Chapter Nine, part one:

0531 hours; Command Station Radiant

'Lygotee checked his carbine, and then the corner. Wherever that Grunt had gotten his intel, it was bloody good. Surveillance from the station had verified that 'Lavuree was alive. Now they were on their way to go and retrieve him, before the Brutes might attempt anything such as interrogation. Not that it would really do them that much good, but it would certainly ruin the Elite unfortunate enough to be the one being interrogated, and since it was 'Lavuree, 'Lygotee had never been more adamant about his retrieval. He owed his life to that warrior far too many times over to so lightly dismiss him when he in turn needed saving.

Strangely, the halls here seemed empty… something the Brutes wouldn't normally allow. They liked to know when company was coming, rather hated surprises… the thought stalled mid-way, and his brain locked up in utter confusion for a moment before his mandibles loosened and he let go a strangled, startled noise.

Coming down the hall was the most terrified looking Brute he had ever seen in his life, running like he had no more go left in him but still too scared to stop even so. Brutes didn't scare, nor panic, not like Unggoy. Yet this one was showing all the signs of a full-blown panic attack, and without a weapon at hand, either the red-code plasma rifles they favored or an RPG with a crude knife on the back, the beast was charging straight for the team of Elites- without slowing, even though they were for the most part in plain sight.

One side was too frightened to care, the other too shocked to realize, and the terrified Brute sailed past them and on down the hall, wheezing and gasping for air as he ran. 'Lygotee's head turned to follow the Brute, until it disappeared around the corner and was out of sight. He blinked, wondering if what he had just seen was real. Looking at his companions, he received a row of equally blank stares.

"What in…?" He muttered, his face wrinkling in an effort to portray his confusion.

"Did you just see what I just saw, Leader?" 'Pohamee asked, disbelief in his voice.

'Lygotee shook himself. "Something happened- something must have, and we need not find out what lest we too go running after that… Brute." He looked down the hall, where it had come from, and frowned. "Caution, brothers…"

"What happened to him??" Another Elite asked, coming back to his senses.

'Lygotee looked back at his recovering team. "I don't know- but considering, I don't think I want to find out." He said, shaking it off.

"Agreed." Two said, at once. The one to the left added, "Do we continue?"

"We must, if we are to find our lost brother. And I, for one, am not deterred from that mission by one frightened Jiralhanae."

The three members of his team all nodded in succession. 'Pohamee, 'Döthumee, and Szęnaqee. Not his real team, barely what he was used to working with… he felt a twinge of pain for the loss of 'Obaulee again, and had to weather it down once more before he turned to face the hall where the Brute had come from, and put one hoof in front of the other.

Once more they moved forward, scanning down adjacent corridors they passed, moving quietly and quickly, but saving their camouflage engine's batteries for when they had penetrated deep enough to need not be seen. The outer patrols they could engage and kill without incident, but just a strike team's worth engaging the heart of the Brute's territory was a dishonorable suicide attempt that had increasingly higher chances of being successful. They were to get 'Lavuree, look at the lay of the place, and get out. Once back behind their own lines, they could use the intel to damage the Jiralhanae's base of operations. But when they did, they would do it with far more warriors and far more firepower.

'Lygotee stopped short when he caught the unmistakable smell of blood- and not just a small stain on the floor, but lots of blood, and it was all fresh. He glanced at his team, but by their expressions he could tell they all smelled it, too. How many bizarre incidents would they come across in a day? Had the Brutes found something, maybe, brought something, with them? 'Lygotee looked ahead again, wondering what exactly he was stepping into when a pair of Grunts waddled around the far corner of the hall followed shortly by another, and then an Elite carrying a fourth, which looked dead.

Why the Elite would carry a dead Grunt was beyond him, but it only took a moment for him to realize he recognized that warrior- even without his armor. 'Lygotee straightened, elation writing itself across his features. "'Rkwa!" Quickly he sprinted the short distance between them, as the Grunts crowded around their hooves and 'Lavuree set the dead body down.

"What happened? What did they do to you? Do you know why you were taken?" 'Lygotee asked, verily all at once. "Are you injured?"

'Lavuree shook his head. "Aside from a few bruises, a light burn… I am well, Leader."

