Chapter 1: The New Great Journey

Installation 00

Unknown Location

December 23, 2552

They were running out of time, that much was apparent. The Halo ring was literally about to shake itself into oblivion, and it would destroy anything that was within the destructive radius. The Spartan pushed the limits of the human vehicle, the Warthog, to its absolute limit and it sailed over the ramp into the ship, the Forward Unto Dawn. The Warthog remained somewhat upright, but as soon as the vehicle entered the bay, they were both thrown out of the vehicle as it slowed to a crawl, upside down. Neither of them were hurt. It would take more than this to injure them, and he had no intention of dying, not everything that he had been through. He was the Arbiter, the voice and now ultimate leader of the Sangheili, one of the greatest warrior of his species that was alive, and a master strategist. He would not die here, no. If he was to die, it would be in the heat of battle, and there was no such thing here.

Thel 'Vadum turned to look as the ship began to shift and its once level platform tip to one side. A human Scorpion tank began to slide its way towards him. He needed to move out of the way quickly. With years of training behind him, he rose and quickly sprinted to get away from the incoming tank. Noticing a pile of crates, he moved to quickly get behind them, with only a fraction of a second to spare as the tank came crashing into the crates. After the initial push, Thel checked to make sure that he was not injured beyond healing. When he found himself undamaged and still whole, he tried to move his way out of the crates. He cleared his field of vision enough to see the Spartan give a small nod of acknowledgement. He, too, responded with a nod. He then began to make his way to the front of the ship. They needed to get this ship moving. They would die of they wasted more time.

Thel felt a slight hum of power and felt the ship began to move. He would know that movement anywhere. He had been a Supreme Commander of the Covenant for many years. Having been Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice, had known the subtle and silent shifting of ships as they turned, the slight impacts of UNSC rounds against their shields, albeit barely, and evasive maneuvering. Being and warrior and a commander were just natural to him, and he good at being both, but his position as the Arbiter of his people would likely demand that he be called to lead his people into the difficult times that would be no doubt coming now that the Covenant was in complete disarray and the war was all but over.

Even now, he could see the potential problems being faced, them being the hatred for humans that still lingered, the rational voices pushing for an alliance or at least a peaceful coexistence, and isolationists who would say that Sanghelios should not bother with Humanity and just leave each other be. Of course, Thel knew that Humanity was better as allies than as enemies, despite the twenty-seven years of war and the hatred and animosity that no doubt existed between the races of the former Covenant and United Nations Space Command.

How ironic to think that he held Humanity in high esteem now. A lot of it came from before he became the Arbiter. Although throughout virtually all of the war, despite him believing them to be heretics and a blight, he did hold a grudging respect for Humans that they held many worlds and that they were willing to defend them to the death, a trait that any Sangheili would respect, friend or enemy. Another thing that impressed him about humans was their versatility. As much as he hated to admit it, none of the species of the Covenant were nearly as broad-skilled and knowledgeable about the many other aspects of life. Not even the Kig-Yar and Unggoy were that knowledgeable and even as the Unggoy, as good as they were.

Humans were warriors, but they were also scientists, doctors, leaders, historians, religious, and so much more. And after the Arbiter had discovered that the entirety of the Covenant had been built on a lie and that the Prophet of Truth, along with the other Prophets, lied about the nature of the Humans, he felt betrayed, angry, and shocked beyond his imagination. Never in a thousand lifetimes was he expecting such a painful truth. To know that for twenty-seven years, he had been slaughtering, butchering, and mercilessly killing innocent men, women, children, and infants, filled him was great guilt. The lives of possible tens of millions of Humans were on his hands, and nothing would ever undo his horrible atrocities.

Although they had only surfaced recently, he had visions, dreams, and flashbacks to his earlier days of the war, fighting in ground engagements. Thel had done his share of dealing death personally. He could remember the faces of the many humans of all ages cowering in fear of him, some frozen on the spot, others hiding in corners. Despite their pleas for mercy and begging for life, never once did he ever give into them. They were weak, and they were nothing to him. They simply had to die by orders of the Prophets, and like the blind obedient servant he was, he carried out the will of the Prophets, all in the name of the Forerunners, or so he was led to believe.

