Five: Countdown to War

Corasetii IV (Gultanr homeworld), December 25, 101000 BCE

"Welcome to our system, Spartan," Ferial greeted with a slightly fangy smile when he stepped off his transport, "I've taken the liberty of arranging for rooms for you and the rest of your crew planetside. Unless you'd prefer to stay on your ships?"

"I'm not sure about everyone else, but I'll take you up on that." The Spartan bowed slightly. "Thank you."

The dragoness' smile widened, then she turned to go. "This way." When the Chief and his Rindë – his Circle, his lieutenants – fell into step around her, the Gultanr matriarch continued, "There have been a surprising number of volunteers to join your fleet, Dark One."

"Have there?"

"Yes. Several thousand have made requests, compared to the few hundred expected. I expect that we will receive many more before you make your choice of who will join you." Ferial led them to a large complex near the Gultanr capital building. It appeared big enough from the outside to hold the present crew of the Darkest Hour, the first of the ships to be completed. Only about a tenth of the final Forerunner crew members had been confirmed and transferred to the ship.

"So many?" The Spartan was understandably surprised. He had believed that the precognitive dragons would be more cautious about entering service under the command of a human – and a Gravemind at that.

"Some of our more powerful resonators have begun picking up the vibrations of the Flood. They are on edge about it, and seem to think that with you is the safest place to be. The Parasite seems to be between five hundred and one thousand Earth years away, which is the best and narrowest window we've got. We'll be able to narrow it down more as we get closer."

"Are some of these resonators among the volunteers?"

"Some, yes. A little over half. The rest intend to depart with the Librarian or die here before the Flood strikes." Ferial unlocked the complex and led them inside. "This is where you will be staying – the Matriarchal Palace."

Areana, who was the head of the medical staff, tensed. "We don't want to evict you –"

The Gultanr gave her an amused look. "I don't live here, Lady Lifeworker. The most activity this place has seen since my coronation has been in the past week, and that's because I hired people to clean it out."

"Where do you live, then?" the Lifeworker asked. Nep'Thalia was still considering his offer, so she was temporary second-in-command.

"In the apartments above my office."

The twins, the heads of Intelligence and Interrogation and who were tagging along to "inspect the accommodations" (translation: claim a room for their own before everyone else began jockeying for space), blinked at her. "Wow. Even the Didact's not that dedicated to his work. Commander?"

The Spartan was still not used to being addressed as such, though it had been over two thousand years since his promotion. "I don't sleep on battlefields unless I have to, but this and that are two entirely different things."

"You don't say!"

"Don't be snarky."

Before either of the twins could reply, Ferial inserted herself into their conversation once more. "Your room," she said to the twins, "is Number 601. We managed to make some – er, those beds where on is on top of the other?"

"Bunk beds."

"Dibs on the top!" Kenera raced off ahead of her twin. John pursed his lips to hide the hints of a smile, and shook his head while Areana chuckled at their antics. The rest of his Rindë – Gramlek, Lautrec, two Builders by the names of Elenasto "Stardust" and Sérë mí Lónë "Peace in the Deep," and another Lifeworker known simply as Sairin "Fiery" – watched the two go with varying expressions of amusement.

Elenasto sighed. "Those two… Well, should we follow their lead and get settled in before the selection is made?" She looked over at Ferial.

The dragoness made a "go on" gesture. "By all means. Do take your time, though. Some of the most promising potentials are still making their way here."

"By your word." The Builder bowed slightly to the Gultanr, who bowed in return. That was one of the reasons John had wanted her on his team – she wasn't arrogant and quietly xenophobic like some of her rate. She judged people on their level of intelligence first and foremost, and the Gultanr and Adonte – the "Grays," as humans knew them – were among the races that were considered "most equal" by the Forerunners. Elenasto and Sérë had been responsible for teaching him about the Builder rate when the Didact and the Librarian first had him introduced to Forerunner society. Now he kept them on to make sure he didn't make any unforgivable political missteps. He was still a soldier, after all.

The group of Forerunners and one human followed the twins down the hall after the departure of the dragons' matriarch. The human mentally called up the room assignments. "Wow, this place has its own reactor."

"Really?" Lautrec tried not to come off as overenthusiastic, he really did, but the members of the Engineer rate always got excited when given the opportunity to examine new and/or alien technology.