'Lygotee peered curiously at his friend's face. "What in creation happened to your face?"

"I told you, 'Lygotee, I was burned." His tone was oddly formal.

He nodded, then, though he had never seen anyone turn a pasty grey because they had been burned. "Good that you are well… let us leave this foul place before we are overcome with the numbers of the enemy."

'Lygotee gestured at the Elites he had brought with him, but 'Pohamee stood still right where he was even after the other two had moved. 'Lygotee was about to tell him again when he realized what had the warrior glued. Looking back at 'Lavuree, he discovered he had missed what 'Pohamee had not. He paused.

"Your eyes…" 'Pohamee began. "You're…?"

'Lavuree cocked his head. "I admit I have been wearing a face not my own, but follow my logic for a moment; if your skin was the color of white ivory, would you stand the idea of being the easiest thing to spot on the field?"

'Pohamee shook his head. "No. But weren't your eyes black, before?"

'Lygotee couldn't believe what he was hearing. For fifty years he had assumed 'Lavuree was just like all the rest- and come to find out he'd been hiding behind a mask of ink the whole time. "You are albino?"

'Lavuree inclined his head. "I was wearing lenses. I confess myself feeling slightly blind at current for their lack… it is much too bright for anything to focus…"

'Lygotee's mandibles hung undeniably open. "Have I ever truly known you, friend?" He asked.

'Lavuree picked the Unggoy carcass up again, and started walking, getting the group moving by the act and forcing his superior to follow if he meant to hear any replies. "You know me, Leader- I am the same warrior that you have known all along, adaptive, cunning and resourceful as always."

'Lygotee wasn't so sure. "Is there anything else I don't know about you?"

'Lavuree just smiled.

Chapter Nine, part two:

0615 hours; Command Station Radiant

"You are back." The acknowledgement doubled as a greeting, if a muted one, spelling of small appreciations and no real personal gain. Dial didn't care about 'Lavuree so much as that he had not just lost one more of his warriors. The numbers of lost on both sides had reached a statistic in size, and he was not looking forward to adding to it at all even though eventually he must.

Blood could not be shed on only one side of this war. And as much as both might wish it so, neither were delusioned enough to think for a moment that one decisive and swift crushing blow would do the trick. Currently, Dial was more concerned about that ship hanging outside the shield well than any single warrior in his crew compliment.

He didn't really listen to the reply, turning away once he had seen the party enter the chamber whole and unscathed, the quarry as one of their number. He knew 'Lygotee would issue a full report in due time, and he could see to any details then- for right now, he had other things to attend, among the fact that he had no mounted or sheathed cannons in the Radiant's skin. She wasn't built for war, nor was she constructed as a military outpost, and had never been retrofitted with weaponry, as the ships passing her docks regularly were seen as sufficient protection from whatever rogue vessel happed out that far. Trouble was, the only ship in the sector had made its status known as enemy, not defender, and no more of any other kind seemed forthcoming. Dial sighed, feeling a headache borne of frustration coming on.

'Lavuree watched the Supreme Commander depart, aware of the circumstances surrounding his expression but keeping his own opinions to himself. Dial wanted time in silence to try to think- 'Lavuree was content to let him have it. Looking away from the retreating warrior's back, he saw 'Lygotee's and 'Pohamee's faces, looking back. Each wanted to know how he had escaped, but he already knew they would never grant the Grunts any credit, even if he tactfully omitted the parts where he had been planting suggestions in their heads the whole time. While not simple-minded, Unggoy were a simple race, keeping their minds more clear and focused of common mental trash often found in abundant supply in the minds of his fellow Sangheili. They had been more open than his own people, for this reason, to the suggestion he'd given.

Simply put, Unggoy didn't worry about the honor of their forefathers each time they took a breath. Some Sangheili didn't, either, but then, some Sangheili had been banished from society for reasons beyond heresy to the Covenant. The Honor Code had it's own rules to follow, and though 'Lavuree did mind them, he often wondered why so much was left so open- much of the thought patterning around him was built upon implications wrought from interpretation. If he didn't deliberately tune them all out, the noise would be overwhelming- not to mention he would be feeling everything everyone within range was feeling, and the medical ward wasn't that far off.

