CCS Illuminite Elegy, Edge of the System, Teegarden's Star, 02/07/2526
There's the brief moment of gut-churning disorientation as I spin in the zero-g arena. I extend my legs and they briefly touch the ground. My heels click and the soles of my boots latch onto the metal below. I tense my legs, keeping my body from falling forward from the maintained inertia.
Through the left corner of my eye I can see Zoya step up next to me, the shifting of her heavy armor audible as she moves. "Surely that wasn't your best attempt?" she asks, bending down till her head is just above mine.
I ignore her and reexamine the course again. It's in the interior of the Illuminite Elegy, a zero-g course used by rangers to keep their skills up to par. When I first started using the room a couple days ago it was full of rangers trying to keep their skills as honed as possible. Now, with me and a couple other sangheili needing quick EVA training, the room has been vacated for us. And by Zoya's reaction to my training, I must have a lot to learn.
I quietly hiss to myself, trying to quell the discomfort breeding in my stomach, "I'm assuming the results aren't the best."
"Your joke isn't funny."
"It's not meant to be," I straighten my back and turn to face her, "Unfortunately my plan to become a comedian is on hold."
"I'm sure the humans will find that a thoroughly convincing excuse not to shoot you."
"Yeah well, this isn't a firefight. I'm training, I'm learning, now stop complaining," I warily eye the course once more, despite the numerous times I've already gone through it appears as daunting as the first time, "I'm assuming you're gonna tell me to go again."
"And this time put in a minimal amount of effort."
"I'm starting to get the opinion you like watching me suffer."
"It's not an opinion."
"Lovely," I mutter to myself. I click my heels once again and push off the ground. My helmet feeds me information on my suit, a large blue light flashes concurrent with a beep letting me know my suit is fully functional.
My stomach climbs into my throat and I briefly flail my arms as I mentally have to get used to the fact that I'm floating yet again.
"I'm gonna vomit by the end of the day, aren't I?" I mutter to myself, my voice echoing within my helmet.
"Less talking, more doing," Zoya's voice rings through my helmet.
I flex my index finger and mute my comms.
A floating ellipse sits in the center of the room, held in place by artificial gravity fields. I put my hand against the metal, feeling my fingers grip onto the metal, and slowly shimmy my way across the ellipse to the other side. Every movement threatens to send me flying off the ellipse, where I would have to reorient myself and reattach myself to go through the course once again. The numerous scuff marks on my armor tell me not to make the same mistake.
Overall, this is very good for testing your resolve, not very good for the nerves, "Eat your heart out Zoya," I groan as I feel the oncoming signs of a headache.
I push the stray thoughts back to the dark recesses of my mind to think of them later and focus on the course. I probably look like a drowning bird as I go through the courses, with my arms being used more as large magnetic clubs, and my legs doing nothing more than weighing me down. The plasma rifle whines in tandem with my thrusters as I fire it at the glowing targets, the power setting for the weapon turned down so that if I were to somehow hit a person it would give them a nasty burn and not a bad case of death.
As I come back around to finish the course once again I overshoot my speed, bumping into the wall behind Zoya, a good several feet above her, sliding across it and landing on the ground ungracefully a good moment later in front of her disappointed form.
"I'm impressed," Zoya stares at me with the gaze I would expect a mother to give to her petulant child, "You actually managed to do worse."
"Yeah yeah, laugh it all up," I groan, trying my best to massage my arms before they start cramping, "I'm sure that this is just positively hilarious."
"It would be if I didn't know you."
"Would it be so hard to say something nice for once," I groan, leaning against a wall for support, allowing me to look directly at her and continue my coltish annoyance, "Or am I asking too much of you?"
She crosses her arms, and I get the faint impression that she is scowling at me through her helmet, "I don't think that you are taking this very seriously."
"It's kind of difficult when you are constantly spouting sardonic one-liners at me," I groan and push myself off the wall, taking a couple wobbly steps with my thoroughly exhausted legs, "How long until we exit slipspace?"
"You are already looking for excuses to leave?" she exasperates. As much as she tries her best to sound genuinely upset, I get the impression she is enjoying teasing me more than she is enjoying actually teaching me.
"Just tell me the damn time."
She makes an exaggerated motion of her tilting her head and checking a nearby terminal next to the door linked to the ship mainframe, "We're nearing our destination. You probably have enough time to do two more complete trials, provided you don't further deteriorate in skill."
"I'll do it once and call it a day," luckily enough for me, despite her slightly taking over my training she has no formal control over what I do besides the cultural expectation that I listen to her. Is it rude to hold it over her head? Kind of. But at the same time I'm not in the mood to do this any more than I want to.
I once more step over the edge and jump off, ignore how much my body wants to implode and do the course once again.
A couple times I find myself stumbling, but am able to keep myself stable and eventually complete the course, stumbling on the landing pad as I land and almost knocking myself into Zoya.
