Chapter Ten, part one:
0722 hours; Capital Ship Rampant Generosity
Nearly all of the Engineers had been killed, cut down by crossfire between the pressed Elite duo and the crew of the Rampant Generosity. Mün Gazenee was hiding behind a far-reaching plasma coil, one of the main feeds to the ship's primary engines. He knew Hoku Zimivee was around somewhere very near, but in the heyday he had lost sight of exactly where, and had to keep minding his fire to make sure he didn't harry the poor kid worse than the enemy was.
They had been followed down here, their transparent forms hailed and recognized. Mün could never recall ever having been so badly compromised- but there was no getting out now, not like this. He had butchered his own honor trying to find a way to get Zimivee out with him- now it seemed all such a waste of time. The engines thrummed and the heat increased. Mün looked up, wondering what could possibly be going on, but unable to see anything from where he was. Brutes poured past the bodies of the Engineers, trampling on them uncaring. He sprang from hiding onto one of them, swords at play.
He had trained for this for practically his whole life, or so it felt, and he executed all of them swiftly and without so much as gaining a new injury. His special enhanced shields protected him from blast after blast of overcharge from the Jackals' pistols, but if they kept it up he would run shy of charge far faster than he was used to. A lucky Brute managed to catch him with a stiff right, and it threw him back, but he was up again instantly and cutting the arms from the beast in reply. Its ugly head followed the severed limbs to the floor, before the trunk and legs toppled down. Mün knew there were more, but he couldn't see them, and that worried him.
Brutes had never been subtle, and though they did on occasion take cover from fire, they didn't hide outright to gain advantage like the Sangheili did with their camouflage. It worried him more that he knew they were there despite not being able to see them, as that meant they were sloppy enough to be detected- or they were playing tricks, which was worse still.
He caught a glimpse of Zimivee, racing across the tops of the relay ports, spanning the gaps between them as if it was a solid ramp. His transparent form lit up for an instant with the primed grenade in his hand, but it soon left him, sailing true right into the mass in the middle of the door. Upon explosion, though, it gutted a nearby console, which unfortunately was the primary control for the activation or deactivation of the engine core. And since the ship had begun to move, that meant they were either fleeing the station or going to attack it, rip it to pieces upon discovery that taking it from the Elites was out of the question.
Mün smiled grimly as he cut the last near Brute down, then paused when he realized he had missed something important. Looking back, he spied the fierce glow of the terminal over the main battery containment conduit. Pacing towards it, he studied the information scrolling down. Alarm replaced his former predatory calm, and he bolted from the terminal to the last place he had seen Zimivee.
"Where are you?!" He called.
"Here! What happened?"
How had he gotten behind him? Mün spun on a hoof, and stared up at the younger Elite as he descended the vertical ports on the sides of the secondary plasma feed. Touching the floor, he looked around before letting his gaze rest on Mün. "The Brutes have pointed this ship at the Radiant. Their main weapons systems are down…"
"Yes, I saw to that."
"You what? When?"
Zimivee scratched a mandible, speculatively. "I don't remember."
"Nevermind. Did you hear what I said before I mentioned the weapons?"
Zimivee nodded, offering the Mirratord agent the spent detonator switch. Mün took it, and looked at it.
"They've accelerated to optimal speed." He looked up. "I believe they mean to bury her in the station."
Zimivee's expression twisted. "That's insane! Why would they want to do such a thing? Brutes aren't usually suicidal… or genocidal."
"They evidently suffered a defeat on that station much like here. It may be a poisoning of the well."
"That's not fair. We bled for that place!"
"The whole concept of the poisoned well is to subvert that purpose, Zimivee." Mün replied, quietly. "They don't have honor. They don't want you to keep what you have bled for, nor what you deserve or have earned. Or, for that matter, what was already yours. They can't have it, any of it, and so they altered their plans to ensure you couldn't have it either."
Zimivee sighed, seeming to sag. "I can't keep doing this. I was spent long ago."
Mün lifted his chin. "No. You aren't. If you were, you wouldn't be here, now, still fighting for what you believe. Now would you?"