'Lavuree had enough pain to deal with right now. He looked past his friends, the brothers-at-arms he had worked close beside for fifty years, and scanned the room. Back in armor, he was again comfortable amongst the others, willing to socialize without fear of being caught so exposed again when circumstances demanded he be armed. War was never kind to the unprepared, though he had to admit, many of his own seemed rather dangerous.

Rage flared somewhere to the right, turning his head to see. A cluster of Elites stood at a terminal, reading off the names behind the numbers of the dead. Apparently, someone in the medical chamber that had been raided a few hours before had had connections with those in this one. The crippling emotion was tempered by sorrow; bloodkin. 'Lavuree turned away as the Elite sagged into a seat, his head on a hand. If there was somewhere else he could go, then that place was far preferable to this one.

Determinedly, 'Lavuree started for the door. Not unexpectedly, his teammates followed, carrying with them the as yet unanswered questions. Rkwa 'Lavuree knew neither had spoken, but he already knew what they would ask and which questions they thought more pressing than the others. He had some answers, but was rather disinclined to answer anything at present, even the queries of his own friends. They meant no harm, but at times even they were pressing.

Finally, he paused in a juncture between halls, and looked at the plasma conduits running the length of the pillar in the middle of the circular juncture. Sparkling, reflective flashes of white-hot plasma glinted through the proofing, the whole thing a source of warmth if one felt cold. Right then, though, 'Lavuree felt like he might swelter.

Drawing up beside him, 'Pohamee spoke first. "You have much to share, brother." He mentioned, casually. "The oxygen processing chamber… the medical ward, your escape…"

"What, why, how?" 'Lygotee added. "I don't know where to start. You realize the Supreme Commander has asked to know these things, and I have no answers."

"I do not mean to burden you so." 'Lavuree said, quietly. "Rather I have taken pains to ensure you all remain well and able." He turned his gaze from the conduits to first 'Lygotee, then 'Pohamee. After a wash, mostly to remove the grit gained from the handling the Brutes had given him, the Elite hadn't bothered to reapply any ink and was at current not wearing any tinted lenses. His pale violet eyes shone like two perfectly cut and polished round amethysts, each set into an ivory casting. But it was all organic enough, flesh and blood and bone. 'Pohamee suspected he had paused where he had because the lighting here was dimmer. "As you must know." He added. "The loss of 'Obaulee near to crushed me- I could do nothing, at the exact moment when I wished nothing less than increased ability."

"What are you trying to say, Rkwa?" 'Lygotee asked, tentatively. Suddenly that nagging feeling that something wasn't adding up came back and gnawed at his insides. But this time it was closer akin to what it felt like when he was on the verge of something, and the mystery was about to be solved. If he could just reach that final clue, the puzzle would solve itself.

'Lavuree focused on him. 'Pohamee wasn't sure who to look at- both seemed to know something he did not- but he held his opinions and interjections at bay until he learned what that something was. "I am saying I have kept this from you for far too long. I am saying I could have saved him. I could have kept him alive."

"You? How? You were nearly killed by the same detonation." 'Pohamee objected. "None of us escaped that unscathed- you were pouring more blood than your ancestors owned."

'Lavuree just shook his head, sadly. "I am the same warrior you have always known, but in some ways I am more than I seem." He glanced at 'Pohamee. "You remember what you witnessed when they took me."

'Lygotee looked at 'Pohamee. Suddenly he was the one who was lost in the conversation, as 'Pohamee had never told him what it was that had sent him fleeing from the medical chamber in the ward where 'Lavuree had been taken for care. 'Pohamee nodded, soberly. Whatever had happened, it had not been pleasant. "I still do not know why they wanted you alive."

"I do." 'Lavuree responded. "You see, in the bay where the Jiralhanae had piled their arms and explosives, the leader of them took it upon himself to try his hand at killing 'Lygotee, here."

"I remember that." 'Lygotee said. "I can't really recall what stopped him, though."

"I did." 'Lavuree answered. "I stopped him, and it made him mad. So when he tried to kill me so he could finish you, I had more than I could have handled alone."

"What did you do?" 'Pohamee asked.

