Disclaimer:

The following is the start of a collaboration between this author and Elessar Nett, an attempt to blend two entertaining and deep universes. We, the authors, do not own any of the characters, settings, or entities involved in any way. They are the property of the brilliant developers at both BioWare and Bungie Studios. Enjoy.

Divine Wind, 1st Fleet of Vengeance

En-route to outer rim colony

Local Date 2557 CE, 9th Age of Reclamation

"Arbiter, we are preparing to exit jump. We should have the advantage of surprise on the heathen fleet."

"Have all ships be prepared to fire upon exit, Shipmaster. We shall burn this infection that eats away at our… Covenant."

"Yes, Arbiter."

Shipmaster Aswe 'Rasadee bowed, before backing away from the Arbiter. Although he did not show it, he was wary of any Arbiter sent. The Hierarchs only created the Arbiter's for suicidal missions, meant to redeem the individual in question. To 'Rasadee, this did not bode well for his fleet. Especially given the goals of the fleet.

Walking towards the station of one of his subordinates, 'Rasadee glanced at the information spreading out on-screen of their objective: a human world referred to by that species as "Shanxi". 'Rasadee had never understood human nomenclature, or even asked of its significance. But its salvation was now in his hands. Rather, those of the Arbiter the Hierarchs had placed over him. He read over early reports from the colony. Some artifact had been discovered, and the foolish humans had acted irrationally, sending ships through some sort of slip-space device before receiving confirmation from the High Council. It was unsure what had happened, but foreign ships had returned, and laid siege. Such actions against a client of the mighty Covenant would not be taken lightly.

"Shipmaster, we are exiting now."

"Fire on my mark." The words came not from 'Rasadee, but of the Arbiter still at the center of the bridge. 'Rasadee could do nothing but nod his head in agreement.

"All ships, use point-lasers on target sensors and weapon ports, then fire at will. Burn their hides."

Shanxi

"Follow them and keep up the fire, move!"

Vyrnix kneeled before firing off another burst at the retreating humans. They had been defeated, their leader had surrendered: yet the species still refused to give up. It struck him as a fatalistic idiocy too common among the newly discovered species. The same idiocy they displayed while breaking a core galactic rule: the activation of dormant Mass Relays is forbidden. This particular group had been looting food storages when Vyrnix's patrol had discovered them.

One of the retreating humans suddenly fell, screaming. His, or her as Vyrnix couldn't tell the difference from his view, comrades didn't pause to help, continuing their retreat. The human, screaming something in its incomprehensible language, reached for what appeared to be a small gun at the side of its waist and fired several rounds at Vyrnix. His shields shimmered slightly, but didn't fall, allowing Vyrnix to fire a burst into the human, killing it.

The dead human's last moments had allowed the rest of its comrades to escape. Vyrnix knew they wouldn't last for long. Most of those still resisting were starving, or running out of supplies to continue resisting. Vyrnix approached the corpse, as it could be identified later, and lead to a retaliatory bombardment of the area the Human was from. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a small glimpse of movement. Hefting his rifle to his shoulder and turning, he discovered…nothing. His mandibles quivered slightly, a sign of confusion. Attributing it to the rush of recent combat, he continued to walk towards the corpse.

A sudden flash of blue light and a crackle of energy were the only warnings Vyrnix got. The weapon, sword-like in appearance, tore into the turian. He dropped before he could even see his attacker. The rest of Vyrnix's squad opened fire on the seemingly empty air, as the sword tore into Vyrnix. An energy shield shimmered, and a creature, one definitely not belonging to any human, appeared.

Before they could even press the attack, the air filled with the sound of crackling energy. The squad had no chance to react as more of the sword-like weapons appeared from thin air, and began to lay waste to the squad. The ambush was over in seconds.

One by one, the sangheili warriors decloaked, energy swords still in hand, a concentrated beam of light in contrast to their black armor. A stealth corvette had exited slip-space a few days prior to the arrival of the main flight, dropping off several special operations squads to assist the human forces that still remaining groundside. Now, with the fleet engaging the enemy above, they were beginning their strikes. Several ambushes like theirs were being executed across Shanxi. The liberation was beginning.

Vyrnix, still alive but only barely, attempted to reach for his dropped rifle. He was stopped as a clawed-hand grabbed his throat and lifted him up. His life fading quickly, his vision was filled with a shark-like face, four heavily-fanged mandibles curling in a growl. The creature proclaimed something in its language before running Vyrnix through with it's sword again. Had Vyrnix known the language of the sangheili, he would have heard, "Your destruction is the will of the Gods. And we are their instruments."

'Rasadee stared in amazement as the remaining foreign vessels burned or attempted to retreat. With almost a minimal loss of life, this Arbiter had essentially saved the human colony. The Arbiter was quiet amid the roars of celebration from the crew, seeming lost in thought. All that needed left was a mop-up of the remaining enemy forces groundside, and they could declare victory. As if thinking the same thing, the Arbiter turned and headed for a anti-grav elevator near the control center.

"Arbiter?" 'Rasadee called out, confused as to why the Arbiter would not join in the celebration. This was a massive victory, one that would go down in the annals of legend.

"You know the rules, Shipmaster. Each Arbiter dies, as every one before Him. I will lead our forces groundside to victory, at least until my death."

'Rasadee nodded his head, knowing the fate that each Arbiter was doomed to. However, one question lingered, before he would lose the ability to ask it forever.

"If it is not to rash of me, what was your crime?"

The Arbiter looked at 'Rasadee for a few moments, before showing a sly grin.

"Me? I'm an Innie."