"It is only an ideal that stirs my limbs to action. And it was all for nothing…"
"No!" Mün struck him a punishing blow. When Zimivee had landed on the floor and curled around the new bruise, gasping winded, he continued. "Nothing you or I have done here these days has been for nothing, and nor shall it be rendered so! I refuse to be so lightly defeated by someone else's ideal. I will fight, I will win, and I will stop them from ever achieving anything close to their goals… any of them."
Zimivee choked for a moment, before gathering his legs beneath him and leaning on a nearby bulkhead to get back on his hooves. "If that mattered so much to you… whoever you are, whatever you are, why do you keep attacking me? I am not your enemy, nor have I ever sought to hinder your progress."
"Your mind is weak, Zimivee. Your very thoughts offend my honor. How dare you think of giving up just because the enemy has switched tactics! I am ashamed of you, and shamed further still to think I must work beside you."
"I am not weak!" Zimivee roared back, suddenly supporting his own weight and throwing it all at Mün. "I fear no enemy! And I swore I would rip this ship to ribbons if I had to to make sure it never harmed that station! You don't even care about them!"
"You're wrong. To think I don't care about my own kind? Wrong. We are a people only because we stand all as one, and we face down whatever is thrown at us." His tone and volume had quieted, calming even as Zimivee had prepared to fight him.
The switch was something he had come to expect, though, used to it by now, and was unconcerned. He let go of the anger invoked by the insult, and crossed his arms. "So what is your plan, mighty Mirratord warrior?"
Mün grimaced. Never there was a more infuriating aspect than to have screwed up royally and blown his cover, then have it rubbed in his face over and over by the very warrior who had caused him to slip. The expression caused Zimivee's to turn speculative, and querulous. He drew a deep breath, wondering for the first time if he could ever return from a mission like this. Casting the thought aside, he began to think more about the situation at hand. "We have to destroy her. Blow her out of the sky… there is no way we could fight our way through the whole crew and into the command chamber in time to stop her from…" His words trailed off as his gaze lifted, following the length of plasma conduit up from the floor. "I have an idea."
Zimivee followed his gaze, then looked back at the agent. "Will that work?"
Mün shook his head. "I don't know. But isn't it worth a try?"
Zimivee spent a moment thinking, then nodded. "Let's start making a mess, then."
Between the two of them, they began to disassemble the engine's feeds, in an effort to get the whole thing to shut down- but the work was taking forever and both understood they were running fast out of time. Finally when the time allotted for deconstruction was over, Zimivee began to think what a fair sized explosive would do in the right spot. Much of the engine was shielded, but where it wasn't was all through the inside of those conduits, especially the coolant, which wouldn't eat whatever was put in it like the plasma would. Turning to see what he had at hand, he realized more Brutes and Jackals had just arrived, and none of them had a small weapon between them.
Just as he was about to look for Mün, the Elite was suddenly introduced to the scene, slashing and slicing the enemy before many of them could even react to his arrival. Zimivee wanted to stay back and watch, fascinated by the fluid, swift motions, but he saw ahead of time that the Brutes had come in with something that looked special for them; he dove down from his perch and ran the height of the conduit cables to the floor, where he raced across to where the thrashing crowd of creatures were. His invisibility made him hard to follow once he activated it, because of the amount of motion swarming around him, but it by no means made him appear to not be there. As a whisper he sailed past and elbowed through the mass, until he reached the other Elite. The moment he broke the circle, he dove down, rolled across the short span of floor, came up on his hooves under the swords, snagged Mün by his armored vest and fired off the repellation cable he had been using to access some of the more lofty attributes of the engine. Right out of the middle of the crowd the two of them jumped, straight up, even as the Brute Captain got close enough to bring his special weapon to bear. Once up as far as they could go, Mün latched onto the surface of the ceiling as Zimivee activated the arm shield he still wore. Needles and grenades bounced from its surface, exploding hard enough to shake his perch.
Mün achieved a new position and reached back for Zimivee, holding to his place with his legs as he did so. Zimivee gave him an arm, deactivated the arm shield long enough to reach the latch cable's dis-engager catch, but he didn't ball up to reach for Mün's position, rather swinging past and under him to the next place over. There, he assessed his situation. Nothing seemed out of place, but when he looked up next he realized Mün's face was less than an inch from his own.