"I confused him. Destroyed his sense of direction, and in its place I put fear. It worked, and I won. But the armor he had on was something I'm not familiar with, and it protected him… to an extent. He should have been killed. Any other one would have died, but after an hour he dragged himself from the floor and left the area. What scares me is no one saw him leave- only the evidence that he had gone." 'Lavuree said. "I can touch your mind, 'Pohamee. But there's more than that. When I'm angry… when the agony of injury becomes too much to bear… something else comes to life, and I become capable of touching your body, too. It's never pleasant… even just to watch. Do you understand anything I am trying to say?"

"Touch my body? Okay, something tells me you don't mean with anything in relation to your hands." 'Pohamee began, speculatively. "I've witnessed this… I seem to recall you saved many a mission from compromise by somehow making all the jumpy enemy calm again. Is that what you mean?"

'Lavuree nodded. "It is."

"I understand now," 'Lygotee exclaimed. "Everything that ever happened around me, that I could never explain… it was you, wasn't it? You kept me alive, you're the one that made me sure it wasn't safe even when I couldn't have known, you were what pulled me back when I couldn't move… you were doing it to all of us, weren't you?"

"Yes, Leader."

'Pohamee's eyes grew wide. "By the Rings. Is…?"

'Lavuree nearly laughed, suddenly, though it appeared without any outward prompting. "No, the talent has nothing to do with my physical complexion. Albinism is caused by pigment cells' lack of response to light… my skin does not tan or darken when exposed to certain kinds of radiation, and as a result I had to stay away from the sunlight for lack of natural protection from it."

'Pohamee sputtered for a moment, the question stolen from his maw before he could even speak it.

The revelation of this little fact made 'Lygotee laugh, though. "Caught you on your heels, didn't he, Thin?"

'Pohamee glared unappreciatively at his commanding officer. "Do not mock me, Leader, you would have done nothing different."

"I do not presume to mock anyone, 'Pohamee. You have earned your place, and bled for it like the rest of us. I do, however, find myself at a bit of a loss as to why our friend here has been attempting to hide a very useful attribute." His gaze turned to 'Lavuree. "Does this explain your escape from Brute custody?"

"I tried to reach you, Leader. You don't listen quite as well as you assume. That is why I had Unggoy with me. They listened, and came for me."

His expression turned to astonishment. "One of their number came to us and mentioned you. Are you saying…?"

'Lavuree merely nodded. "Why do you suppose everyone always seems so aggressive and over-reactive?"

"…what?"

"You're used to seeing me. I can't allow the kind of clutter you do and expect to own any kind of focus. I need my calm, Leader, it is imperative to my function." 'Lavuree looked at 'Pohamee. "I suppose my meddling is presumptuous of me, but you appreciate being kept alive, if on a razor's edge, do you not?"

'Pohamee, somewhat stripped of words at present, only nodded. He felt like his brain had locked down. It was nearly impossible to think of little 'Lavuree as the responsible party for all those odd occurrences. The Elite was really no bigger than the kid 'Lygotee had asked for reconnaissance from. Zimivee had struck 'Pohamee as small and skinny at first sight- and that first sight had reminded him when he'd sat next to 'Lavuree how small his own teammate was. 'Pohamee was the largest one of them, at an inch broader and taller than 'Lygotee, but when 'Obaulee had been alive, he and 'Lygotee had been nearly identical in height and breadth. 'Lavuree stood at six feet and ten inches, but looked as good in size as 'Pohamee in that he didn't own a lot of mass- 'Lavuree was skinny top to bottom. The memory of lifting his teammate over his head and throwing him onto an outcropping above them came back to him, then, the first time when the Elite's size had truly come in handy. 'Pohamee could not have lifted 'Lygotee, not like that.

"My constant influence on not just environments but suggestive pushing might have had something to do with your own personal lack of notice. You thought it was you, half the time, and so dismissed any of the rest of it as normal. Didn't you?"

'Lygotee nodded agreement. "I did, at that. Though I swear I thought it was me, with I guess a messed up magnetic field or something, attracting spatial anomalies. It never occurred to me that you were always there, for all of them, even when 'Pohamee and 'Obaulee weren't."

"I agree. But I have to ask- if he thinks it was him, why do I think it was him, too, and not me?" 'Pohamee asked, earning an irked look from 'Lygotee. His expression was of sarcastic gratitude.

