//------------------------------// // Chapter 18 - Memories - Part 2 // Story: On the blood of our fathers, on the blood of our sons // by The dragon hunter //------------------------------// Chapter 18 - Memories - Part 2 23 August 2552 - Human Military Calendar 27° Cycle of the Ninth Age of Reclamation - Covenant Military Calendar Human world of Tribute, Casbah City For several long moments after the human child asked him that question, the young SpecOps Major could only stare at her, unable to formulate a proper answer. Here he was, a proud member of the Sangheili race, a warrior of the Covenant Empire, unable to answer the question of a little girl. A question so simple yet so paradoxically complex at the same time. Why? Why had the Covenant spent the last three decades killing every single human being they had come across? Why did they invade this planet, just like countless others before? Why were they destroying this city? Why did they kill her parents? Why did she have to die? He removed his finger from the trigger and slowly lowered his plasma rifle. “I don’t know,” Zhar said after what felt like an eternity. The little human child in front of him kept staring at him with her purple eyes. ‘Liar. You filthy spineless liar.’ He knew all too well the reason. The Prophets had deemed the humans heretics, blasphemous savages guilty of the destruction of the gifts left behind by the Forerunners before they began their Great Journey, and for such unforgivable sins their species had to be wiped out from the galaxy like the parasites they were. And yet, as he looked this human, this child, in the eyes, Zhar knew that he couldn’t give her such an answer. For some odd reason, he didn’t see a nishum, an enemy of the Covenant and a hindrance to the Great Journey; all he saw was just a scared little girl whose only fault was to exist. ‘And just a few moments ago I was about to shoot her down like some kind of rabid beast,’ Zhar thought, suddenly feeling like scum. Glaring at his plasma rifle, the Sangheili reattached it to his hip and looked back at the child. She simply stared back at him in confusion, probably wondering why he had not killed her yet. Zhar wondered what the humans taught to their children about the Covenant. In their eyes, they were probably the monsters that infested the cold depth of space, waiting for the right moment to rain fire and destruction from the sky. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted when he heard the sound of footsteps coming from the corridor. “Major, I am done cleaning my armor.” Zhar turned his head sharply just in time to see the other Sangheili step into the room. “We may now leave this-” The sight of the little girl caused Olar to stop mid-sentence. The Sangheili remained frozen where he stood for several moments, simply staring in surprise at the young human in the room, before years of rigorous training and religious indoctrination spun him into action. “Nishum!” the Sangheili growled with pure hatred as his hand moved automatically to reach his plasma rifle. “I hope you’re aware that an unarmed child that doesn’t even reach your waist is not a threat to a Sangheili warrior, or I’ll have to seriously reconsider your combat skills,” Zhar deadpanned. The Minor recoiled at the comment, suddenly aware of how foolish his reaction must have looked. “Why is that human still alive?” the SpecOps asked after a few moments, barely able to keep his embarrassment under control. “She’s just a child. She’s not worthy of our time,” Zhar said curtly. “Let’s go, brother. Our mission here is complete.” Olar nodded, before he slowly shifted his gaze from the officer to the only other living being in the room. “Just a moment, sir,” he said, drawing his weapon and aiming it at the child. “ I’ll make this quick.” Before the SpecOps could fire, however, Zhar stepped right in front of the little girl, obstructing his line of fire. “I said we’re leaving now,” Zhar said more forcefully. “But sir, the human-” “Put down your weapon, Minor.” Olar blinked in confusion. He took a step sideways to have a clear shot, but much to his astonishment Zhar mimicked his action. “What is the meaning of this, Zhar?” Olar growled, trying his hardest to keep down his growing anger. “Our mission was to retrieve the human AI, not executing civilians,” Zhar calmly replied. “The orders of the Prophets are clear. The humans are guilty of heresy against our Lords and thus they must all be exterminated.” “She is just a child. She wasn’t even born when her species committed those crimes,” Zhar argued, unconsciously clenching his fists. “It doesn’t matter. She’s still a human. Now, move aside, Major.” “No.” “No?” Olar repeated in outrage. “You will not harm this child,” Major Zhar Vadamee said as he took a step toward the other Sangheili. “Don’t move!” The Sangheili in blue armor barked, now aiming his plasma rifle at the chest of the Major. “Pointing a weapon to an officer is an act of treason,” Zhar growled. “The only traitor here is you!” the Minor snarled. “By protecting that filthy beast, you’re defying the orders of the Hierarchs, breaking the oath we all took to serve the Covenant! And those who break the oath are heretics, worthy of neither pity nor mercy!” Zhar