The Fall of Usora

The pounding of the Adversary’s artillery, rockets, and orbital bombardments had fallen silent an hour ago. We waited in the bomb shelter of a tower-block of dwellings, wondering when the Adversary infantry would move in an attempt to seize this section of the city, one of the last to remain ours. The women and childlings deeper inside the bunker were the reason for us to continue drawing breath, to keep fighting, to stand against the Adversaries and their unholy machinations. By the gods, for as long as one honorable warrior on this planet drew breath, no Adversary would rest easy here.
“They are coming,” said my long-time brother-in-arms, Trev ‘Carumee. We were both Majors by now, each of us commanding a different lance. His was depleted, however, with only one additional Sangheili and an Unggoy remaining among his men. Mine was no better: all of the Unggoy under my command were dead, and I only had two Sangheili and a Kig-Yar with a shield left. Indeed, there were a total of six lances in this particular shelter, and none of them were at full strength.
Our commander, one Itir ‘Akhunai, sustained a shrapnel wound to his head. The metal buried itself in his left eye, but he was otherwise relatively unharmed by the several weeks’ worth of fighting for control of this planet. He had pried the shrapnel out himself, nearly passing out from the pain and blood loss, but it was great fortune that one of the last surviving Huragok on the planet was nearby to render medical aid unto him, with a firm, sterile bandage over the eye wound. However, it was stained deep blood purple. Commander ‘Akhunai leaned against the wall near the entrance to the shelter, lazily holding onto his ignited energy sword.
“I would agree with you, Major,” said ‘Akhunai, somewhat lethargically.
I kept my beam rifle at the ready. “I am coming, ancestors,” I said to myself in a low voice. “Today, I will fly with you on the Great Journey.”
“Brave warriors! Brave warriors!” echoed a voice over what sounded to be an announcement system or speakers of some sort. “Approximately one month ago, our Covenant was sundered, the traitorous Hierarchs casting us out of our sacred pact, to fend for ourselves as the Erdellians assaulted our colonies. True to the orders of your superiors, you loyal Sangheili, Unggoy, Kig-Yar, and Mgalekgolo continued to defend Usora itself, and the city of Dazin in particular, even as ammunition reached critically low levels and the overall situation meant that victory became increasingly distant.”
Our immediate superior stepped out into the street, followed by me, and then the rest of the warriors. Many womenfolk, childlings, elderly, and wounded also stumbled forth from cover and ruined buildings. Here we found a Ruwaa-pattern Shadow, installed with speakers, controlled by a Sangheili. This was the source of the announcement.
“I hereby order the immediate cessation of combat operations against the Erdellians!” continued the echoing voice. “Every hour that you continue to fight only prolongs the suffering of our womenfolk and the untrained childlings, as well as the wanton destruction of domestic infrastructure and key services. In accordance with the high command of the Erdellian Imperial Armed Forces, I urge you to stop fighting immediately!
Sarimar ‘Revudaree, Supreme Commander, commander of the Usora Defensive Zone.”
Immediately following the announcement, I heard the activation of energy daggers behind me. I swiftly turned my head to see several Sangheili, both Majors and Minors, slit their throats. They would sooner die than face dishonor in the form of defeat. Their purple blood flowed freely from the open wounds on their necks, and they quickly collapsed and died from the blood loss, the liquid splattering on the floor. The Unggoy shook with terror, and many of them shed tears. The Kig-Yar were unnerved and chattered amongst themselves. The single pair of Mgalekgolo with us, perhaps one of the last on the planet, silently watched the spectacle. Our Huragok attempted to save the suicidal warriors, but a gesture from Commander ‘Akhunai stopped him.
“Surely the supreme commander jests?” asked Trev. We all turned to ‘Akhunai, who simply stared up, into the sunny, clear yellow sky.
“He does not,” said ‘Akhunai, who turned back to face us. “We will follow his orders.”
