The Minister (Index Alpha)

== Plot Summary ==
Vice Minister of the Ministry of Abnegation, Londi Yepuva, is on the cusp of his greatest feat of intrigue yet. As the bridges of his former position burn, the ones which will ensure his power as he ascends higher in the rank of the Covenant have been bolstered one way or another. As the game he plays continues, his successes seem to fall into his lap. Sometimes it appears as those who we believe to be our best leaders are really our best liars and cheaters. Londi, with a smile, might agree wholeheartedly...
== Section 3 ==
Londi Yepuva snored gently, and rustled only slightly as the valve next to his resting-surface seeped a cocktail of preordained morning rejuvenation perfumes among a light misting vapor. The lightsource in his room began its wake cycle glowing a low, hardly noticeable, pulsing blue. Before long the blues modified into a more enveloping soft white with trace amounts of pink—an added simulacrum to induce the sense of residing in the womb, and thus “comfort”. But, the source eventually became bright enough to disturb Londi’s large San ‘Shyuum eyes through the thin foggy haze of the room. As he stirred partially awake and snorted flem from his throat, a new scent—sweet and invigorating—permeated throughout the villa; his privately cultivated Kettle Herb burned as incense and hung potently in the air. The scent filled his nostrils, and a spike of energy quickly sent shivers through his lungs, torso, and curled his toes in pleasure. Now restless, he began to sleepily rub his arms, wrists, and fingers to warm his joints to stave off a millenia of aching, genetic regression. 
A coy smile crept along his face as he remembered his sanctioned duties for the day.
In no time, Londi was wide awake, stretching his arms to his feet and then crawling across the cushioned confines of his quarters to a chair floating patiently nearby his sleep-nook. From the arm of the hover-chair he grasped the robe that his subordinates had pressed and readied for him earlier that cycle. Some of his young sub-ministers had dutifully taken precious personal time to pamper and comfort him hoping to ensure a role in his new found status. They believed offering touch as token, and care as credit would be enough to coax Londi into ensuring their continued services. It was a valiant and calculated effort, Londi acknowledged, but, as it was, he saw no place for them to accompany his new role in The Ministry of Abnegation.
Foremost in this decision was the reality: these sub-ministers had always been but a tool of pleasure for him since their minds were hardly worth considering. Simply put: they were hopeless without him. It appeared that the only talent they had gained in his shadow was the hope that tantalizing the teet of the powerful would feed them the political clout they so craved. As such, they would be left behind to serve the new Vice Minister—they would continue to be the network weavers, roll callers, and errand takers. But, their other role was now off the charts—the only role in which they served him well. Londi knew the new Vice Minister would not seek the same pleasures as he had; he was as conservative and prude as they came, not interested in even his right to ensure a lineage. But, as Londi had ingrained in the sub-ministers the susceptibility to submit, they were poisoned and totally useless to his successor. All, of course, to Londi’s benefit. But, alas, there would be no room for whorish advisors with such little tact. The days of settling for comfort were over—his presence would nearly demand it. 
With Londi’s rejection, he had already doomed them to the stagnation of stock-taker for the remainder of their miserable cycles...that of course until the gods deemed them too withered to toil any longer in a corporeal realm. And, as Londi earnestly expected, they will have forgotten the world beyond his study chambers and private quarters. They would now face the reality and indignation that they were the perverted-masseur meant only to comfort the chaste and holy. The embarrassment would destroy their confidence. Londi chuckled at the thought of his groomed sub-ministers even attempting to please their new overseer. These thoughts comforted him as he clambered atop his chair and sunk into its soothing pads. At that moment, he knew he would never be subjected to criticism for his misdeeds. His ascension was to make him nearly untouchable. 
So naïve young can be in the quest for power, he brooded internally.