"When we next have time," He was saying, "you will explain to me why you just did that."
"When we next have time," Zimivee answered, "you will thank me for doing that." With those words he pulled away and did a back-flip from his perch, down to ricochet off the top corner of the wall, from there somehow slipping through the tangled mess of looping cables and conduits above those containing plasma, to the small circular plate on top of the topmost vent duct. From there he dropped to the power banks over the maintenance ports in the plasma feeds. Flipping from these, he landed on the main battery containment conduit that fed right into the wall above the new intruder's heads. Mün couldn't close his mouth. The holes he had just slipped through were smaller than Unggoy. Yet nothing stirred in disturbance for the passing.
Finding his own way down, Mün wondered what the kid had in mind, or what he had meant when he had said Mün would thank him later for that impromptu extraction. It took him more time to reach the floor for him than for Zimivee, and it made him feel less than adequate for the situation. The kid was just too good. And it was all borne of desperation and fear. Mün had never seen anyone so terrified before- he knew why, of course. Zimivee knew he was unprepared for this kind of operation, lacking in training and time, without backup or resources, overwhelmed and outnumbered and hunted, he didn't even have the element of surprise, except on small scales like this current instance…
Mün was taken aback himself by what the younger Elite did next; Zimivee rotated to hang under the conduit over the Brute Captain's head. The weapon in that Brute's hands was visible to Mün now, and now he understood what Zimivee had meant. But how Zimivee knew what that thing was remained a mystery. He watched from too far to do anything at all and in a kind of frozen horror as Zimivee dropped right onto that Brute.
He gaped openly when he realized the twit had done it again. Twin brilliant flashes of plasma-fed razor edges appeared blossoming from the Brute's chest. The force of the thrust lifted the beast from his feet and threw him back, severed in half through the ribs. Another Brute dove for the dropped weapon, while still others crowded slashing at the empty space where Zimivee had been. Mün watched as first one Brute ducked its head, then another, then a Jackal flattened to the floor in an exploding spray of gore and blood. Zimivee had just run across their heads to the outer perimeter of the group, but as soon as the Jackal was down, the whole thing broke, Brutes and Jackals scattering all over the room and feeding crevices with fire.
Mün wondered what had happened to Zimivee for a moment, until he appeared suddenly beside him, warping the scene behind him. He held something up. "Get ready to move." He said, quietly.
Mün held up a hand, and felt the familiar touch of his twin single-bladed energy blades' handles. He smiled. "I'll have to get you your own pair someday."
"Something tells me I shouldn't hold my breath." Zimivee responded, before moving away. With an elbow across the back of a Brute's head, he flipped the creature's weapon over its own shoulder before cutting it across the back with the blade on the bottom of the weapon. Disemboweled and rendered lame all at once, the Brute dropped in its tracks howling madly. Zimivee fired all the ammunition he had for the thing at the Brute that had picked up the Captain's weapon, but only killed it when he followed his attack with a burst of plasma from his rifle. A third Brute snatched at the weapon, but Zimivee was already on top of it. He kicked the Brute in the chin, sending it back even as he lashed out with his claws at the eyes of another. Grabbing the weapon, it faded from view, but right as he went to vacate the premises, his vicinity filled to brimming with grenades, both plasma and launcher, but the one that really hit a nerve was the one that slammed hard into the back of his arm, spikes embedding deep through the armor into his muscles, before detonating.
His arm nearly useless, his shields gone and his armor scorched, Zimivee reactivated his arm-shield, fully visible right when he didn't need to be. Fire came from all directions, and the one shield was not enough. Battered and on his knees, Zimivee reached for the activation switch on the weapon he had carefully stolen so it wouldn't get used.
"Forgive me, Mün." He whispered, and pressed it.
Chapter Ten, part two:
0745 hours; Capital Ship Rampant Generosity
Mün extended his left, cut downwards, then turned and his right shot out and stabbed through the face of another. He moved to the beat of his hearts, stepping in tune to an internal rhythm. He had his enemies well in hand until something near to the left exploded loudly. A gap in the Brutes allowed him to see what had happened, and the picture proved grim and devastating.
