Segment One: For Love
Command Station Radiant
November 1, 2552, Sol Relative Time
Thunder echoed down the wrinkled corridor. Metal shrieked, screaming in torment before some of it vaporized. For seven of those listening, it was the last thing they heard before the integrity of the hull around them breached, and they were all sucked out into vacuum. Four of them never got as far as six feet into freefall before the intense heat dissolved them to a gaseous cloud of atoms. Weapons, equipment, armor. Bones, flesh… it was all gone. The others cooked, and died a less sudden death, but still quick enough to not realize it was over.
Automatic protocols had long since been exhausted, and the only resort they had had left was to move sections of hull to cover the habited areas. The Brutes didn't seem to take the hint. Retrofitted ship guns pounded out a rhythm, returning fire at the behest of an AI, but the vessels tormenting the station were not so easily stopped. Their quarry was missing, whatever in the gods' forsaken universe it had been in the first place, and now they were mad, shooting without prejudice and conviction, willing it all to spread across the stars like so much shrapnel.
Thousands had died, hundreds never seeing an enemy face. Enin 'Lygotee kept moving. There was little else he could do- Sangheili warriors swarmed around him, some of them wearing atmospherical equipment, others not. One or two only had parts of their armor. One by one they overhanded across the wall opposite the new breach, determined to make the last bay.
Most had left; there was nothing worth defending here anymore. Hydroponics had blown out weeks ago, leaving their air limited, often tainted with the scent of decay, of the dying, and blood. The smell was most pungent and overpowering in the three medical chambers they had left. Reduced at last count to one thousand three hundred Elites, and one thousand six hundred and forty Grunts, the Command Station was beyond empty. If everything was cooperating at this moment, the evacuation would leave a spare three hundred Elites and maybe all of seventy Grunts. Even at that count they were filing out, hunting up every detachable sector, every fightercraft, every dropship or patrol, and using them as lifeboats.
'Lygotee was grateful he was already past the breached area, as he knew he would not have been able to cross it the way the others were… not with the burden in his arms. Five decks of destroyed corridor and a bay long ago emptied passed them, until at last the bay where some small ships still remained opened up before them.
'Lygotee secured a place for himself on the nearest one that still had room for him when he got to it, but first he strapped his burden down. If she lived, maybe their exchange of life-debt would be even. It didn't matter. She had been there for him, done it all for him, in an effort to keep him alive, only to end up the way she was now- neurologically static. It was a strange thing to be, to him. But then, the little female had never been as normal as anyone around her had always thought.
Their whole team was gone, dying one by one until it was only her and him. How she had maintained long enough to get this far was a marvel, and a mystery. Rkwa 'Lavuree had opened his eyes to the improbable. 'Lygotee watched in silence as more of his kind filed onto the ship, but none here questioned why the warrior at his side had not been granted a mercy killing. She was comatose, but he didn't care. He owed it to her to try, even if it be in vain, and to wait for her to waken. Her physical injuries had healed, but if this had any effect on her mind, it didn't show.
'Lygotee settled into a niche beside her still form, and clung to it, as more than the craft was designed to carry piled in. There was no need to bother with weight limits, as there was no gravity in space and no haven left to run to on the station anymore. If anyone stayed behind, they would die, and there would be no help for it. There was only one road out of this meat grinder, and that road was hazardous indeed.
For himself, 'Lygotee would have rathered not participate, but it was run and fight, or die in hiding in a place that wasn't really hidden. The Brutes would never stop coming. Here lay prey, wounded and dying, easy pickings to gloat over from a comfortable distance. The Sangheili had despised the situation directly after it had arisen.
Finally, the doors closed, and the vessel pressurized. 'Lavuree muttered a tune to himself as he felt the craft begin to move. That sensation would leave after they had escaped the bay, and the artificial gravity of the inside of the bay. He could only pray that he wasn't shot out of the sky between points by the quartet of Brute cruisers.
Silence enveloped them. 'Lygotee ceased his tune, and listened to the collected breaths of those around him.
"Tell me of her, brother."
He turned his head. An Elite clad in blood-rusted red armor sat to his left. "Of who?" He asked.
He received a wan smile. "Your companion, there… the female you refuse to leave behind. Is she your mate?"
'Lygotee shook his head. "No."
"What brought her this far from the colonies?" He was asking.
"I don't know." 'Lygotee answered, honestly. "She came into the fleets of the Covenant for reasons only she knows of, but increasingly I am convinced she remained there because of me."
