–41–

Jacen periodically kept looking back over his shoulder. His mind had yet to accept what his eyes kept telling him, an Elite warrior walking among them as an unexpected ally. At any moment, he waited to hear the undeniable sound of the Elite's energy sword to activate and be cut down one by one. But as they advanced through the base, corner by corner, it never happened. The Elite remained in his place in formation, constantly monitoring his surroundings with a pulse carbine at the ready.

Unsettling felt like a gross understatement. He'd never been so close to an Elite before that wasn't trying to kill him. He caught Naomi glancing at him, the look in her eyes a mirror to his own. His mind couldn't keep up with everything: Jasmine being right, Ross saying the war was over, and now an Elite as a possible ally. Fact became stranger than fiction.

The formation came to a stop with Ross raising her hand. She silently peered around the corner for a breath before easing back slowly, waving them close to huddle in.

"We've got a problem. The exit is at the end of the hall, but there's maybe a dozen hostiles. We can't double back. I'm sure they're already looking for us." She leaned forward with a grimace, favoring her left shoulder. "We shoot our way out. No other choice."

Jacen set the policed plasma carbine in his hands against the wall and approached Ross. He gently placed his hand on her back, just above the left shoulder blade and assessed. Ross flinched at his touch.

"It's dislocated," he said. He curled his right hand around her wrist, the left on her bicep. "Try not to scream. Are you ready?"

Ross exhaled. "Yeah, just give me a—"

Jacen jerked her arm forward. Her shoulder popped and Ross sunk her teeth into her lower lip with a muffled yelp. Damon peeked around the corner; the collection of Jackals and Grunts hadn't noticed.

"Feel better?" Jacen asked.

"Ready weapons," Ross deflected. She held up her plasma pistol, hands tight around the handle. "Corporal, where's the vehicle located? We'll need to know where we're going once outside to have a chance."

"I'll have better orientation once we're outside. I'll know."

Ross nodded once. "Good. Take your positions and we'll…"

Adar began walking toward, gently moving Ross from his path. He readied his weapon in his hands and approached the edge of the corner. His head motioned around to face Ross. "Remain."

The Sangheili's armor shimmered in a wink, his active camouflage coating his body until there was only a faint ripple in the air that revealed him. He rounded the corner and began to operate.

The others could only watch as the spectacle unfolded before their eyes. There was an aggressive elegance to the Elite's combat, methodical and surgical. Decades of experience executed.

Adar approached the first Jackal from behind, curled his hand around the back of its head and slammed it into the adjacent wall. The next two Jackals could barely react before twin three-round bursts of plasma bolts burned through them. A volley of plasma filled the corridor in a panic. Adar stepped into a jog, active camouflage deactivated. Plasma rolled over his energy shields on impact. He pushed through, gunning down a pair of Grunts, vented his weapon, and sidestepped an emerald steak from a carbine.

One of the Grunts threw up its hands and began running in the opposite direction. "Oh, my stars; he's loose!"

Adar caught the fleeing from behind, using it as a shield for the incoming fire. Plasma shredded it's torso until Adar threw the smoldering meat at the feet of a firing Jackal. The avian alien stumbled forward, seeing a flash of cerulean light in its eyes before it saw nothing else again. Its severed head rolled across the floor as Adar slashed and gutted through the remaining enemies, leaving dismembered corpses in his wake. He reached the end of the corridor, coming face to face with the last living Banished Jackal. It held up its energy shield, plasma pistol charging up. Adar walked up to the Jackal, looking down. It tried to fire, but Adar grabbed its wrist and angled the overcharged shot over his shoulder. He snatched the Jackal from its feet, breaking arm before running his energy sword through the abdomen. Life vanished from the Jackal's eyes with an open maw and Adar tossed the lifeless body aside.

Damon stepped out from behind cover and surveyed the scene. "Well, damn."

*

The group burst through the doors in a full sprint across the open ground, Damon leading them away from the Banished camp and up the shallow incline of the crater. The M18 was off in the distance, feeling further away than originally thought. Plasma fire rained down on them from the rooftops, scorching the earth around them. A blast came close to Jacen. He staggered, but Naomi caught his fall and shoved him forward.