A cry escaped him, and he dove that direction, swords slashing madly to clear a path to the younger Elite. Zimivee was down, and could not last. Right before Mün would have leapt the gap between them and pulled the kid back from that maelstrom of fire, all sound went suddenly very dead, and an unreal silence pounded the chamber like thunder.
A silent whisper reached him, "Forgive me, Mün." A half second later, the whole room turned white and a shockwave followed the glow. Mün was swept from his hooves, blasted back and down, scraped across the floor and embedded in a pile of crushed Brutes against the far wall. Fire seared across his face, burning so hot and billowing at him so fast his shields could not handle it; even augmented they sputtered and failed inside of three seconds, bathing him in the fury of a sun.
Mün screamed, his skin turned brackish before the final Brute hit, burying him between layers of enemy. Though it hurt to be hit so, he was grateful for the coverage, as now the Brute was catching what he would have endured otherwise. When silence again filled the engine room, Mün peeled the blackened bones of the Brutes from his scorched armor, pushed the broiled remains off his front, and dragged himself to stand though he knew he shouldn't. Pain lanced through his legs as cooked scabs of flesh cracked when he bent them, but he ignored it all as best he could. That explosion had been more than he had counted on. He had seen that kind of weapon before- it was Forerunner, but he had never seen it used. Evidently, he decided, it belonged on a vessel, not in some Brute's hands.
Slowly he staggered across the floor, stepping past the whisper-thin bones of Jackals. Most of them had not made it away before being roasted to nothingness. There were no remains save organic soot within a certain radius, but what he found at the very center surprised him.
Soot-streaked, Zimivee appeared none the worse for wear save the flak embedded in his hide- and the chunk that looked like it had been bitten from the back of one of his arms. Mün sagged to his knees, gasping with lungs that wouldn't assimilate air as efficiently as they used to. He rolled the youth over, took the weapon, and looked at it. To shoot it as a gun it had half the charge left. But the primary blast wave mode would only work one more time.
Mün had an idea.
Tucking the weapon in a hidden corner for later retrieval, he lifted Zimivee and began to carry him from the scene. It took what felt an eternity, but Mün was in a hurry. Down to the seraph bays he went, stepping into the gravity lift of one once he had it active. The bays were clear for reasons unknown, perhaps a lack of personnel, but he wasn't complaining. Once inside, he strapped Zimivee into the copilot's seat, and touched the controls on the bird. Ten minutes later, he rose to leave.
Turning back, he looked at the limp Elite he had come to think of as his protégé. Zimivee had been learning from him, absorbing everything he saw the agent do. There was no other way he could have learned to use Mün's swords. Taking them in hand, Mün looked at them. He wouldn't be needing them anymore, and he had promised he would get a pair for the kid…
Mün set the pair of hilts on the controls, turned and left, exiting the seraph in time to watch it fly out of the bay on autopilot. He raised a hand. "Take good care of them for me, Hoku." He muttered, watching until the little fighter was out of sight. Turning away from the scene, Mün reactivated his camouflage and began the trek back to the engine room. It wasn't far, but he was feeling his injuries despite his dismissal of them before he arrived. Once there, shy of breath and blood and the burned places weeping clear fluid, Mün pried the Forerunner weapon from the hiding place and hooked it on his belt. He began to climb the conduits, until he heard the telltale gurgling of the fluid inside. He wished he had his swords, suddenly, but he was able without them and he knew it.
The door below him opened, and more Brutes filed in, this time with more standard weaponry. Mün looked down at them, but they didn't see him, hanging above their heads on the half-disassembled engine. Taking a breath, he activated his comn. "Nightbird, respond."
Pylori would be annoyed at him, he supposed, but they had been friends, if briefly, and the other agent deserved to know. "This is Nightbird. What happened to you? You sound like the air has a sulfuric content."
Mün smiled. "I am wounded. I will not be coming out. But my mission will be completed. I'm going to blow her, Nightbird. Obtain optimal safe distance…"
"No! Have you lost your mind?? You don't need to kill yourself on this, Mün! Do you hear me? Get out of there, I can shoot her out from here."