High Charity bustled busily below him in the distant, lower caste districts. High above the chaos, his hover-chair rapidly approached the Chamber of Abnegation where he would be given his final rites as the Ministry’s most touted position: the Minor Prophet of Mission aboard the Flagship of Mission. As Vice Minister, he had realized long ago that he would care little to raise only to the position of Minister. When he saw an opening to jump his way forward, he toiled to make it reality. It helped, as well, that he had become, in this time, a well-known proselytizer. As the Minister of Abnegation noted, eventually, his ability to replace them was obvious and they worked a great effort to deflect Londi’s lust for power in a new direction. Thus, here he was now on the cusp of what he most desired thanks to the weak mind of the Minister that was once before him. An easy hurdle at best.
Of course Londi knew that this was no standard holy position—no: this stead was that of a wandering and wayfaring priest. The Minister knew that, though the position of Prophet was generally deemed more successful. As the Minor Prophet of Mission Londi’s success would be away from the place where it would be most revered: the holy city of High Charity. But, Londi did not pay this any mind. He had longed to be given the power a Minor Prophet held among the frontiers. With this new power he would now be on a quest of ascension as to be one of the youngest members of the High Council. And, though only mentioned in silent murmurs, more than one member of the council saw Londi as a potential addition. Londi did not disagree—but he also desired more than that. The High Council was not enough for him. He would not stop until there was nowhere else to rise—his ancestors would both praise and despise his lust for power, and this thought made him giddy.
As the Terrace of Abnegation came into view, his chair slowed. He scanned the party of individuals who had gathered on the thin, disc-like arrival platform and made out among the throng of Sangheili Honor Guard a cadre of three massive hulks of dark skin, hair, and crude armor. Kulljul, one of Londi’s closest and most esteemed followers stood by with a pair of his Jiralhanae Infiltrators, donned in simple ceremonial garb. The party knelt before Londi as his chair came to a slow glide before the platform. He spoke.
“Rise, my compatriots.” Londi motioned with his arms raised, “For the moment we are equals. There will be time for kneeling when we behold the glory of the Great Journey.”
Kulljul rose with the group, but quickly stepped forward before the Honor Guard Captain had time to formally introduce himself. As the Honor Guard contingent began to make their way to the long, dark purple walkway that lead to the chamber, taking up ceremonial positions the length, Kulljul—hand to his chest in a salute—approached Londi. Londi noted the odor of his well-oiled fur tufts mixed with his alien musk. Kulljul’s braided hair had begun to grey since Londi had rocketed him into a position of leadership, but otherwise he was still a young Jiralhanae—his dark haired subordinates likely older than him. Londi coughed, but smiled and nodded in familial embrace of Kulljul’s presence. Kulljul remained expressionless.
“The Sangheili await your arrival, Holy Minister.” Kulljul rumbled lowly. As Londi’s chair floated down the ceremonial entrance, Kulljul kept pace and further updated him on their plans of action:
“We have readied the fleet and will leave as soon as I return aboard the Steadfast Forgiveness. Unfortunately,” he leaned towards Londi to speak softly, “The Sangheili do not want us to… ‘dirty the occasion’, your Holiness. I will be leaving ahead of schedule.”
Kulljul of course spoke of his “Fleet” of four Jiralhanae staffed ships—the Ministry of Abnegation’s Investigative Cohort was known to the rest of the Covenant as the Flotilla of Specular Piety. The expeditionary flotilla had been Londi’s answer to the Ministry of Discovery’s continued hoarding of Forerunner relics, and a way for him to further his cause of rising to the position of Minor Prophet. As a former Sub-Minister of the Ministry of Discovery, Londi knew the power that this brought to a San ‘Shyuum and thus quickly made use of the under-utilized “Brutes” to staff a small Discovery arm in the Ministry. The religious work of the Ministry made his move within reason, and he met little resistance since its inception. 