Somehow my rapt exhaustion made it almost a bit easier, it's a lot harder to mess up when I'm exhausted to the point of hurting to move. Every action has to be deliberate or my body will let me know it's not happy.
I land again, this time forgetting to activity my boots, as a crash into the platform before remembering to attach myself.
Zoya looks down at me, "Congratulations," her tone is condescending, "You went from crippling incompetence to bland mediocrity."
I push myself back onto my feet, "Your kind words fill me with boundless joy."
"In time you should attempt to turn that joy to skill," she taps on the terminal recording some details of our training, "In the meantime you should know that you are still not thinking with your movements. You need to be aware of what you plan to do next when adjusting, lest you find yourself an easy target for an unskilled enemy."
"Yes, please, regale me more in all the stories of how I'm going to die as soon as I get in combat," I tilt my head in her direction and lazily make eye contact with her, "Until then, let me enjoy having intact muscles."
"I offer you advice and you still reject it," she steps past me and the door opens up as she stands inside it, "Your laziness is of your own fault. You seem continually unwilling to strive for self-improvement."
"Yeah, I heard you the first ten times," I step out of the training gym and into the hallway, "If you wanna help, telling me what I'm doing wrong over and over again isn't going to help."
She steps out of the doorway and lets it close behind her, "Yet you lack the will to improve."
There's a deep rumbling throughout the ship, shaking the entire hallway, blurring my vision and causing a loud droning roar in my ear. It only lasts for a second, but by the end I almost forgot why I am here.
I blink, "Looks like the ship disagrees with you," I say.
"Looks like we're actually dropping out of slipspace," Zoya corrects, "And you, once again, give a half-assed excuse to avoid training."
"Man, you must be really invested in my training," I unclip one of the seals in my armor, and let the cold ship air flood the inside of my armor. Damn that's good.
Zoya doesn't respond for just long enough for me to see her lower mandible flutter in confusion of how to respond, "Aha!" I exclaim, "So you do care! I knew it!"
She straightens yourself, "Don't mistake my apathy with endearment."
"Whatever," I wave a hand and, unclasp my helmet, holding it under my arm and grinning at her, "I know the truth now. Big bad dom mommy Zoya has a soft spot for me. Anyways," I absentmindedly rub a finger on a scratch on my helmet, "I'm off to get some rest, see you tomorrow for training, it was fun today."
I step backwards, walking away yet holding my gaze on her. She gives a tired shake of her head at my antics and whispers, "I enjoyed it too. I will see you again."
Through the viewport I can see the now complete and visible image of the human world. As opposed to Blue Sky, which was a growing farming colony where opportunity was abundant, this looks more like a dying industrial world.
The planet itself is tidal locked, with a burning hot desert on the sun-facing end and a frigid glacial wasteland on the other, with a habitable zone just in the middle littered with human settlements, covered with constant raging storms from the extreme temperature difference. Exactly on the equator, a space-elevator reaches into a medium orbit, now non-functional due to our surprise appearance. Nearby the space elevator, in orbit, are numerous gantries looking like the vague shape of a claw, a couple with medium sized asteroids held in its grip for strip mining.
They are numbered, 01, 02, 04, and 05.
In the cosmological sense the asteroid belt in the system is just next door, with the Illuminate Elegy and the supporting ships having to realign to get a better view as soon as we jumped into the system. Had the humans invented some sort of planetary cloaking technique, it would be trivially easy to hide the planet within the asteroid belt.
But, overall, the entire system is in a state of disrepair, in a sense. The rumbling when we exited slipspace wasn't completely normal. To put it bluntly the solar radiation here is far more intense than what would be expected. The rumbling was the pinch fusion reactor having to suddenly increase energy output to the shields to combat the intense radiation. That combined with the thick ozone layer on the planet makes it really difficult to get a consistent reading on the surface.
There is probably a logistics officer aboard the Illuminate Elegy downing as many stimulants as possible to keep up.
Despite everything that's going on in the system, our arrival was definitely expected though, as. Even with our best shipboard sensors it's difficult to find any signs of visible human life planetside. But despite that, and even at the distance, there are fringe remains of human activity.
Precision bombardments will be used, but we just simply don't have the fleet power to solely glass the planet and leave. At least in reasonable time. So, I am once more into the fray. Lovely.
I partially expect Yr to be standing beside me every time I look out the window, maybe making some snide remark at the tenacity of humans in a rather inhospitable world. There's a deep growing pit in my stomach. It never shrinks or vanishes, instead judging my every action with little more than casual disdain. Yet it's becoming a part of me, melting my heart cold.
The Illuminite Elegy shifts and my view changes from the planet to the stars once again.
Enough delaying on my part.
I continue on my path, before I had detoured. The identical hallways of the Illuminate Elegy slowly being mapped out within my mind. The briefing room is near the head of the ship, meaning I have to walk along the central spine of the ship to get there which takes a couple solid cycle-minutes.