"Do not take it offline, you hear? Even though they should know better by now, someone will complain about not having any hot water." The Chief snapped his fingers in front of the techie to get his attention. "Got it?" When he received a grudging, sullen affirmative, he gave the Forerunner directions to his room. The reactor microcomplex wasn't too far from there. One by one, the rest of the aliens – food – dispersed, leaving him to find his room alone.

The moment he spotted the door, he was unable to stop himself from picking up his pace a tad, a small smile appearing on his face. The barrier had been replaced recently; he could smell the new steel. That was not what grabbed his attention, however – it was what was stenciled onto the metal. His service number – S117.

Hydraulics hissed, the door sliding open at his mental command. The room inside was a passable replica of a UNSC barracks. The bed was just a few inches too large to be one of the military singles, the nightstand a tiny bit too ornate, and the en-suite bathroom would have belonged to officers alone, never a non-com like him. But given what they had to work with, in his eyes it was perfect. Home. Home home home –

Some patient soul had even sewn him two sets of fatigues close enough to pass for UNSC standard. Had he been trained to allow such undignified and un-Spartan-like displays of emotion, he might have shed a few tears out of joy. But he wasn't, so he settled for shrugging off his Forerunner armor to yank on the fatigues. Though the cloth was different, they fit exactly as they were supposed to, even if they looked just a tad bit different. This explained why the matriarch had requested his armor measurements before his arrival.

The next time he saw her, the first thing out of his mouth was, "You're joining the Fleet whether you like it or not, Ferial."

Her only reply was a toothy grin and "We'll see."

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"Why would something like that be important to you?"

Valerie genuinely wanted to know, as did several other Spartans, so the Chief didn't respond with a cutting remark about cultural exposure. Instead, he said, "Try living on Sangheilios for a few years, and you'll see what I mean. Everything is foreign – the language, the dress, the food, the architecture – and though some things are universal no matter the species, they're not necessarily things you can take comfort in. It's all so different from what you know – and you all are lucky. If you were ever sent on an exchange trip to the Elite's homeworld, UNSC space is barely a few weeks in cryo away. For me, the UNSC didn't even exist then; I had to wait over a hundred thousand years for something even remotely familiar." His gaze flicked to one side, a faintly bitter and sad smile tweaking his lips. "That was the greatest act of kindness anyone ever did for me before the start of the Forerunner-Flood War."

"Why did she do that for you?" Alice asked, stepping forward a little so the hybrid could see her better.

"Because I was once in the same sailing vessel."

The knot of Spartans and their associates turned to face the newcomer: the former Primas Uperbia herself. Her wine red scales gleamed like rubies in the afternoon sun, faintly translucent, her orange eyes almost glowing from within. She bowed to her Commander and Cortana, and curtseyed to everyone else.

"The phrase is 'in the same boat,' Ferial," the Gravemind corrected with a slight roll of his eyes.

"Same thing." She returned the eye roll. "I was, though. There was some kind of conflict between my people and our tiger-like neighbors, the Lituni. He said, she said - it got out-of-palm."

"Hand."

"Whatever." She shook her head. "To this day I don't know what it was about, but I was sent to a neighboring system to hammer out a peace treaty as part of my training to become Primas Uperbia. And I was sent alone, not a single other Gultanr with me. The Lituni, the residents of that system, believed that killing one of my people brings blights on crops and herds, so I was safe from assault, but…" The matriarch shook her head again. "There were no familiar faces, no one who spoke more than passable Glor, aside from my translator – even the planets themselves were completely different, and we come from neighboring star systems." She looked up at all of them. "You all have it relatively easy – you're not expected to make nice with people you'd rather leave alone."

"Aside from the Sangheili."

"Aside from the Sangheili," Ferial amended, nodding. Then she added, "For the moment."

"For the moment," the Chief conceded.

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"… so our final tally of Gultanr on the roster is three hundred and fifty, with one additional spot open for Ferial if she decides to join us." Elenasto scrolled through the list on her pad. "Anyone have any objections? Commander?"

"I'm fine with it."

"Very well then. Etra, please send messages to everyone who has been added to the roster."

"Of course," the ancilla projected over the COMs channel, "There is a message for you, Commander. From the Didact. The Council has put pressure on him to 'stop pursuing alternative methods when there is a perfectly viable one already in place.' He has opposed the extreme faction too long, and so to escape punishment, he has chosen to enter a Cryptum, a Warrior Keep."

"Where?"

"I am unable to locate him, but the Librarian intends to have him moved to Erde-Tyrene. It is the last place someone would think to look for him."