'Rasadee stared downward, his four mandibles slack in confusion, as the much smaller Arbiter entered the elevator, and disappeared from view. He would never in his life understand human nomenclature and their reasoning for such names, and the Arbiter had failed to enlighten him and what exactly an 'Innie' was.

The anti-grav elevator allowed the Arbiter to descend into the bowels of the Divine Wind, flagship of the 1st Fleet of Vengeance. A unique name for a unique mission-role. Never before in the history of the Covenant had there been an attack on a world or client that followed the Path. There were, of course, the Sangheili-San Shyuum War that began the Covenant, the occasional unggoy rebellion, but never something like this. Never before had a hostile, unknown species besieged and conquered a world that belonged to the Covenant. And thus, along with the assembled fleet, the mission required a special, unique Arbiter.

The Arbiter. The title was perhaps the most offense they could give to the current Arbiter. He wasn't a split-chin freak like the usual Arbiter's the Hierarchs sent on the most needed of missions. Joseph Winters, the Arbiter, knew where his loyalties lay, even if most of the rest of his species didn't. Those who so loyally followed the Hierarchs and their promises of 'Great Journeys'. They should have been born an unggoy. Not a red-blooded human.

Winters' views, of course, weren't readily accepted by his species, even less so by their government, and the Covenant that government obeyed. It hadn't been easy getting the supplies necessary, and even worse when the Systems Alliance had decided to finally crush the Insurrections. Innies, as they were derogatively called. An irony, that they wanted out of the Systems Alliance, out of the Covenant, and to forge a new path for humanity.

Winters' had been out-manned, out-gunned. And yet he still nearly pulled it off. He had sent ship after ship to a fiery grave, the only fate a traitor to their species should deserve. The Liberty had been the finest ship he had ever had the grace to be upon or command. Though dwarfed in size and power by the Divine Wind, he knew it would have always been a better ship. Until the Liberty, during the battle that crushed his dreams of human independence, was rammed by the SSV Yorktown, a damned frigate. He would have fought to the last bullet, but fate let him be knocked unconscious during the ramming, allowing the true traitors to humanity capture him. He'd heard that the C.O aboard the Yorktown, Keyes, had been decorated highly for her actions. Nothing more than another traitor in his book.

The Systems Alliance had sentenced him to death for treason. If anyone deserved the sentence, it was them. Then there was the terror of Shanxi. A new, alien, hostile species attacking, of all things, a human colony. Rather than executed, he had been brought to, of all places, High Charity. The center, the capital, of the Covenant. And he, an Innie, was brought before the Hierarchs. The three most powerful individuals of the Covenant. If he had had a weapon on him, he would have killed all three on the spot. But in shackles, he was their guest. And they gave him their offer.

And so here he was, the Arbiter. Leading a species he hated, in order to save his own. The Hierarchs had played their little game right. A human Arbiter to save a human colony. Winters' had no love for the Covenant or Systems Alliance. But humanity was to be protected, at all costs. And so, he would die in the defense of humanity, not the Covenant. Finally reaching his temporary personal quarters, he began suiting up into the specialized armor provided by him. It seemed to be the standard equipped to humans, but decorated in the ancient style of the sangheili. He would have preferred a pre-Covenant design, but he had been left out in the matter.

A new Age would begin shortly. Marked by the defeat of the hostiles at Shanxi, and by his own death fighting against these invaders, the Ninth Age of Reclamation would end. Good riddance, in his opinion. Maybe the new Age would see the independence of humanity, maybe not. Such things can never be predicted. He may be guiding the creation of a new Age…but he would not live to see it.

Turian Hierarchy Command Center, Palaven

Clean, orderly, sterile. The proper descriptors for any turian's office. Even more so for the General. Datapads filed neatly, nary a sign of disorder, the foulest idea to any turian. Reports came in and out, in a fashionable order. The one about the dormant Mass Relay had given him some headache, as that whole affair was something messy, something so un-turian. It should have been easy, stop some dumb-headed minor race from potentially setting forth a new plague across the galaxy. Had such a thing occurred, his office would have most likely become cluttered with all sorts of urgent requests from the other Citadel species, sitreps from field commanders. Such a mess that should be avoided. So, the fleet sent would merely stop the new race from activating a Mass Relay, and take punitive actions.

However, apart from one report mentioning the arrival of possible reinforcements for the minor race, all communications from the fleet had stopped. So very odd, so very non-turian. Another fleet was being readied to survey the area, and ascertain what exactly had happened. The commander of the first fleet would be punished for such disorderly conduct when eventually discovered. The General's thoughts on this were interrupted by an adjutant of his arriving.

"Sir, you have a transmission from the Citadel, high priority."

The General had not been expecting such a transmission. It was out of routine, sudden, and he was wary of it. However, there was not much that could be done. "Yes, I will take it in here, dismissed."

After his adjutant had left, the General turned towards three holoprojectors, which glowed and eventually showed the forms of an asari, a salarian, and a turian. The Councilors, the symbol of unity between the three Citadel races, the most powerful individuals in the galaxy.

"Councilors, I am honored by your presence."

The salarian spoke first, casually dismissing the General with, "We shall dispense with formalities later, General. We have much to discuss, urgently."

The General's mandibles quivered slightly, the only break in a façade that showed his current wariness. A sudden transmission from the Council, the urgentness in the salarian Councilor's voice. What could possibly be next?

The turian Councilor spoke next: "You are aware of a turian fleet in the vicinity of Relay 314?"

"Yes, Councilor. There was a minor incident involving the Relay, however, it has been taken care of."

The asari Councilor finally spoke, 'her' voice filled with ice. "Indeed, General? Then perhaps you can explain this report from one of our Spectres…"