Once I get there, the door is already open. The room itself is dimly lit and claustrophobic, the normal curved ceiling that the Covenant loves to use making the room feel like it is watching me.
An ultra stands is already here, standing at the far end of the room next to an offline holographic display. There's another major who undertook EVA training who I barely recognize and Khore, the friend of Zoya who seems to be prodding the other major for conversation.
As I walk in, Khore visibly shifts to face me, obviously recognizing me, his natural ambient defensiveness morphing into hesitant curiosity as he breaks away from the other major. I step on the far side of him, not in the mood to get in an argument.
Not even a couple minutes later the last two sangheili file in. The third major who underwent EVA training and another ranger major.
Without a moment to spare, as soon as the ultra sees us all paying attention he starts, "You have all been made aware of the circumstances in the system, correct?"
General sounds of acknowledgement throughout the room.
"Good, saves me time," the Ultra fiddles with the holographic screen, which turns on a moment later showing the system, "As the Illuminate Elegy secures a foothold on the planet, we need to guarantee that the human space-elevator is not a strategic consideration."
He fiddles with the hologram as it zooms in to the space-elevator. The sleek gray structure nearly blends into the darkness inside the room. There looks to be 3 major floors, an intake for items coming up the elevator, a floor above it that looks to be the largest, most likely the general area, and the one furthest up near the most heavily armored part of the elevator.
"Preliminary scans show heat concentrated here, here and here," the hologram highlights three locations. Two in the center level and one in the armored upper part, "Before we land any significant number of troops we want to guarantee that these heat signatures," he motions with his right hand, "Is not something we need to be afraid of."
He takes a good step back, "As such you are permitted to deal with any problems as you see fit, but you are disallowed to use explosives. I shan't allow any discussion about this, no explosives and that is the final order."
"Should help be required a squadron of banshee will be on standby," the next words out of his mouth are both brutal and uninterested, "But don't expect to return until the mission is complete."
"To the two rangers here, you are in full control of the three squads being sent," his gaze drifts from the rangers to me and the other two majors, "to you three, you have secondary control over the squad. Consider it a learning opportunity."
A grunt of displeasure from one of the other majors, but nothing beyond that.
The ultra walks up to the two fully-fledged rangers, talking to Khore first, "You will land with Vol in what we expect to be the command center. Resistance should be expected, but not feared. Secure control of it and lock down any human communication in or out."
He goes through each person in the room, giving them the details of their mission. The majority of the group is going to the central hub in the elevator, obviously. It's as boring as you would expect, faux interest in the brief from us, while the ultra does his best not to throttle us in boredom.
After everyone else he turns to me.
He walks up to me, and for a bit we stare each other in the eyes. Raised eyes and incessant twitching tells me he's curious about something. He snorts to himself, shaking his head and grabs my arm, pulling me close.
Naturally I try to pull away, but his grip is just tight enough to keep me in place. He snakes his head forward till our heads are side-by-side and his jaws are right next to my ear, in a low voice that betrays the same authority he had a moment ago he whispers, "I don't know what he sees in you. But expect the rest of the briefing later."
And just like that he pulls away as if that had never happened. The rest of the people present stare at me as if I had grown a second head but there is little I can do besides just grin and push it to the side.
The hologram shuts down, "You are leaving immediately. Tardiness will not be accepted. May glory and honor guide your ascension."
And with that the briefing is over. No questions asked, or details clarified beyond that. That would be too easy for the complacent leadership. They simply give and order and see it done, with or without the survival of the people they send.
The armory near the hangar was expectedly busy. Full with unggoy running supplies to and from, while huragok mingle within repairing any faulty gear, and everyone trying to get their gear at the same time causing a bit of a traffic jam. It's the inexorable complications that comes from any system run by a living being, but at the very minimum I can just blend in and no one will care who I am.
I get to the front of the line, the same weapons master I have met a couple times prior who mans the station. He reaches below the desk and grabs my plasma rifle, "Another mission?" he asks.
The plasma rifle shifts in my hand. The grip has been replaced since the last time I used it. It's neat and unmarred, but a trivial portion of me wishes I still had the same worn grip as before. I attach it to my waist and reply, "Supposedly. I'll fill you in on the juicy details if I'm still alive by the end."
"That would be ideal," he replies, eyes locked on me but hands working away to reassemble a plasma pistol.
"Well," I drawl, "Death and I have an odd relationship."
The weaponmaster's gaze passes me just as someone shoves into my back. I swivel in place, ready for some confrontation. Instead I see a minor with his back to me, admonishing a terrified unggoy carrying a crate nearly his size.
The unggoy scampers his way past the minor, to the weaponmaster manning the table. He throws the crate next to the table and races away. The weapons master, hardly even noticing the unggoy's presence, opens the crate, and grabs a plasma grenade.