'Lavuree cocked his head. "Because most of the time, you minded your own. 'Lygotee needed most of the help."

"Now see here!" 'Lygotee protested, feeling as though he was being labeled as inadequate for the job and incompetent as a warrior. The accusation seemed out of character for 'Lavuree, the one he had always assumed was the most loyal of the bunch. It was an infringement on his honor, though, and he was not about to stand for it, not even from 'Lavuree.

"I did not mean that as…" 'Lavuree began, attempting to make amends, but he trailed off before he even got to the actual apology. His expression twisted.

Alarmed, 'Pohamee looked around hastily, and as a result of his reaction, 'Lygotee did the same. Both reached for their clipped plasma rifles. "What is it?" 'Lygotee asked.

'Lavuree looked at him for a moment, before something muted reached them from up the hall. "They're here." The words were so quiet he almost missed them, but at the introduction of that distant, muted noise, his hearing began to lean toward it, straining to hear it again to identify it. He turned his head again to look at his teammate in query, but at that point, 'Lavuree exploded into motion, flying down the hall at a dead run, plasma rifle in one hand and sword in the other, coming active in a flash of brilliant, hot sharp light. The reflective glow against his armor and skin combined made him look more akin to a vengeful specter than any living warrior.

Without question the other two followed, matching his pace and meeting his flanks with their own swords in their hands. Ahead, the shouts and cries above the din of battle echoed down the hall they were in. Something was about to die, and still others had already fallen, all for the infraction of escaping. Rage and blood-lust combined with agony and the steely calm of the ones with direction. Shutting them all out, 'Lavuree plowed face-first into the maelstrom of bodies, sword and rifle buried in his fists. Brutes were everywhere, but soon they would all be on the floor, repainting it in red.

'Lavuree would see to that.

Chapter Nine, part three:

0645 hours; Command Station Radiant

Blood raced through the air in a brilliant arc. The spray came to rest across the armor of an Elite clad in black, splashing back for the recoil of impact. All motion seemed slow to his senses, but many were those who saw it all the same way. His sword sizzled and spat, searing and cauterizing wounds even as it made them, cutting limbs and heads and deep slices through chest cavities.

Something hard slammed into him from behind, shoving him forward hard and fast, throwing out his swordarm and loosing his grip on his plasma rifle. The former connected with something, bit deep into it, and then came free as the warrior touched the slick floor. He heard the sharp crack of his armor on the hard surface, a sudden intrusive noise distracting him from the din of the fight; screams of pain, cries of rage, oaths exchanged by either side, the sounds of plasma slapping across shields and armor, walls and ceilings, the slapping of blood spraying across out from a vein onto some other surface. Had he been any more aware he might have heard it coagulating.

The fallen Elite dropped onto 'Lavuree slid sideways, twitching. He had been killed instantly by whatever had had him, but the weight had knocked the wind from 'Lavuree. The albino Sangheili twisted, desperate not to be crushed under someone's foot. He wasn't big enough to be saved by strength of mass alone, but even if all it was was another Elite stepping on him, it would leave him quite useless for some time- and that was the last thing he going to allow.

During his twist to be free of his dead fellow, 'Lavuree's sightline came around to view what he had cut when he was pressed down. The shock of realization froze the world, and he stared hard in disbelief until he realized his chest hurt- with the next inhalation of breath he shot to his hooves, clawing 'Lygotee from where he had landed. Static crawled across the warrior's skin as the shield sparkled to life, recharging from depletion. 'Lygotee gurgled something, sinking his own claws into 'Lavuree's arm.

Apart from the fighting at last, 'Lavuree laid his Commander out to see what damage had been done. Though unaimed and haphazard the blow would cause more trouble the longer it was left- which ultimately meant it was fatal. But the fact that the wound had been caused by 'Lavuree's own blade while it rested in his hand added insult to injury all the more- and there was nothing he could do about any of it. 'Lygotee looked up at him, his eyes glazed over long ago. Plasma scoring decorated his armor, sticky violet showing past the plasma burns. He would have survived those- could have even risen, continued to fight. Something had put him in exactly the wrong spot at exactly the wrong time…

'Lavuree felt the buildup, an agonized need to lash out. Rage, shame and pain washed the hallway, overwhelming all sound and individual emotion. Brutes and Elites alike buckled under the enormous stress of pressure when the shockwave hit them, metal and flesh rending equally until the hallway itself bent, cracked and buckled inward, bulging in places and crushed inwards in others. 'Pohamee rolled from the floor before he knew what he was doing, but he knew why in the next instant. His fist connected with a Jiralhanae face, turning it up, and his sword came around at the exposed throat a heartbeat later. He turned into the next rising Brute, felling it with a stab into the lower back where the spine connected with the hip. It dropped, lame, but alive.