Not only had the Prophets lied about the entirety of the Covenant, but they had also lied about Humanity. Humans were not an affront to the Forerunners; they were descendants of the Forerunners. That fact added to his already overwhelming guilt and horror. To be slaughtering Forerunners without a clue in the galaxy. How could he be so blind? He should have known that from the start, the Prophets declaring war was strange. Usually, the Covenant would be more than willing to open relations with others.

Although he knew perfectly well that he could never truly appeal to all of Humanity, he realized that whoever did break away from the Covenant owed Humanity billions of lives, and the best thing they could offer was their assistance in fighting for survival, which would never truly pay the debt owed, but it was at least a start to righting the wrongs. In the end both the Sangheili and the Humans realized that they both needed each other. Despite the war being fought on Human worlds, the Covenant had suffered heavy losses in lives, just as much or more than the Humans.

Although Humans did possess inferior technology, they were certainly creative with how they fought. They did not discriminate between Human and Covenant weapons. If it was intended to kill, it was fair game. Sangeheili thought nothing like this, preferring to die than to pick up any weapon belonging to the enemy. Earlier in his career, Thel would agree like anyone else, but when he was stripped of his rank as a Supreme Commander, he had lost all honor and doing these suicide missions had been his chance at returning to the Great Journey. He began to wonder if because of his rank that it mattered not what weapons or tools that he used, but how he used what he had at his disposal to fight against his enemies. His faith was further challenged by the Gravemind.

The Gravemind. That term still had ways of haunting him. Seeing the source of the Flood intelligence was the most unholy thing he had ever witnessed. It dared to challenge his faith, it dared to presume many things. Even as he was held in the clutches of the Gravemind, the words it spoke of were ones that stuck in his mind. Looking back, Thel had known that his faith was being challenged and his belief in the Covenant wavering. As he fought to Tartarus, his mind still mulled over the words.

Your Prophets have promised you freedom from a doomed existence, but you will find no salvation on this ring. Those who built this place knew what they wrought. Do not mistake their intent or all will perish, as they did before.

How true the Gravemind was, even if for its own purpose. As much as he despised to admit it, the Gravemind, in a way, had liberated the Sangeheili from the Prophets and the Covenant. Never again would the Sangeheili submit to another. However, one thing that would not be so quick to be discarded was their battle prowess and fight for honor. Old traditions died hard.

Thel quickly made his way to the front of the ship. They needed to leave before they were turned to pieces. Thel was quick to seat himself into the pilot seat, despite it not accommodating his body. He ignore the uncomfortable feeling and began to work the controls, trying to keep the ship on a clear course, as best as he could manage. It had been a while since he had piloted a ship, but like his warrior and tactical instincts, his piloting instincts came to life. At least he could do something other than fighting, and just for the right time.

He then noticed the glow that seemed to be surrounding the visor of the ship. He had to hurry. The Halo ring was going to self-destruct. He realized that they may not make it at all, not that it scared him. At this point, few things caused fear and shock anymore, given that he had already experienced these to an extent that would prepare him for the future. If death came, then so be it, for he had already fought death and won on numerous occasions.

That was when his mind drifted to the Spartan still held in the back. He hoped that his fellow comrade was "riding out the storm", as humans saying went. That was his last thought before his vision was blinded by the light. Thel closed his eyes, willing to accept whatever was to come, whether it be Earth or death. It had been a good fight, and if he died, he would die knowing that the greater good had been served, that he had a helping hand in defending the galaxy from mass extinction.

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Earth, Sol System

One day before Reaper Invasion

2186

Earth was busy, and for good reason. For one, there were hundreds of ships surrounding Earth. For another, the other systems of the Solar System were becoming more and more alert. It was no doubt from what was to come. With what was going on now, on a galactic scale. Everyone had reason to be on edge. Admiral Steven Hackett knew this better than anyone else. His nerves were still holding strong, but despite this, he actually heeded Commander Jane Shepard's warnings about the Reapers. He had never been given a reason to doubt her.

He had seen the Reaper Sovereign fight against the Citadel Council. The footage was shocking and eye-opening. There was a greater power than the Council, and a giant storm was coming, one which had not been seen for over fifty-thousand years. All races were on edge, but no one was sure to what extent that the power of the Reapers extended, but it did not require the mind of a genius to do some figuring. If a single ship could do that much damage and endure so much punishment from numerous ships, then it stood to reason that an entire fleets worth of these ships could very well easily overwhelm any fleet the the Council races could throw at it. It was a certainty, but despite all of the overwhelming evidence and proof, the Council was still trying to deny the existence of a race that could case a mass extinction.