narrowed his eyes and mentally prepared himself for the imminent fight, knowing that it was pointless to try to solve the situation peacefully. Olar was a firm believer of the Great Journey and trying to change his mind would be a waste of time. Maybe one day the Minor would have reached the rank of Zealot, but one way or another Zhar had no way to know it. They both knew there was no way they would both leave the apartment alive. “So it be. For what it’s worth, it was an honor to fight at your side.” Olar seemed to hesitate for a moment, before steadying his stance and offering one last nod in sign of respect. “Likewise, Major.” The window next to Olar suddenly shattered in an explosion of glass shards. Barely slowed down by the glass, the large armor piercing bullet completely drained the shields of the SpecOps Minor and penetrated all the way through his helmet and cranium, spraying the wall behind the Sangheili with a mixture of brain bits and purple blood. Zhar instinctively dived for cover as Olar’s lifeless body collapsed on the floor like a stringless puppet, before he heard several violent explosions coming from the yard in front of the building. There could be only one reason the human soldiers would venture so deep in a sector under control of the Covenant, the same reason he and Olar had been sent here. The AI. As much as he wanted to join the fight, he still had a mission to complete. Instead of leaving the room, however, his gaze moved to the human child. What about her? The most obvious thing to do was just to leave her here, so that the members of her kind could find her and bring her to a safe place, but Zhar had no guarantees that the human soldiers would waste time looking for survivors while they were so deep behind the Covenant lines. Or that they would even be able to penetrate inside the building. The Jiralhanae were barbarians, but they were also tremendous fighters. And once the Brutes were done with the UNSC forces, there was a high chance that one of the members of Antigonus’ pack or a Kig-yar would find her. No. He couldn’t leave her here. There was only one possible option. Zhar crouched low in front of the little girl and slowly reached her with a hand. The child winced and whimpered in fear when she felt the big hand of the Sangheili touch her shoulder, but when she realized that the huge alien wasn’t hurting her, she dared to look at him. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he said in English with the most reassuring tone he could muster. “We must leave, this place is not safe.” The child stared at him in confusion with teary eyes before shifting her gaze to the corpses of her parents on the floor. “Your parents gave their lives so that you could survive,” he said, feeling something unexpected. Respect. By giving their lives to protect their daughter, these humans had proved to be honorable individuals. “It is your duty to honor their sacrifice.” The young human sniffled and nodded weakly. ‘Such a little yet brave creature.’ Using the same care he displayed when he handled his younger cousins, the Sangheili grabbed the human child and brought her close to his chest, careful to not crush her with his strength. “Let’s go, little one,” he said quietly, activating his active camo and turning both of them invisible. The shot fired from Edward's sniper rifle was still resonating through the air when the two Marines equipped with rocket launchers opened fire against their designated targets. Spartan Ale 02-05 conceded himself a moment to watch in satisfaction the two Shade turrets exploding violently in a cloud of fire and burned metal, before he and the rest of the UNSC troops opened fire. The Spartan aimed his modified MA5C assault rifle and shot two bullets in the head of a Grunt Ultra, the closest thing the little methane-breathing bastards had to an officer. While not as accurate as a DMR, its COG sight allowed him to engage the enemy from a distance with discrete accuracy, with the bonus of having higher ammo capacity and a M301 grenade launcher mounted under the barrel instead of the more common flashlight, making it the right weapon for the mission. The next and last pair of rockets were aimed at the communication node and one of the deployable methane recharging stations, the destruction of the latter vaporized any Grunt unfortunate enough to be close to the contraptions. Taken completely by surprise by the attack and without anyone bringing order among their ranks, the surviving Unggoy panicked, screaming in fear, running in circles, or in some cases even started shooting in completely random directions, accidentally killing a couple of their own. Taking advantage of the chaos, the human forces advanced toward the building, using the destroyed cars all across the square for cover. 