The next cut killed it, before a hairy hand clamped on his shoulder and dragged him back, arching over the pointed end of a Jiralhanae blade. It didn't immediately penetrate his armored carcass, but the sound it made grating across the metal he wore made his teeth ache as he twisted up and over, turning his body over the Brute's head. He brought his free hand down on the longer hairs on the crown of it's skull and his swordarm arced around as his bodyweight jerked the Brute's head back. The next Brute caught the severed head in the gut, sailing in hard and fast so it winded him.

'Lygotee blinked, dazed, able to taste his own blood in his mouth, but though the fight had begun to pick back up, he wasn't a part of it. He slowly pressed an elbow to the floor, until he decided he wouldn't be upsetting any pains by moving- rolled over, he picked himself up, aware he had been stabbed by a falling comrade's sword and wondering why the injury was only evident on his armor. Looking back, his gaze was drawn down, and he started at the sight of 'Lavuree, in a heap on the floor, his armor dripping blood not his. For all appearances the warrior appeared perfectly fine- yet he was unresponsive to the fight happening practically on top of him.

There were more Brutes down and more wounded than he remembered, but having no clear recollection of what had transpired, he assumed this merely meant he had been illucid for longer than he had at first thought. Pausing to verify the fallen warrior was alive in fact and not simply appearing as such, 'Lygotee wondered anew what had felled him. "Rest easy, friend. We will take care of these curs." Swiping the sword on the floor next to the albino, 'Lygotee charged back into the fray, determined to kill the Brute that did that to 'Lavuree, whichever one it was, if it wasn't already dead.

He found 'Pohamee and took position at his back even as more Brutes crowded in, firing wild shots of launcher grenades and needles.

Grunts swarmed past his knees, appearing as though out of nowhere, firing back. Needles connected midair, exploded, grenades bounced off the walls and ceiling and detonating on whatever they hit next. 'Lygotee's mandibles snapped open in awe when three of them, the ones in front, lit up just like three squatting Elites might have- they all three had shield engines! And, it seemed, had had them for long enough to know what their limit was. They stood and took as much damage as the shields would usually accept, then began to duck, roll and dodge until there were enough of the little creatures to rush the Jiralhanae front rank like a mass of Flood infection forms.

'Lygotee lowered his sword, and the discarded rifle he had picked up, watching. There was nothing left to shoot at, unless he fancied shooting Grunts. He wondered what exactly had possessed the Unggoy to do that, acting like a fleet of miniature Brutes themselves. It was unheard of, almost, Grunts volunteering into battle that way. Brutes howled and shot random rounds, firing wildly and often into their own. The Unggoy just kept coming, swarming them until they had brought down fully three dozen of the larger creatures. But when it became evident that the Grunts were not going to panic and flee, the Jiralhanae pulled back, to regroup and get shooting distance between themselves and the suddenly dangerous Unggoy.

The sight had even impressed 'Lygotee, instilling a ware of the creatures he had never once before considered respecting. He shared a look with 'Pohamee, then scanned the ranks of scattered Sangheili as they slowly picked themselves up, regathering their wits. There, in the back, behind them all, Unggoy flowing past his ankles, stood a scorched and battered white Elite, standing straight and standing tall, defiant to the universe that sought to bring him down.

'Lygotee felt a grin spread across his features. 'Pohamee looked at him, wondered at the expression, then followed his gaze until he too spotted the lone Sangheili warrior amid the last of the Unggoy that had come. The rest of the Elites all one by one turned, too, to see what they were looking at. Mutterings could be heard from several, as many of them had never seen 'Lavuree without his ink mask before, and they all wondered who this new warrior was, to stand so erect to the press of war and death.