Hackett understood their hesitance to acknowledge the threat. Fear caused people to push aside what they cannot understand. If the council did, it would mean that they were at the end, and it would mean that they were possible accepting that they may not survive to their species. In fact, no species wanted to help one another, and every species was pulling back all their forces to try and fight their own battles, confident of victory. Damn politics and their political agendas getting in the way of the facts and the survival of the galaxy. If they wanted to play this game, they could play it once the war was over. Ignoring what was blatantly obvious was just pure and sheer ignorance and arrogance.

There would be war, there was no denying it, and Shepard had been very adamant about her opinion. She had spoken out to everyone, had done everything she could to convince the Council of the threat, but they soundly ignored her advice, convinced that the Reapers were merely a means to scare them all, as were the collectors. Curse politics for getting in the way of what was important. and dragging the entire galaxy with it. Curse them all indeed.

"Admiral," Ensign Lanklin said over an Omni-tool,"we have something that you may want to see."

Hackett turned his head to see one of his officers speaking on his Omni-tool. He wondered what was going on.

"What is it," Hackett asked.

"An unknown object has been detected speeding towards Earth, sir."

That got the Admiral's attention.

"What is the nature of the object," he inquired. "Is it the Reapers?"

"No, sir. Nothing like that. At first, we dismissed it to be a meteor, but then we realized that the object just appeared from nowhere. We sent a ship to get a closer look."

Getting up from his office space, Hackett began to make his way to the bridge of the SSV Aconcagua. It was bustling with activity, but many personnel and officers saluted him whenever possible. He acknowledge them all with a small nod. His hastened his strides, quick as he entered the bridge of the ship and took a look around. Everyone seemed to be extra on edge, even the more seasoned officers. On any normal day, he would question the nature of this anxiousness, but now they were dealing with an enemy of unknown capabilities and power. That, alone, did nothing to ease the minds of the crew. The other thing that bothered many of the the Alliance personnel, although no one showed it, was that Commander Shepard was discharged. Everyone was rather shocked to find this out, but no one knew the details surrounding her discharge, just that it happened without warning.

Admiral Hackett knew though, and he strongly disagreed with the Alliance Council about their reasons. Shepard had stopped the Collectors from abducting more humans lives. She had gone beyond the call of duty to do what was necessary, but there was little he could do to stop her confinement. The reasons were so outlandish and beyond logical. If Hackett knew Shepard, he knew that she would never join an organization like Cerberus without reason. Some claimed that she still had not terminated all connections with the terrorist organization, but surrendering herself and the Normandy SR-2 seemed proof enough that she cut all communications with Cerberus.

Hackett was quick to enter the bridge of the SSV Aconcagua. He turned to one of the communications officers.

"Have we had any contact from the other ship sent to the outer colonies," he asked.

"No sir," Ensign Jackson said. "We've received no form of communication for over thirty-six hours. Absolutely none."

That was concerning indeed. They should have established contact no later than twenty-four hours ago, and Alliance Captains and Admirals were not known for being off schedule in any case. He turned his head to observe the crew.

"And what of the mysterious object," Hackett continued.

"It's approaching Earth, sir, and fast. We're receiving a visual now."

The feed began to projected onto the screen. Hackett could see the stars and then he saw the object. It was indeed rapidly speeding towards Earth. Where it came from, he did not know, but it was obviously a ship, or for better terms, the remains of a ship, but nothing like he had ever seen, and as it began to pick up speed, he could not make out any possible markings or any sort of indication as to who built it.

"Have we tried to identify the ship," Hackett continued.

"Yes, sir," Executive Officer Captain Hughes spoke. "We've cross-referenced with everything in Alliance databases, and everything came back negative."

So what were they dealing with? A new species? It did not seem likely, and for good reason. Hackett, even though the make of the ship was alien to him in some manner, it still looked familiar, like human familiar. Call it an instinct or paranoia, but somehow, there was more to this. It could also be a stray ship that was attacked, that was the easiest thing to say, but given the circumstances, and everything going on, all possibilities had to be considered.

"Can we stop the debris," Hackett asked quickly.

