Twenty-Two: The Grim Reaper's Horn

It wasn't the Bellogeri that struck first.

It was the Saavaasi. A band of rebels thousands strong seized control of their people's government and withdrew from the Ecumene, driving out all the others' diplomats. Then they attacked a mixed colony in their space. They were done with living on hell-worlds, they said; it had made them strong, true, but now they were tough enough to take peaceful worlds from the "weaker" peoples. A return to the tradition of the Clans in the elder days, when they fought over territory with the most resources and fewest deadly beasts.

Atheos and the other Saavaasi of the Fleet disavowed them in the blink of an eye. 'They do not seek peaceful worlds for the sakeof peace,' the lead serpent spat, Flood-venom dripping from his fangs, 'only for the "party", so that they can grow wealthy off the hard work of others and keep everyone else down or out!'

[Fascism is the same everywhere.]

But the Saavaasi were just the first. The Gultanr were smart - they withdrew to their home system and hunkered down, holding tight to what they knew better than any others - but the others started scrambling for planets, people, resources.

The Fleet left them to it - for now. They had received a distress call from the outermost Adonte system and arrived unsurprised to find the Bellogeri attacking the colony, swarms of dropships snatching up people on the ground even as they shot at the ships above.

[Anything from our probes?] the Spartan asked as they moved to support the defense.

'A medium-sized space dock by our standards, but no planets. Certainly not the home world.'

[And nothing we can use to turn them away, either.]

Even though they were Flood, the Bellogeri he had infected had rejected them as "false Flood", because they were not the terrible conquerors the harpies had expected. They had raged in the Hive and forced the Infected to break their minds so they didn't disrupt the harmony of the Fleet.

It was unlikely that others would receive them any better.

The Flood itself was amused. They do know that they too would be broken and consumed, yes? That whatever glory they imagine in serving the Other is illusory at best and dangerously misleading at worst?

I don't think they do. It seems they imagine themselves as the Flood's "Chosen".

Chosen for what, I wonder.

I'm curious about that myself.

Aloud, he said, "I have no desire to become like the Covenant's Prophets, to condemn an entire species to extinction. Silver-Moon, do you think there is any possibility of diplomacy?"

The Builder seriously considered the question, even as swarms of fighters and harriers launched to destroy the enemy fleet. At last, she said, "No. I do not believe there is."

'We cannot eradicate an entire species-'

John held up a hand for silence. [We won't. There are always children. Take them, raise them in their culture but away from this reverence of the Flood… It smacks of the Indian Removal Act and Earth's colonial history, but I don't see another option. Not unless we actually do make them go extinct.]

There were unhappy sounds from many of the Infected, but they, too, saw no other truly viable option; eternal war certainly wasn't one.

John sent his mind out to join the attack craft, darting through return fire to gun for the enemy flagship's engines. When he was close enough, he found a relay and slipped into the ship.

At once he was attacked by something like an AI - "something like" one because it could barely be considered one. It was a brute-force defense system and absolutely nothing else. He took it apart with barely a blink, feeding the remaining data strings to the Flood, then looked out into the rest of their systems.

Each one had a discrete, distinct "program" running it, and they passed data among themselves where required, but that was it.

A step up from the Covenant, but several steps down from the UNSC.

And entire flights away from us.

Indeed. Navigation first, then Engineering.

The Flood "scented" the "air", then directed him through. A half-figure sat in the heart of a swirl of stars until the Spartan dragged it out and knifed it, then let Flood tentacles unfurl and pull it into himself. Then, while the not-AI was being devoured, he plunged his hand into the swirl and started downloading the data, passing it through to the rest of the Fleet. The faster they could deal with this, the faster they could get back to mitigating the collapse of the Third Ecumene.

And it was collapsing, even now; Flies-Through-Comet-Tails reported that the Xevetan and the Lituni had fought a skirmish on the border between their space - small, but it wouldn't stay that way. It wouldn't stop there.