There came a light chuckle from around him. "She seems an exotic one, to me. Her skin is as white as talc. Somehow she makes that standard armor look as bizarre as she."
"She used to rub ink into her skin." 'Lygotee said. "She used to hide, right there in plain sight, as one of us, as a male, so she could stay. The gods only know what drives her."
"Yet you cling to her fading form like a sibling might."
"She is all that remains of my team." 'Lygotee informed him. "She fought by my side for so long it became second nature to me to fall back upon her wit."
"How did she fall?" Another warrior asked.
"Do any of you remember the Proclamation Chamber?" 'Lygotee asked. "And how the falling pillars failed to crush you?"
Mutterings rippled across the tight quarters around him. Several made agreeing noises. One professed openly to having been there. "Was it she who made some device to defy the graviton generators in the area?"
"No." 'Lygotee sighed. "She held them only with her mind."
Silence. Someone dared to chuckle, as if thinking the notion ludicrous, but despite the cramped conditions, 'Lygotee found them and tore them from their place against the wall to force them to the floor, under the hooves of nearly a dozen other Elites. "Do not dare to even think of ridiculing her! She is by far the more powerful of any here this day! I will not tolerate any of you to sully her honor or her prowess, lest she wake to wreak it upon you." 'Lygotee snarled.
Getting up proved more of a challenge than 'Lygotee could have managed alone, but once back upright, the accosted Elite stared hard into the Commander's eyes. There he found no apology, no sway from his ground. He would do this all day if he saw need. Backing up a step, the Elite nodded his head. "I cede."
"Well that you do." 'Lygotee snapped, elbowing back to where he had been before. "'Lavuree has done more for the Elites on that station than any six of the rest of you put together." Settling there, he turned back to see them all. Each one was looking back, the gentle hum of the power coils the only noise between them. "This is why I preserve her." He added, quietly. "This is why I refuse her to be so lightly denied a chance to return to what she once was. If you held in your hand the most powerful weapon imaginable, would you so callously toss it aside if it were to fail you, just once, after years and years of faithful duty, sparing you loss and death countless times over? Would you throw away your one hope, when it might by some miracle return to action?"
No one answered him.
"The answer is you wouldn't." 'Lavuree said, softly. "None of you, you wouldn't."
"What hope is there, when as we are we go to attempt a thing never before done, where many of us may not live?" Someone else asked.
"That," 'Lygotee turned in their direction. "is called faith, brother."
--- --- ---
Brutes tried to plug the onslaught with their body mass, but the push was just too great. Elites flowed onto the decks, hacking brutally at anything that had hair and a muzzle. Grunts followed this plowing spearhead, killing the ones that got trampled but had been left alive. The sheer press of bodies often caused individuals on both sides of the battle to drop, passed out from the crush that had denied them room to draw a breath. The fighting would open up later, but for now it was just important to get inside. The Brutes were just a small problem for being in the way.
While some of them were able to slide into bays, others had to latch to the hull and burn through, creating choke-points in certain hull-side hallways. 'Lygotee came out of his ride expecting something more than just being able to run to wherever he saw fit to. The crew had not come here, yet, and the way was clear. He cast a look back into the vessel he'd been in a moment ago, wondering if it was wise to leave 'Lavuree unattended. He wouldn't be able to move her safely to a medical chamber until all the Brutes had been seen to, but leaving her here alone wasn't much better.
He sighed. There was always something, even if it had been manageable back in the old days. Unggoy surged past, but only after he realized they were in a panicked disarray did he turn, but by then it was almost too late. The Brute met his gaze a second before pounding him in the chest with a fist, hard enough to make his shields sizzle, reduced to a quarter charge capacity. 'Lygotee rolled with the blow, winded but not beaten. Coming back to his hooves, he straightened, and lifted his rifle, loosing several rounds into the Brute's face before the gap was again closed between them, leaving grappling and wrestling room only. 'Lygotee snarled, tearing the beast from him, and slammed it's ugly head into the wall before in turn being taken by the neck and lifted into the ceiling. He coiled and kicked out, freeing himself, before being dropped unceremoniously onto the floor. 'Lygotee struck out, seizing an ankle, and yanked it out from under the staggered Brute. Down, the Elite was able to jump onto his enemy and stab the unfortunate combatant's eyes right out of their sockets with his claws.
