Chapter Two: The Alliance
Ashcliff Mountains, New Riviera, Planet Indicative, December 15th, 2552…
I awoke suddenly, bolting upright and instantly falling back in pain. The pain turned into a low hum in my stomach, and hurt like hell. I looked around with my blurry eyes. I couldn't feel neither my legs nor my left arm. I braved a look down, fearing the worst. My legs were fine, but a tube of anesthetic was barring my nerves from receiving pain. My arm, though, was what I had feared. From the forearm forwards was a robotic hand, connected with wires and metal to a healing stump. I heard a low rustle from the outside of the room I was in, which I failed to notice was a corrugated steel shack with medical equipment in it. I looked to the open door to see a figure step in, stooping in the low doorway. The bright sunlight from the outside silhouetted the figure, shrouding it in shadow, but I could tell what it was from its shape. An Elite. I scurried back against the wall, ignoring the deep pain on my arm and my stomach. The Elite flared its mandibles at me and walked closer, being careful not to get too close, because it seemed to know that I was a SPARTAN with superhuman abilities and could kill it easily. But, it also sensed that I could not kill it in my current state without mortally wounding myself. The Elite kneeled before me, ignoring my movements to get away, and held me there, examining my wounds.
"Your injuries will not kill you, and your prosthetic is adjusting to your small human arm. Your stomach wound will heal with this." The Elite pulled out a small pack from his belt, removing a strip covering adhesive. The pack, which I already knew to be some sort of Covenant bandage, was the size of the front of my abdomen, and the Elite gently pressed it on my skin. It had to have been some herbal mix, because I felt immediate relaxation from the torn muscles in my stomach.
"Why have you not killed me yet?" I asked, truly curious as to why the gigantic alien had not murdered me. As was already known from past campaigns across the galaxy, the Covenant never took prisoners, but rather fed them to the Brutes, Jackals, and Skirmishers.
"Because, we Sangheili have learned that our leaders have betrayed us, and that you are not our actual enemy, they just didn't want humanity in their way to destroy all life in the galaxy." The Elite said quickly.
"And so you decide to save the most dangerous enemy to you? A SPARTAN?" I said. It was true, if I were in the Elite's position, I would kill the SPARTAN even if it was on our side for my own personal protection.
"You are our most valuable asset, SPARTAN. Your leaders do not accept us, and the other soldiers of yours we have tried to talk to have gunned us down. You were the only one in a position for us to talk to reasonably." The Elite explained. To be truthful, the Elite sounded genuine. And it all made sense. The ODSTs and Marines on Indicative - hell, even the other SPARTANs - would not know about this inside issue with the Elites, but because I was injured and unconscious, they were able to take care of me and later talk to me without the worry of me pulling out a grenade and rocket launcher and killing them all. And, as I said earlier, I was in no position to make a run for it.
"What did you do to me while I was unconscious?" I said warily, still not wanting to be completely trusting of the eight-foot-tall alien.
"We performed a simple surgery on you to stop from your stomach fluids from damaging the rest of your body and from bleeding out completely. Your stomach is sealed, and your blood vessels will soon be fully healed by the herbal pack I have placed on you. Your skin has been plasma sealed, and the scar will fade in the next few months." The Elite stated, looking upon my wounds once more.
"Well, if I am to speak to your leader or something like that, I must say that I need clothes." I asked, only then realizing that under the thin medical cover, I was completely in the nude. The Elite nodded and stood up, walking to the door and barking to a nearby soldier. The soldier, already knowing he was going to be called upon, nodded and walked to another building, coming out a few seconds later with what looked like a human version of Sangheili Major combat armor.
"In your sleep, we fitted you to an armor set. If you are wearing this armor and donning that helm, you will be seen as apart of the Swords of Sanghelios." The Elite said.
"What happened to 'The Covenant'? Where'd this 'Swords of Sanghelios' come from?"
"With the betrayal of the Prophets, the Sangheili refuse to be looked upon as part of the Covenant, and want to be recognized by our millennia-old military title, the Swords of Sanghelios. Now come, you must get dressed and be fed, the Field Marshal awaits your arrival." The Elite said, holding out the armor, jumpsuit, and helmet to me. I nodded and grabbed the clothing, dressing myself quickly by using the Elite's armor as a guideline for how I should look.
Elite armor was quite simple, and only involved a few very strong magnets and the activation of a plasma core on the back of the armor on the 'hump' of the backplate of the set. The leg armor was much like SPARTAN armor, and only needed to be wrapped around the leg and strapped into place.
