The world beyond his muddled thoughts was a murky mirage. His foot tapped the soft grass rhythmically. Sweat drizzled down his sides. The scenario ran over and over again in his head, and he wondered for all eternity how much different things may have turned out if he played his cards differently.

Marcus felt like he may have overreacted. It could be argued that he was under duress, and that his dire circumstances would have broken anyone's constitution. But the opportunities that he was left with speak for themselves. He severed one of the only connections he had in potentially helping his batch escape from this hellhole. His damn pride couldn't take the fact he had to sacrifice nearly all his dignity in order to appease his judges, juries, and executioners. All he had to do was just shut up.

All the training, all the sweat and tears of conditioning their bodies in the past few months - would have meant nothing.

Koring may have been apologetic and relatively uncaring for his situation, but he does not compare to Sangheili or Jiralhanae like Ostaga. Not at all. Good luck finding anyone else in the Covenant who would willingly conspire with a damned Unggoy.

He held no disillusions about the Unggoy's chances of amending any working relationship with the Sangheili now. Koring was probably off telling his superiors about Marcus' scheming at this very moment.

As his palm gripped his spade tighter than ever before, he freezes at a familiar sound.

"UNGGOY!"

His posture, once slack, now stood perfectly at ninety degrees. The sensation was little more than a passing breeze before a sharp pain jolted through his bum leg. Before he could grasp what even was happening, he was thrust to the ground, reeling in agony. Mud met his face with a pitiful schlop as he lay there dazed. Slowly opening his eyes, he found himself face to face with a Sangheili guard, looming over him like a sneering sentinel.

"I catch one more of you mongrels slacking off, piercing through your heart with my blade would be the most merciful thing I could have done," he exclaimed, his wet, hot - disgusting - breath trailing down Marcus' features.

It seemed like eternity passed before the Sangheili backed off from his roost, chuckling to himself as if the transgression meant nothing.

The clouds looked greyer than usual, and the stars ever distant.

After what felt like an age, he summoned the strength to rise, hands reflexively patting down his armour as if the action accomplished anything.

The grip on his spade only tightened as he tended to the field with a reignited fury. He could do with a bit less of having his face smothered in dirt again, thanks. To be absolutely fair, Marcus could scarcely believe he lucked out of spacing out until that point. Whether it be impossible scenarios magically occurring or speculation about things of which he had no privy of the information...

His reasons for spacing out were not unfounded this time, though.

It's been too long since he heard Pimya's reassuring words. Too long since he felt the camaraderie of his batchmates. He was still asleep when it happened, and the next thing he knew he was sent off to do farmwork, with half his batch simply... gone.

But it wasn't only his batch that was missing. Half of the Unggoy were MIA, split down the middle. Every batch was caught in the crossfire this week, and the remaining half of each batch was left to their limited devices.

Pim had better be okay...

He shook his head. Of course he would be. He was more crafty than Marcus by a long shot.

Looking up, he couldn't help but notice the meekness in each of the faces of the Unggoy surrounding him. Faces down, focused on performing as they were tasked. Not a look of compassion or pity for what had transpired in sight. His batch would at least give a passing look of understanding. But these other Unggoy were hopeless. Unggoy weren't supposed to stand between Sangheili enacting their holy justice, sure, but nothing?

It really was an uphill battle...

If it was not for the sheer callousness of their commanders in managing the batches, Pimya would be ready with an abundance of sage advice at hand.

It must have been some sort of sick joke to separate batches as if the Unggoy would have around the same effectiveness in combat when coordinating with completely unfamiliar teammates. Except that it wasn't a joke, and that was how they truly viewed them.

He must have been part of the second phase of the trial, he had to have been. How he knew this?

The past few days, he saw ships grand in size come and go from orbit, no telling what they signified for the closeted Unggoy. Though, he couldn't help speculating...

Batch 1 was nowhere to be found.

The spade dug into the soil once more.

He knew their leader - spokesperson, more like. He was their cheerleader at the best of times. And he knew in his hardest of hearts that he would have heard some of his rallying speeches over the field by now. Going off days and nights, he had been gone for give or take twelve moons now.

He had it on good authority that the worst had probably happened.

"You are irresponsible."