Mün shook his head, trying to clear it. "But I'm already dead, Nightbird." If anyone was listening, they could know his name. That was alright. He was dead… but he couldn't give them Pylori, because that member was alive and well and still of good use to the Mirratord. Mün tried to inhale, but it tasted like smoke and he couldn't hardly assimilate any of it. Feeling suffocated, he pulled his helmet off, though he knew it wouldn't help. "I have to do this, Nightbird. I can't let everything be for nothing. I got him out, he'll live… make sure the seraph fighter makes it to the station. He's hurt, might bleed out. Tell the…" He ran out of air, unable to speak further. His body was trying to cough, but he couldn't.
He heard Pylori sigh tiredly. "Goodbye, friend. I will issue a report…you know your oaths. You know what will happen once you are gone."
Mün got in a breath, and with it he began to whisper as he primed the Forerunner weapon once more. "We are the Mirratord. We strike with speed and stealth. Our enemies will not see their deaths. They will not know their fate. In darkness, we will see light. In light, we will see darkness. No matter the location, we will see victory. If we fail, no one will know. Like a ghost, our presence is a mystery. For the honor of the Mirratord."
Pylori whispered back. "For the honor of the Mirratord."
"…don't let them kill him, Raptor. Don't condemn him before you see him…" Mün pushed the weapon down into the conduit through the hole he had made, from which was gushing the coolant. The weapon sank deep, going straight for the engine's main core compartment where the coolant flowed deepest.
Looking back at the floor where the Brutes were, he saw the first one look up to see where the coolant was coming from. Mün felt lightheaded, but the pain had faded. He smiled, pleasantly. They would never see this coming. They would never succeed, would never destroy the station. Lifting Zimivee's detonator switch, he looked at it. "This is… is for you… kid." He wheezed, and pressed it.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Zimivee woke with a start in a rush of agony so overwhelming he couldn't speak. When the pain resided, he realized where he was, and looked immediately for Mün. Not seeing him at first, he tried to turn to see if he were in the back, but fire raced up his arm and stalled the motion. He spent a moment looking at the controls, and trying to steady his breath, going over the last thing he could remember. The engine room came to him clearly, like some nightmare, and he tried again to look for Mün.
"Are you there?" He called, desperate to know he hadn't killed the Elite. Disengaging the straps, he pulled from the seat, and looked into the back of the ship. It would only hold about six people, tops, but he was the only one in it. And there was no where else to look where Mün might hide. Why would he have his camouflage active here? "Mün?" He asked again, of the emptiness.
The ship rocked, bits of hard objects zinging off the hull, turning his attention to the fore again. Taking it off autopilot long enough to turn it about, he saw the last piece- the nose of the craft- of the Rampant Generosity sink into the consuming fireball she was transforming into. Zimivee sat frozen in horror, the light of truth dawning on him even as he tried to deny it. If Mün wasn't aboard, there was only one other place he could be. Zimivee peeled his eyes from the scene, shaken, and stared numbly at the board of controls in front of him. His arm throbbed mercilessly, as did much of the rest of him, so he began by shedding his armor. Digging into the onboard medical supplies, he applied bandage to the worst of his injuries, but left the rest, and sat down in the pilot's seat wearing nothing but his under-suit. It was as full of holes as his armor, but he couldn't remove the flak embedded in the armor without a set of good tools, and much of that flak was sticking out on the inside, where it would irritate him even if it wasn't all on injuries.
His gaze came to rest on two identical items resting on the controls in front of him, and locked there. Mün's swords. Tentatively he reached up, and touched one, running his fingers over their cold metal. It seemed something odd to him, that the agent might leave his most prized possessions here… what had he done? Why had he left them? Zimivee scanned the board, looking away from them.
A single light was on, indicating a recorded message, either from the comn or direct. Wondering what it could contain, Zimivee touched the control to replay it, and sat back to listen as the last sparkling rays from the Rampant Generosity faded from view. She was gone forever, now, and with her was Mün. The autopilot, restored to active, turned him back to the station Radiant once more.