The Brutes had withdrawn; but they still outnumbered the Elites at least four to one, and had not ceded defeat. They would be back, if they were not met in their own territory. 'Lygotee could still feel the injury that had never truly been allowed to heal from the grenade faire the traitorous Unggoy at the airlock had shown them. He hungered for a day of quiet rest, possibly like many of the others, but any lag in the defense or press of attack would only mean they were killed in their sleep, without a fight.

He reactivated his sword, and raised it in salute to his fellow. Throughout the length of the ruined and warped hallway, all the Elites lifted what weapons they had, erupting in a chorus of roars and worts. They had persisted, remained for what that was worth, and survived to fight on. 'Lygotee let his own cry out, adding to the song.

At the far end of the hall, 'Lavuree was smiling despite himself. They had won the battle, if only this one, and he was impressed that any one of them had the strength left to roar so. Just that they could meant a great deal for morale. Exhausted and mentally weary, the change of hatred and pain for elation of victory was a nice one. The brighter, lighter emotion washed past his senses like a breath of fresh air. He had not seen so many determined and happy faces at once since before the influx of Brutes. Let them mock the defeated; some would never see the end of this war. To that end, he doubted he would, either. He was not accustomed to open combat, not on this scale. The sheer supply of enemy to kill was overwhelming, and getting them all killed was a real chore he hadn't counted on.

Somewhere along the way he had always figured they could just poison the lot of them, seal them off wherever they chose to hide, and infect their air. It wasn't the most honorable method, nor would it glorify anyone's house, but it would save countless lives and a terrible lot of trouble as well. Though disinclined to do so, and still weathering down the toll his earlier outburst had taken, he too raised his rifle, and issued forth a deep, enthusiastic wort.

Something with little bitty claws spread a hand on his thigh-armor, getting his attention. Looking down, he realized he recognized the Unggoy begging attention. It was Oahndeet. Behind his methane mask, he was smiling, and of all things at the Elite he was looking at. 'Lavuree smiled back. "Where have you been hiding?"

The Unggoy stepped back, wary of the exchange and unwilling to be that close at hand if he somehow made the Sangheili mad. "We stop Brutes, we drive them back. You alright now, Leader?"

"You did, at that, and I'm impressed. How many of you are here?" 'Lavuree asked, scanning the short sea of faces.

Oahndeet looked around, at his pack-mates and fellow Unggoy. "Plenty are we. Me not take too many, though, more needed for other attack on other places. We needed, Leader, we needed to move, now. You ready?"

'Lavuree sighed, wearily. Of course the Brutes were not narrow-minded enough to think they could make a stand with only one fight in one hallway. He closed his eyes for a moment. "Allow me time to confer with my superior."

"Okay." Oahndeet replied. "I'm with you."

'Lavuree smiled at the smaller creature. "I know. Gather your pack-mates and count heads. I will see if there are many here who can continue." He moved past the Grunt, and through the rest between himself and 'Lygotee. He seemed somehow capable of doing so without stepping on a single one of them, though, wading easily past the crowd even as it began to reverse flow.

"Are you injured?" 'Lygotee asked. "You were unconscious when I left you."

"I am, but it is barely worth the mention. Can you still fight? The Unggoy say they came from another assault in another sector, which leads me to believe that there are probably others. We can seal the doors here and set up alarm trippers if they decided to come back through here."

'Lygotee shared a look with 'Pohamee. Looking back at 'Lavuree, he said, "You have a penchant for garnering armies from the Unggoy, don't you?"

"They are useful and resourceful, sir. I merely don't underestimate their potential as warriors." 'Lavuree explained. "There is no time for debate, however. If we mean to be of assistance to anyone of any creed, we must move now."

"Somehow I doubt I will be much use to anyone…" 'Pohamee admitted. "The muscles around my injury are beginning to cramp."

'Lygotee started at his companion, surprised he would admit such a thing. "It has?"

"…where do we go to meet this other threat?" 'Pohamee asked, of 'Lavuree.

The albino didn't answer, stepping up to the larger Elite instead and meeting his gaze squarely. 'Pohamee's expression turned querulous, but he nor 'Lygotee said anything. 'Pohamee straightened suddenly, as if in revelation, and released an audible breath. "Wow."

