Chapter 9
"By god, it's times like this that I wonder how the hell we ever won the war. Blood loss, massive trauma, burns, I've lost count of how many bullets we've plucked out. But his heart is still pumping, its amazing. He's just still going after all this. And the Helljumpers think their tough S-O-Bs."
"Shut up and help me," the doctor snapped. He was more or less sitting on Lazarus' chest, trying to stop the bleeding from a gaping gash in the collar bone. "Do you want to be the one that tells the major that his pet Brute died on the table?"
Actually, there wasn't a table on the entire station that could sustain the weight of the Jiralhanae. They had sterilized the floor and laid down a dozen plastic tarps to catch the gallons of blood that were pumping out of the wounds. There were no less than six surgeons operating on the Jiralhanae, with three advising, explaining what lead to where, which veins were which and their human equivalencies. It was surprisingly easy actually. Working on other humans required a delicate hand and steady cuts. It was tight work, the slightest knick could end the life. But everything was larger when dealing with the Jiralhanae. Rather than gently dragging a scalpel to open they skin, they had to saw and strain just to open the thick, dense flesh. Someone had suggested using a chainsaw, and at the moment the doctor was seriously considering such a tool. The doctor worked more like a painter, with broad strokes of his scalpel, rather than the delicacy he was accustomed to.
Orff stood a distance away, not making his presence known as he watched the surgeons work. Sangheili despised doctors: creatures who made their patients bleed without honor. Who tore and ripped flesh not in noble battle. Who inflicted suffering to achieve relief, not for glory but for life. Buzz saws and scalpels were their pistols and swords. Failure brought death to the dying. But victory brought life. Orff sighed, useless now, in saving his brother from the jaws of death. He knew nothing. He had to trust these humans.
"He saved my life," Orff said, sensing Kimber had come to his side. Actually it wasn't until she reached up and tapped his elbow that he even realized she was there. She could be quiet as a mouse when she had to be. "Long time ago. One of your Spartans emptied a full clip into my gut. I still got the scar," he said happily, patting his side. "Not from the bullets, from Lazarus' 'medical attention'. But he saved me."
"What will happen to him?"
"Imprisonment. Then public execution. Provided he lives through the next few minutes. They'll probably say he's the new chieftain of the Jiralhanae, Tartarus' son even. It'll be good for morale. They'll make up some story to cover their ass. The planet had a hidden Loyalist base, and Lazarus was working on using the Flood as a weapon against us. That's why the planet had to be destroyed. It will only cement the Alliance's zeal in hunting them down."
The doctor shouted and lifted bloodied hands, giving some order to one of his nurses that Orff didn't understand.
"Did you know that Ameday was going to be executed before they even left the planet?" Orff asked.
KImber shrugged. "I don't know what I knew. I mean, policy is policy, but I figured they would hold off. Or, I don't know. I trusted Jones. And he didn't do it. I guess I did know yours might. I know how yours feel about his. Did you really think he would be given passage? Really Orff, did you?"
"I believed my brethren valued honor."
"He's the enemy," Kimber said with a sort of blankness. "And we aren't supposed to care about the enemy."
Orff looked down to her. The doctor, with his blood spattered apron and paper mask, came up to him. "Major?" he asked. "Your Brute is alive for the moment. He's in pretty bad shape though, needless to say. And none of us are qualified to work on him. We don't know his anatomy, we don't know what drugs his body can tolerate, what would stop his heart. We did the basic stuff, removed the bullets that we could, tied off the open veins, tried to set any bones, treated the burns. Sir, even for a Brute, he's gone through hell. I don't know what is still holding him together."
Orff placed a hand on the doctor's shoulder. In fear, the doctor recoiled, until he realized Orff wasn't going to hurt him. "Thank you, for everything. Have him restrained and move him as soon as he is able. For now, no one gets in aside from myself or the lieutenant. We are the only ones that can authorize access to this area. I'm sorry, but I will have to ask you and your subordinates to leave. I will call you only if I need you."
"Sir, I don't think I have the authority to close off an entire wing."
"Anyone who questions your orders can take the matter up with me."
The doctor saluted, bloodied hand rising to head rag in a salute. "Yes sir."
---
When stabilized, Lazarus was moved to a private area in the cargo hold of the Shadow of Intent. Orff watched over him the entire time, occasionally asking Kimber to go out and fetch him something to eat. When he heard steps behind him, far heavier than his lieutenant's, he drew his sword, expecting to find an eager minor hoping to execute a Jiralhanae. "Shipmaster," Orff said, moving to strict attention.
"At ease," Rtas said. "I am proud of you, brother. You acted with bravery and honor. Your actions saved many of our ally's lives."
"And yet, our brethren have not acted with nobility. You, shipmaster, have not acted with nobility."