He holds it up to his eye as if it was a precious jewel, using three of his fingers to slowly rotate it. Once satisfied, he thumbs a hidden button under the plasma grenade. The plasma core starts up, causing the lights dotting the surface of the grenade to flash blue, letting anyone nearby know it's ready to be used.
Several of the sangheili close by take a few steps back.
He turns it off, tosses it in the air like a baseball, catches it in his hand and holds it out to me, "My payment for the next story."
"Thanks," I reflexively respond as I pocket the grenade.
I step to the side, and our talk is over, with him already moving on to the next person in line with celerity only done by someone who really wants the work day to be over.
As I leave the room, the door open for convenience, I come face-to-face with two rangers entering the armory. One is taller, wearing a worn helmet, and the other stands barely below my head, helmetless. The helmetless one is skinny, almost bordering malnourished, having a lot more of a gray complexion common in older sangheili. Yet despite that his youth is entirely evident, supple skin and a glowing complexion denying any questions about his age.
The helmetless one steps around saying a quick, "Excuse me there."
The other helmeted ranger doesn't move, standing just in the perfect spot in the doorway to cover most of it. I do my best to squeeze around him.
He steps in my way again.
I take a step back, "Uh, can I help you?" I question him.
He hesitates, but reaches off and takes off his helmet. The pressure inside leaking out with a sharp hiss. It takes me a second to recognize his face from earlier today, Khore, the sangheili who Zoya seems to hate.
His eyes scan my face and pick up my recognition, "So you do remember me," he hums to himself, "How unexpected is the hand of fate that we should be on the same mission, don't you think?"
I spare a glance at the non-talking friend of his who seems just as bewildered by the sudden conversation as I am.
I turn back to Khore, "I'm gonna stop you there. Whatever problem you have against me, just tell me. I don't want to talk metaphors only to resolve nothing."
He flares his mandibles in twin surprise and amusement, "While I do resent your effortless amiability with Zoya I am also above disregarding you as an individual because of that. As such because I now have a reason to, I want to know who you are. But nevertheless," he gazes around him at the other people having to move around us to get into and out of the armory, "Provided you aren't preoccupied, let us relocate to the hangar so that we can talk."
"Weren't you going to do something in the armory though?" I ask.
Khore turns to his squadmate. The helmetless ranger does a slightly overexaggerated bow of the head and says, "I'll see you two later, save some of the fun for me."
Khore's squadmate heads into the armory leaving Khore staring down at me, "You already have your equipment, would I be correct in saying you're free?"
I shrug, "I have nothing better to do, let's go."
I lead the way, by virtue of being closer to the hangar as Khore follows right behind me. As I walk, he speaks up behind me, "Excited for the mission much?"
"Excited? No," I correct, twisting my head around as I walk so he can hear me, "Apprehensive would be a better word to describe it."
He taps me on the shoulder and I step to the side and face him, "Pardon my question, but what did you and the ultra talk about?"
"It's unimportant, one of his friends knows me, and he was just commenting on it,"I reply.
"Do you know who?"
"No."
"Hmph," Khore grunts to himself, "Regardless, this mission should be easy. Our squad has been together for a while. You'll be in good hands."
"Uh huh," I nod, not quite believing him after witnessing his argument with Zoya. We fall into silence for a brief moment, as we subconsciously pick up our pace. Thinking about it, I haven't met much of Zoya's squad.
"Who else is in the squad?" I ask.
"Hmph," Khore scratches his mandible with a finger, "You just met Tyrh. He's trustworthy and reliable, I imagine you will get along with him. You got me and Zoya. And finally you got the squad leader Brok. He's uh…. An interesting character."
"Good or bad?"
"Neither. He just lives in a fantasy, ignorant of the world around him.
We enter the hangar. It's busy with the imminent invasion, a bustling hub of activity with all different kinds of workers making their way past each other. The coordination is impressive, as unggoy load materials into 4 boarding craft sitting in the hangar. In between the second and third one, however, is Zoya, sitting down as she puts on her armor. Scattered around her are the parts of her armor, easily doubling her body weight when fully worn.
"I see our spot is already taken," Khore notes walking up to Zoya.
Zoya looks up, and I can see her stiffen through the helmet as Khore walks up, which slightly relaxes as I walk up behind him.
"Mind if we wait here?" Khore asks Zoya. It's blunt and rude, saying that he would rather interject on whatever she was doing rather than finding another location. Zoya shoots me a glance. I shrug unsure of what Khore is trying to get out of the situation.
"Go ahead, I was just leaving," Zoya responds, standing up and grabbing her stuff.
"If you would," Khore speaks up, angling himself to make it difficult for Zoya to get around him, "Vol and I were conversing about our team nary a moment ago, I figured you would make a good addition to the conversation while we wait for Tyrh."