"You must wonder why. I would, were I you. We are not the same, you and I. Yet at the same time, we share more similarities than you might presume. I was like you, once. When I was young and facing down too much on my own. I thought I was special, though… I had the misfortune to be born to a wealthy family, and it made me think I was better than the others. I had privilege. I had everything I wanted, but nothing I needed. You asked me what the Mirratord was… the Mirratord was what made me who I am, what caused my vision to clear. They allowed me to see all my mistakes, and how I could become all I only thought I was. If I had found you while I was younger, before the Mirratord, I would have killed you to mask my own inadequacies. You rose to the challenge, Zimivee, and you made me proud and jealous all at once. You can be so much more than you are. How do you learn so quickly? How do you do what you do, and do it with such grace? The first time I held my swords, I cut myself on them. Many of us do. You never did. You used them like they were a part of you, like you had been using them for longer than even I. I was impressed with your skill and execution, and how quickly you came to ideas and conclusions where others might have slowed or stopped altogether.
"I am honored to have known you, Zimivee. I just wanted you to know that. For all we disagreed… I saw a reflection of myself, when I was your age. But I could only dream of being like you then. You embodied all I wished I was. Do you understand? I want you to erase this after you hear it. The Mirratord are a secret, and I would wish them to remain that way for as long as we might.
"Become what you may, Zimivee, grow and learn, but stay wise in your choices and never stray from whatever it is that guides you. I can only wish I had had such a guidance as yours. As you must by now know, The Brute vessel was destroyed. Yes, if you wondered, I was there. And by the time you hear this, I will have died with her. I did not go lightly, though- do not think me shallow enough to think I would become a martyr of any sort. I am Mirratord, and when I die I cease to exist. I never was. I do not aim to be remembered. But I felt it was necessary for me to explain a few things for you, since you kept me alive for as long as you did. My injuries will kill me even if I do nothing to aid or abet them. I wanted you to have my swords- keep them clean, keep them close and keep them charged. They will serve you well.
"One more thing." The recording went silent for a time, several seconds ticking by in silence. Zimivee looked down at it. "Do not mention me to those aboard the station. I do not want to risk anyone knowing enough to take what you tell them to someone who could hurt our operations. We stay in the shadows for a reason. We are the Mirratord. We strike with speed and stealth. Our enemies will not see their deaths. They will not know their fate. In darkness, we will see light. In light, we will see darkness. No matter the location, we will see victory. If we fail, no one will know. Like a ghost, our presence is a mystery. For the honor of the Mirratord. Goodbye, Zimivee. And take care of yourself."
The recording clicked, signalling its end. Zimivee shook his head, and told the computer to delete it, just as Mün had asked. "You will never cease to be weird, old man." He muttered. "But I thank you for the swords."
Chapter Ten, part three:
0830 hours; Command Station Radiant
'Lavuree was out in front and in plain view when 'Lygotee saw the Elite crumple to the floor, apparently in some sort of fit. In all their years working together, though, he had never known the warrior to ever succumb to such an affliction- and it worried him that somehow some toxin had been introduced somewhere. Past his right 'Pohamee dove forward, charging right through the Brute ranks using all his muscle to shove a path to the convulsing albino. It was good that the current fight was near to finished, better that it had played in favor to the Sangheili, and 'Lygotee was able to meet his teammate at the site of their fallen comrade quickly enough.
'Lavuree had stilled his twitching, by then, and hung limp and gasping in 'Pohamee's arms. "What happened? Are you injured?" 'Lygotee asked, confused by the events.
'Lavuree opened his eyes for a moment, to look at his Commander, and past his labored breath he answered as best he could. "They… they're all… dead. All… of them."
'Lygotee and 'Pohamee shared a look. "What?"
'Lavuree struggled to regain his hooves, but in the end 'Pohamee still had to help. He shook his head, as though dazed, and attempting to clear it. "So many…" He muttered.
"What are you going on about, 'Lavuree?" 'Pohamee asked, keeping one hand on his friend's shoulder to steady him.
'Lavuree rested his face in his hands for a moment, before meeting their gazes. "I apologize… it is just… I am unused to hearing so many… all at once… it becomes too much to shut out, Leader, when they are many. Something happened to that ship… would you not be staggered, sir, if you had heard a thousand voices cry out, and then… silenced? I was unprepared for such…"
"Never mind it, 'Lavuree." 'Lygotee dismissed. "I had not realized… are you saying, by some means, that the vessel the Brutes brought with them has been destroyed?"
