During their Slipspace journey, Voro had made clear to his Ship Masters that they had to be willing to set aside their beliefs. Others had been blinded by the glory of Ring of the Gods, and subsequently destroyed by the human and the Flood infestations. They must be prepared for anything.
"Alert the fleet to make weapons ready," Voro ordered Y'gar.
"Aye, sir."
Voro wanted to believe the Forerunners had left this world to deliver them in their hour of greatest need… his instincts, however, told him not to trust anything but Sangheili blood.
"Far Sight Lost broadcasting on an open channel," Y'gar said, and put it on bridge audio.
"… let us cast arms aside," Ship Master Qunu began the ritual greeting. "… And like discard our wrath. Thou, in faith, will keep us safe. Whilst we find the path."
The thousands of the tiny craft drifted in the central holographic display like a cloud of dust. They formed octahedral geometries, solidifying into crystals of gold and ruby in the dark of space, surrounding the Far Sight Lost.
"Incoming transmission," Y'gar said. Both his eyes, sighted and blind, were wide with wonder. "On the Prophets channel, sir."
A flat voice, intoning perfectly the ancient dialect, rumbled over the bridge: "Rescue phase concluded. Threat-analysis phase concluded. Reclaimant request for Shield World access… denied. Initiating outer defense program."
"Energy spikes detected," Y'gar said. "Frequencies shifting to resonate suites." He looked up. "They're combining fire, sir."
"Fleetwide channel," Voro shouted. "All Ship Masters make ready to fire. Link targeting control through the Incorruptible."
Uruo monitored his console as the ships in their fleet linked into a single spiderweb network of firepower. "Fleet fire control is now yours, sir," he told Voro.
"Target laser and energy projectors on these cluster formations," Voro said.
Uruo smoothed his hands over the network, double-checking the numbers, and then said, "Target solutions calculated, sir. On your order."
A thousand tiny eyes blazed within the alien formations. Energy beams collimated into lances of golden light that painted the hull of the Far Sight Lost.
The ship did not have its shields up. Beams sliced through armor and decks, piercing through and through, blasting cones of vaporized alloy into space.
Voro quenched his rage and studied the carnage. Some advantage had to be gleaned from this tragedy.
Individually the tiny craft could do no harm. Together, however, they were more than a match for the Far Sight Lost. Their octahedral structures shimmered with energy shields.
Voro assumed their defensive strength multiplied when combined as well, "Release weapons interlink safety locks," Voro ordered, and raised his hand.
He prayed for the soul of Ship Master Qunu, who had revealed for them a new enemy.
Penetrated by a dozen beams, the ventral decks of the Far Sight Lost exploded. The ship rolled over like a great beast in its death throes. The weapons cut through the aft section. The plasma core breached, and three plumes of blue fire erupted from the hull— heating the aft quarter of the vessel red-, yellow-, and then white-hot—before the vessel detonated.
The crystalline geometry of the alien formations rippled and their shields flared.
"Now!" Voro commanded. "All laser and projectors fire."
All ships under his command launched a barrage, and the deep night of space lit with crisscrossing lines of illumination. Hundreds of lasers painted the weakened alien shields and made them sputter with static. Ten microseconds later, energy-projector capacitors discharged and blasts of holy white radiation impacted the formations, overloaded the distressed shields, and scattered their coherence.
Stripped of their protection, the tiny drone ships erupted into streams of superheated particles. Their central eyes blazed white-hot as if their fury alone could protect them.
Explosions chained through the octahedral assembly.
Lasers and projectors shut down and the space plunged again into dankness.
Voro blinked.
Within the holographic display the thousands of alien ships were scattered, most now cooling blobs of metal, tumbling disconnected rods and spheres. Those that had survived moved sluggishly as they attempted to realign for another attack.
"Eighty-three percent of the vessels destroyed," Y'gar said.
Over fleetwide COM Voro said, "All ships break and attack. Annihilate the survivors with plasma charges before they regroup."
The fleet accelerated to attack speed, burning all before them. The smaller alien craft were defenseless before this onslaught.
Ship Master Qunu had been a hero. He had demonstrated for them all that the old ways of devout placation had no place in this new Age. The Sangeili would forge their own way, with their own blood, if need be.
"Contact the Absolution," Voro told Y'gar. "Have them make ready for a Slipspace transition in atmosphere. They will scout the northern polar region where these drones came from and determine if there are high-value targets our sensors have overlooked."
"Absolution hailed, sir," Y'gar replied. "Orders relayed." He paused listening, then said, "The Absolution is yours to command, Fleet Master."
Voro nodded, indicating they go.
The space surrounding the sleek destroyer shimmered as their Slipspace capacitors discharged.
"Something on the planet surface, sir," Y'gar said, and he bent closer, concentrating.
"Energy anomaly in the northern polar region."
He waved his hand over his controls and the central viewer split, half filling with a view of the planet's ice caps, zooming closer to reveal a wind-whipped landscape of snow dunes. A kilometer off the ground, the air shimmered in the exact same pattern as the Absolution's Slipspace transition matrix.
"That should not be happening," Uruo remarked, and took a step closer to the image, intrigued. "A Slipspace matrix only appears upon a ship's exit. The Absolution has yet to transition."
"Hail the Absolution," Voro said. "Abort the jump."
Y'gar shook his head. "Slipspace matrix interfering with our signal, sir."
"Move to intercept," Voro ordered.
The Incorruptible tilted and accelerated toward the destroyer as it edged toward its Slipspace field.
The view in the holographic display shifted. Above the north pole three new octahedral formations of alien ships materialized in the glow of the Slipstream exit field.
"They can jump?" Voro whispered.
That made no sense. If they had such a capacity then why hadn't they jumped into combat with the Far Sight Lost? Or for that matter jumped to avoid destruction from the rest of the battle group?
Voro turned to Y'gar, who understood Slipstream space better than any of his officers.
"Explain," he demanded.
Y'gar straightened. "Sir, a Slipspace transition requires more power than ships that size can generate. I can only guess that they are somehow tapping into the Absolution's Slipspace field."
"Energy spikes," Uruo said. "Northern polar region."
The alien ships fired, hundreds of beams bounced within their linked geometry, combining and focused though their energy shields—directed into the center of the wrapping Slipspace.