Outwardly, the Spartan didn't react beyond stating, "Thank you, Etra." It had been years since he'd thought of Earth and its inhabitants. The Librarian had assured him that his people would be safe under her care, but this… The Didact had been infamous for his cruelty towards pure humans during the war, though he had been willing to overlook that part of the Chief's ancestry in favor of working to combat the Flood. Now, though…

He did not voice his concerns. If the Librarian thought that Earth was the safest place for her husband, he would trust her judgment. For now.

As he prepared to depart with his Rindë, a – :sensation: traveled up his spine. It was mixed pleasure and mindless terror, like nothing he'd ever felt before. Intuition, instincts murmured. Through the glass, darkly… Ebb ends, flow begins.

"It's coming."

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Installation Zero-Zero, early evening, 100300 BCE.

"We've lost contact with an exploration team on G 617 g 1 "Seaward," Commander, as well as a group of Warrior-Servants sent to find them."

"The Flood's first Forerunner victims." John's hand tightened on the hard light table display in front of him. "It's here."

No one asked if he was sure. No amount of discipline could have stopped the rill of :fear: that ran through the crew, or the whispers that began breaking out. The rumors were already spreading from ship to ship, person to person, even out through the Lifeworkers on the Primary Ark.

Everyone was afraid. All of the psy-actives had received and passed along fragments of his memories to the rest of the crew: the Flood, what little he knew about how it did what it did, a handful of the live infections he had seen in the Origin, as well as the Tank, Stalker, and Ranged Pure forms. They all knew what they were facing. And they were right to be afraid. Anyone who wasn't was a fool.

waves of an army march this way in unison

suffering and corruption are its battle cries

"We're going to G 617." John got up. "To glass it if we have to. If nothing else, it will deny the Flood a spawning grounds. Alert the Librarian and prepare for departure. And … make your peace with the universe. No one is guaranteed a tomorrow. Not even me."

"A message from the Librarian, Commander," Hrívë, "Winter," said directly to him as he headed for the bridge of the Perfect Storm, "She's sent the shutdown codes for Mendicant Bias. If he turns as you say he will, we will be able to at least hold his advance."

"I certainly hope so." He copied the codes into his memory, and left the originals to the Metarch-class ancilla. "Get the others to keep track of him as well, please. If he disappears, I want to know it."

"By your word."

John arrived on the bridge. One of the many displays being monitored by personnel and ancilla showed the main Ark in all of its glory as they disengaged from the docks on its edges. The Librarian emerged from one of the nearby structures to watch them depart, making a gesture of farewell and a prayer for a safe return.

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The entire moon was already overrun. The Flood was everywhere, already raining down on the other research installations in the system. There were no Warrior-Servants left to fight the Parasite, no weapons to be used in defense of hearth and home. The Builders and Miners were being overtaken at a rate that seemed to defy imagination.

Though reluctant to do so, John remained on the bridge and gave his instructions directly to the Metarch ancilla even as he moved his warships into position over the moon. Clouds of fighters were launched from the fortress-class vessels, some manned, most not. They shielded hundreds of transports dispatched to retrieve survivors, what few still remained. The Fleet of Shadows proper began the process of scanning and vitrifying any completely infested areas, including the moon.

A feed from a satellite stood out in his mind, amidst all of the chaos and waves of fear and determination and icy discipline that swirled around him. The Flood – infection pods, combat forms, even some shapes that he'd never seen before – spilled over a ridge toward a Forerunner research colony. The Spartan broadcast a warning to it, several warnings, but by the time those in charge realized what was going on, it was too late to run. The fighters and war sphinxes and Promethean Knights and Sentinels engaged the Flood on all possible fronts, trying to halt the inevitable and enabling some of the emergency transports to lift away.

A Forerunner, a first-form, barely an adult, raced down one of the colony's main thoroughfares, barely a couple steps ahead of the swarming Parasite. She look so much like Cortana that for a moment, that was who the Spartan saw: his AI, fleeing from the Flood the same way she fled from the torment of the enemy Gravemind. One of her neighbors was overwhelmed and infected before her eyes. She froze up in fear, stumbling, and recovered too late. Though he wanted nothing more than to turn away, to allow her a dignified end, he forced himself to watch as a multitude of infection pods bore her, screaming in terror, to the ground.

He forced himself to look at the – the thing he could become. 'Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster. If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.'

This is UNSC AI serial number CTN 0452-9. I am a monument to all your sins.