'Lavuree only nodded.
'Pohamee swore softly under his breath. "So it was true…"
'Lygotee looked at him oddly. "What was true?"
"You didn't hear word that the Brute's vessel had been infiltrated? They left the docking ring for that very reason, to try to keep us from it. It would seem they failed… I can only imagine how someone was able to destroy the whole vessel from the inside, though. He must be an awesome warrior."
"He wasn't alone."
'Lygotee and 'Pohamee looked down, at 'Lavuree. "Who wasn't?" 'Lygotee asked.
"The warrior of which you speak." 'Lavuree answered. "He wasn't alone. They did it together, but one of them died. He wasn't alone… but he is now."
"Who?" 'Lygotee asked. "Who is it?"
'Lavuree shrugged. "He mourns the loss of his companion… and much is lost in the shadows of grief. You will see soon enough… he will be here, soon."
"I wonder what magic he possesses to have so utterly defeated an entire carrier with only one other at his side." 'Pohamee mused. "I would very much like to meet this great warrior."
'Lavuree smiled at them. "You already have." With those words, the albino Sangheili moved from between them, past the last of the dead Brutes across to and through the rest of the Elites gathered to fight them, and up to the ranks of Unggoy. He surveyed them, looking them over, and each and all stood straight and proud, as if happy to be inspected. Having learned to distinguish them long ago, 'Lavuree was able to pick Oahndeet from the crowd easily enough, and motioned the Grunt forward.
The rest of the Elites watched in wonder as he did as bid, showing no fear and tottering to a stop just inches from 'Lavuree's armored knees. 'Lavuree, oddly enough, squatted to see the Unggoy at his level, resting his arms on his thighs. "How many of you remain?"
Oahndeet tipped his head, thinking. "We plenty, Leader. You no worry. We go and we fight- me no doubt we able still. Where we go now, Leader?"
'Lavuree gave that some thought, but if any Brutes were left living nearby, they were being very quiet. "We may not go anywhere as yet." He decided. "Gather your Grunts, get a head-count, make sure none are missing. I will speak to my Commander, and we will see what happens next."
Oahndeet nodded enthusiastically, and turned away, chittering and barking at the other Grunts, who all seemed just as excited. 'Lavuree straightened, watching for a moment, before turning to see through the gathered Elites to where 'Lygotee and 'Pohamee stood watching. Spanning the group, he counted the questioning looks, the noncomprehensive stares he was getting from most of them. They didn't understand what made the Grunts so cooperative and eager around him, didn't know why he had bothered to treat them like anything more than cannon fodder… and most never would.
'Lavuree started back through them, but 'Lygotee had started moving too, and met him halfway, right in the middle of them all. 'Pohamee, like some kind of hulking bodyguard, wasn't far behind. 'Lavuree waited for his Commander to speak first, but all 'Lygotee did was stare at him, as if trying to peel back a layer of skin with just his eyes. Whatever it was he meant, it wasn't working, but it made 'Lavuree want to squirm, unsure what his superior was getting after. Finally, to break the ice, he ventured to speak. "Leader…?"
'Lygotee tipped his head, speculatively. "What else do you know that we do not? What secrets lie inside you that could help us all?"
'Lavuree frowned, then. "Sir, I resent that accusation. I am not, nor was I ever, privy to the actions of the enemy. I can only tell you what my senses tell me, and only when they tell me. Nothing is withheld, nor is anything premeditated. I haven't any more idea what the Jiralhanae will do next than you, at present." He paused to see if 'Lygotee would rebuke him, but when he didn't, he added, "If you want to ask something of relevance, I will hear it, and give the best answer I know how. But do not presume I already know everything."
'Lygotee nodded, his expression pensive, and looked away. "The Brute Commander is out there somewhere… and he still has some troops to call on." His head swung back, and he locked stares with 'Lavuree. "Do we know where?"
