Warning- Hitch Hikers May Be Escaping Convicts: Chapter 1
Posted By: Spartan 034<email@example.com>
Date: 11 October 2005, 11:10 pm
Within the deep confines of High Charity, lies the heart of the Covenant Empire. Not the Noble Prophet Hierarchs, with their banter of the Great Journey. Not the fierce Elites, the Covenants mightiest warriors. But instead a race unseen by most living beings in the Covenant. They are the untouchable, the unseen, the undeserving. They live underground, beneath the shinning spires of the city. They are beaten, burned, and tortured. They slave and toil for their food, but are not given it. They are governed by the disgraced. They have no names. They are the slaves; and their only light in the darkness of life is the promised 'Great Journey'
NINTH AGE OF RECLEMATION
COVENANT HOLY CITY "HIGH CHARITY"
SLAVE HOLDING CHAMBER
Sorah thought back to his glory days, as a warrior. He was Sangheili, one of the Prophet's blessed. He had once stood proud in shining blue armor. Now, he stood in his battered purple gear. Cowardice had earned him this place. He had fled the battlefield, away from the humans. When he had been found, he was punished. He was stripped of his armor, rank, and family name. He was not put to death. Instead, he sent to the slave chambers. He quickly became the leader of the Slave Guard. He now stood on a walkway, above his charges. There were at least a thousand of them. They were given no name. They were the slaves of the Covenant. They mined the ore needed to build machines, weapons, and vehicles. They farmed the food that fed the armies. They were lower than even the Unggoy. The typical height was between that of a Kig-Yar and a Human. They were about as strong as a human, and their body layout was remarkably similar. They had pale skin, large oval shaped heads, and large eyes. He felt a wave of ire wash over him at the thought of the loss of his honor. He frequently vented his frustration on the slaves.
Those sentenced to the Slave Guard were Elites who had been disgraced in battle. Brutes were usually assigned security tasks, but they were too bloodthirsty for this job. Unggoy were not trustworthy enough, and Kig-Yar were not strong enough. Thus the need for the Elites. It was a sentence almost as bad as death. It was devoid of honor.
The weapons given to those disgraced to the Slave Guard were simple. Each was given a whip. It was multi-pronged and quite painful. Available to the more distinguished were electrocution prods. The Guards always took joy in the use of them. And available to the leader was a plasma pistol. The armor of the Guards was different than the Sangheili Battle Suit. It was a deep purple mesh that covered the skin, and had silver armor plating covering the chest, legs, shoulders, back, and head. Only the leader had an energy shield. It was a Jackal shield, with the parameters changed. It was stretched into a long oval, protecting the Sangheili user's full body.
While the slaves were contained here, in-between trips to mining facilities, they were transfixed by the recorded sermons of the Prophets. They were repeated over and over, but the slaves seemed not to notice. The holopedestals for the guards had been broken for almost a week. Sorah walked above them on a passageway. He looked over them, searching for signs of escape. None had tried for decades, but because of the slaves' huge numbers and the small amount of guards, a revolt would be dangerous. He noticed one of them was looking at him. Transfixed. Not necessarily on him, but the plasma pistol clipped to his waist. He made the equivalent of a smile. He unclipped the pistol from his waist and held it in the air, examining it. Sorah glanced down to the slave. It's eyes quivered with fascination. Sorah locked eyes with it and let out a snarling growl. All the slaves near him dropped to the ground in terror. But the one stood, unafraid. He aimed the plasma pistol at its head and fired. The smoking body fell to the floor. The sticky sweet smell of burnt flesh filled the room. Suddenly the entire floor seemed to move. The slaves rushed in, eager for meat. They bit, clawed, pushed their way in, trying to get to the body. Sorah scowled in disgust. It was another day in the slave guard.
After his shift was over, he returned to the Guards Hub. The Guards stayed near the slaves, in exile. In the city, they were outcasts. Here, they had each other. The hub contained the living quarters for the guards, communications, and a gravlift. The only connection to the city was the small gravlift in the center of the hub. Supplies were sent down weekly. The slaves were transported to and from ships by way of large hallways, all along the holding chamber.
Sorah walked inside. The off duty guards excitedly called him in.
Ornu, one of the lowest ranked called out "The Prophet of Truth is going to speak!" he called out.
Sorah replied, "How do you know?"
"Bano has repaired one of the holopedestals!" he said.
"What has the Prophet to say?" Sorah asked himself as he sat down on a bench in front of the pedestal.
Sorah had walked in while the Prophet was in mid sentence. "-all of us, gravely concerned. The release of the parasite was unexpected, unfortunate, but there is no need to panic. In truth, this is a time to rejoice, a moment that all the Covenant should savor, for the Sacred Icon has been found! With it our path is clear, our entry into the divine beyond guaranteed. The Great Journey is nigh, and nothing, not even the Flood, can stop it." Truth spoke.
"The Great Journey! It is upon us!" shouted one of the young guards.
"Kill the demon!" Truth shouted with fury.
Sorah jumped to his feet. The holo blanked out.
Shouts of the parasite and the Demon filled the hub.
"Silence!" shouted Sorah. "We will not panic. Secure the grave lift." He ordered. They sped off to their assigned duties. The guards on duty were not called in. He walked over to a crate outfitted with communications equipment.
"Hello? Does anyone read me? This is Slave Guard Leader Sorah of holding chamber seven. I am requesting heavy weapons to reinforce our grave lift."