Another two security programs came at him from the dark, and John gritted his teeth, preparing to interrupt the download in order to defend himself. But there was no need; the long tentacles unfurled again, this time at the direction of the Flood, and seized the programs, pulling them in to be devoured by the Flood's ever-hungry maw.

Thanks, I guess.

It would be inconvenient if we were injured by something so pathetic.

Aw, that's almost sweet coming from you.

The Flood hissed, making John grin. But he finished the download uninterrupted, then moved to the Engineering program. It had worked with Navigation when charting their courses through the stars, but it seemed not to have noticed its fellow was gone. Nor did it notice the Spartan, not even when it was too late.

It, too, was devoured, and the human took over its controls, shutting down the engines - shutting down all power save life support.

The other programs flickered out, the "area" going dark, and the Flood let out a soft moue of discontent.

Patience. When power is restored, they'll return.

It's not the same.

He shot a raised eyebrow in its direction and mentally batted away a dozen queries from the Bellogeri, demanding to know what was going on. He locked down the system, then returned to the harrier attack craft.

With the flagship disabled, the battle soon went bad for the harpies; this was more of a scout force than the supercarrier they had taken down a few weeks ago, more a smash and grab than an actual pitched battle. A few ships turned to flee, but the Fleet already had what it needed.

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The Bellogeri controlled a large swath of territory on the far side of the core. Yet they were known to range far afield seeking slaves for their empire; the furthest edge of the Ecumene was - had been - almost five hundred light years from their border. Small, in terms of the total size of the galaxy, but still a significant distance. Humanity and the Covenant had been separated by a tenth of that for nearly a decade now and still hadn't stumbled across one another, and it would be another twenty years before they actually did.

[What do you all think? Do we strike at the heart first, or the outlying colonies? We also need to think about the slaves.]

'Are there any rebel networks we could link up with? They could tell us more, get us intel. Divines, I hate civs that don't have ancillae!'

[It's not our place to judge, Peace, although I agree it is damned inconvenient having everything rely on people, who actually have eyes in their heads. Much harder to spoof than pure data, as we all well know. Sunlight?]

Light from Distant Suns stepped up. 'There does seem to be a rebel network of sorts, centered around some former home worlds of the Bellogeri's slaves. Especially these.'

She put an image in their minds. It was an alien race that could best be described as a four-armed bipedal elephant with bright blue skin and thick but dexterous seven-fingered hands.

'The Amerontiki,' said the ancilla, 'A Lifeworker experiment from long ago, now grown into an interstellar species in their own right. Up until the Bellogeri came, at least.'

[Will they work with us? Help organize the other species too?]

There were at least a dozen, including the Amerontiki: a lizard people with a quality like poison dart frogs, where their normal food let them produce toxins through their skin (not that the Bellogeri let them eat it now); another cat-people like the Lituni, only barely knee-high on the Spartan and primarily quadrupedal; a hive-mind worm race, distant kin to the Lekgolo of the Covenant; and more.

'I think so. But the others have their own rebels and even a few free colonies. Hidden, of course. The Bellogeri have hints as to their location, but nothing solid. They don't have us.' She gestured to herself and the other ancillae.

[Can you find them?]

'Definitely, but it might take some time. There's a lot of data to sift through and triangulate.'

[Do it. Work out a rotation if need be. If we can get in contact with them, warn them that we're coming for these assholes, maybe they can get their people out of the way - or at least tell them to stand down and let us pass. I can't imagine that they'll take well to another straight up invasion.]

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The moon seemed barely a speck next to the gas giant it orbited. A failed brown dwarf, it brought to mind Viperidae, the site of Admiral Cole's last stand (was it actually the last? SURGEON had seemed to think he was still alive with his Insurrectionist wife…). Audacity skimmed as close to the clouds as possible, observing the colony.

Despite its apparent size, the moon was actually a respectable planetoid, not quite Earth-sized, but definitely bigger than Luna. The ships and satellites orbiting her were clearly stolen and patched together, but they seemed like they would hold up in a fight. The surface was more of the same, a shantytown of derelicts and parts of derelicts and wreckage.