"Are you ready, human?" The Elite asked. I looked up after sliding into the left boot of the armor, complete with the two-toed section on the Sangheili foot.
"Yes." I said, still eyeing the large warrior carefully, looking for any out of place movements.
The Field Marshal's tent was on the opposite side of the clearing, guarded at the entrance by two Honor Guards holding Energy Staves. They looked at me and growled softly as the Elite led me into the purple-tinged tent. The Elite waved the two guards off, and pushed open the fabric flap of the tent, pushing me gently inside by the small of my back.
"I see, 'Sacleous, you have brought the great warrior you speak of." An Elite said from the center of the room. This Elite was taller than the one next to me - who I also think is 'Sacleous - by over a foot, and wore the elaborate, glowing armor of an Elite Field Marshal.
"I have. He is here to speak with you about his new… conditions." 'Sacleous replied officially, looking down at me at the last part. I raised an eyebrow, but shrugged off my doubt and stepped forwards.
"Zachary Reynards, SPARTAN Commander of the Three-Twelfth ODST Special Forces Battalion." I said, looking the giant Elite in the eye.
"Mizume 'Zehirae, Field Marshal of the former Fleet of Persistent Solidarity." The Elite replied, his stiff stance softening for a split second. "I trust that 'Sacleous explained what happened while you were unconscious?"
"Yes, I did explain about the betrayal."
"The good-for-nothing Prophets that we believed in with our lives destroyed our trust in a single day when the Brutes sided with the Prophets and began murdering our brothers!" 'Zehirae exclaimed, clenching his fist in anger.
"And, although my people may think me betraying them, I will help you." I said. I had already made up my mind on this matter before it even came up. I had been in a situation like this before, back when I still was in training on Reach, and I knew what the consequences would be if the UNSC found out about me helping an alien race responsible for the killings of over a trillion human beings, but I knew what they were going through in a way.
"Are you sure? We all know that if you went back, you would be executed. Your honor and legacy would be tarnished forever. You would be branded as a traitor."
"I know."
"You know? Well, if you're going to truly help us, I guess I must bring you with me to where you are really needed." 'Zehirae announced, walking past me to the guards outside, speaking quickly in Sangheili to them. The guards nodded and yelled to an Elite pilot sitting next to a Phantom dropship. The pilot jumped up and ran into the Phantom, preparing it for launch quickly. It rose off the ground slowly, and the side doors opened outwards.
"You will be brought to the flagship in orbit, and transported to the planet Therisalli, the Swords of Sanghelios staging world." 'Sacleous said to me quietly. I nodded in understanding. He turned to me and grabbed me by the shoulder. "You will also need these on your travels." From his magnetic back clamp, 'Sacleous pulled off a Carbine and Energy Sword, handing them to me. I accepted the gifts and nodded.
"Thank you."
"It should not be seen as an act of thanks, but as an act of honor between men." 'Sacleous said to me, pushing me towards Mizume and stepping back into the tent. The Field Marshal waited for me halfway between the tent and the Phantom.
"I see he has supplied you with weapons. I will trust you not to kill me, but if you do, just know that my men will stop at nothing to find you." 'Zehirae said, looking at me closely. I said nothing, but he knew that I understood. We boarded the Phantom quickly, and it lifted off.
Ashcliff City, City Center, December 12th, 2552…
"Zachary!" I yelled. I watched as an Elite Ultra plunged an Energy Sword into the SPARTAN Commando's abdomen, throwing him to the side and charging into battle again. I fired at it with my M6J furiously, downing its shields and pelting its armor with bullets. During this, I failed to notice an Elite Zealot pulling SPARTAN Reynards' body off of the battlefield and into a Spectre, quickly driving off down an alleyway. I fired at the oncoming Grunts and Jackals, and threw a grenade at a large group of them.
A Marine Sergeant led a charge against the Covenant flank, coming up from behind to surprise the Covenant soldiers. But suddenly, the Brute Chieftan defending the other Sangheili in the team put a hand to his helmet comm, nodded, and turned on the Elites, smashing his Gravity Hammer down on his Elite brethren, killing all of them at once with the gravity blast from the specialized hammer. The Grunts and Jackals also knew what was happening, and suddenly, the battle became very one-sided, and the Elites made their escape, running into buildings and taking Ghosts and speeding away.
After the Elites were gone, the battle was won easily, but I still wondered why the Brutes, Grunts, and Jackals had suddenly turned on their superiors, superiors who, as had been seen in countless battles before, ruled over their underlings with an iron fist.