"I was made aware of the crime."
"Your men executed a child."
"A child of our enemy," Rtas corrected. "We have both killed human youths. And we have both killed Jiralhanae youths. What is the problem here?"
Orff was ashamed to treat the shipmaster with such hostility. He tried to calm down. "When we still fought the humans, I was intimate with the Jiralhanae, Lazarus' pack to be specific."
"Dozens of our brother's deaths have been attributed to that pack. You wouldn't be here if they had met you in the war."
"I was never a Sangheili in their eyes, and they weren't Jiralhanae in mine. I was bastardized because of my intimacy with them, even as it was my orders from the Council. They were my brothers, and now Lazarus' son has been slain, despite my word. I gave my word and for that Lazarus was willing to give his life."
Rtas sighed. "The Jiralhanae are not the monsters that we have been taught."
"You have known them?"
The shipmaster nodded. "I have, however briefly, and for what Lazarus has done, his execution shall be withheld. If you plan to do something stupid, I can only guarantee it will not end well for either of you."
Orff sighed, sitting back down in the chair, beside Lazarus' bed. The rhythmic whoosh of the respirator and the beep…beep…beep of his pulse.
"Where the men you sent down under orders to execute Ameday?"
"No," Orff said quickly. "They were ordered to confirm that the humans were not infected, we couldn't risk the Flood getting on board this ship." He sighed, frustrated. "I wasn't even aware that there was a Jiralhanae youth amongst the survivors. So, I didn't order them not to kill him. I'm sorry brother. Please, do not anything drastic."
"I will do what I must, shipmaster."
"Right now, the safest place for him to be is on this ship. I can protect him. I can order no one to touch him, put him under the protection of soldiers that I have the utmost trust in."
"Yes shipmaster."
"Please brother," Rtas said, placing both hands on his shoulder. "Just give it time. Are you aware of which of my men are responsible for the crime?"
"Vadum," Orff said. "Prin Vadum, one of your housemen. The humans described him. Also, he's bragging about it. I'm amazed he didn't skin the child as a trophy."
"I will see that he is dealt with."
Orff laughed, long and loud. "Go to the Council with his crime? He'll be promoted to commander."
"Just trust me."
"I'm sorry sir, but I must do what I must."
---
It wasn't for another three days that Lazarus finally woke up. He groaned and spat the respirator out from between his thick lips, stumbling and trying to stand, but he became aware of the restraints at his arms, chest and legs. Thick bindings, and because he was starved and still wounded, he just couldn't bare the thought of moving. He confirmed he wasn't dead however, and casually leaned back, looking to his side at Orff. "You look terrible," he chuckled.
"Haven't slept. Don't trust the humans, or the Sangheili."
Lazarus yawned, the breath washed over Orff, who flinched. "You really hate me, don't you? Or is it your council? Denying me a death in battle. Now I must face your executioners blade before your masses. Why couldn't you just let me die on the planet?"
"You've been given amnesty for your crimes, at least for now. You will remain imprisoned however."
Lazarus idly struggled with his bindings, but they were strong and he was weak. "I doubt you speak the truth. You will never allow one of us to breathe if it can be helped. Where is my son? I would like to see him one last time before my head adorns your shipmaster's wall."
Orff looked down.
"Brother, where is my son?"
"We have a policy."
The meaning of his words wasn't immediately realized, because the monitor beeped rhythmically four times before it started to speed up. Lazarus was struggling with all his might now, straining his bindings and shaking the foundation of his bed, they had at last managed to find one usually reserved for Mgalekgolo. How Orff wished the bindings would snap and Lazarus would kill him, relieve him of this burden. But the bindings held.
---
Prin Vadum was in the mess hall, speaking with some of the human refugees, exchanging war stories. The fact that they were talking about killing their company hardly seemed to faze them. They were interesting creatures, these humans, and he felt a bit of remorse that he had spent so much time hunting them down. Slaughtering them by the masses. Blinded by Truth's lies.
"Prin." He turned to see the red clad major standing in the center of the mess hall. Fists clenched. Mandibles tight. Eyes glaring. Prin stood up, apologizing to the humans before facing Orff.
"You murdered Ameday?" Orff asked.
"I put down a Brute, something you didn't have the stomach to do."
Orff's hand found the blade's handle on his belt. He ignited the sword, and almost immediately the humans scurried away for fear of the inevitable. The Sangheili were less speedy, but they retreated to the farthest wall. Some even took stances ahead of the humans, whether out of respect or for the knowledge of how bad it would look if a human were killed on the Sangheili's fleet's signature ship. Orff dropped the sword to the ground. Prin's fist tightened. "Brother," he said. "Please, don't do this."
Orff growled. "I do what I must."
