Should…when…this goes public (and believe me, it will go public, somehow) you will need a fall man. May I volunteer? My losses in this war, given my public status, are well known. I dance in the light and hunt in the darkness after all. Honestly, I fit the profile for going rouge. It's not stretch of the imagination that I should shoot a rocket filled with parasites at a Covenant planet. I guarantee, the investigation would die with me. A war crime, surely, but we must all carry our crosses. Allow me to carry mine up the hill.
Chapter 4
"I am at the limits of the colony. It looks to have a population of about a hundred, all adults." He adjusted the telescopic view of his helmet. "All appear to be combatants, armed with submachine guns and assault rifles." His view shifted. "Chieftain, this does not seem to be a civilian outpost. They are heavily armed, and several of those armored vehicles are patrolling the streets. I would advise holding off on the attack. I can investigate further and learn what they are."
"Just follow orders, Sangheili," the chieftain barked.
"Chieftain, I strongly recommend that you hold off the attack until I have better gauged the enemy's strength."
"Begin the attack at once, or I will tear you apart myself."
Even if Orff were to flee, the moment the Jiralhanae finished with the humans they would feverishly hunt him down and execute him for insubordination. He tapped on his camouflage, disappearing into a shimmering glow, and made his way deliberately towards the town.
He had the utmost faith in his own abilities. His armor was working, and though only armed with his blade, hopefully it was all he would need. But something felt wrong. If these were civilians, they should have been wandering the streets in the way that humans so often do, without purpose or destination. But these humans, despite their civilians garb, were tense and ready, traveling in squads of three or four, eyeing every shadow. The way they moved, with deft grace instead of a drunken stupor. On edge because they were losing the war, nervous about an impending attack. But didn't move with residual shows of fear. It was a state of preparedness.
He followed a squad of three, shirking into the shadows when a Warthog passed him, not wanting the bright high beams to expose the bending light. Initially, he hoped to listen to them and learn something, humans did so love to banter and gloat, but these three didn't speak. They just patrolled, moving carefully, shifting aim from side to side, as if they were expecting an attack at any moment. He had to admit, the dedication of these soldiers was impressive. Unggoy in the same position would have sat down to nap by now.
Maybe they heard the ignition of his sword, or the slight hum as it burned the air. One turned towards him as he lunged, but the blade plunged deep into his chest and he squeezed a hand over the mouth to muffle the gurgle. Then the body fell. He took the second with his free hand, twisting the head with a snap. The last, noticing the noise, turned, but was silenced quickly.
Orff looked around, to confirm that no one had noticed. No sense in hiding the bodies, nowhere to hide the bodies, no time. When he heard the rumble of a patrolling Warthog, he waited patiently for it to come near. The driver, seeing his deceased comrades spread over the ground, ordered the gunner to keep two eyes open with a subtle hand gesture, as he and the passenger climbed out of the large vehicle and approached the body. The driver squatted and placed two fingers to the deceased neck. Orff killed the gunner first, twisting the head in familiar fashion. This time he was more careful, and was sure it didn't make a sound. He stalked behind the two other soldiers, gripping their head and pulping them together twice before the bodies tensed then lay still.
"Chieftain." He gave a snarl, clicking his mandibles. "These are not civilians. I strongly recommend employing a different tactic than your idea of rushing in and shooting. Please, if you value the lives of you pack, do not engage."
"You Sangheili may enjoy running from a fight, but we shall continue, and crush these vermin under foot. Such is the will of the gods."
"Chieftain, please, stop being a fool."
Orff heard the distinctive roar of the chieftain's Chopper as it trudged heavily towards the town. If he were working with fellow Sangheili, they would have carefully analyzed their opponents strengths, then, over the course of a single bloody night, proceed to thin the herd until there was only one left for interrogation. The Jiralhanae had instead decided to charge blindly, recklessly, into the town. Perhaps a massive blitzkrieg would serve to shake the morality of most humans. Perhaps another group of soldiers would have dropped their weapons at the sight of the chieftain, riding proudly atop his vehicle, and lowered to the ground to cower. His black and red armor adding to But not these humans. The ones who were already on the streets lifted their weapons and rushed to meet him. Some climbed the houses and took up sniper positions, others took cover and laid down suppressive fire. From out of the houses came the heavy artillery, an entire platoon carrying rocket launchers marching eagerly towards the Jiralhanae.
"Multiple heavy units approaching your position." Orff growled. "And a Battle tank. Chieftain, your units have to retreat. You have a Battle tank coming to your position. You are not properly armed to engage. You and your pack are going to be killed."
It was seeing the tank that Orff first realized what this town was, but just to confirm he opened one of the doors of the "houses" and found it empty. Completely bare. No furniture, or pictures, or even walls to divide the rooms. An open, twenty by twenty space with the exception of a support beam or two to keep the roof from collapsing. A simple shell with nothing inside, but only upon careful inspection would such be discovered. But seeing the tank, that was something. The entire front of one of the houses lowered into the ground, and out rolled the armor, pounding through the shells of houses, taking the most direct path to the chopper. He guessed the roofs of the houses were composed of some sort of jamming material to prevent the heavy vehicle from showing up on satellites. The humans certainly were clever.
"Chieftain, you must retreat, now."
The humans still hadn't noticed him, and now they were so preoccupied with the Jiralhanae that he probably could have lowered his camouflage and walked brazenly in the middle of the street. The tank was still trudging along. The chieftain was a fine specimen, but even he would experience difficulties when faced with a 90mm High Velocity Cannon. He had seen them blow Mgalekgolo to pieces, the assorted worms quivering before lying still.
