we're doing right
now is futile. Our last option is an all out offensive, strike the Flood
where it will hurt most -- in its mind," Miles explained. John drew his
lips tight. The plan made sense, but it felt wrong to just leave all
the people on Earth to the Flood.
Then again, hadn't the UNSC
done that so many times before in the war with the Covenant? When a
battle had looked hopeless, they'd pulled out, leaving millions behind
as the planet in question was glassed. Was this so different?
It
was, John realised. For this time, the people of Earth wouldn't merely
be dying. They would be infected by the Flood, doomed to live a pitied
existence; self aware yet unable to control their bodies. No chance at
whatever afterlife religions promised. No release from life's turmoils.
Just pain, and a sense of helplessness.
"How soon would we
leave?" John asked, his conscience giving in to common sense.
"As
soon as possible. Maybe within a few hours. I've already spoken with
Lord Harper, Imperial Admiral R'tas, and the two Covenant Hierarchs.
They are all in agreement with me," Miles revealed, and John smiled
dryly as he gathered that what the Colonel had been saying had never
been a suggestion, it was concrete. He had just wanted their opinion.
We're
not abandoning them. We're coming back.
Yet no matter how
many times John repeated that in his mind, he couldn't help but feel
like he was just leaving Earth to fend for itself.
* * * * * * *
"Arbiter!"
a voice cried. That of a Prophet's. Equanimity. Fighting the urge to
scowl, Thel turned around slowly.
"Yes, Hierarch?" Thel
questioned of the frail Prophet, who smiled, gesturing for Thel to come
to his side.
"Come Arbiter, walk with me a while," Equanimity
implored, and Thel grimaced, searching for an excuse.
"Oh, I
should be ah...assisting preparing for the upcoming offensive," Thel
blurted out, referring to the attack on Sangheilios, which would begin
in a few hours. As soon as the fleets emerged out of slipspace.
Equanmity's brow rose.
"Truly Arbiter? Only that, your construct
friend tells me you have been doing nought but lounging in your chair
for at least a few units," the Prophet had won the battle it became
clear, and so Thel sighed, moving to follow him. As he exited his ship
and stepped out into Placid Enrichment, he narrowed his eyes at
Cortana. She merely laughed softly.
Equanimity turned down a hall
Thel had previously not been down before; with high rising statues and
tablets depicting moments of Covenant history. The Prophet then spoke.
"Tell
me Arbiter, know you the history of your title?" Equanimity queried,
catching Thel off guard for a moment. Was this some test of his
intelligence? The Sangheili chose his words carefully.
"How could
I not, being who I am? I understand my legacy," Thel said slowly, and
Equanimity nodded gravely.
"As is to be expected. You know then
why the rank of Arbiter became a mark of shame?"
Do I?
Thel had only read scraps of information regarding that subject, and
suspected they were all tainted with the Covenant's lies.
"Not
precisely, but I hope I, through my actions, have made it a mark of
honour once more," Thel commented wryly, hoping to draw the subject away
from his ignorance. The Prophet smiled.
"That you have noble
Vadam'ee, that you have."
Thel didn't have the energy to explain
to yet another Covenant Loyalist that the Sangheili no longer used the
'ee' suffix after their family name. He merely waited for Equanimity to
carry on speaking as they turned around another corner. Thel blinked in
surprise as he viewed the large mural shown across the ceiling.
In
it was a large mosaic of an Arbiter garbed in golden armour, blade sunk
deep into a foe's flesh. The foe wore the ancient, cumbersome armour
commonly found back when Sangheilios was its own government, before the
Covenant totally took over.
"What is this place?" Thel breathed,
wondering why he had never heard of such a hallway before. Across all
the walls were countless tablets displaying Arbiters; some tall, some
small. None wearing the same golden armour depicted on the large mural
above.
"The Hall of The Arbiter. None outside the Guardians of
this Holy City know of it. It is akin to the Mausoleum that was on High
Charity, although it is a little more brutal, and truthful."
That
it was. There were images of Prophets ordering Arbiters successful in a
mission where they were intended to die to death; images of an
Arbiter's own forces turning upon him. This was a far darker side of the
history Thel knew.
"This is indeed interesting Hierarch, but why
are you showing me?" Thel demanded of the Prophet, who grinned.
"See
you the Arbiter depicted on the ceiling, Vadam'ee?" Equanimity
questioned. The Sangheili nodded.
"Yes. It is Fal, is it not?"
"Quite
so. The 5th Arbiter, and the last appointed by the Sangheilios Council.
His title branded forever by his heresy," the Prophet explained
further, and Thel nodded slowly.
"I know only too well that I
wear a heretic's armour," the Sangheili said.
"No. You do not,"
Equanimity suddenly barked. Thel frowned, speechless for a moment. He
stared at the Prophet for a moment.
"What are you talking about
Prophet?" Thel demanded aggressively, faintly proud of the fact he was
speaking to a Prophet on such equal terms. Not too long ago, he would
have said nothing, hoping that the Prophet would explain on his own
accord.
"You don't see the colour of Fal's armour?" Equanimity
asked. Thel nodded.
"Yes, golden. That is just the artist's
representation, to show he was once golden and pure before delving into
heresy," Thel laughed back, marvelling and Equanimity's ignorance. What
a fool!
Worryingly, the Prophet laughed just as hard,
shaking his head.
"No Vadam'ee, that is just what the Covenant
wanted you to believe. No doubt Truth told you that your armour is the
same that every Arbiter wore?"
Slowly, Thel nodded his head.