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Cortana shuddered in fright and buried her face in her Spartan's shoulder. Sensing the other warriors' questioning gazes, "The Gravemind showed me that," she said, her wavering voice just loud enough for them all to hear, "in the Origin. I lived it. The pain – it was –" She hunched closer to the Chief, "breath" shaky as the hybrid curled an arm around her shoulders.

**********

About the Fleet of Shadows…

Member Species (does not include ~50,000 Forerunners):

Dalmasca System (I - V): home of the Lituni (Li like in literature, tun like tune, i like brownie) people (similar to tigers) - one of the first worlds lost to the Flood, only surviving members are part of the Mobile Forerunner Empire (Galactic Council)

- An intelligent species that evolved from an early species of tiger, the Lituni had approximately the Covenant's level of technology when they first encountered the Forerunners and received warning about the Flood. The Lituni chose to join the Forerunner Empire / Galactic Council in order to protect themselves and their species from complete destruction and wound up being one of the first worlds to be consumed. Approximately three million Lituni are still in existence. Approximate number of Infected stands at 17000.

- Reproduction: sexual; gender(s): one (hermaphroditic, any one Linuti and reproduce with any other Lituni)

- General appearances: bipedal, human-like; they have heads similar to those of domestic cats and are covered from head to toe in fur.

- Society: former theocracy worshipping a variant of Epheria and Selenica

* Demon Eagles: the largest bird of prey in the Dalmasca System, the Demon Eagles have pitch-black feathers, glowing red eyes, and are believed to be the servants of Gutherna, the Lituni equivalent of the Devil, which has since been disproved

Corasetii (Core-a-SET-I, as in the pronoun I) System (I - IX): inhabited system (Gul-TA-nr – Gull, ta like in tantalize, nr like in dinner), well-known for its Elemental Cascades

- The inhabitants of the Corasetii System are a dragon-like people who call themselves the Gultanr and are startlingly adept at predicting the future; all Gultanr planetside committed species-wide suicide three years before the arrival of the Flood on their world. At their request, the Fleet of Shadows glassed the planets to prevent the Parasite from taking control of their corpses. Only those who were inside the Maginot Sphere or on the Ark stayed their hands and put their astonishing "predictive resonance" to work for the Forerunner and Galactic Councils, predicting the worlds that could be saved and those that could not. It is from them that the Master Chief gets his own form of predictive resonance. Only three hundred and fifty-one Gultanr became part of the Fleet of Shadows.

- Reproduction: sexual; gender(s): six (three forms of male, three of female). The dragons evolved on three separate planets within their home system, hence the three separate forms of each gender. Hybridizing is possible, but difficult.

- Society: matriarchal non-religious; families are ruled by the eldest female or father until the eldest female's coming of age. System ruled by a Primas Uperbia, the "First Among the Gultanr," a queen / president equivalent.

* The Gultanr are the "Devil-people" of the Lituni, as they lived in neighboring systems, and at one point in their past, the Gultanr and Lituni had come into contact with one another. While the Gultanr were largely a peaceful people, the Lituni declared them demons and drove them from the Dalmasca System; the name of the Lituni's Devil - Gutherna - is derived from the Gultanr people's name.

* Their heads appear more like the short, pointed face of a cat rather than the long maw like those of wolves and "proper" dragons, and their legs are more like those of the Sangheili, though with six taloned toes rather than hooves. Their upper bodies usually look for all the world like a human wearing a dragon skin - horns, spines, tail and all.

* Dragon Horses: the equivalent of the horse for the Gultanr, it is believed that the Gultanr evolved from the dragon horses, as they look similarly and share a common ancestor.

Mav'Tan System (I - III): home of the Mavalt (Mav – Alt) people (plant like) - one of only a handful of worlds outside of the Maginot Sphere to remain untouched by the Flood, most of the planet was evacuated before the Great Cataclysm

- The Malvalt are an entirely telepathic race, as they have no orifices that qualify as mouths, vocal cords to create noise, or sounds that qualify as speech. They have several antennae on their heads, shaped like leaves, that they use in the process of photosynthesis during the "high noon" period of their planet's day. Because their planet is essentially rain forest with an abnormally high humidity level, they are able to absorb water vapor through their skin. They offered themselves as living "oxygen gardens" in exchange for not being put into combat roles during the Forerunner-Flood War; however, those who became a part of the Fleet are Infected, and assist the Forerunner Engineer rate in maintaining the ships. Approximate number of Infected is at 15,000.