With the Minister of Abnegation unwilling to step-aside to allow Londi’s ascension, and the diminishing likelihood of another established Prophet working aboard the Jiralhanae ships, this moment was the solidification of Londi and Kulljul’s partnership—it was a shame Kulljul would not be there to see it through. Londi purged thoughts of this notion, and reminded himself he was mere micro-cycles from commanding a Super Carrier of Forerunner experts and skilled Sangheili warriors. He would soon Co-Command the venerated Ascetic Mission vessel: Clerical Harmony—a ship more capable of Londi’s desires than the scrutinizing and constant bureaucracy of High Charity. Londi would strive to make the Harmony the most discussed vessel among the Covenant Fleet and dispel it’s former legacy as a Sangheili children’s fairy-tale. He would work to transmodify it into a deafening message to the High Council: there is nothing you can do to stop me. Get in line.
“No matter, Chieftain.” Londi assured Kulljul, “I will discuss the discovery with the Ministry during my coronation. The Minister will be given all the credit, as you know. He will then remain busy with briefing the Hierarchs as we, in the meantime, will be free to begin our Holy work…” Londi grinned, and placed a hand upon the massive arm of the Chieftain, regretting instantly when his hand touched the dank perspiration causing Kulljul’s slightly nauseating stench. Kulljul unflinchingly grunted in understanding as Londi recoiled as politely as possible, wiping his three fingers on the bottom of his robe.
“Thy will is my mission, Holy One.”
As they reached the door, Kulljul again saluted Londi and walked clear from the aisle after receiving several icy stares from the Sangheili. The Captain, who now stood before the door, finally greeted Londi. 
“We have awaited your arrival, Vice Minister. We are honored to serve as future honor Guard for the Clerical Harmony.”
“I look forward to your service, Captain.” Londi responded with sincerity. 
The Coronation was as to be expected. There were several speeches and sermons by sub-ministers, including his own soon-to-be-former ministers that had prepared his ego for this crowning moment. He, of course, had been given his Minor Prophets garb and head-dress immediately, and the last few cycles had been more-so politics than anything. The moment he awaited for, however, would come after the final toast to his Holiness. The Shipmaster of the Clerical Harmony had just arrived at the podium. It was his acquaintance, Sulde ‘Auqusai. 
This early political and clerical victory came merely by chance. As the Vice Minister, Londi often intermingled with Shipmaster ‘Auqusai and his holy work and, thus, had come to believe him to be one of great conviction—this was easy to expect from the highest ranking Ascetic Warrior in the Ministry. Very few San ‘Shyuum have been permitted to be Co-Commander of the Flagship of Mission, and none so young as Londi. But, ‘Auqusai was a young commander as well. And, as was expected of an Ascetic, one very loyal to the gifts of the Forerunner. Londi smirked. 
The Sangheili was not the tallest, or strongest he had seen, but he was a strong-willed warrior. His skills as a leader would be important to Londi’s image—afterall Londi wouldn’t need to worry too much but to give the occasional sermon as the Shipmaster helped spread the message of the Forerunners, often to those who already believed; sometimes the dimwitted Unggoy and feisty Kig Yar needed reminding of what they had been made subservient to. Oddly enough, though, ‘Auqusai was cared for even in their ranks—care was seldom given to a Sangheili commander by the lower castes of Covenant society, but he had somehow managed to do so. They—Unggoy and Kig Yar alike—devoured his tales of the Sangheili Ascetics from the eras before the Covenant. Where some saw danger, Londi saw opportunity.
Londi suspected this was somehow a sign of hope among these castes; hope that they would one day be free of subservience in the eyes of the Forerunner and rise to become free of the order which the Sangheili and San’ Shyuum had imposed. The Ancient Ascetics had held this hope once, but it was a hope which had been dashed millennia ago. As skilled as they were, the Ministry of Abnegation had long since stymied their actual power by lowering the ranks given and importance of their mission—this was the way of things as the Covenant grew stronger. This again was but a chance for Londi to appear even more pious and more powerful than he actually was. By reinstating some of this importance, by opening his own coiffers, he would solidify himself as one with a vision of grander cooperation internally and externally. He had little need, now, for ridiculous opulence, as he no longer needed to pay for such things: it would just be suspected of a Prophet to receive such treatment. And, as skilled ‘Auqusai appeared to be, Londi suspected when the time came: he would allow him to take full control for his more-than-fair treatment of that which he gave his life to serve for.