"He
lied, which is hardly a surprise. Your armour was created as soon as
Truth decided you were to become the Arbiter. It is neither ancient nor
especially significant. Just an inefficient armour system using old
technology, designed so to hurry you to death."
Thel blinked, and
then held up his gauntleted hands before his eyes. Surely this couldn't
be true? Then, why would Equanimity have any reason to lie?
"That
is a slightly disturbing and upsetting revelation Prophet, but still,
was there any reason in your telling me?" Thel questioned, unable to
keep the hurt from his voice. Did Equanimity still hate him so that he
wished to upset him?
"Of course there was. Fal's armour was
incredible, and far more advanced than the rubbish they churn out in
factories nowadays. With impeccable shielding, performance enhancing
technologies not unlike the ones reputed to be within Spartan armour,
and the metal it is made of is far stronger than what you currently use.
Even the highest Zealot would be envious of such a piece."
"How
do you know this?" Thel queried the Prophet, who, finally coming to a
large door at the end of the Hall of The Arbiter, opened it with the
touch of a button.
"Because it resides inside this room."
Thel
gasped as he beheld what was inside the chamber. It was devoid of
furniture and other such normal things; all that was inside was a large,
glass storage casket. Within its clear surface gleamed the brightest of
armours, golden and splendid. Its appearance was not unlike Thel's
armour, yet it was more regal, and had evidently been designed in the
old ages, back before the Prophets first encountered the Sangheili. His
feet moving by themselves, Thel walked up and lightly touched the
casket, feeling a tingle run down his spine as he did so.
"Believe
me now Vadam'ee?" Thel turned around to see Equanimity sitting in his
chair, a smile on his wizened face.
"Yes...it's beautiful," Thel
replied softly, unable to wrench his eyes from the golden armour which
had once belonged to the legendary Fal.
"Quite so. And I wish for
you to have it."
Those words shocked Thel out of his stupor, and
he whirled around, wearing a sceptical look. Equanimity's sincere
expression did not waver.
"Truly?" Thel asked, unable to keep the
disbelief out of his voice.
"Truly. Consider it a gift, perhaps
it will go some way to patching the rift between our two factions,"
Equanimity pressed, and Thel pursed his mandibles.
"The Elites
will not rejoin the Covenant. I tell you so as to eliminate any false
hope you have," the Sangheili informed the Prophet, who nodded
instantly.
"Of course, and I do not expect you to. Yet I hope
both you and we can, at the least, have a civil relationship."
Thel
smiled warmly.
"You helped my people when we needed help most.
No gift was needed to assure our friendship."
Equanimity looked
at Thel as if he were bathed in a new light.
"Still, take it.
You certainly hold the strongest claim."
The Prophet pressed a
button, and silently the casket swung open. Thel looked inquisitively at
Equanimity, who nodded approvingly. Slowly, the Sangheili reached for
the armour. Each piece was linked by a soft, yet impossibly hard chain.
Forerunner glyphs marked the sides.
"This is indeed a wonderful
gift," Thel breathed, running an affectionate hand across the helmet.
Fal's armour made his own seem like it had been designed for Unggoy.
"Go,
try it on. And wear it with pride."
Thel blinked. Obviously,
armour was intended to be worn, but this seemed far too precious to be
subject to the conditions of battle. Still, there was no reason to keep
it locked up in a time of great need, and so Thel slowly shed the
Arbiter armour Truth had given him nearly a year ago. It tumbled to the
ground with a clang, and with that, Thel felt a kind of relief. His last
tie to a life of lies was finally gone.
With shaking hands, Thel
placed the helmet over his elongated head. It fit like a charm, and
slowly he clicked his mandibles across the mouth guard. Perfect.
As
the Sangheili secured the final piece of armour across his body, the
whole set lit up with a blue, evanescent glow. To Thel's extreme
surprise, blue lines akin to the ones found in Forerunner relics began
to run across his arms, imbuing his whole being with strength. The
Sangheili felt many more times stronger than he previously had.
"What
is this?" Thel wondered, staring at the now alien looking arms attached
to his torso. They were still his, but felt like they belonged to
someone more divine.
"I have no idea. You are the first I have
seen wear this armour. But it's probably something beneficial, I wager.
In any case, it looks splendid on you. And you shall have a chance to
test it in battle soon, noble Vadam'ee," Equanimity replied to Thel, who
nodded slowly. The Sangheili clenched his fist, noting a spark of blue
power spark across it as he did so.
"What should I do with
this?" Thel asked the Prophet, indicating his old armour which now lay
discarded in a heap.
"It is your choice, Arbiter."
Thel
thought for a few moments, before coming to a decision. He reached down
with intent to lift up the heavy armour. To his surprise, it felt far
lighter than it had a few minutes ago, so much so that Thel nearly
pulled a muscle from moving his limbs so fast.
Fal's armour
really does make you stronger, Thel mused to himself. No,
not Fal's armour, my armour.
"This is fantastic
Equanimity, truly a marvellous gift for you to bestow. Is there any way I
can repay you?"
The Prophet chuckled, shaking his head.
"Nay
Vadam'ee, you have already done far too much. All I ask is that you
fight your hardest in the upcoming battle."
Thel detached Saran's
Violet Energy blade from his old armour, feeling a pang of loss as he
remembered his advisory friend back on Sangheilios, who was now most
likely infected. The Sangheili checked the sword, activating it. To his
surprise, blue sparks from his arms ran even further, extending through
the plasma of the blade.
"That request I can fulfil friend."
"This one has forgotten whether it's heatsink is over capacity. It wonders whether the criminal scum considers itself fortunate" ~ Blasto, the only Hanar Spectre.