- Reproduction: sexual (pollen, "mothers" "inhale" the pollen and fertilize the eggs in their abdomens, eventually giving birth in a manner similar to humanity); gender(s): none discernible

- Society: non-religious commune

Theddonta (Theh-don-ta) System (I - II): home of the Adonte (A-DON-tay; "don" like "don we now our gay apparel;" the "Grays"), the most intelligent of the non-Forerunner species in the Empire

- While the Adonte are not telepathic and have no telepathic potential at all, each member of the species is at least twice to three times as smart as the best human scientists. They have no emotions at all and operate purely on logic and logical thought. They only grow up to four feet tall and have a brain that amounts to thirty to thirty-five percent of their body mass. Approximate number of Infected is at 17,500.

- Reproduction: sexual (now considered to be "old-fashioned," the Adonte typically reproduce through artificial insemination or in vitro fertilization, even entire artificial "wombs")

- Society: patriarchal non-religious; families are ruled by the eldest male or mother until the eldest male's coming-of-age

Total: approximately 49851 Infected, not including the Forerunners, the Chief, or the handfuls of species who joined at later dates.

Ships:

Perfect Storm: Flagship of the Fleet of Shadows, Forerunner fortress-class destroyer; the most heavily armed ship in the fleet. Carrier of the Aura Fall / Blast Fall, codenamed the "Howl of Eternity" and "Thunder of the Infected" respectively. Ancilla: Astar, Metarch-class.

- Blast Fall / Aura Fall: a super weapon that has never been fired in anger, only test-fired. The explosion resulting from the test-firing of the Blast Fall only, was of planet-killing magnitude, more than sufficient to destroy a world of Jupiter's size and Earth's makeup. Built in 102350 BCE using experimental technology by the Master Chief, intended for use against the Flood, but no opportunity arose wherein it could be safely used. It remains integrated into the Perfect Storm in case of an emergency.

FireRain: the "farm and garden" ship, acts as the bread basket and is the most heavily shielded ship. Forerunner supply ship; with almost no on-ship weapons, the FireRain relies on the other ships in the Fleet of Shadows for defense. One of two remaining known locations in the universe where the Lunar Flower and Lunar Butterflies can be found. Ancilla: Úvë, Metarch-class.

- Lunar Flower: a lily-like silver flower that grew on Luna prior to the firing of the Halo rings. The firing killed off the Lunar Butterflies that pollinated them, and without their pollen being spread away from the parent flower, they became too inbred and too concentrated in certain spots to produce fertile seeds and died off in the Origin. The only known living Lunar Flowers and Lunar Butterflies in both the Origin and the Parallel are in the hands of the Librarian and on board the FireRain, the "farm and garden" ship of the Fleet of Shadows.

MoonBlade: Forerunner transport frigate for Flood forms, the lightest and swiftest of the ships, central station for inter- and intra-fleet communication. Outfitted like a destroyer. Ancilla: Hrívë, Metarch-class.

Darkest Hour: Forerunner destroyer, secondary command vessel, also serves as the main generator for active camouflage when the fleet is stationary, though each ship has its own active camo generator. Ancilla: Fenix, Metarch-class.

Into the Night: information and teleportation hub; holds all of the knowledge ever put in data form in the fleet and hosts the teleportation generator. Forerunner research vessel outfitted like a destroyer. Ancilla: Etra, Metarch-class.

Primary Flagship Weapons:

Aura Fall: gathers and uses larger quantities of dark matter to force a stellar collapse into a black hole. The dark matter is encased in a plasma sleeve to keep it contained in on spot while it is being fired and prevent it from pulling surrounding matter in with its high gravity. The sleeve dissolves on impact, and the dark matter begins pulling in the star's plasma, inducing the stellar collapse.

Blast Fall: gathers and uses limited quantities of dark energy to overcome the star's gravity and induce a supernova, or a planet's gravity to detonate it. Operates on the same principle as the Aura Fall, save that the dark energy is in plasma form to keep it together, rather than contained in a sleeve of plasma.

Quenya Glossary

rindë – circle, ring

Elenasto – lit. "Stardust"

Sérë mí Lónë – lit "Peace in the Deep (Water, Pool)"; originally, I had no idea what this Forerunner's name was going to be. I'd imagined him as sort of unflappable, even in the toughest of situations; he was that one friend we all have where nothing seems to disturb or upset them. His name ultimately came from a line from a song by Florence + the Machine – "Never Let Me Go."

And it's peaceful in the deep

Cathedral where you cannot breathe

No need to pray, no need to speak

Now I am under, Oh.

Sairin – fiery or fire-like

Hrívë – lit. "Winter"