'So far, so good,' Ale thought as he momentarily took advantage of the cover provided by a half-destroyed Warthog to reload his weapon with a single fluid movement, before resuming his advance while shooting at the enemy soldiers. He knew it wouldn't last for long. As if to confirm his thoughts, the front windows of the atrium of the building where their target was exploded and Covenant forces quickly poured into the square. The first were the Jackals, who quickly formed their typical defensive formations using their glowing shields. The avian aliens were soon followed by the pack of Brutes, who wasted no time unleashing a deadly rain of superheated metal spikes and plasma on the UNSC forces, forcing the human soldiers to take cover. When ONI had found out that the Falcon carrying one of their AI had been shot down, the spooks had quickly ordered a mission to retrieve it before it fell in the hands of the Covenant. Ale had honestly thought that an entire squad of Marines lead not by one, but three Spartans was overkill, but when he had been informed that the sector was under Brute control, he was actually grateful for all that firepower. Gorillas, Baby Kongs, Bravo Kilos, it didn't matter what you called them, the Jiralhanae were the nightmare of any human soldier. Fast, strong, and incredibly violent, those beasts were able to rip their enemies apart using just their bare hands, which they often did. And if that wasn’t enough, their weapons were not designed to kill the enemy, but rather to make them bleed to death in the most gruesome and painful possible way. A Skirmisher raced through the battlefield firing its needler rifle, hitting a Marine in the leg. The man collapsed with a cry as the projectile of glowing crystal passed through his limb and the overgrown Jackal was quickly on him, widening its fangs. Before the space raptor could dig it’s sharp teeth in the man’s throat, a couple of bullets hit its chest, followed by a third in the head. “It’s hunting season, turkey!” Sarah yelled, the barrel of her M6D pistol still smoking. Keeping up her fire at the Covenant infantry, the young woman scooped the wounded Marine and dragged him behind the wreckage of a car, killing a trio of Grunts in the process. The man hissed in relief when the Spartan III jabbed the needle of a biofoam canister in the wound, before shouting a warning at her. The young woman quickly turned around and aimed her pistol at another Skirmisher that had tried to sneak behind her, but before she could pull the trigger its head exploded. "Hey! That was mine!" she exclaimed with indignation on a private COMM channel. If it wasn’t for her Mark V/B, the young Spartan would have been easily confused for an ODST. The girl was cocky, loud, and literally lived for combat, a far cry from Ale or the other members of the Spartan II program. Not that Ale really minded. Working with the two younger Spartans during the last few weeks had been… interesting. "Sorry sis. Try to be faster next time," Edward replied smugly. “All units, we have enemy reinforces coming from south-east,” the sniper reported through the team COMM, switching back to a more professional tone. “Focus on the enemy snipers and heavy weapons,” Ale ordered. A few globes of plasma zipped dangerously close to his body, increasing the temperature inside his suit by a few degrees. “Sarah, take care of the light infantry, I’ll handle the Brutes.” “Time to kick some alien ass,” she declared, pumping a slug in the barrel of her M90 shotgun and sprinting to action. Even if her face was hidden by her blue EVA visor, Ale could easily tell she was grinning. The Spartan II sighed. Even if he could relate with them far better than with other members of the UNSC that were not members of the Spartan program, there was something off about his younger ‘cousins’ that disturbed him. Sometimes they seemed to like their job a bit too much. It wasn’t the normal sense of satisfaction and accomplishment that all the Spartans felt after a successful mission. The Spartan IIIs actually took pleasure in killing. Ale resonated it must have been a consequence of what they went through before joining the Spartan III program. He knew how the ONI agents visited refugee camps and orphanages looking for children whose families had been killed by the Covenant, playing on their desire of revenge to recruit them. It may have been necessary, given how desperate the war against the alien empire had turned, but Ale was still disgusted. When the two young Spartans were assigned to him, Ale promised himself that he would do his damned best to make sure the two kids made it through this nightmare alive. In the following weeks he had lead them into battle countless times at the best of his abilities, sharing with them any useful scrap of experience he had cumulated in the several years he had spent fighting the Covenant in order to increase their chances of survival, quickly earning their respect and admiration. “Stop crying and kill those heathens, you cowards!” a deep gruff voice ordered. Ale saw a Brute shouting orders to a small group of Grunts, trying to bring back some form of order among their ranks. He aimed his assault rifle at them and fired a 40mm grenade in the middle of the group. The following explosion, boosted by the methane contained in the tanks of the Unggoy killed most of the Grunts and severely wounded the Brute. He finished the bigger alien with a short burst of bullets in the chest, before killing the few surviving Grunts with accurate headshots. “Ale, at one o’clock!” Sarah’s voice came from the speakers of his helmet with an urgent tone. Ale saw something very fast fly toward him and instinctively