Finally, the order came to pack up, and that whatever was in the glacier was unreachable and most likely smashed beyond usefulness at this point. Since the object was beyond reach, the area was scheduled to be glassed immediately. I helped the rest of the camp pack up the crates and get them into a phantom, then I walked over to where Nima lay and hoisted him up on my shoulder. I made my way to the phantom and sat him down against the back wall. I sat down next to him and waited for the ship to take off. The hour long flight into orbit seemed more like a decade. Nima slipped back into consciousness and started muttering something incoherently into space. Finally we docked with the 'Regretful Transcendence' and I prepared to exit the phantom. I lifted Nima, still muttering to himself, back onto my shoulder and found another wall to lean him against so I could call Undi. I hit the button on my wristguard and she picked up on her end.
"Yes?"
"Hey, Undi. It's me again."
"Hello. It is good to hear from you."
"It's nice to hear from you too. You're a doctor, right?"
Silence from the other end.
*Shit, I forgot about what elites think of doctors. How're you going to get out of this one, dumbass?*
"No, I do not carry that... dishonorable title. But yes, I DO have some medical experience. Are you hurt?", she said. My relief was palpable.
"I'll be fine, but my friend is unconscious. He got hit in the leg with a throwing knife and lost quite a bit of blood. I already bandaged the wound. Any ideas?"
"It always seems to be an emergency with you, R'tik. We should probably wake him up. I have an emergency medical kit in my office, let me retrieve it."
I heard some rustling and a thunk on the other end.
"There are bandages and defibrillator here, but nothing to wake him up... You will have to take him to an infirmary."
"Alright," I sighed. "I think there's one nearby. I'll take him there."
August 26th, 2552, 12:57 AM On board the 'Regretful Transcendence'
In orbit over Planet Reach If there was one word I could use to describe my short time in a covenant infirmary, it would probably be 'haunting.' The injured soldiers here were either barely conscious, writhing in pain, or unmoving. Some were even lying in small pools of their own blood. Even those who the attendants (I refused to call them medics. Medics heal people, these 'attendants' clearly had no intention of doing anything of the sort.) had bothered to bandage up clearly needed their bandages changed. The heavy stench of death and infection hung in the air, completely overpowering everything else. Screams of agony and low, pained groans were the predominant sounds. I was directed by one of the sangheili attendants to an empty, bloodstained cot in a corner. I laid him there and asked the attendant,
"Is there anything that can be done for him?" The attendant simply shrugged and replied with an indifferent "He will be taken care of," and simply walked off. I looked back to Nima, lying there on the cot. I really didn't have any other options other than to leave him here. His low rank and the circumstances would probably work against him here, not to mention the horrid conditions. There were injured Zealots and Generals here. Chances were, they would be tended to first, the urgency of their treatment was greater than that of a minor.
After a minute of contemplation, I heard a small whimper behind me. I turned and saw a grunt huddled in a corner whose carapace and meager chest armor were cracked open. The only thing that kept his organs from being dumped onto the floor was a length of rope clumsily tied around his chest and around his methane tank. At least Nima was guaranteed some kind of attention. This grunt was likely to die here, alone and in agony.
And no one would care.
I wanted to say something to him, something to perhaps cheer him up and distract him from the pain, but what was there to say? "It's going to be okay" was a blatant lie. So instead, I turned to him and squatted down to be eye level with him. He whimpered again and scooted further into his corner.
"P-please don't hurt me," he squeaked.
"No, I just wanted to thank you," I said, in my most calming tone. The grunt seemed very confused by this.
"Thank for what? Me no do anything."
"For your sacrifice. How'd you get hurt? That looks pretty painful." The grunt winced and shook his head.
"Me get stepped on by elite. Me playing dead behind cover. A little too well. He think I dead and used me to jump over." He leaned his head to see around my shoulder to look at Nima. "Me pretty sure he did it. Not his fault me play dead really good, though. Me forgive."