"I have no interest in this, leave me be," her tone is sharp as she snaps back at Khore.
Khore steps out of the way letting Zoya past, "Then I will be the one to tell him about our shared childhood." Whatever event he is referring to strikes a nerve in Zoya as she stops in spot and twists back around. Her fingers are twitching with barely kempt rage as she stares at Khore deathly still.
Her next words are dripping with poison, "Maybe I do have a sudden interest in this conversation."
Khore seems slightly too happy with himself as he welcomes Zoya back over to the little circle we are quickly forming. Zoya sits down resting against one of the legs of the boarding craft while Khore stands next to her, "Where was I?" He starts, "Oh yes! Believe it or not, everyone in our squad grew up in the same keep in the same group. So all of us have been friends since we were younglings. Well, more or less," he finishes off that part with a sharp jerk of the head towards Zoya.
"To say we had the same childhood is naive," Zoya adds on only a moment later. Khore twitches. It's almost as if they have a competition between each other, driving them to constantly insult each other.
"You've always been determined to make it so," Khore hisses, raising his tone a moment later as he continues, "But nevertheless, back on topic. Our keep has a famous lineage of rangers. We've been determined since younglings to uphold their mantle, it is our effectiveness that allowed us to remain together."
With the last word in his sentence I expect him to make some quip to Zoya about how he is fracturing their squad. Fortunately enough for my sanity, he doesn't. Instead continuing, "You should consider yourself fortunate, not many get to work with us."
"I'm simply floored," I sarcastically reply.
Zoya speaks up before Khore can, "Don't be," she says, "You will regret this by the mission's end."
"Do you want to participate in this conversation?" Khore accuses her, staring down at her sitting form.
Zoya looks up, slowing her movements as if the effort taken to merely look up at Khore is painful. "You're the one that wanted me here?"
"So you might as well make yourself useful."
I can hear her snap at him with her mandibles through her helmet, "You know what?" she turns to me, "Since you, Khore, want to talk so much about our childhood, let me continue this tale, but from the perspective of a female youngling growing up on the colony Hylde."
She leans back, "You have nothing. You are nothing. The only thing you have is what your society expects of you. Everything you do that they don't want will be met with fierce resistance even from those you think you can trust," she glares at Khore.
Khore snarls back, "And yet here we are, you with everything you've ever wanted, yet still bitter like an overripe fruit and cursing everyone around you."
As I watch their argument I find myself wondering if I should interject, or if I should even just leave. I can't possibly make their argument worse, right? Right?
"Because you think I can just forget the past," Zoya growls.
Khore snaps back, "I expect you to have the maturity to move on."
"But I won't"
"Hey," I finally speak up. Immediately focus shifts from each other to me, as they wonder who dares interrupt their conversation. I do my best to remain composure, "I don't mean to interrupt your argument, but uh, can we not, please?"
The silence that reigns between the three of us makes me hope for a fleeting moment that what I say may have worked. Instead Zoya sputters out a biting laugh, slow and dramatic, "You think words like that can stop Khore?"
"Ever fighting progress I see," Khore makes an exaggerated motion of gazing down to his feet and clicking his mandibles together in disappointment.
Well, I tried being nice. "Dear fucking god," I exasperate, "Don't tell me you brought me into this conversation just to have me witness your argument."
Khore continues, "Look Zoya, you are frustrating poor Vol here."
"I'm sure he will be fine."
It's at this moment I realize that there is nothing I can do to help this argument, and I take a step back and exit it. Everyone nearby has either vacated the area fearing the wrath of an angry post-argument sangheili, or are staying out of curiosity of what the argument is about. It's almost ironic watching them argue, between the veneer of hate they give for each other I can see the remnants of childhood friends enjoying poking fun at each other.
On the other side of the hangar the doors open revealing a san'shyuum who enters the hangar. He strides his way over to us, ignoring the potential threat of a sangheili's ire and stands just close enough to all of us to here him clear his throat.
"Revered Elkh!" Khore smiles, "How pleasant it is to see you. I didn't expect to see you here."
"Ah yes you," Elkh spares him just a moment, dismissively waving his hand letting Khore know that he is not to speak any more. Khore finds Elkh's reaction only more amusing, chucking to himself as Elkh does his best to ignore the ranger's snickers.
Elkh reaches out with a long finger and motions for me to follow him, "Come Vol, we need to talk."
As a formality I nod and reply, "Yes sir." I step out of our little circle and glance back at Zoya and Khore. Despite Elkh managing to have inadvertently stopped their argument I can still see how they are just waiting for the moment to tear into each other again, "Try not to kill each other while I'm gone," I say, hoping somehow that will help.
The impish smile dawning Khore's face tells me everything I need to, "Fuck it, or continue arguing, I don't care anymore."