"Keep moving!" She said, before turning to take a knee and return fire.

The Jackal sniper from afar clipped Naomi's shoulder, sizzling her armor into a smear. She fell back, shouting in expletive-laden pain. The group stopped in their tracks, looking back. Jacen prepared to go back, but Adar placed a forceful hand across his chest.

"Continue," he said.

The Sangheili stomped toward Naomi, firing shots to the snipers as he advanced. He reached down and snatched Naomi to her feet, lifted her around her abdomen, and carried her away as he continued to return fire. His shields flared as rounds struck him, but he turned his back and began running to regroup with the humans.

They arrived at the M18, with Naomi squirming in Adar's vice grip.

"I'm good, buddy," she said. "You can put me down."

Adar let her go and she dropped to the ground like a weighted sack. Naomi grunted on impact. She stood up, flexing her shoulder.

"Thanks, but we need to work on your etiquette."

Adar looked at her wordlessly for a beat before glancing over his shoulder. "We must go."

"Say less." Damon jogged around to the driver's side and yanked the door open. He waved everyone toward him. "C'mon, let's get moving."

Naomi pointed at Adar. "He is not gonna fit in there"

"A tight squeeze, but it'll have to work." Ross opened the passenger and rear cab doors as wide as they could bear and extended her hand inside. "Jacen and Naomi, is it? You're on the outside. Adar, you're middle. Gotta distribute the weight."

"How kind." Naomi grumbled.

She climbed in the rear seat, moving as far over as possible. Adar walked up to the vehicle, seemingly examining the angles in calculation. He gripped the frame and began working his way inside, his armor grating across the metal and leaning the cab to one side. He angled his shoulders to squeeze inside, bumping and scraping the interior as he finally nestled in the seat. He hung his head low and slumped his back, eyes closed in discomfort. Jacen went inside next, sighing at the piece of a seat that Adar managed to leave for him. He fit himself into the space, both he and Naomi having to rest one of their legs over the Adar's to find some form of comfort. Ross, lastly, jumped in the passenger seat and closed the doors.

Damon began to start the engine, but it whined and stalled. He smacked the dashboard. "Piece of junk."

He cut the engine, waited a few minutes, and then started again with his boot revving the gas pedal until it turned over. The engine coughed to life, grumbling and whining. He switched gears and pulled away with a cloud of exhaust in M18's wake.

*

They had driven over an hour at moderate speed away from the Banished camp before it felt safe to assume they weren't being followed. Damon decreased the acceleration, seeing the insatiable junker had already guzzled a fourth of fuel. The supply depot was still another four hours away. He surmised that they'd make it, but with only barely anything in the tank.

Everyone was silent, a word not spoken since leaving the camp. Heads were on a swivel, checking the mirrors to ensure no alien vehicles roared into view in lethal pursuit. Naomi shifted in her seat, crushed by the side of the vehicle and the Elite's bulky armor. He didn't smell particularly nice, rank with a stench of burning leather or tires. There were traces of the smell of blood too, a nauseating smell different from that of humans. A strong, metallic odor with something reminiscent of rotten pumpkins. It would be her reality for another 10 hours.

The Elite hadn't moved. His eyes remained focused in front of him, not a single shift to the left or the right. Jacen hadn't deviated his eyes from the massive alien, keeping him directly in sight. He doubted there was anything he could do if the Elite attempted to kill him, but maybe a knife through the throat would be enough to slow him down.

The collection of morbid thoughts came to an end when Damon began to decelerate.

"I think we're clear. No tails."

Ross leaned forward, glancing at the rearview mirror. "I wouldn't be so sure. Jackals know how to track and keep a good distance. Keep your speed."

"Be that as it may, we can't push the engine much harder—unless you wanna be stranded out here, ma'am." Damon rolled the M18 to a complete stop. "But we need to talk. You dropped a bomb on us back there, and now we're transporting the enemy back to our camp. How do we know what he says is true?"