“Noble counselors” ‘Auqusai gravelly voice twanged, “Ministers, and dignitaries—I thank you again for choosing such a capable partner in our Mission. Such wise council will ensure the Covenant’s strength at all tiers, and will bring us closer to the Great Journey with great haste...”
The shipmaster turned to Londi to signal his time has come. ‘Auqusai’s flora tinted eyes, grey skin, and callus scales were well kept beneath his ceremonial armor. The Ascetic’s, as reverent as they were for the old, would not waltz into battle without armor to protect themselves—they were not a series of proto-Arbiters whose fate was often sealed by their ancient harnesses inadequacies; they did not sentence themselves to die. As Londi floated to the Shipmaster’s side, the rotund pauldrons on his bulging shoulders cast a shadow over his eyes. ‘Auqusai had respectfully removed his helmet, a forked and self-contained piece which covered his face entirely, as a symbol of equality and reverence. This was an immensely powerful gesture considering the manner of Ascetics, after all. Ascetic Sangheili were faceless and nameless until taken into the order. ‘Auqus was one of seven surnames within the order—the name given to Sulde by his adopted clan. His was but a place of pious anonymity with the exception when it came to rank. Londi appreciated this as it would make his legitimacy prominent. Thoughtfully, Londi stopped by the side of ‘Auqusai and nodded in recognition and the Shipmaster returned the gesture.
“It is with great honor and humility,” 'Auqusai continued, “to introduce for the first time his holiness: The Prophet of Scorn.”
The chamber rang out in a single cry, as the Ascetic officers and Honor Guard alike granted Londi a salute—and with that, he was Londi no more. Scorn’s mouth twitched as he fought back a toothy smile. His arms raised, the hall’s murmur’s were quieted. 
“Ministers, Ascetics—Shipmaster,” Scorn deeply bowed to ‘Auqusai who had faded into the ranks of his command team, “I am humbled by this great honor. I wield this fate with the duty heavy upon my back—but I do not stumble for I am held up by the graces of the gods.”
Another cry in agreement, and Scorn’s arm raised again.
“Brothers, today was always about more than me, but I must be shorter than I had anticipated. I know you seek my guidance and pronouncements but we already find ourselves on the cusp of duty.”
The hall rustled, and Scorn could feel the unease as murmurs rose above the crowd. He again raised his hand and his followers looked on with interest.
“The Ministry’s own Investigative Cohort has returned with joyous news—news that will benefit the Ministry of Discovery greatly, and will serve as the first mission of my reign. Even now, the Flotilla of Specular Piety awaits my arrival aboard the Clerical Harmony so that we may spirit away to this great find.”
Scorn looked on, pausing to be sure the crowd was enraptured in each and every word he spoke. When he was certain that every eye was upon him, the smile could hide no longer.
“We believe we have found a piece of the Guiding Light—with this discovery, it is all but certain we are now in a new phase of this Age. The discovery of the Holy Rings is now not but a question of ‘IF’ but ‘WHEN’”—Halo is within our grasp.”
There was then a flurry of action. Sulde ‘Auqusai immediately left, contacting the Clerical Harmony as he went to make way for Scorn’s arrival. The hall was filled with thundering roars and chants. Sub-ministers scurried about to contact their respective Ministers, and the Ascetic and Honor Guards, turned quickly for the doors, singing hymns as they went. Scorn, moved from the podium and was quickly ushered from the hall, questioned by several ministers at once on the matter at hand. But he could not hear them, and soon himself was humming the chorus that had risen to the rafters of the Hall of Abnegation and shook the walls in a dropping fervor of crusade.
“God’s above, we praise your glory!
The age of Journey is upon us now!
Haste! Haste! Take us forever,
To the Halls of Eternity where we will sing your praise!
We sing to the glory of the Star Fathers,
Their resonance echoes among their sons and daughters!
Show us, now, the path as we stray,
Your Guiding Light shows us the way!”''
The power was now his. All it would take was time.
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Category:Stories
Category:Short stories