Elkh is visible to the side just around the boarding pod, using it as an impromptu wall between our conversation and the two arguing sangheili. There's a visible change in Elkh's demeanor as he comes to face me, the cold dismissal of Khore a stark change from the otherwise trustworthy amiability of Elkh now. He's ever so slightly leaning against the boarding pod itself, an attempt to appear as if he is unaided, hiding the fact that he needs the assistance of a gravity belt.
"I didn't know you were friends with Khore," I decide to speak first, a light attempt to wrestle complete control of the conversation away from Elkh.
"I could say the same of you," his words flow smoothly after my sentence, "It seems a bit counterproductive to consign yourself to remedy their inimical nature. Perhaps, if I may suggest. Don't trap yourself in their predicament."
Okay Shakespeare calm down. "You seem like you're in a joyful mood. What do you want?"
He takes in a deep breath as a large drop of sweat beads down his forehead, "Your mission, the one you are about to depart on, I wish you luck."
"Yes," Somehow I get the feeling he didn't come all the way down to tell me that, "And?..."
"Your objective for the mission is being updated."
Here we go, "And you are telling me this why?"
"Because I am the one ordering the change," he inspects his fingers, finding something on them far more interesting than our conversation, "By all means I could have sent a menial to deliver the order, but as a gesture of good faith I thought I would tell you in person."
"And this order comes from the shipmaster?"
"Why is this even a question? I am working in tandem with the shipmaster, everything I say or order comes with his approval. Now," he leans forward from his support on the boarding craft, "If you are done with your incessant questions."
He's obviously hiding something. Why or what, I don't know. There is the frigid feeling creeping up my spine. But the question I am really worrying about, is if he is going to get me killed, or better yet brought before the Covenant as a traitor. Natural curiosity keeps me knowing him, as well as the fact that I don't really have a say in the matter, but I can't shake the feeling I'm walking into a trap that I know is there.
"Go ahead," I bite out.
He reaches into his robe and pulls out an ellipse shaped orb, there's an oblong button he presses. The orb rattles and glows, illuminating a hologram between us two. It's the same space elevator as the briefing I had earlier, Elkh motions to the heat spots with a single finger, "As you know you are to scout here and determine if the human's space elevator is any real strategic threat or not. We thought at first that the heat signatures were humans hoping to weather the storm there, but referencing data we have from other fleets we think that this heat is not humans but a link to the planetbound AI the humans like to use."
"So I go in, destroy the AI, and get out?" I'm testing the limits of what I can get by without getting scolded.
"No," Elkh closes the hologram and returns the ellipse back to his robe, he pulls his hand out with another device in his hand, this one shaped like a large orb with a single rectangular protrusion pointing out, "Take this, courtesy of this ship's 4th Huragok Engineering Team."
He hands it to me, it's surprisingly light, considering the fact it's about the size of a plasma grenade, "I see now, I'm supposed to play a game of catch with the AI."
"You're lucky I like you, lest I find someone with far better manners," he shakes his head in disappointment, "Listen closely. Your new mission is to link this device to the AI on the station. This should give us far easier access to the human's data."
"Are you sure that's a smart idea?" I ask, remembering how much Cortana was able to screw with the Covenant in the games, "With all due respect, of course."
"As I was saying. There is the caveat of the AI. Due to the intense solar radiation affecting our communications it is likely that the AI has a direct link through the space elevator to the station. Tyrh should be part of your squad. He has the expertise required to install the module," Elkh says.
Right. I almost forgot Zoya and Khore are sitting no more than just out of earshot. Hopefully they will be a lot more civilized while we are on the mission.
I shift the baseball-like device in my hand. Elkh continues, "You must have questions, go ahead."
"Just one," I reply, "If this AI is a threat, then why don't we just blow it up from half a system away."
"You mistake the purpose, the AI is largely not a threat."
"Then why do we bother to care?"
"Because it gives us the tools to win the war," he deadpans. He lets it sink in for a moment, but lets out a mischievous grin, "I'm exaggerating… slightly, however the concept still stands. For all we know the location of their homeworld could be within that data, or something else far more important that we simply can't be expected to know."
"You still don't know what's in the info though, right?"
Elkh frowns, "Your duty does not lie in information, but instead in acquiring it. I permit you to ask questions, but I don't need your continued disrespect. I do not lie when I say I will cast you aside and find someone else far more willing to not question me, am I clear?"
Martial upbringing telling me to give him respect clashes with my internal want to be contrary to whatever he says. It perfectly describes my situation, dawdling along without getting anything done and making things needlessly complicated, "My apologies," I respond.
Elkh sniffles and glances around the room, "Good," he grunts to himself, "I await the success of your mission."
"Thanks."
He proceeds to the same door he entered into the hangar, but stops just within range for me to hear him clearly, "And Vol. Do us both a favor. Keep yourself alive."
The boarding craft connects with the space station with a metallic whump. The temperature within the craft rises a couple degrees as it burns a hole through the thick titanium plating of the station. Now a hiss. As the minute pressure difference between the boarding craft and the station equalizes.