He nearly let go of the spade at the intrusion. He spun around, only to see a kig'yar... which was odd to say the least. He hadn't seen any kig'yar tending the field for the amount of hours he had worked there thus far. He certainly resembled the part of a middling-rank officer quite thoroughly, though. Part of him expected him to wear some sort of smug expression at what transpired. All he got in return was a blank look. "What?"

"They are tired, Unggoy. I've seen the look of your comrades' faces. What they do is dangerous. People are starting to notice. You are sending them off to early deaths, knowingly or not."

Oh, like he had any right to take the moral high ground. "My name is Tollia."

"All's the same to me, Tollia. You are just painting a bigger target behind your back, and your batch will be sent in with the same purpose of cannon fodder - as softeners, as will the previous. Only this time, they will be under the assumption you are combat-ready."

"We are not going to get out alive if we don't know how to fight," he asserted.

The bird dared to give him an incredulous look. He leaned in closer. "You really don't get it. Expectations are sky-high. You could have towed the line, hid your talents, saved it for the battlefield, for survival. Now, they expect results. They would ask for the moon while you scraped by. Soon enough, they will deploy you in an assault on the Heretics' main bases. You may be part of the Unggoy's very elite, you are still Unggoy. Not much would change as they command you to charge in headfirst while the cleanup crew follows behind you."

"Put yourselves in my shoes, for just a second," he said, almost pleadingly. "This could be our last chance to get some control of our lives. To... to better serve the Great Journey."

"Do you truly speak for all of you?" the kig'yar replied, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Or simply yourself? In your ambition to become great, you leave those around you as collateral in your wake. We all have our part to play. Remember this."

Just as suddenly the interaction began, the kig'yar departed just as swiftly. Though, there was something odd about how forced the conversation was. It was in his contemplation that he saw a white piece of paper slowly fall off his rebreather, where the bird's finger had struck. Catching it in the air, he unfurled it to reveal...

A message? Hand-written.

What good would this do? From an officer who didn't know him? His batch already had a terminal in their quarters, he could have easily sent the e-mail... through...

"A raid will occur in the next few days. Meet me under cover of darkness. Guard rotations at the point when the moon stands tallest. Won't go ahead without your cooperation."

...the system.

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The sun dipped below the horizon, and the temperature began to drop. With each passing unit, more bugs native to the planet swarmed around him, their incessant buzzing and biting proving impervious to his futile attempts at swatting them away.

He had nearly completed his share of the crop field before sundown. Time seemed to move faster when a million thoughts raced through your head simultaneously. What could possibly be worth raiding on this insignificant planet?

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His fellow Unggoy were stowing their spades and farming equipment with little enthusiasm. It was hard to muster excitement when the days ahead promised nothing but dirty, gruelling work, the only reprieve being the use of communal showers after their labour.

Dusting himself off, he stowed his spade away, eager to join his kind. This wasn't to last. As he rounded the corner of the Complex, a familiar glint of Sangheili armour caught his eye, belonging to someone he believed would do anything to avoid encountering his pathetic face again.

"K-Koring? Sir!"

He performed the standard Sangheili salute out of instinct, and bent down on his knees.

"I am sorry, sir! My outburst was unbecoming of me! I will accept my due punishment!"

The grizzled veteran considered him for a moment.

"Rise."

He opened his eyes in shock. Gulping, he stood up, flinching at any sudden movement Koring pulled. Looking at him closer, it seemed to carry two sticks that bore a striking oak colour.

"State your age."

Koring already had access to his files. The rest of his batch was born around the same time anyway. Why ask this now? Why couldn't he have been a normal Sangheili and beat his ass to a pulp? "A little bit over two summers old."

"Two summers old, and yet you fully grasp the circumstances you are in. Knowledge of the nature of war without ever once stepping foot in it. It makes the mind wonder."

"I did some supplementary reading."

A ghost of a smile formed on his mandibles.

"You are smart. Unusually so. But smarts alone do not make one exempt from meeting the end of a blade. Do you wish to become stronger, to be able to protect those who cannot protect themselves?" He threw one of the sticks at him, Tollia fumbling with it before grasping it tightly. "Let us duel."

"W-what?"

"Come outside."

He watched as his master departed and felt his heart drop.

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A sharp crack echoed through the air just before he felt his back yield. The impact of Koring's strike was so forceful that it left him sprawled and prone in the squelching filth of the toiled soil.