'Commander,' Winterspell said quietly, 'We're being hailed.'

[Give them formal greetings, and tell them we're here to speak with Hex.]

"Hex" was the closest he could come to pronouncing the Amerontiki's name without modifying his vocal cords - the closest any non-Amerontiki could come, actually. And he was old, too - old enough to remember a time when his people had lived free, nearly a thousand years ago.

Audacity broke orbit, aiming for the planetoid. A cluster of patchwork fighters swung up to escort them when they entered the atmosphere, even as the Forerunner ship adjusted to handle the entry.

They set down on a landing pad that held under the ship's weight but still groaned alarmingly. The Infected stepped lightly when they disembarked, and followed Déjà's directions down into the city. [Keep in contact, Winter. Don't let anyone on the ship.]

'Understood.'

The myriad people of the colony stared as the Infected passed; they'd brought one member of each species, including the Xevetan, so they were quite a varied bunch. But they all wore the same metallic green and black armor, all with the same symbol marking them as a part of the Fleet.

'I still think we should be brightly colored. Like poison dart frogs - "Danger! Do not touch!"'

[Nope.]

'Aw. But Commandeeeeer…!'

[No.]

There were some who thought to stop them, of course, but Qe'rid gently turned their minds away so that they found themselves thinking or doing something else. They had no wish to fight these people, struggling to survive in the shadow of a slave empire.

But the guards in front of Hex's door, they did not turn away. It wasn't really a door; instead it was the beginning of a long tunnel down into the rock of the planetoid. Hex lived round the clock in the shelter under the city, where they grew some kind of rapidly-reproducing fungus that was the city's primary food source. All but the hardiest of plant life tended to die or at least go dormant when the planetoid entered the gas giant's shadow.

The Amerontiki wasn't alone when they entered, but then he'd said he wouldn't be. There were two others of his kind with him, and the leaders - or at least representatives - of a few other rebel cells, a disparate but tight-knit group.

Hex was a thousand years old, and looked it, too. What sparse hair he had was chalk white, and even for an elephant-like race, he was thoroughly wrinkled, almost shriveled up. "You speak the Bellogeri's common tongue?" he rasped without preamble.

"We do," said Silver-Moon in that language, though the words were awkward, new, on her tongue.

Introductions went around - the rebels' were coded, the Fleet had no need - and Hex said, "So you're the new ones they found, huh? The ones who've been causing so much trouble."

"In a manner of speaking. They've gotten their licks in, but we destroyed their supercarrier Forward Thrust."

That caused a stir. One of the cat-people, Pvren, hopped up to sit on the table and said, "We all heard about that - those bastards were furious. That was you?!"

"It was."

Pvren said something that had to be a curse. The other rebel leaders murmured amongst themselves.

"What do you want from us, then?" Hex asked, leaning forward, fingers threading together and eyes glinting with interest, "If you can take out an entire fleet of theirs, especially that one, I hardly think you'll need us to fight the Bellogeri."

"You are correct, but only if we were going for the extermination of an entire race - and all their subject species with them," Silver-Moon replied, "We do not believe in punishing all for the sins of only a few. But we wonder if you might tell us, this reverence for the Flood, the cruelty, the slavery - truly, is it born or learned?"

Hex caught on before any of the others. "You wonder if there are some who might be saved." There were shouts of outrage from the others, but he held up a hand for silence - and got it.

"We do," said Silver-Moon, "We have no wish to wage a war without end, only holding them off and ignoring your own suffering in favor of resolving our own internal problems first, but neither do we wish to eradicate an entire people because of one potential - and admittedly major - cultural issue. Is it born or is it learned?"

Hex took a long look at each of them, and they met his gaze levelly. Finally, he said, "Brumna, you would know best. And answer truthfully."

