Exiled soldiers

Sangheilios-Elite homeworld-2558-October thirty-first

Darkness.

That was all that Sarah Palmer and her current Elite squadmates could see. They had been out on patrol, even with Palmer's injuries, when they were attacked by a group of Promethean Soldiers and Watchers. They had lost two of their ten man squad before they were pushed into the cave they were now in.

It had been a few hours since then, and all the flares they had brought were either used or lost during the firefight that caused them to enter the cave. Yeah, the Elites had Needlers and Energy swords, but they didn't do much to illuminate the place, and the Spartan had lost her helmet during the battle of Sunaion, so she didn't have night vision. The best they had, really, was the glow of the plasma weapons and the flashlight on Plamer's MA5D assault rifle.

"'Vason," she said to the Sword Elite next to her, "we encountered those soldiers just outside this cave. Are there any known Forerunner artifacts in here?"

"No, Spartan," the Elite replied, spitting at the "S" sound due to the four lips ever Elite had. "If there were any, they are either unknown to the Swords, or carried out long ago."

Palmer sighed. She had expected that. "Any idea why they were outside then?"

"None."

Well, isn't that just perfect, she thought to herself. To think, this was all because of some bat-shit insane AI. No idea how deep in the cave we are, no way to contact the camp, and low on ammo and visibility. At least those Prometheans glow, so they won't be able to sneak up on us. "Is this cave at least somewhat mapped."

"Yes, and we have been following that so far to the deepest part mapped, which is the only location with ambient light due to rivers of magma, and is the most defensible area we know of," he said. "Beyond that, we have no idea what this cave holds."

"Any idea when we're going to get there?"

"As you humans say, any minute now."

"Good," she said. "But why are we going deeper?"

"Because the trackers of those in the back of our group detect enemy contacts at the edge of their range, and they have not changed."

"So the Prometheans are following us, then?"

"It would appear so," he said.

"Then we'd better make sure everyone's ready." After that, it was a quiet few minutes filled only with the sounds of armored feet striking stone and the hum of the plasma weapons. Plamer had done a mental count of what she had. One full clip in the mag, and four extra. Total rounds would be about one hundred and eighty for my assault rifle. Each Magnum's got twelve shots, and has one full clip, along with ten extra, which leads to one hundred and forty six total there, along with two frags, one plasma, and two of those new Promethean grenades. No shields, and no helmet. Great.

Once the group of eight arrived at the large cavern, there were indeed rivers of magma, though they were at the far side, and the room was at least a mile long. Still Palmer could feel the heat coming off of them. But what got the attention of both her and the Elites was the Forerunner structure in the middle of the area.

The structure was three rings floating off the ground, the next high than the last, smaller too. There were four pillars that looked like they could also be clamps at the diagonal parts of the structure. Surrounding it was the usual defenses for Forerunner structures as of late, which was to say collapsible barricades, ammo stashes-Thank god, Palmer thought- those new mounted turrets, and even some of those hover turrets, ten of them,  that had first been seen  on Requiem. The color was off, though. Instead of orange or blue, they were yellow. Palmer didn't know much about Forerunner tech, just that if it got hit with enough bullets, they'd go down, but she knew, thanks to the records Chief had from before the Infinity had gotten to the shield world, the color showed who controlled it, and yellow was a new one in her books. But what got her attention the most was the Slipspace portal closing at the top of the structure, and three individuals at the top, still.

"I thought you said there were no Forerunner structures in these caves," she asked 'Vason.

"No," he said. "I said there were no known structures in these caves," he corrected. "It would appear that there are still some secrets."

"Obviously," she said. "Now come on, all of you, we need to get set up, and something tells me the three up there need medical attention."

"It is good, then, that I have rudimentary field medic training," 'Vason said. "I will assist you how ever I can."

"Then come on," she said. "We need to see if they're alive."

"Of course, Spartan," the Elite said, and, with Palmer and Vason in the lead, the group of eight made their way to the fortifications, the half hover turrets tracking but not firing, the other half focused on the entry way.

Three Elites took position behind the barricades, the other three taking position at the mounted turrets, and Palmer and 'Vason made their way to the top of the structure.

"What the hell?" Palmer said in surprise at what she saw when she and 'Vason reached the top.

The three individuals were humanoid. Two had bodies that suggested they were the women of their race, and wore old, maybe early twenty-first century hiking clothes, while the third had a more male like build, and wore a white, sleeveless T-shirt with cargo pants. But that was where the similarity to humans ended.

One of the supposed women had a light purple skin, along with black hair that had a violet and fuchsia stripe, along with a tail of similar coloration. She had human like eyes in terms of size that were closed, a muzzle like those you would find on old animals from Earth. Horses, maybe. But the most interesting thing was the horn jutting from her forehead.

The other one had gray skin that had a bit of sheen to it, as it reflected the light off the assault rifle's light, blue hair, and was, over all, the same as the other. The only notable and noticeable differences would be that she seemed to have small fangs, her horn was a little more jagged, and she had see through wings, almost like a flies, on her back.