"As expected, your physique is as pathetic as they come. This is all that would result if you charged headlong into any Sangheili. We will be forever stronger, and biologically, that is something that will never change. But what you lack in strength, you make up for in flexibility. I thought it was a shame we did not utilise this trait to its fullest potential." He shook his head. "When true strife challenges the Covenant, they will learn."

Tollia suppressed the urge to tell him they never really did. Though he felt he would have appreciated Koring's quip more if a searing pain coming from his leg hadn't consumed his entire world.

"When did it happen?"

Again with the questions that had next to no context. "When did w-what...?"

"Your phantom pain."

He froze.

"How did you..."

"How you moved, how you tended to lean on one leg over another," Koring explained. "You didn't exactly make it unknown."

"So you knew, all along. Yet you decided that this would be a good idea anyway."

Normally, Tollia would have been more cautious, but caution was thrown out the wind when pain and frustration combine into one potent cocktail.

Yet Koring seemed to be making it a habit to defy all expectations. Clutching at his greaves, he unfastened them in a practised motion that he must have repeated several thousand times over. The shrivelled nature of his arm showed his age. Yet, it was obvious to Tollia he did not want him to inspect how decorated his armour was. Rather, the cut that ran through the muscles of his bicep and tricep.

"I did not have a conventional upbringing. I was naturally lanky, my muscles... ill-defined. For fear I dishonoured the Gods, and for fear of retaliation by my kaidon, I did not seek immediate medical attention after receiving this cut from a training ritual. It healed yes, but my nerves were mangled beyond repair. Every waking moment, a pain constant and yawning radiated from the wound. It was to the point where I wrapped a cloth around my arm so tightly and completely that it numbed the pain."

The Sangheili proceeded to do what was especially uncharacteristic amongst his kind. He offered a hand. Tol took it. As he dusted himself off, he saw the old Sangheili gazing over the constellation.

"I share this to assure you that I understand the experience of being a warrior burdened by a chronic ailment. Every movement becomes a calculated and hindered effort. The pain becomes a constant companion, an unwanted bedside companion. It took time to accept that there was nothing I could do to change it. And in that acceptance, I found a sense of peace. Though the hurt remained a constant presence, I refused to let it define me — despite how many of my fellow brothers wished it to be so. I directed my focus towards something greater than myself. During those moments when I shifted my thoughts from my own body to those around me, the pain was not ignored - but rather tolerated. I laughed in the face of it, and I prevailed. And in time, you will too."

Tollia was stunned to silence. "You hide it so well."

"I imagine it would be easier to hide an arm injury over a leg injury."

"Yea, yea, it is," he said, a bitter smile forming. "It's just... it's hard. We are simply not ready for battle. And you know it too. There's not enough time."

"I have made my distaste for what they are aiming to accomplish very apparent, but they wouldn't listen. Something is rising over the horizon; something that even the Covenant is wary of. The Gods have a secret hand to play in this, to be sure. A sign of trials and tribulations that would test the beliefs and virtues of our Covenant, that may shake us to our very core."

"Wish that sign didn't have to include our deaths..."

"Who said you had to die?"

Koring turned around, his stoic expression cracking ever so slightly.

"You cannot save every one of your kind. It is simply not attainable for one Unggoy. However, you still possess the ability to save your Batch yet."

"How?"

"Tell me," Koring said. "What is your cause?"

"T-The Great Journey."

"You and I both know the Great Journey has been the furthest thing from your mind since entering my class. Think, Tollia."

"Pimya... I am... I need to get him on Bahalo."

"Bahalo will not come any closer as you bask further in self-pity and self-loathing." The Sangheili kicked the wooden pole toward the weary Unggoy's feet. "Again."

----------------------------------------

Everywhere hurt. He wasn't sure whether to rub his bum leg or his abdominal muscles, and perhaps it didn't matter. He'd sleep it off like all the other days he would after a rough day of training. But this wasn't any normal day of training, was it?

He always had some vague understanding of what the future held for him, and by extension, 'his' people. Yet this was the first where he finally registered where his priorities should be, and the expectations that came with these priorities. Frankly, he wasn't obligated to fight for anyone. It would be unreasonable to care about anyone beyond yourself for any normal realist in this death world. Yet he wanted to anyway. It was the acknowledgement by another that a moral injustice was unfurling before their very eyes, and that there was a chance, however slim, that he could do something about it.

