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[@OrizaSaucer][@Delta44][@Remipa Awesome][@Amaranth][@Starlance][@Joker892][@HumanMusic][@Dealdric]
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[color=Gray]	He smiled at the trio, who seemed somewhat prepared, if not exhausted already, to move to Outpost Sierra. The OP itself wasn't as far as he'd have predicted, but that still didn't mean it was going to be a difficult journey. However, the timing seemed to be near perfect. The main covenant forces within this sector were nothing but distracted from Outpost Charlie. The distraction was the best chance they would get in getting to their destination alive. The only major threats that could hinder this small group's chances would be either a patrol or one of the Elite Militants. These Sangheili foes were deadly alone, even to a group. Lucas surviving his encounter must've been a fluke, if not a less-experienced militant as he encountered. He hoped for the sake of these people that they too wouldn't have to face them, or worse.

	As he led on, he made sure that everyone was behind him regularly. The journey itself was starting to become long, minutes after minutes passing by for what seemed like forever. On the move, Lucas made sure his communications equipment was almost low in volume, as well as non-responsive to anyone else. Whilst this could worry most about whether or not he was alive, it was the only chance this group had at maintaining an almost invisible presence of this battle-torn valley in which they needed to cross. There was comfort, finally. It was the first time that Lucas had actually had an ease of mind since the disaster of his vessel, leading to the forces being left behind. Nothing felt like it was going to make any sense to the others, but Lucas understood from a tier of experience what being left behind meant and why the order to leave was given. The final vessel of the UNSC would have never survived alone. Not anymore than the other two had.

	With this in mind, Hickery turned back, after a few hours of walking, finally speaking to his fellow survivors. They were good people it seemed, minus some of their mishaps with how they talked to one another. Most of them made small talk for most of the way, but avoiding patrols and search-parties left them silent for a vast majority of their journey. A warthog would've been nice, or any mode of transport, but sticking to the forest instead of any of the open hills or valleys at their disposal would have rendered most vehicles useless.[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"So I take it that this is your first time being stranded?"[/b][/color] [color=Gray]At first, he got no response, allowing him to continue his short monologue that made him feel alone.[/color] [color=Orange][b]"It happened before to me; my last major operation as a marine. Being the technical soldier I am, I was sent with the 84th to retrieve what they called `valid data`. Long story short, it was called the waning days of the 84th once it was finished. Even ODSTs weren't powerful enough to save us. I wasn't supposed to be extracted, but I was. It wasn't scheduled, just a stroke of luck that my squad was spotted by a fleeing Pelican. Just shows that we shouldn't give up. Sure, our vessels are gone, but one escaped. Who knows, maybe it can warn Reach of the issues here and send backup. If not...we can go down completing our objective."[/b][/color]

[color=Gray]	The silence at first was daunting, but it provided some leisure to the silence that plagued the group for so long. Lucas never thought he'd be in a situation far worse than during Operation Mortar Flash. Being encircled and slowly cut down was one thing, but at least in this scenario every UNSC operations base was spread out, not slowly being enclosed by the enemy. There was a chance to fight, this time.[/color]

[color=Orange][b]"You guys ever had a sweetheart? I know it's personal, but apparently talking about loved ones can give you a goal to aim for. I'd say one myself, but there hasn't been anyone for me ever. You're probably not surprised, which is the sad part. Now that I'm here, and determined not to leave until I've followed my orders...Doesn't look like I'm getting one."[/b][/color]

[color=Gray]	The small talk was both warming and depressing to some degrees. Lucas wasn't exactly the social-type during his younger life. Hell, it even leaked into his early military service. The only people he eventually grew attached to were his squad in the 84th. Most of those in the 84th who were teamed with him were also promoted to the ODST Branch, where a few actually ended up joining his Squad that led to this mission. Unfortunately, most of them would be dead, or missing at the least. No one knew where they were. Lucas wanted to know where they were.