The supposed male was either of an entirely different race than the other two, or it was just one with vast differences. It had happened with the Jackals, after all. He seemed to have what looked like scales, colored a light purple, growing from his skin which Palmer assumed was the same color, along with green spines growing from the top of his head and his back. His hands seemed to end in somewhat dulled claws. His face was more human, there being no muzzle, but his mouth was slightly opened, and Palmer did glimpse teeth meant for carnivores.

"Any idea what they are, 'Vason?" she asked her squadmate.

"None, Spartan," the Elite replied. "Though I do admit, two of them resemble a drawing my ancestors made of what we once thought were two Forerunner gods that once came through the portal, the, what is the human color for it, purple one."

"If you mean the middle, that's the right color," Palmer said. "But for now, we need to hold this position until we have a way out."

It was then that a robotic, female voice spoke up. "Oh, finally, a Reclaimer has arrived!" Both Palmer and 'Vason aimed their weapons up, which is when they saw a Forerunner Monitor, roughly the same size as 343 Guilty Spark, with a yellow eye coming down toward them. "My name is 6732 Peaceful Resolution," the Monitor said.

Helpful, more so than other Forerunner A.I., Palmer thought "And what are you doing here?" Palmer asked.

"To maintain this portal to Shield World B56-729, designate, "Equis"," Resolution said. "Strange that it has opened. It has not for near a thousand years."

"Then do you know what those are," Palmer asked, gesturing with her rifle to the three individuals before pointing it back.

Resolution was quiet for some time before a robotic gasp was heard. "Oh. . . oh my!" she whispered. "I never thought I would see the day."

"Day for what," 'Vason asked.

"The day the Inheritors would return to the galactic stage."

"Inheritors?" Palmer asked. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know the full extent, but of what I know, Humans were meant to inherit half the mantle: those who keep the peace. The Inheritors were to inherit the other half: governance," Resolution said. "Both would retain their individual governments, but would also have a singular one."

Before Palmer could say anything else, Resolution added, quite quickly, "Promethean Armigers inbound, not under my control. How worrisome."

"Yeah, we kinda guessed, seeing as how they're trying to kill us," Palmer snapped, lowering her weapon, but keeping it ready.

"Yes, that is unfortunate," Resolution said. "Fortunately for you, though, the Inheritors presence will fix that, even if she is currently unconscious."

"How so," 'Vason asked.

"A simple sub-routine in almost all Forerunner construct programs that results in the ancilla following the order of either a Reclaimer or Inheritor, should there be at least one of each in sensor range. This Inheritor and you, Reclaimer, are, which means whatever orders given to the Armigers are now void, and won't try to kill you, as long as they are not shot at," Resolution said. "It is why these turrets didn't shoot you, as their previous orders had been to kill any non-Armiger. Of course, the tracking routines stayed."

"So, right now, as long as we don't shoot the soldiers, they won't shoot us?"

"Correct," Resolution said. "And, should they venture out of the point of you being in sensor range, they will follow your most recent orders. There are numerous other parts of the sub-routine, but that is all you need to know, currently."

"What about the sensor range on those things?" 'Vason asked.

"Is that not common knowledge," Resolution asked. "In this size of construct, range is quite near what humans call a thousand Kilometers. Of course, the range is larger in other constructs, but I sense only Armigers."

"Well, looks like we have a break for now, 'Vason," Palmer said.

"Indeed, Spartan," he replied before turning to his fellow Elites and ordering them in his native tongue to not fire unless fired upon, or so Palmer guessed from what they just learned and the fact the six below seemed to slightly relax. Not to the point of not being ready, but slightly.

Fortunate, too, as about ten seconds later, a group of three Soldiers of the more common variety walked in. "'Vason, can you see what color they are?"

"I believe so," he replied, putting his weapon on his back and trading it for a beam rifle. He looked down its sights, and reported, "Yellow, Spartan."

Palmer breathed a sigh of relief. Ever since Fire team Osiris had awoken the Guardian, she had rarely gotten a break to just breathe. Most of the Prometheans had left with the Guardian, but a lot stayed behind. No idea as to why, though. "Resolution, can you have one of them come here?"

"It is already done, Reclaimer," she replied. "A medical class one, specifically. Protocol dictates that a medical class Armiger help Inheritors and Reclaimers recover when not fighting, or under strict orders not to. As a side note, Reclaimer, a second has been summoned to look over you."

"I don't need one," Palmer said.

"Regardless, it would be best for you to  see if the injuries can be healed, so that you may be back at full operational capacity."

"I said no," Palmer said in a firm tone. "Try it, and the thing will get a face full of lead."

Resolution did the Monitor equivalent of a sigh. "Of course, Reclaimer, but I highly advise against it." With that, she flew off to where the Soldiers had entered.

"This is an interesting day," Palmer said.

"Indeed it is," 'Vason said. "Indeed it is."