'Lavuree's eyes narrowed, giving 'Pohamee the impression he was either hiding something or attempting to pry their Commander's mind. Neither seemed likely, though, as neither would really help the situation. Besides- what else could he possibly have to hide, after landing a doozey like the one he had on them? If there was anything better, 'Pohamee would have liked to see it. At last, 'Lavuree's expression relaxed, and he appeared to have come upon an answer. Everyone was listening, this time, not just the team. "He isn't close… somewhere… aft." His eyes narrowed again. "Moving, though…"
'Lygotee nodded, satisfied. "And well he should be. Wherever he hides, we will find him and carve him out, along with the last of his wretched Jiralhanae kin!"
A chorus of agreeing worts rose from the gathering of Elites. 'Lygotee nodded to them all. "We shall see the end of this, brothers, do not fear. We have them cornered- and they nolonger have a starship! Our victory is near." He returned his gaze to 'Lavuree, after he was done. "Is there anything else?"
'Lavuree cocked his head. "Just one other thing."
"Let's hear it, then."
"If you challenge him… you will die."
'Lygotee's face wrinkled in disgust. "Who then shall kill him? We certainly will not tolerate his persistence."
"You won't have to." 'Lavuree said. "But though he will die, and by Sangheili hands… those will not be yours. He may come for you, though, considering you escaped him before, and he will want to satisfy his lust for your blood, which was denied him. You mustn't let him, Leader, do not allow him to get close."
'Lygotee snarled at him, and turned away. "I do not aim to die a hero, 'Lavuree. If I am challenged, it is upon my honor to meet that."
"Would you perish needlessly, then, when you could easily rebuke his challenge, and get to watch him die despite?" 'Lavuree asked, quietly.
'Lygotee turned back to his subordinate, and struck him across the head with a fist. "Nothing you say will make me spell my own ruin! Spit upon your own honor if that is what you want to do! Leave mine where it lay, and let me decide what happens to it."
'Pohamee stepped back, alarmed at the sudden odds between friends. He hadn't ever known his Commander to attack one of his own this way, even after trading insults. But 'Lavuree hadn't insulted him; he had merely told him what 'Pohamee had come to think of as a warning based upon a very solid foundation of evidence. 'Lavuree had been right too many times to dismiss him now. Having been half-turned round by the blow, 'Lavuree spent a moment tasting his bloodied mandibles, looking at the floor, before turning his head back to see 'Lygotee.
"Do not presume to believe I mean you ill, Leader." His eyes narrowed. "Never that." 'Pohamee thought for sure there would be a fistfight, following that statement, but all that happened next was 'Lavuree's turn from the scene and departure. The act left 'Lygotee feeling stripped of his position in the conflict, reduced to grime on the floor. All heads turned to follow 'Lavuree's retreat, his back turned on 'Lygotee for what felt like the very first time. He wondered if he had erred, accusing the one warrior he had always counted on of the one thing he shouldn't have- and he wondered suddenly if he had lost that faith.
The empty chill in his chest made him madder, though at himself and not 'Lavuree, but he couldn't bring himself to chase the warrior down and apologize. His gaze found the floor, and lingered there as the crowd of Sangheili dispersed, filing away to other places.
"Three days ago you two would never have fought so, Leader." 'Pohamee's voice found his ear. "But then, three days ago… none of us would have fought so."
'Lygotee looked up to reply, but found him too walking away, leaving the premises. He could only stand there and stare after them all, barely able to believe he had just witnessed his own fall, himself. Was everyone abandoning him? The lonesome feeling he had courted in the Academy crept up behind him, tingling his senses and chilling his bones. Everything he had built since then had begun to crumble at the behest of a single argument. But it hadn't just been that. 'Lygotee knew he had erred when he allowed himself to strike out, should have known what that would get him.
Strangely, the accosted had not struck back. But he knew why, now, knew what made his friend tick. 'Lavuree would never allow anything out of character, but what character that was was not his true one. 'Lygotee had come to that on his own, at the revelation of power. 'Lavuree was hiding something else- it was his nature. He had been keeping things sealed away for so long he didn't know how to be fully open or honest, but though he had revealed to them the first part, there was something else- and no matter what else happened, he was never going to let go of that secret.
That one, last secret.