"It wouldn't matter if we did, sir. It's going to land in the ocean, a few miles out from shore. It won't do any damage."

Hackett thought for a moment. The civilian government would be on this on no flat time. They would likely salvage and inspect because they had the authority, and assuming that the crew of the wreckage was dead, but what if they were not?

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Thel 'Vadum could see again, and the sight that greeted him was Earth, the way he remembered it. It looked okay, but then something caught his eye. The continent that was half-glassed was no longer glassed. Even from orbit the damage could have been seen. Rtas 'Vadum had personally seen to it that the Flood not survive, but now the scars were gone, just like that. How could that be?

Something is not right, Thel thought to himself.

Thel tried to raise someone on an communications, but then came to realize that all the equipment was reduced to dead metal weight. Cursing in his tongue, he made got out of the seat, trying in vain to remain grounded, but with the ship flailing every which-way, he was forced to grab the nearest wall and steady himself. In addition to the exremely unstable ship, Thel could also feel an intense heat build-up, no doubt coming from the ship entering the atmosphere of this planet, if it was Earth.

Thel made his way through the halls , trying in vain to get to the back to see what was going on, but then his mind recalled something. While he was reading the controls of the ship, he had noticed that the damage reports were saying that the back was no longer with him. As to confirm his thoughts, a loudspeaker called out.

"Warning: hull integrity compromised. Please proceed to the nearest life boat for immediate evacuation."

The Spartan was gone, but where was he? Was he on Earth, or in space, or was he dead? Thel did not know, but right now was no time to be fretting about his comrade. He had complete faith in the Human's ability. He was after all, the greatest enemy of the Covenant. Pushing his worry aside, Thel sprinted towards the nearest exit, his armor's shields flailing whenever an explosion was in close enough proximity or a stray flame came close enough, but he ignored these minor things and pushed on to find a way out of the ship.

Without warning, the ship began to jolt uncontrollably and Thel hit the ground in an undignified manner. He was not hurt, but he was a little more than annoyed. Quickly rising to his feet, he made noticed a few life pods. He quickly rose and began to fiddle with the controls to open the lifepod. The door opened, and Thel had to hunch over to get to the main controls. He began to work the controls when he gazed out the window and saw that he was coming into an ocean, or rather, was about to.

Then, the impact came. Thel was once again knocked off his feet. He had no time to shout curses as the ship began to sink and tip, going nose-down into the sea. With all the speed he could muster, Thel abandoned the life pod and took to the end of the ship, where he could see a slightly blue sky was some clouds. He had no time to sightsee as he was forced to grab onto something as the ship was now vertical. As if things could not get worse, a piece of loose debris began to barrel its way towards Thel. Frantic, He dove to his left and grabbed onto the wall nearby, which had enough grooves to keep a steady grip. Grunting in slight pain, he made a final push to the opening.

When he felt his hand on the edge, the first thing he felt was a searing heat, but it didn't hurt him in the least. He had been branded with the Mark of Shame and that was the most painful thing he had ever endured in his life. His whole body was subject to a painful burning, and he only cried out in pain. Never once did he beg for mercy. He was Sangheili. He would survive. With that new-found strength, He pulled himself onto a somewhat stable area and took in his surroundings.

The cities looked Human. From his location, he was a few miles off the coast of a major city of some sort. That, however, did not settle his mind. Something was still wrong. There was no sign of any sort of battle at all, no signs of damage, and no signs of the UNSC or Separatists fleets. Very unsettling indeed, and that led to the one fact that he couldn't deny.

This is not Earth as I know it. Where am I?

His thoughts turned to a source of sound in the sky. From the clouds came ships, nothing like the UNSC, Separatists, or Covenant. Against his better instinct, Thel reached for the Type-51 Carbine on his back and held it loosely in his hands. If these were friendlies, than he could breathe a bit easier. Maybe he could figure out what in the name of the Forerunners was going on. If they were enemies, then he would respond accordingly, that being attempting negotiation or a cease-fire, followed by battle if talking failed, then likely death. He was clearly outnumbered, and more likely than not, outgunned. He then grabbed his plasma rifle and held it in his left hand while the carbine remained in his right.

This idea of mine is so ridiculous, but it might actually work. If this idea does not sound lame to you, then favorite, follow, and review. Ideas are accepted, and I welcome all criticism.