He turned to one of the poison dart lizards. They crossed their arms almost sullenly but said, "The hatchlings are all right. None of this madness that the adults have. They go for schooling after they get their adult feathers, and then when they graduate, they get taken away and go through some kind of ritual - and end up like that."

"The logic plague?" John murmured to the others.

Hex heard clearly despite the Spartan's low voice. "'The logic plague'?" he repeated, "What's that?"

"A Flood illness of both mind and machine," Silver-Moon answered, "Although, we've only seen it once in… a being of flesh, like us. Mostly it was used against intelligent computer programs, to make them the Flood's creatures and turn them against us. We know the signs, but we would need to see for ourselves to know for sure."

That sent more murmurs through the rebel leaders. Finally, Pvren said, "I know where the ritual takes place; I'll take you there. I don't like the thought of sparing any one of these bastards, but if it isn't really their fault… Well, we'll see."

An argument broke out after that; more than half of the rebels were all for just destroying the Bellogeri down to the last egg, but in the end, Hex settled the matter. "You who advocate for their destruction are no better than them," he said firmly, everyone falling silent to hear him speak, "If this Flood really makes monsters out of even the kindest and most innocent of hatchlings, then we must eliminate it to stop its spread, even if only to spare our own people. But we should not do it at the cost of our own souls, our own-" He used a phrase that roughly translated to 'humanity'. "If this 'logic plague' is the source of this madness, then the Bellogeri at least have even half an excuse for their actions. We have no such thing, if we rise up and utterly destroy them.

"Pvren, take them to the ritual location. See what might be seen, then report back."

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The cat-person followed them back to Audacity, and directed them to a small planet on the very edge of the galaxy. Like Charum Hakkor, in one direction, one could see a streak of light like white on black canvas, but in the other direction was nothing but a black void and far distant galaxies.

The planet was heavily guarded, but over the years, the Fleet had equipped Audacity with the same stealth technology that concealed their corvettes, and the Bellogeri had nothing that even came close to detecting them.

Pvren directed them to a small valley not too far away from what seemed to be a temple complex. "I used to look after the hatchlings a long time ago," she said, sounding almost wistful, "Or a long time for me, anyway. They were predators, yes, but they weren't this. But every time without fail, when they went for the ritual, they came back with madness in their minds. One day I had had enough. I sneaked on to one of the ships taking the young ones for the ritual, and it brought us here. I followed them through the complex, but I couldn't get into the actual ritual building. Security's too heavy around the time they 'graduate'. But one and all, even the sweetest, came out as monsters."

John felt the hair on his neck stand on end. The rest of the Fleet felt his disturbance as well and immediately asked what was wrong.

Nothing he could define, only a growing sense of dread.

whispers of a nameless fear

Pvren led them carefully over the rooftops and through narrow alleys next to a processional way, heading for the largest and most ornate of the buildings, the dread still increasing with every step.

The computer systems here were no smarter than any of the others the Bellogeri had, so it was easy for Déjà to override the controls and admit them to the main temple complex. Once they stepped inside, Pvren said, "You'll have to take over from here. I've never been this far in."

"Déjà, show us the way to whatever's at the heart."

"Understood."

The ancilla directed them through to a large amphitheater under the main dome. The instant they entered, all the Infected stopped dead in their tracks.

There was a cylinder at the center of the arena, cracked but intact, horrible and familiar.

"What the hell is that?" Pvren spoke aloud.

She took a few steps toward the cylinder, but immediately several members of the Fleet put themselves between the cat-woman and the cylinder. "What-?!"

"No closer," John growled, "Not unless you want to become like the Bellogeri. Let's get out of here. We've seen enough."

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'Another Precursor?!'

'It makes a certain amount of sense. The one on Charum Hakkor survived Mendicant Bias's test firing in its stasis capsule.'

'The Bellogeri must have found a way to contact it, or else the cracks in the capsule are letting the Primordial's influence leak out into the world.'