Ross motioned her mouth as if she was prepared to say something, but seemed to refrain.

Damon geared the vehicle in park, setting his foot off the brake as he shifted his body to face Ross directly. "I need to be able to tell Captain Anderton something when we get back. It has to come from me, not you; because I'll be honest, you come off as compromised."

Ross looked offended. "Excuse me, Corporal?"

"Look at it from our perspective," he said. "As far as I'm concerned, we've crossed more lines than a hopscotch champion. If I came to you and said the war was over, with my source being from the enemy, you'd think I was either insane or a traitor."

"I resent the implication, Corporal."

"Then give me something I can believe. Evidence. Something that shows I'm not bringing the enemy back to our camp under false pretenses to get us all killed. How do we know he's not one of these Banished caught in the middle of a fued?"

Adar slammed his fist in the middle console between Damon and Ross. Jacen and Naomi drew weapons, aimed at either side of his head. "I… am not of the Banished."

Damon held his hand over his sidearm. "Okay, big man, then talk to me. You tell me how you know the war between us is over."

Adar pulled his weighty arm back from the console. His arms rose in unison, removing his helmet and holding it in his lap. The intensity in his eyes gave Damon pause.

"Our fight with the Covenant," Adar began, "will never end among my people until all have been slain where they stand. But in the eyes of humans, your final battle came to an end in your star date of two-five-five-two. I was there with my shipmaster Rtas 'Vadum. Allied with your forces, we prevailed over the Covenant and ended the false prophet Truth by the blade of the Arbiter."

Damon blinked slowly. He briefly looked at Ross before looking back at Adar. "I don't understand a damn thing you just said. The war ended in 2552. When in 2552? Who is the false prophet and who the hell is the Arbiter?"

"All due respect, Corporal, but that intel was incredibly above your pay grade," Ross said. "The Prophet of Truth was one of three individuals that led the Covenant. There were three Prophets: Truth, Regret, and Mercy. We learned of them during the war."

"And what did they prophesy?" Jacen asked.

"Lies," Adar answered.

"The Covenant motivated their troops with the promise of something called the Great Journey. A fancy title to encourage universal genocide," Ross explained. "And to answer your question, this battle happened in December of 2552. Officially, we declared the war over in March of the following year."

Naomi lowered her weapon, casually pointing in the direction of Ross. "And how do you know that? You've been here the same time as we have. We were all dropped here in September of that year, a little after the news about Reach being glassed."

Ross gestured to Adar and nodded.

Adar raised his left arm to chest height, pecking a device on his gauntlet with his elongated fingers. A miniature projection appeared with alien text and images. He swiped through the first sets until he settled on an image of some type of ceremony. A monument was in the background, covered with pictures of soldiers, flowers, boots, and medals. An older man in a crisp, white naval uniform stood in the foreground with soldiers, while an Elite in grey ceremonial armor and fellow Elites by his side were present beside them.

"Your leaders erected this place, in honor of your fallen," Adar said. "Ask what you will. I hide nothing."

"I've seen that old man before," Naomi said. "We used a picture of him as a dart board. I can't call his name."

Ross shook her head. "That's Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood. Show some respect."

Naomi laughed. "Respect is earned, lady. He hasn't done nada for me."

Ross appeared ready for a venomous reply, but Damon intercepted. "It's not worth the argument, ma'am. Trust me." He shifted his focus back to Adar. "If we take you back with us, how do we know you won't kill us? What can you offer?"

"I have no interest in conflict with you," Adar answered. "My only path is to end the Banished. Allow me to tend to my wounds, and then I will finish what I came to finish."

"Not good enough," Damon said. "If you want refuge with us, then we get something in return. Captain Ross said you have a ship and we have people here that need to get home. Help us reestablish contact with our people, then we'll give you all the time you need to heal up and finish your… path."

Adar was silent, holding eye contact with Damon for a beat until he slowly blinked and looked away. His fingers tapped along the sides of his helmet as his mandibles twitched in motion. In time, he took in a strong breath, venting through his nostrils that filled the cab with the an odor.

"Agreed."