ducked. The rocket propelled grenade flew right where his chest was just a moment before, exploding somewhere behind him. The Brute Captain growled in frustration and fired his weapon a few more times. Thanks to his speed and augmented reflexes, the Spartan avoided the worst of the explosions, but the alarms of his suit alerted him that his shields were almost completely drained. Luckily for him, it was than that the Jiralhanae ran out of ammo. ‘Now,’ the Spartan thought as he sprinted toward the Brute. The alien was still reloading his weapon when the Spartan reached him and punched his ugly face. The Brute staggered, grunting in pain and surprise, but quickly recovered its footing. It spat a few broken teeth mixed with dark blood and with a savage roar it swung its Brute Shot in an attempt to hit the Spartan with its sharp blade. Time seemed to slow down as the augmented human entered what was colloquially known as ‘Spartan Time’, deftly dodging the melee attack while at the same time grabbing the M7 attached to the magnetic holster on his left hip. The Spartan aimed the SMG almost point-blank to the right eye of the Brute and fired a long burst, ripping out half its face. He then looted a spike grenade from the belt of the fallen enemy and threw it several meters away, sending it with astonishing precision on its target. The Brute had barely the time to realize that something had hit the back of his helmet before the grenade exploded, obliterating its head along with a good portion of his upper body. “Show off,” Edward joked through the COMM, killing one of the Kig-Yar snipers that had taken an unhealthy interest in him. Ale couldn’t help but snort in amusement. A savage roar, accompanied by the broken body of an unfortunate Marine flying across the square, told the Spartan II that the Chieftain of the war pack had finally joined the fight, using its gravity hammer with deadly efficiency. A bullet from Edward’s sniper rifle hit its horned helmet, only to bounce harmlessly against its powerful energy shields. Two more followed and ended with the same result. “Fuck!” the Spartan sniper swore in frustration. “How do we kill that monster?” “I got it!” Sarah’s voice chimed through the COMM, just as Ale heard another noise, the unmistakable roar of the engine of a Warthog. Turning in the direction of the noise, the Spartan II saw the young woman driving the battered vehicle across the square at full speed. Her actions didn’t make any sense at first. She didn’t have a gunner, not that it would have made any difference considering that the minigun was destroyed, furthermore the engine was smoking and just a step shy from catching fire. It was only when he noticed her trajectory that he realized her plan. ‘She wants to ram that thing?!’ Ale thought in disbelief as he watched the Warthog running toward the Chieftain. Theoretically it was a good plan, the kinetic energy of the car would have been sufficient to kill or at least wound the Brute. In reality it was a horrible idea. The huge alien didn’t try to avoid the incoming vehicle, instead it adjusted its grip on his gravity hammer and smiled malevolently at the Spartan behind the wheel. “Get the hell out of there, Sarah!” Ale ordered the younger Spartan, but it was too late. With a speed that should have been impossible for a beast of that size, the Brute swung its gravity hammer downward and hit the hood of the Warthog. The impact not only violently halted the charge of the running vehicle, but threw it in the air above the Chieftain like an oversized toy, before it violently crashed upside down. The dazed Spartan III slowly crawled out of the wreck of the vehicle, only to be pinned down by a massive two-toed foot. The Chieftain twisted the handle of his weapon to use the blade attached behind the head of the hammer, but before he could use it to cut off the head of the young super soldier, a long burst of automated fire hit him between the shoulders, drawing his attention from his victim to the Spartan in black armor aiming his assault rifle at him. The Jiralhanae Chieftain roared and charged at the Spartan II with his hammer raised in the air, covering the distance with long strides of his powerful legs. Ale stood his ground and kept firing short bursts at the Brute. ‘I have his attention. That’s all that matters,’ he thought as Sarah got back on her feet. With a savage battle cry the Chieftain brought down his hammer to deliver what would have surely been a devastating strike. In one single fluid motion, Ale jumped backward just a moment before the impact, delivering a kick in the face of the Brute while clamping his rifle to the magnetic attachment on his back. The shockwave, combined with the thrust of his powerful legs, projected the augmented human several meters away, but thanks to his reflexes he safely landed on his feet with catlike grace. Meanwhile, the Chieftain used the back of his hand to clean some blood from the corner of his mouth. Staring at the dark stain on his hand, he growled in rage. "Tell me, demon,” the huge alien said with his deep cavernous voice, glaring intensely at the human super soldier. “Do you bleed?" Instead of replying, the Spartan simply grabbed both his SMGs from his magnetic hip