He had to adopt a growth mindset where the small victories were enough to carry him day by day. It might be a delusion to think he could best Koring, but he got in some hits, and that was victory enough. Tomorrow, he aimed to prove more worthy to challenge the grizzled warrior.

With these thoughts, he continued to limp to his bunker. The moons revolving around this planet hung proudly, near-full moons dotting the black sky.

In the dimming twilight, the echoes of footsteps caught his attention from his left side, near his bunker.

He saw a group of Unggoy emerge, one that'd normally not stand out in a crowd except for one key characteristic: their swollen bellies. On their flank was a gaggle of Jiralhanae wielding batons.

What was weirder was that they came from a section of the bunker where none of the training Unggoy was allowed in.

Yet, they were walking in his direction anyway. As he stood there, he hadn't noticed just how quickly the group advanced. They would have all marched past him, save for an exception. One of the Unggoy, glancing nervously from side to side, broke from the formation and headed directly toward him.

Inwardly, he panicked. He didn't need anyone adding to the laundry list of things he needed to do to get his batch out of this place.

The Unggoy approached him, eventually getting within touching distance, before suddenly stopping. Finally, with the utmost trepidation, they raised one arm.

Fingers soft to the touch reached for his face, a faint and bitter smile flickering beneath their mask. Time seemed to freeze as their fingers traced his skin with the delicacy of a falling feather. They released him a few precious moments later.

"Your eyes are beautiful, young one."

His eyes widened.

Before he could utter a word, she continued in the opposite direction and rejoined her kin, her eyes lingering on him. But it didn't matter anymore. It would be the last time either of them crossed paths.

Off to the harvest. Swollen with young... swollen with product.

He steeled himself, his lips trembling with each breath, eyes betraying a hint of moisture.

Tollia gritted his teeth, clenching his jaws so fiercely they might have snapped. Cursing this place, cursing his existence, he reserved his deepest curses for the Covenant above all else.

Despite passing by the Faculty of Engineering numerous times, he had never entertained the idea of entering a place not designated for any Unggoy to enter, fearing the worst. But now, he didn't care anymore. Death loomed ahead if he didn't act, and what difference would it make if he died a little earlier? At least this time, he would be sacrificing himself for something greater than his own survival. He didn't deserve this fate, but at least he got a second chance at life.

The Unggoy around him had barely experienced life at all. That, alone, was worth the risk of death that an uprising would bring.

Right?

Contemplating how to pierce through Covenant armour, his gaze fixated on the kig'yar mercenary stationed near the Faculty of Engineering. He didn't know what or who manned the place, but it was safe to assume that Huragok-in-training or some equivalent called it home.

With their help, his vision was hard to build, but not impossible. The Huragok could be easy scapegoats should the higher-ups of this place ever venture and observe their progress. He doubted that people who had been warriors their whole lives knew how to differentiate between the different techniques of human and Covenant engineering on their weapons. It could easily be dressed up as an experimental prototype.

He had studied enough about the use of electromagnetic fields to know how to generate a kinetic force strong enough that any armour would struggle to have any say in how the projectile would pierce through it. The main issue that the US military faced to get any use out of it in battle was simply a lack of energy necessary to power more than one shot in quick succession. In a space-faring society like the Covenant, it wasn't hard to imagine that the power of a nuclear reactor could be hidden in something as compact as a rifle that could be easily doable.

The problem, as always, was time.

He wasn't sure when it was time for his batch to be deployed. He imagined a project like this could easily take up months. Yet he had to try.

'In a cave. With a bunch of scraps!'

And after that? He had the heretics, the pirates, the Spartans, hell, the San'Shyuum who sought to overthrow the current regime. Surely rational San'Shyuum existed in the world.

He possessed what they critically did not. Information. He would be a very dangerous ally to have indeed. And he'd come clean with how he got this information too, no hiding behind half-assed excuses. No half-assed excuses were needed when what he said came to life right in front of their eyes.

But before that... he had to figure out where in the timeline he was in first. He felt his mysterious benefactor and co-conspirator would give him all the answers he wanted tonight.

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Worth noting that the dialogue was not intended to be said in English. Sorry if I didn't make it clearer!

As for where I've been, the truth is I have been lazy. The holidays are here so I now have found more time to focus on this, internship and casual work and all. Hope you all enjoy! This chapter sets up a lot of future stuff I have planned in my head. Lemme know if I got some lore wrong.