The states of the Covenant's boarding crafts have always made me wonder about how effective technological superiority really is. It's nothing more than a really fancy tin can with a welder attached to the end, remote controlled by someone on the Illuminate Elegy. Not to mention the faint residual smell of its previous inhabitants, a mix of unggoy, kig-yar and a couple Sangheili. It's a tool that's expected to break, and as such not much was ever invested in it.
Silence falls within the craft once again. Bated breaths and shuffling that was drowned out by the noise now audible in the quietness.
The boarding craft opens… and nothing.
Zoya groans from in front of me, "I would have expected retaliation," she flexes her shoulders, tapping her armored foot on the ground, "I hope they are laying a trap up ahead, I could use the challenge."
Brok snaps his mandibles from the front of the line, "Enough!" he orders.
Khore whispers from behind me, talking around me and to Zoya, "I, for one, do not encourage degenerate tactics in my enemies."
"Afraid the humans might harm you?," Zoya snaps back.
"Pardon me," Tyrh pokes his head from behind even Khore, joining in the conversation, "Is it me, or has it been far too long since we've been together as a squad?" The question pulls Zoya and Khore away from arguing some more, Khore jumping at the opportunity to appear apathetic to the previous building argument and physically jumping out of the boarding craft.
Khore scratches his neck through the undersuit, stepping out of the way while I exit, "It has been a large sum of time, hasn't it? It has been a couple of months since we last all worked together," he tilts his head towards me, "Minus present company."
"Glad I feel welcomed," I say.
Tyrh gingerly lowers himself to the ground, like all of us before him he scans the room for threats, before judging it safe. What I don't expect is for him to reach up, unclasp his helmet and take it off. He takes in a deep breath, loud enough for me to hear. He sneezes a second later, "Turns out the humans didn't feel welcome in their own creations," he sniffles, putting his helmet back on, "How long has dust been building up?"
The room we dropped into looks something vaguely like a control room. With gray metallic computers set up in concentric rings, and a hologram in the center showing the system in surprising detail. The only things that still seem to be running is the hologram itself, and a couple of the computers which hum and whose screens combat the near pitch darkness of the underlit station.
"They've known we've been coming for a while," I surmise. I walk up to one of the off computers and tap random keys, hoping to turn it on. Nothing happens, "What're the chances they scrubbed everything before we could get here?"
Brok snarls and we silence once again, "If we stopped talking then we could find out. Now let's focus!"
For another moment no one talks. The only real sound being the distant thuds of other squad's footfalls, the faint electrical hum of the control room, and the focused breathing of my squadmates.
Tyrh steps up behind me, his lightweight armor allowing him to move quietly throughout the room, "Don't mind Brok," I can feel Tyrh's breath on the back of my neck through the undersuit, "He's always covered his lack of social elegance with boring directives."
There's a door on the side of the room, facing directly opposite of the door that leads out of the control room. The secondary door is a lot smaller, a place where the average worker wouldn't frequent, doing its best to remain inconspicuous among the clutter without being completely invisible. It should be where the AI is housed.
My simple watching of the door is enough for Brok to understand what it is supposed to be, he motions Zoya over with a hand and tells her and Khore something I can't quite hear from what I am.
I take the moment to pull Tyrh aside, and slide the adaptor that Elkh gave me into his hand, "You know what to do, right?" I ask.
"Of course," he says, "Shouldn't take longer than a moment."
I step into the room, just far enough for a wave of heat to engulf me and make me regret doing this already. Tyrh doesn't care, or doesn't notice, deciding to show off by walking into the sweltering room, next to the AI terminal which stands taller than both of us, and removes a panel, getting into the guts of the computer.
The room itself is tight, barely large enough for both of us to stand in if I am right behind him. It is obviously designed for humans, as the roof hangs just low enough to pick at my claustrophobia, helped by the knowledge of the vacuum of space only a couple feet away.
"You know," he says mid-work, "I was a lot more excited before this mission than I am now."
"That appears to be the running theme."
Tyrh starts, "Yeah well-"
He pulls his hand back suddenly as I see a bright flash of light, "By the gods," he nurses a now electrocuted finger.
I step deeper into the heat, close enough to make sure he isn't actually injured and tease him, "Longer than a moment you say?"
"I think that the human AI isn't happy with me. Shouldn't be a problem for me though," he hums a faint song I'm not quite able to recognize, "I do have to hand it to these humans. They chose the worst possible architectural style for everything, they practically deserve to be wiped out."
"Hilarious."
"I'm serious."
"You are?"
"Absolutely!" he starts, twisting his head to stress his point, "I mean, to an extent. Would they have been in an utopian society where structural design could flourish then maybe the humans wouldn't be in this situation."
"Riveting."