"As for where…" 'Lavuree turned to 'Lygotee. "I do not know. You will need to have one of the Unggoy show you the way, Leader."

'Lygotee's expression hovered between distaste of the Grunts' reliability and wonder at what the warrior had just done to 'Pohamee, but he mentioned nothing to either end. Instead he strode after the retreating Unggoy, calling up the other warriors as he passed them. If there was another fight, he would be there, even though he didn't want to. And if he had to call on the Unggoy to show him where, he would, because even though he honestly didn't think that much of them, he understood that 'Lavuree didn't take matters such as these lightly and would not have led him astray.

Still, he wished the annoyingly Grunt-friendly albino would have asked them himself, so he could have heard it from 'Lavuree instead of having to speak with possibly a half a dozen Grunts before finding the one who knew. Some things just had to be so aggravating…

'Pohamee turned to 'Lavuree to ask a question when the warrior turned away, and instead wound up following him instead, going after their squad leader. He noticed as they passed them, that all the other Sangheili were watching 'Lavuree, many of them with their mandibles partly open. But if there had been any mention of a white Elite warrior in some bygone and lost prophecy or tale of old, he had missed it. One by one they all fell in behind the pair, until the whole group was moving.

Somewhere up ahead was 'Lygotee, swimming in Grunts and quite possibly hating every moment of it. 'Lavuree, on the other hand, trailing the last of the Unggoy ranks, seemed to enjoy the flood of little creatures and would on occasion swat the peak of a methane tank just to annoy the wearer- but as soon as the Grunt grumbled about it, it shut up when it turned and realized who had done it. 'Pohamee knew the reaction would not have been the same if it had been him. Something had made an impression on the Unggoy packs involving 'Lavuree, so they humored him better. 'Pohamee just couldn't figure out what that was, though.

When the combined Sangheili and Unggoy arrived at the scene of another fight, it cleaned up quickly and the matter settled so 'Lygotee was able to regroup with his team. Finding them, he took position at 'Lavuree's elbow, wanting to ask more questions but unsure where to start and if now was a good time. The albino spared a moment to touch his eyes, still getting used to working through the blinding glare of the normal lighting in the station's chambers and corridors. He had been wearing the tinted lenses for so long he had gotten used to them being normal- now it was either more starkly detailed or too bright to see much of anything.

Pausing beside a span of transparent duralloy hull, 'Lygotee looked out, spotting the Jiralhanae vessel turning about to face the Radiant's broadside. There was a distinctive fiery luminescence around the nose of the craft, where the main cannon was positioned- but even as it charged the weapon, a compartment on the port aft blew out into vacuum in a brilliant sparkling spray, a speck of glitter too small to identify much beyond the fact it had to be a decompression. The ship listed to starboard, pressed by the impromptu jet, before correcting and accelerating at the station; the gun was cold.

"Oh, no…"

"Don't." 'Lavuree said, sounding distant. "There is nothing you can do about it. You have problems closer to home…"

As if on queue, something heavy and loaded hot exploded at the end of the corridor, opening the walls, ceiling and floor equally. Elites screamed as they were mowed down by the outflung flak, and then broiled by the pursuing fireball. Heat washed over 'Lygotee, distracting him from the window. Taking a carbine from a fallen comrade and stepping over the body, he unloaded the ammunition plug onto a Brute left standing on the other side of the spherical hole. Kig-yar could be seen on the lower floor, but more Brutes peered down from above, squatting to shoot and drop grenades.

'Lavuree flung a few back, even as 'Pohamee and the other Elites mowed down those below. Oahndeet dropped to his belly and shot between their hooves, many of his fellow pack-mates following suit. Battle was bad, but each time fire was returned, it was more likely to hit the Elite's shields than the Grunt shooting from behind them. Needles racing from his ankles got 'Lygotee's attention, and he paused to look down, but he looked up again quickly enough when a launcher grenade buffeted his shields.

"Cleansing flame!" The Sangheili beside him cried. There was no real reason to- the span was far to big to jump, and the cry was meant to allow friendlies mingled with the enemy to get out of the way. But this time, 'Lygotee felt there was never a more appropriate call when applying explosives to this enemy. The Jiralhanae infestation was going to be burned from every corner of the station, and she would be radiant indeed when that happened.