Silence again fell amidst our small host, broken only by the coughing of a dust-choked Minor deeper in the shelter.
“Yes, sir,” I said. A quiet muttering of agreement reverberated in our gathering.
Then, one of the Minors from across the street, tripping on a pile of rubble and falling to his knees, looked down the thoroughfare and pointed. “Over there!” he yelled. We all looked in the direction he was pointing, and from around the corner came a war-machine of the Adversaries, a bipedal battle-bot with a single pilot and carrying a most formidable kinetic, direct energy, and explosive arsenal, equal in strength to three lances. The Adversaries’ battle flag was installed on the left shoulder blade. It aimed its weaponry towards us as several Adversary infantry rushed to cover behind several wrecked vehicles and piles of rubble scattered around the street near the machine. They wore the distinct tunics and overcoats of our familiar Arch-Enemies, although the advanced camouflaging adapted. As one of them took a position behind a wrecked Wraith, his clothing turned a purplish hue. Another took cover by a heap of reddish rubble, and in turn his coat shifted to a reddish coloration.
“Put down your weapons and keep your hands up!” shouted the Adversary in the war-machine, speaking High Sangheili in a heavy accent. “Slowly approach us and make no sudden moves!”
“No,” softly said Trev.
“Eh?” I uttered, looking to my comrade.
“No,” Trev once again said, this time in a louder voice. “What am I to do? What am I to do? Who am I to fight now? This…” He slightly raised his plasma rifle, gesturing to it. “This is what I know. This is who I am. I poured my whole being, every ounce of my honor, into this. Am I to abandon it so easily now? Am I to turn a sword into a plow? To strike down an enemy is my chosen profession. How am I to find another trade? What… what am I to do with my life?”
He looked to all of us, and we could offer no response. He grew restless in our silence.
“What am I to do, Rik?!” he suddenly screamed at me, grabbing my shoulders. “For my whole life I sought the battlefield, I sought honor fighting the Adversary! Now I am told to throw down my weapons and walk into his cages! What madness! What damn madness! Why?! Why is everything that I have stood up to defend now naught but ashes?! Why do we hold our honor so cheaply now?! Why do we cast them aside?!” Trev held back tears, and his voice lowered. “Why did they cast us aside? We served the Hierarchs with such undying faith and loyalty, and they reward us with expulsion. Excommunication. Betrayal. They left us to stand alone against the Adversaries on this damned planet! At the very least, I must meet death on my terms! I wish not to be bound in chains and slaughtered like elderly livestock! I want to meet death with a weapon in my hand and courage in my heart! Battle gives me purpose! It gives me life!”
“It wastes your life!” shouted an Adversary in the distance.
Trev, utterly enraged, turned to face the Adversaries. He stumbled forward, passing our commander. “Trev, no!” I yelled.
“To Hell with you, you half-wit dishonorable weak-necked spineless furballs!” he spat at our Arch-Enemies. “You know not who we are!”
“I know that I want to go home!” angrily replied the Adversary, who stood up. Now we had a clear look at him, he who held a rifle in his hands, wearing an overcoat, and a helmet with the straps hanging lazily from its construction that covered the upper portions of his head and face. “You barbarians have menaced my country for over five hundred years! My grandfather fell on the fields of Zadrakarta! You have snatched from us the lives of many billions! Perhaps now with this war we have taught you manners, and you will now behave in a more civilized manner!” One of the Adversary’s comrades pulled him back into cover, and admonishments could be heard coming from their side.
“I do not hear the words of alien scum!” uttered Trev. I moved to my brother-in-arms, and pulled him back towards us. “You know nothing! You do not understand us! You will never understand us! Never!!!” As I kept my grip on him, he began to sob. “What are we now without victory? Without honor?”
“We must find that on our own, brother,” I replied with a banal platitude, having no satisfactory answer.
We lowered our weapons, and were subsequently detained by the Adversaries.
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