| abstract
| - The vacuum around Famul was swarming with activity. The Jiralhanae colony world, once the solitary refuge of Chieftain Mallunus's pirate fleets, was now a haven for all manner of fugitives and outcasts. Kig-Yar raiders mingled with scavenged Unggoy colony ships, vying for spaces in the planet's packed orbital docks while Sangheili and Jiralhanae warships patrolled the atmosphere. The warships outclassed all but the largest of colony ships; amidst the teeming cutters and frigates they were like whales cutting their way through schools of tiny fish. And human vessels, once an enigma amongst Famul's regular traffic, were now as abundant as the Kig-Yar and Unggoy. Famul had become a hub of underworld commerce, the likes of which its former master had only dreamed. Its surface, once ruled solely by the Jiralhanae, now boasted hubs of life for all species, humans included. Yes, some of the chieftains had resisted, but they had met mysterious uprisings from within their own packs, swiftly cast down and replaced by successors who saw the wisdom in allegiance with other species. After all, it wasn't a Jiralhanae they owed their new rule to. But the one who had orchestrated the fall of Mallunus, the one who had brought the new prosperity and strength to Famul as if by his own sheer force of will, was nowhere to be found amidst the orbital activity. No, there was another, less traveled arena where he had made his lair. Famul's asteroid field, home to a chain of scattered mining platforms, cut through the system like a meandering river. A handful of warships cruised its perimeter, but within the drifting rocks lay another, hidden ship. A small Sangheili corvette, easily dwarfed by any of the cruisers or carriers that orbited Famul, drifted its way through the tumbling asteroids, any one of which would have been large enough to pulverize it on impact. From a distance it would have been mistaken for any one of the thousands of its kind flying for any of the ex-Covenant races throughout the galaxy. But rather than the traditional purple hue, its hull was a dull hue of red and instead of the seamless surface sported by others of its class a spiderweb of intricate cracks and seams blossomed along its length. The Cleansing Fire, flagship of the Cleansing Blade movement, was one of a kind. Within, the differences were even starker. Dull-armored Sangheili patrolled its corridors, which were packed with technology from all corners of the galaxy. Everything that could be put to use improving the Fire's fighting strength had been gathered together, improving everything from its weapons and shields to the artificial gravity generated throughout the ship. The Cleansing Blade had learned the lesson of the Fallen War well: adapt or die. Nothing, no strategy, weapon, or ally, could simply be cast aside because it had not originated with the Sangheili or the Covenant. If their enemy was to be the entire galaxy, than the entire galaxy would need to be their armory as well. Each and every warrior manning the ship was sworn to live and die in the pursuit of the Cleansing Blade's goals. Very few could ever be found resting in the Fire's tight common rooms. Those not resting or on duty passed their time drilling wherever space could be made, practice swords and plasma rifles flaring as they locked themselves into mock battles. War was coming, and it was the duty of every Blade to be honed ultra-fine, ready to answer the call to renew their people and cleanse the galaxy.
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* The Cleansing Fire's crew were the Cleansing Blade's most devoted warriors, but there was one series of chambers where all but a handful of the ship's officers were denied access. Their one entrance was guarded at all times by a lance of warriors and the doors would only open to those the scanners surrounding it were programmed to admit. Within these chambers lay the heart of the Cleansing Blade: two meeting rooms and a tiny shipmaster's quarters. It was here, in this lair of a lair, that Umbra 'Vesic, vice-commander of the Cleansing Blade, found his commander. Shinsu 'Refum, the Black Knight of Sanghelios and leader of the Cleansing Blade, sat in a meditative position in the center of his barren quarters. He wore only a simple pale rob, his head bent low as he considered the holographic images that flashed all around him. Umbra didn't even have to look at what the images displayed to know what they were about. He coughed to announce his presence, though he was sure the motionless Shinsu already knew exactly who he was. "Umbra," Shinsu said slowly, not turning to face him. "Commander," Umbra replied. "Looking over the news from the homeworld? The humans' handiwork is... impressive to say the least." "Really?" Shinsu's voice was low and soft; Umbra stiffened reflexively. He had only heard that tone a handful of times before. It was the tone Shinsu used when he was absolutely livid with rage, and when someone had managed to push so far through the Black Knight's deep layers of careful self-control they generally had a very swift death approaching. "It isn't to your liking?" Umbra asked carefully. "Umbra, perhaps I should have my throat examined," Shinsu said with that same silky menace. "I must have stammered or gargled, maybe even misspoke entirely." "Commander?" Umbra feigned confusion, an instinct forged through decades of careful schemes and deception. It was almost embarrassing, especially since he knew Shinsu would see through the cheap act immediately. "When I contacted Venter and hired him to probe the homeworld's defenses, I expressly ordered him to strike military targets only." "Ah." Umbra coughed again, another practiced placation. "It does seem as if he interpreted your orders rather broadly." "Several thousand of our people have died needlessly thanks to that broad interpretation, Umbra. I did not supply and fund his expedition so that his followers could massacre entire cities." Umbra inclined his head. "I agree this is a problem, commander, but it may be one we can turn to our advantage. The government's slow response to the sight of humans butchering civilians in the streets will undoubtedly raise support for our cause when the time comes to reveal ourselves." "Our enemies are the Vadam government and its allies, not the people themselves," Shinsu reminded him coldly. "I won't have them slaughtered--at our expense--for the sake of some insignificant political point." Umbra nodded obediently, but inside he was frowning. Since when did his commander fail to leap at a political advantage? He bit back a cold retort. "How will you handle this, then?" he asked. Shinsu raised a hand, summoning forth a small portrait of Redmond Venter. "He has proved himself unreliable as an ally, and it's only a matter of time before the government reaches out to the humans for aid. If he's captured, Venter will reveal us as his backers and we will be blamed for this whole affair." "So we must eliminate him." Shinsu waved dismissively. "Eliminate or extract, whichever suits us when we arrive." Umbra did a double take. "When we arrive, commander?" "I unchained this beast, so I will be the one to handle his dismissal. Contact the Syndicate. We will need their help to round up Venter's followers." "At once, commander. I also have word from our source on the homeworld." "Yes?" "Mordred is confirmed to be on Sanghelios, commander. You predicted Ro'nin's actions quite accurately." Shinsu nodded. "And the item?" "Our source maintains that it is still within Ro'nin's possession." The Cleansing Blade commander rose, the holograms winking out around his ankles. "Contact Ro'nin immediately and do whatever needs to be done to get the item from him. Pula should be in position to apprehend Mordred now." Umbra turned to leave. "I will remind her that you want him alive, commander. "No need. Pula, at least, can be trusted to carry out the specifics of her instructions." Shinsu strode over to where his armor lay in a neat pile beside his tiny cot. "Alert the crew to set course for Sanghelios," he ordered. "We are going home."
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