"I know, right?" he works while he talks, "One day, before the chance is lost, I want to have a conversation with one of these humans. To have disobeyed the gods so soundly, I feel there is a good story there, as heretical as it is."
"Do you even know their language?" I ask.
"Do you?" he counters.
"I'm not the one who wants to talk with them." The statement is a complete lie, but I can't help but lap up the delicious irony in the statement.
Before he can respond the entire computer housing this part of the AI turns off for a second, plunging the room into darkness.
"Is that supposed to happen?" I ask.
The lights turn back on, "I pray so," Tyrh mutters.
"Could you not have said anything more encouraging?"
A faint mechanical whir sounds from above the ceiling. I fish my plasma rifle from my waist and step in between the noise and Tyrh just in time for a panel to retreat and a metal form to expand from within. All I need to see is the barrel of a gun before I press the trigger.
The plasma rifle chuffs several times and the turret gets reduced to slag.
Within a moment it's gone, electrical wires spouting sparks from the ceiling. My grip grows clammy as the air becomes thicker around me. The temperature must have climbed a couple of degrees.
Behind me the door opens, I twist around and see Zoya standing there, sending some precious cool air into the room, "I heard gunfire, are you two alright?"
"I didn't think you would care," I drawl.
She tilts her head upwards, giving me a dirty stare, "I need someone to humiliate."
"Aaaand done!" Tyrh audibly claps his mandibles together for his effort, "Should have full access at this point."
I step out of the way, giving him enough room to exit the room, "And no more turrets?" I ask.
"You had a fight without me?" Zoya raises her voice. She grips a plasma rifle in one hand, eager to find something to obliterate.
"No more turrets!" Tyrh declares.
The ceiling whirs once again. I grab Tyrh by his neck, with one hand, and pull him out of the room, as Zoya gleefully takes the opportunity to shoot. Another moment and another cacophony of noise as another automated turret is disposed of.
"You were saying?" I joke, massaging my right arm.
"Whoops," Tyrh gives me a lopsided grin, either choosing to avoid the fact that he could've gotten us killed, or unwillingly ignoring it, "Guess not."
Zoya steps out of the server room, plasma rifle raised high in the air like a prize. In the numerous scratches, dents, and warping of her armor, it's hard to tell if any of her 'trophies' are new. She walks up to us, exuberant at the chance to fight, yet understandably mildly miffed at Tyrh.
"Come on Z," Tyrh exasperates, "You know I work bad in tight spaces. Gimme a nice open field and I can battle the sun."
Zoya lowers her plasma rifle, "You could certainly try," she mocks.
In an instant the entire control room turns on. All the computer screens, as if possessed, turn on the exact same moment as every screen on the wall starts filtering through information. Even with my ability to read English the information scrolling past is just far too quick for me to read.
"What the hell did you do?" I demand from Tyrh.
He raises his hands placatingly, "I did as I was told. Whatever happens at this point is out of my control."
"Just like the turrets?"
"Well, that was different."
The information scrolling down the screens slow down. There must have been a significant backlog which is now finally being filtered through. One of the computers closest to me flashes red. There's a warning.
Warning
Asteroid "77 Acheron" has deviated course by a magnitude of 7.183 Degrees. New trajectory puts it on course with Vulcan.
Should action not be taken "77 Acheron" will impact with Vulcan in ETA: 11:37.09
Degenerate orbit will be achieved in ETA: 10:41.50
Anyone within a 1,143.25 Mile Radius should evacuate immediately and seek shelter.
Warning
"Hey," I say, talking to no one in particular, "Aren't we landing troops on Vulcan right now?"
Tyrh nods, confused as he didn't read the same message I did. "Yes," he replies, "By this point the full scale invasion should be underway."
"Well…" I rub the back of my neck awkwardly. Terh watches as I tap the computer screen, taking control of the hologram in the middle and zooming in on 77 Acheron. On the far end of the asteroid is a distinct artificial construction.
It's human. With big red lettering on the side labeling it 03. And it's slowly propelling the asteroid into the planet.
"Well fuck."
So… I basically had this chapter finished, and then I got the stomach flu and was completely bed ridden for a couple of days. So… this took a bit longer than I expected. There's a lot I want to change with this chapter, but I've reached the point where it's so miniscule that I figured it's better to get this chapter out and start working on the next one.
Beyond that once again we reached another milestone. 300 followers. I honestly didn't think I would reach this milestone until I uploaded this chapter, so thank you again everybody! Not to mention we also got this on the 10th chapter. I didn't expect I'd have made it this far in the story considering the fact this is just a random story idea I've had for a couple of years. But thank you all for reading this story, and I hope y'all continue to like it!
Thank you to Red-Raptor-Writing for proofreading this chapter before I uploaded it. Check out his stuff if you haven't already.
OST for the chapter is: ...con lentitud poderosa - Chris Christodoulou (Risk of Rain 2)
See y'all next time.