Growling lowly, he retreated back to the Warthog, climbing into the driver seat and heading towards the sound of thunder, weaving through the streets. Some of the humans mistook him for one of their own, they moved in front of him, hoping to man the turret. Their blood plastered the front of the jeep's windshield.
He twisted the steering wheel, grinding to a stop at the tank's backside. A distance ahead, the chieftain's Chopper lay in a flaming pile, though Orff noticed the albino furred Jiralhanae furiously dodging the flurry of gunshots before joining his pack in a bit of cover, made from several overturned jeeps. Enough to stop the small arms fire, but not the explosions of the tank. Only one Jiralhanae lay on the ground, lifeless, Orff didn't know which. It would be wonderful to watch them suffer. The Jiralhanae were struggling to avoid the massive explosions of the battle tank's cannon, as well as peppering shots of the humans who sat outside, enjoying the vantage point. They were taking such joy in this, playing with the pack instead of just grinding them under the treads, they didn't even notice as Orff slithered behind the tank. Holding a grenade he had scrounged from a corpse in a clenched fist, he punched through the weak armor of the tank's back, rushing backwards before it exploded, decimating the tank and crew. He retrieved a discarded assault rifle from the ground and began slaughtering the stragglers. The gunners on the Warthogs fell with a spray. As did those so eagerly marching to battle with rocket launchers on their shoulder. Their weapons were slow and cumbersome, he cut them down without much trouble. The Jiralhanae and Unggoy, no longer under the tank's attack, turned and opened fire as well, brightening the battlefield with the Spiker and plasma shots. The chieftain, roaring and snarling, charged at the Warthogs, smashing them to pieces beneath his hammer.
The humans, understanding the severity of the situation, divided into two groups. One took cover and sprayed, and shot at the Covenant, while the other group disappeared into the shells of houses. An almost noble tactic, they were sacrificing themselves in the hopes that their comrades would live another day.
It was a brief firefight by most standards, one that Orff and his comrades were victorious in. But not a complete victory, as a majority of the humans had managed to escape the slaughter. The chieftain didn't immediately order the humans to be hunted, more concerned with his wounded pack mates than anything else. The worst off was Gorgon, a youth by any standards, dozens upon dozens of holes in his chest. He lay dead by the time Orff approached. Lazar was struggling to keep Grevus still as he worked, but by the wounds, a gaping hole in his chest, Orff knew it was pointless. And Vanus was missing a hand, sitting on the ground, breathing heavily, cradling the stump that had been taken off by the Warthog turret's shots. The chieftain gave a roar of frustration. He had been hit himself, a singe to his fur, as well as a coating of blood dampening his pelt, some damage to his jaw, but he would survive.
Orff had known the pain of losing a comrade on the field of battle, knew the hatred that boiled inside, even with the promise of a better life after death. When he had lost a brother he had known since his earliest memories, he had nearly killed a nearby Mgalekgolo in a fit of blind rage. It was only that one's partner restraining him and beating him to submission that kept him from soiling his hands with the blood of a comrade. He bore no ill will to that Mgalekgolo, he even felt bad, displaying his lack of control. And though the Mgalekgolo forgave him, he was forever marked with shame. He knew how blinding that anger could be, but he didn't feel that he should be the vent for the chieftain's rage.
Sornelus' fist caught him in the chest, and Orff collapsed. He, his whole species, fancied themselves warriors, fit of body and mind. The best in the universe. He had stood in the path of Mongooses and caught them in the chest, and still had the strength wretch the human off. But the strength of the Jiralhanae was unparallel. He would have gladly taken another clip of a magnum in place of the blow. He was helpless as a stiff kick caught him in the ribs, nagging that stitched wound. He felt himself leave the ground, and waited for the impact that would end his life. Instead he collided with something warm and furry, and realized that Lazar had instinctively caught him.
Lazar set him down, with a disturbing amount of tender care. Thick hands found Orff's chest, taking care of the cracks in the armor. Two thick fingers found the pulse on the Sangheili's neck before he stood back up.
It would be taken as insolence, but Orff arched his neck to the side, he wanted to see the finishing blow, the chieftain bringing down his foot or hammer in undeserving vengeance.
To his surprise, it was the Jiralhanae, Thantus, who was holding Sornelus' cocked fist back. Sornelus didn't immediately realize, but finally he traced the weight on his wrist back to Thantus. He roared, yanking his fist back.
"You challenge me?" the chieftain growled.
"The vermin are escaping and you are wasting time. This is not a colony as you have been told, and we are in danger the longer we linger out here. I will not let any other of the pack fall because of your ignorance. Their blood is on your hands, not the Sangheili's." He growled loudly. "We have more important things to deal with now."
Sornelus snarled. "Domin, bring the wounded back to the ship. See that they are taken care of. Lazar, Cascus, take the Sangheili. Search the east side for survivors. I want no survivors. Thantus, Fenus, come with me. Unggoy, divide yourselves up."
"The survivors aren't hiding in the buildings." Orff stood up. Lazar helped him, and he was in too much pain to shrug away. "These buildings don't exist. They are simply shells. Nothing inside them. Meant to fool any passersby but nothing more."
"What are you suggesting?"
Orff took a deep breath, holding his gut. The flexible armored shell and his own thick, muscular build could only do so much. "In the event of an attack, the humans have been known to retreat to trenches under their towns, shelters I believe they call them." He pointed to the ground. "They are beneath us."
Just a quick PAS. All my anonymous readers, I don't want you to think that I'm ignoring you. I appreciate any support. But may I suggest starting an account and leaving signed reviews. That way I can address any comments or questions you have personally. Again, thank you, and I hope everyone has been enjoying this.