Ahead, he could see more Jiralhanae were coming, the bulk of this one's dispatch. He had to finish with it quickly or he would be overwhelmed. Knowing the way the Brutes liked to operate, they were as liable to tear his limbs off as shoot him down. 'Lygotee used his grasp of his opponent's head to smash it against the floor repeatedly while fending off punches to his head and shoulders. Pulling his legs up, he planted his hooves on the floor, and lifted the Brute from the floor by his head. Just as 'Lygotee got the creature up, the others opened fire. The barrage proved short when they realized they had one of their own in their sights, but by then the beleagured Brute in 'Lygotee's hands had expired; when distracted by the sudden onslaught from behind, it had failed to note what the Elite holding his head was doing.
Shoving the Brute's head down, he had brought up a knee, and buried it under it's ribcage, completely crushing the solar plexus. 'Lygotee let the body drop, unwilling to hold the heavy thing up, but then he had to deal with a renewed barrage of gunfire from all of the Brute's friends.
Dodging proved of little help, so he ducked back into the ship he'd arrived in. Here there was cover, and a choke-point, but whether he could deal with that many Brutes alone was still in question. 'Lygotee cast a look back at Rkwa, pausing to consider. If he failed now, it would be the end of them both. Motion off to the side gained his attention, and he turned, to find himself looking down the open maw of a large Brute. Flanking him, 'Lygotee realized, were Kig-yar. He sighed, frustrated.
"Brilliant."
--- --- ---
Off to the left were the Kig-yar, on the right were some Unggoy. Jiralhanae flanked both positions, as the lesser species shuffled between them. The doors here were sealed, but that didn't seem to matter much according to the last reports. Rangor, Ship Master of the Glacial Hieroglyph, understood that if he lost his ship, he would never hear the end of it. Not only that, but he was liable to lose his place in the Great Journey as well, labeled a heretic for failing to stop the filthy Sangheili whom he could have sworn didn't have that many boarding craft.
They were like parasitical insects, flooding through every crack and crevice, even making some of their own to pass through. Like water, eroding through everything. Like… Rangor snarled to himself at the thought. Like the Flood. He'd seen some Flood combat forms, some of the infection forms, some of the carrier forms. But he'd never seen them in the quantities that they were supposedly renowned for.
It was, he mused, likely a learned behavior, learned from these accursed Sangheili. They weren't desperate; they were crafty, tricky bastards, setting up so they only looked frail and wounded, weakened from battle, so they might snare some good ships to spread from this place with. Sadly, the trap had worked, and while his ship's guns had been occupied with their station, they had flown the gap and flooded his ship. Doubtless there were hundreds more on all the others too- he was getting reports in from the Ungracious Accolade to confirm this- he supposed the Eternal Inundation and the Inspirit Symbol weren't saying anything because they were too busy with the boarders. It was too late to shoot the accursed ships out of the sky, as there were none left out far enough to shoot at. They were all simply too close, attached to the hulls, to do much about. It was a dirty trick by a filthy race, devised to bring the New Covenant to its knees.
Rangor snarled at a fellow Brute. Well, it wasn't going to work. This time, they would all die, and he would fly his flag high and with pride as he left this place, to show the Prophets what victories he had brought them, and he would earn his place at their side when the Great Journey came to pass. Something slammed into the door leading to the aft quarter, but he had a feeling it wasn't the Huragok knocking. Turning his attention that way, he snapped orders for the Unggoy to obtain a front rank across that entryway, and passed behind the rank of Brutes as they aimed their weapons that way. Anything that came through that door was going to get mowed down before it realized the door was open. Rangor grunted in satisfaction, pacing back a few steps to see the whole thing better. Suddenly before he could flinch the door behind him erupted violently instead, blowing chunks out of his thick hide and flattening him to the floor.
Once the concussion blast wave was past, Rangor rolled to his feet again, turning to see what had caused that massive breach, in time to be mowed down himself, by a fervent influx of copious amounts of Unggoy. Unggoy!! Did his own think to turn on him and live? Rangor pressed against the push, fighting to keep his feet, but even as he tried he realized he was being cut to ribbons by all the loose needles flying in the air. Snarling, Rangor tore a Grunt from the floor, and threw it at a nearby Brute to deal with, but at the same time realized he was looking at an altogether new wave of enemy.
Elites charged into the room, sometimes flying over the heads of the Unggoy come before them, latching onto a handy Brute and bringing it down with them. Rangor caught the warrior that flew at him, twisted his skinny neck and let him fall across a running Unggoy. It didn't matter who was on whose side now- they were shown as a traitorous species, and would die with the rest. Behind him, a methane tank popped open.
He turned, thinking someone had tried to hit him melee with a needler. Flames broiled up past his face, engulfing his head. It was the last thing he ever saw.