	But as his small-talk with them had ended, they reached the top of what seemed to be a narrow hill, and a sight of hope appeared in front of them. Seeing itself, carved mostly into a mountain and within a cave-system, the rocks of Oman in front of the survivors bared what seemed to be a fully-fledged and working site of life and activity. Buildings hidden behind deployed and strong walls surrounding this mountain, which had an entrance to show its important areas underground. He could see it now. They could see it now. One of the best chances of survival, right in front of them. Only a mile away, into the mountain ahead...laid Outpost Sierra.[/color]

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[color=Lime][b]"And what of the final vessel? How were we to be so idle as to let it pass under our nose? We should pursue it, take it down before it can reach the military planet of the apes and bring an invasion force."[/b][/color] [color=gray]The voice of one of the three Ship-masters in his face spoke wildly. They were outraged by the decision their own fleet-master had made in leaving the final ship. There was questioning for the past hour, and yet the steady superior remained high in his chair and position. There was no reason to argue against him. Under any circumstances, that was.[/color]

[color=Purple][b]"To think they'd promote a forerunner archaeologist to our fleet. Your ways as a ship-master were questionable enough, but we cannot tolerate anymore mistakes. If this idiotic artefact is so important to you then why allow risks like these to vio-"[/b][/color] [color=Gray]A heavy fist slammed down, silencing the room. It was usually rare to see the officers go against a figure so notorious amongst the Covenant Navy's ranks, but these ship-masters seemed too weak-minded to even comprehend his own position. That's what brought a smile to the face of the fleet-master. He knew that what he was doing was to plan. Everything was to plan. And when it wasn't, he relied on his sheer brutal nature to push everything back into line. It was the reason his ships were mostly in tact and still alive, even after such a dire ambush like the one faced on Oman.

	His armour clinked against one another, heavy but protective to its core. There were few respected fleet-masters who had the time to forge their own armour such as himself. After his noble actions on hunting down three demon (Spartan III) teams with only a small band of his own militants, his prize was the adjustments to his [url=https://orig00.deviantart.net/1bfa/f/2014/348/1/0/halo_2_anniversary_sangheili_wish_armor__by_uhzenostrom117-d89wx73.png]ceremonial armour[/url] that symbolised his rank. To compensate for other military victories, the creation of the Militants was shown to be his own personal bodyguard. This was Grazo 'Lovamee...This was the brutal collector of the Sangheili race.

	The Militants were more of a showcase of power, in his mind. Like how the San'Shyuum had their Honour Guards, 'Lovamee had his Militants. They were originators of the Zealot ranks, but outfitted with specialised gear and used for retrieval and guarding missions. However, the fleet-master preferred to use them for his own means, such as hunting down enemies from the shadows. They were a force to be reckoned with, even alone. Those who were in the Militants were mostly the closest or most trusted Sangheili comrades 'Lovamee had. One of these was his own brother. The command of the Militants was almost always given to 'Lovamee, but he had trusted one of his own ship-masters to take that mantle for one mission.

	Eventually, Grazo 'Lovamee stood in front of the two complaining ship-masters, whilst the rest from his fleet watched from the outskirts of the encounter. It was definitely a verbal clash between political giants, but one that was always going to favour one side. The superior let out a smug chuckle, looking around at the quiet ship-masters surrounding the trio. Eventually, his deathly-low tone let out words of response.[/color]

[color=Gold][b]"A fine bit of criticism, my brothers. But if you were so against the plan, you could have chased after the vessel yourself, but you didn't. That'll be because deep down, you know I plan for this to happen."[/b][/color] [color=Gray]He turned around, arms crossed behind his back with a iron grasp.[/color] [color=gold][b]"That vessel won't reach the planet it seeks. The place the apes called Reach has finally succumb to an invasion force. It's not going to get any reinforcements, because all the reinforcements are going to be required to defend that wretched planet. But this assignment of accomplishment reminds me...You question my ability to command. Tell me, what happened to the Militant team I gave you?"[/b][/color]

[color=Gray]	The room fell silent for a bit, until the superior Sangheili snarled with impatience. He knew the answer, he just wanted to remind the ship-masters who complained how hypocritical they were, and to give him an opening to show his true reasoning for being a ruthless shipmaster.[/color]

[color=Gold][b]"That's right...They were killed. Because you ordered them to attack an enemy outpost alone...Why do you think I sent in a ground force to take that outpost? Because that's what a good strategist does, not a failed misery of a ship-master. Now if you dare question my authority once more, trust me...I will not make your death quick. I may be an archaeologist, but I'm more of a warrior than you'll ever achieve."[/b][/color]