John listened to his Infected as they discussed and debated and argued amongst themselves, even as they began moving equipment to capture the planet and throw it into its star. He was so intent on not thinking that he barely noticed when Pvren hopped up onto his lap and sat down. "You know what that thing is? What's inside it?"

"We do. We encountered one like it, long ago, and it was the source of many problems."

"What is it?"

"...A monster."

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When they returned to the rebel planet, only a few days after they left, they sat the rebel leaders down and told them what they had seen. Then they told them about the Flood, its history, what it had done, and now what it was still doing, through this other Primordial and the Bellogeri.

"We are already preparing planet-moving technology, so it can be thrown into its star and destroyed without anyone else having to set foot on it," Silver-Moon finished, "but… that is why things are the way they are. If we can do this, get rid of the Primordial, then perhaps all of us may yet be saved."

"Including the Bellogeri?"

"Including the Bellogeri. Although I imagine it will be a long time yet before they can interact with your people without the shame of their history hanging over them. We can relocate them and let them begin anew - the galaxy is vast - but we must move quickly. We dare not leave our own people alone for too long."

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It still took some time to move everything into place, longer still for the rebel cell leaders to contact all the others, tell them what was happening and convince them that when the time came, they should get their people to safety but also grab all the Bellogeri eggs they could lay hands on and deliver them to the Fleet.

But at last, it was time. Right as the new "graduates" were being taken for a session with the Primordial, the Fleet arrived, disabled the ships, and then used their tech to shift the planet's orbit inward at an oblique angle, which would carry it into the system's star inside of six months.

Not even the Primordial could survive such a close meeting with such intense natural forces.

The Bellogeri seemed to understand, because when their ships were boarded, they fought like people gone mad. Some of them even abandoned their weapons in favor of just throwing themselves at the Infected as if they were actual combat forms, shrieking their rage, but they had no more success than those who fought more logically.

The younglings had sense, at least; they grouped together and barricaded themselves in their rooms.

Bit by bit, the ship went quiet. The Tuavan searched out any lurkers and escapees before calling to the younglings with their minds. It's all right, little ones. It's safe.

Several of them returned with similar calls, saying effectively, You say that now, right after you just murdered our parents.

They were taking you to a fate worse than death. This we know for certain. With their ability, they were able to show the Fleet's memory of the black and evil seed planted in the Didact's mind by the Primordial, the recollection full of fresh horror with the discovery of this Precursor. Then they showed the Forerunner-Flood War. Did they tell you that you would be rewarded with glory and riches and power when the Flood returned? Did they say that your species would rise over all others save the Flood itself, that you would rule the galaxy second only to it? Lies, all of it. It would consume you like it consumed us, break your minds and wills and use you to break your families as well before they are even taken. They remembered the conversation the Didact had with the Master Builder - "my wives, my children, speaking to me from within a Gravemind!" It doesn't care about any of us. There is nothing for you there, unless you seek an end to all that you are, and all those you love with you.

There were some hardliners, of course, but many more turned away from the Flood, from the Primordial and its will. Some even joined the rebels and fought for the freedom of all their peoples.

One of them had been the son of one of the Primary Feathers, the leaders of the Bellogeri, and he slipped one of the Fleet's viruses into the control network, giving them the real time locations of all the harpies' fleets and colonies.

It was over almost before it had begun. They came at the twisted Bellogeri from without and within, and brought down their empire in under an Earth year.

It would take much, much longer to rebuild.

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Things weren't looking any better back home. They returned to Ecumene space just in time to see the Xevetan detonate a biological weapon in the Lituni's atmosphere.

[Well it looks like we've got some more governments to topple. And we're not gonna play nice this time. They should know better. Venera, Kenera, Johenji. It's time to cause problems on purpose.]

The Spartan didn't need to see their faces to know that all three – and all their other co-conspirators – wore wide grins that showed far too many teeth. [Commander,] they said as one, [it would be our genuine pleasure.]

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Amerontiki – Ah-meh-rone-tee-kee

Pvren – Puhv-ren