holsters and aimed them at the Brute. The Chieftain bared his fangs and adjusted his grip on the gravity hammer. "You will." ‘We should be far enough,’ Zhar thought once the noise of the battle was just a distant cacophony of explosions and gunfire. The Sangheili checked his surroundings and, once he was sure they were alone, he decloaked and gently put down the little girl. “We’re not far from the human lines. Proceed down this road until you see the ruins of a mall,” he said, pointing the way with an elongated finger. “There’s a small UNSC outpost. Your people. They will keep you safe and bring you away from this accursed place.” The child turned her head to follow with her gaze the direction he was indicating, then she looked back at him. Zhar shook his head. “I can’t come with you,” he said, answering her unspoken question. “It would be too dangerous for both of us. They would suspect a trap if they saw you with me.” He knelt in front of her and took something from a pocket of his armor. “I think this belongs to you,” he said, offering her the chocolate bar he had taken earlier from the kitchen of her apartment. Nax would have surely approved if he knew. Maybe he would tell him. He knew he could trust the older Sangheili. He had always been willing to listen to him and after this experience, the Spec Ops felt he had a great weight to remove from his chest. After a moment of hesitation, the little girl accepted the chocolate, touching his big scaly hand with her much smaller one in the process. She looked up at him and their eyes met. “You asked me ‘why’ when I found you. I- I don’t know why all of this is happening. For all that matters… I’m sorry.” He stood up and turned his back to her. He had already taken a few steps when he heard the child speak. “Wait,” she said barely louder than a whisper. Zhar stopped and looked over his shoulder. The little girl was staring intensely at him with her beautiful purple eyes, showing for the first time something that wasn’t pain or resignation. Gratitude. “Thank you.” Zhar felt like he had just been stabbed in the chest. The Covenant had destroyed her world, killed her parents, and ruined her life, and yet she was thanking him? It was too much for the Sangheili. “Farewell, little one. Be safe. And may our paths never cross again.” He turned on his active camo again and disappeared like a ghost. The little girl simply stood there for a couple of minutes before slowly heading off in the direction the Sangheili had pointed out. What she didn’t know was that Zhar kept following her from a certain distance to make sure she safely reached her destination. Not too long after, the human child was in sight of a barricade. She stopped a few meters away and after a few tense moments a human soldier emerged from cover and cautiously approached her with his weapon drawn. The man quickly scanned her with an electronic device and visually checked the area, then, satisfied that it wasn’t a trap, he grabbed her hand and lead her toward a nearby building that had been turned into an outpost. Zhar released a breath of relief he didn’t know he was holding and walked away. He did it. She was safe. ‘Was it heresy?’ A part of him said yes. Not only had he spared a human, thus disobeying the orders of the Hierarchs, but he had also helped her escape. If she survived, she would probably grow up hating the Covenant and maybe one day they would meet again, this time in the battlefield. And yet Zhar felt oddly at peace with himself. He had done what he thought was the right thing. The words of an old Unggoy Deacon briefly echoed in his mind. ‘We are all sinners. Without sin, there wouldn’t be faith.’ ‘I made my choice. I will accept the consequences of my actions.’ The eyes of the Sangheili Commando snapped open as he awoke abruptly from his agitated sleep, grateful that the memory had come to an end. It didn’t matter how many times he relived those moments, it never got easier. He quickly noticed that he wasn’t wearing his helmet, although he could still feel the weight of his armor on his body. Blinking a few times to clean his blurred vision, he realized that he was kneeling in the middle of a room carved in stone, with some kind of vines made of a greenish material hanging from the ceiling wrapped around his wrists and a similar pair locking his ankles, restraining him. He shuddered inwardly for a moment. The vines reminded him of tentacles. Chasing away the awful memories of the Fall of High Charity, he got back on his feet and tested the strength of the vines, growling in irritation when he realized that the silicone-like material was more resistant than expected. “Oh, good! You’re finally awake, sleepy head!” a feminine voice with a familiar double toned tone said cheerily from the opposite side of the room. He looked toward the source of the voice just in time to see a Changeling with shoulder length purple hair and dressed with some kind of black leather armor stepping out of the shadow. “Greetings,” she continued, offering a psychotic grin to the Sangheili. “I’m Princess Phasmidia. What’s your name, big guy?” Zhar narrowed his eyes and growled. “Oh, come on. Don’t be rude. I promise we’re going to have so much fun together.” ‘I seriously doubt it.’