I nodded and stood up as one of the attendants walked towards me carrying a large piece of equipment with several holo-screens on it. He sat it down and removed a data pad from the side the device. Without even looking at me he asked,
"What happened to him?"
"One of the humans threw a knife at him. It hit him in his thigh. He lost a lot of blood," I replied. He held the data pad over Nima's head until it beeped twice, at which point he put it back into the larger machine and looked at the holo screen.
"Heart rates normal... He seems to be breathing normally... Minimal brain activity..." He turned to me. "He's unconscious. He'll wake up sooner or later. I'll send him out of here as soon as he's up." I was then ushered out of the infirmary and was promised that I'd be the first to know when Nima regained consciousness. Not really knowing what to do with myself, I decided to go to my quarters and take a well-deserved nap.
August 26, 2552, 2:33 PM On board the 'Regretful Transcendence' in orbit over planet Reach I was rudely awakened a loud beep coming from my data pad, a message tone to be exact. I groggily reached out to the stool that served as my bedside table to see what was so goddamn important that it was necessary to interrupt my nap. I grabbed the data pad, sat up, and opened the message, which was marked as being urgent.
*I guess that explains the excessive loudness,* I thought to myself.
The message read:
'R'tik Remamee,
Congratulations on your success in slaying a demon, as well as your numerous other achievements in gaining glory on the battlefield. Your efforts have paid off, and the Committee of Promotion here on the 'Regretful Transcendence' has decided that you are more than deserving of a promotion.
Please report to the Promotions office to receive the authorization, then go to the armory to receive your new gear.
I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors, Ultra.
Sincerely,
Kaidon and Shipmaster Rekk Mizinee'
I really did not need to be reminded of most of that, especially the fact that I killed Kat... But a promotion... It would be very strange for a sangheili, especially one of my low status and rank to refuse one. It would be like seeing a starving hobo refuse a sandwich. So, I decided I had better accept it.
August 26, 2552 3:00 PM On board the 'Regretful Transcendence' in orbit over planet Reach As I was walking to the promotions office, which was located towards the front of the battlecruiser, within a minute's walk of the bridge, I thought about some if the consequences of taking this promotion. I would most likely be put in charge of a small squad. Hardly a position of great power.
*Maybe Sremm will finally shut his fucking mouth about how 'beneath him' I am.* I had seen how he acted around sangheili who outranked him. They were the only ones he would even bother listening to, let alone actually cooperate with. I smirked at the prospect of seeing Sremm's gigantic ego take a hit.
I arrived at the office and stood in front of the automatic door to open it. Directly inside was a desk with a middle-aged sangheili sitting behind it, typing away at a terminal with an incredibly bored look on his face. He noticed me walk in and swung his chair around to face me.
"Name?" He asked.
"R'tik Remamee."
"And I'm assuming that you are requesting a promotion?", he asked. Clearly, I wasn't the first young minor to walk through those doors with a self-confident grin on his face.
"Actually, I received a message earlier telling me to come here. It was signed by the shipmaster himself."
"And I am an uggunoy!", he retorted as he swung his chair back around to face his computer. "I will see if what you say is the truth. I trust you know the punishment for faking a promotion letter."
"Of course." No I didn't.
He began typing again. A few minutes later, he spoke again.
"Well, it seems you were being truthful about your promotion. And by the Gods, what an advancement! You are being promoted straight to Ultra! Your new armor should be ready by tomorrow."
I turned to leave, but he stopped me by asking,
"What act of glory could you possibly have committed for such a jump in rank?"
"I, uh... I slew a Demon."
"Wh- how?" His surprise and awe were overwhelming.
"I'd rather not talk about it."
"For what reason? Surely you would want to relive the memory."
*Ugh! Why did I say that? Excuses, think of Excuses!*
"The memory is tainted," I said, " by the deaths of many brothers..."
"Ah... I see. I apologize." He replied.
I nodded and walked out the door.