Chapter Two: Trau Fac
September 8, 2565 (UNSC Calendar)
Vancouver City, Earth, Sol System
My reaction was indescribable. At first I wasn't willing to believe it.
"Is this some kind of joke Martha?" I asked my secretary. She's pulled pranks on me in the past, even outside of April 1st.
"No, if you look, it's signed by the company's PR director," she pointed out. Indeed, the note from the shipping company in which this Kig-Yar trader was one of two joint-proprietors was genuine enough. There was also another surprise. Trau Fac - the Kig-Yar co-proprietor - had expressed his desire to meet with me at his home on Byzantium.
The gravity of all this hit me as I leaned back in my press office chair. I tried to keep calm as I took in all the implications of the revelation I'd just received. A relic from a major event in my past, from the day my world burned, had turned up in the hands of a Kig-Yar.
I tried to tell myself that a good deal of what I'd read in that letter was not a surprise. The Jackals are well-known for scavenging anything and everything, including stolen material. A huge variety of ships, weapons and equipment, UNSC and Covenant alike, has frequently been found in the stores of Kig-Yar traders. They have a reputation as the Orion Arm's most proficient scrap merchants. That the Scheherazade was in the hands of one of them could be a massive coincidence. The stolen yacht could have passed through many owners and black markets over the past decade before being purchased by this company.
At the same time, the most obvious yet fanciful thought wouldn't go away; could this Kig-Yar trader, living safely on a prosperous outer-colony and making a success of himself in the present, have been one of those that held my family, my neighbours and I at gunpoint back in '52? Had he been the one who allowed us to live, only to leave us behind while making off with the plunder? Was such an even bigger coincidence possible?
I tried to dismiss this thought as soon as it came - the odds against it being reality were astronomical - but it would not go away. Even if this individual had not been one of the Kig-Yar present that day, he likely knew something about where his acquired ship had come from. Whoever he was, I had some questions to ask him. The most personal and pressing of which was obvious; how did he get hold of that ship?
I began to consider the possibility of meeting this trader, and thought hard about what our meeting would be like. Could I trust myself not to fly into a rage, or even want to kill him? I still had memories of my planet being burned. Whether he had been one of those who spared us or not, he was still likely part of the military force that destroyed my home. He owned the vessel that was meant to have been a lifeboat for my family and neighbours - that had been stolen from us.
Even as a journalist - part of a profession that is supposedly meant to be objective - I am still just another human being with very human emotions that cannot always be controlled. Still, I knew I would have to try, as I had done in the past when talking with other former Covenant servicemen. Even then, it had been a challenge.
It was another surprise that he would even want to meet me – most ex-Covenant war veterans, including the Kig-Yar, were still lukewarm at best when it came to discussing their experiences with Humans. There was every possibility that if he was secretly involved in piracy as well as trading, he might take me hostage for ransom.
Yet in spite of all those risks and fears, I finally decided that, for the sake of my profession - and for the sake of my own coming to terms with the past - I had to go through with this. After a long period of negotiation, I gained tacit approval from my editor.
There were still clear security concerns, though, and as such I made the utmost preparation for this trip. I hired two personal bodyguards, made travel arrangements, secured my financing, readied my recording equipment, obtained a translation device and contacted the company run by the Kig-Yar trader in question, whose name I soon learnt. I let him know I would be coming as soon as my preparations began - and I would give him prior communication of my visit before setting out.
After nearly three weeks of preparation, I set out on my quest and made my way to the spaceport in Vancouver. I boarded a flight for Byzantium, obtaining a ticket for the Hymen's Torch, the first of the new Fireflash-class space-liners. These ships are capable of reaching distant star systems in just over a day, thanks to their Forerunner-derived slipspace drives. As it happened, our flight to Byzantium took two days. My bodyguards followed closely.
September 28, 2565 (UNSC Calendar)
Byzantium, Thracia System
Like it's ancient namesake, the outer colony of Byzantium - first settled seventy years before the Harvest first contact of 2525 - is a true sight to behold.
It is a temperate world, with a mostly sub-tropical climate comparable to the Mediterranean on Earth, and a life-bearing surface consisting of a single continent and numerous islands scattered in a vast global ocean. There are no large moons - but the planet is ringed by a vast asteroid field, containing floating rocks of all shapes and sizes. Navigating through these to the planet's surface requires skilled and cautious piloting. As such, all pilots who travel this route are of the highest standard, and ours was no exception.
Just as the capital of Constantinople was shielded for centuries by massive double walls and a naturally defensive position, the colony possesses a strong natural defence further strengthened by fortification. The vast ring of asteroids surrounding its lush, pristine form, further fortified over the past two decades by UNSC bases fitted with mass drivers and missile pods, ensures the protection from Jiralhanae raiders, Kig-Yar and Human pirates, Sangheili fundamentalist groups, Human insurrectionists and other dangers that continue to plague Human and Sangheili colonies alike.
The UNSC presence was also installed with other motivations in mind - even before the Great War, Byzantium had long been on the list of Outer Colonies with sympathies towards the Insurrection. Though that often-forgotten inter-human conflict never reached the level it did in the Thracia System that it did elsewhere, the reputation of the UEG here is lukewarm at best.
The fear of a Venezia-style declaration of independence was always paramount in the minds of Earth's immediate post-war administration. As such, Byzantium was one of the many Outer Colonies which were offered the carrot of greater self-rule after the war, while receiving a beefed-up military presence to prevent secession. This arrangement was accepted, and has remained to this day.
Such a declaration of independence with so many potential Kig-Yar arms dealers, coming in the wake of Venezian secession, was too unacceptable for the UNSC to contemplate. It is no coincidence that - following the non-aggression treaty signed between the UEG and the independent quasi-government of Venezia - a similar arrangement was made with that world, leading to the establishment of a Naval monitoring station which remains in the Qab system to this day.
Another feature in common with the capital of Byzantium, the ancient city of Constantinople, is that within these great fortifications lies a prosperous, cosmopolitan society, located at a strategic position between different worlds. The Y'Deio system lies no more than a dozen light years away - and the closest inner colonies not much further than that. As a result, the planet has become a major hub of trade between Human and Kig-Yar - this relationship can be very visibly seen as one passes through the planet's asteroid field.
It was very clear to me, that day in September, as I looked out of the window of the Hymen's Torch on approach to the planet.
Here, I could see the crooked, jagged forms of Kig-Yar structures very clearly alongside both UNSC military and Byzantine civilian structures. The species has millennia of experience in colonising asteroids (the T'Vaoan subspecies has its origins on one such formation), and this is very noticeable in Byzantium's orbit. Non-human architecture - both of the modern, mass-produced Covenant style and more traditional, cobbled-together Kig-Yar designs - lies alongside the functional, utilitarian forms familiar for residents of the UEG colony worlds.
The Kig-Yar have long since founded their own colonies in the numerous asteroids of the Thracia system, and these are often interlinked with their human counterparts via docking systems. Ships clearly of Kig-Yar - particularly T'Vaoan - design can be seen openly docking with the orbital starports, and operating together with both colonial and UNSC ships. Asteroid mines operated by both Earth-based corporations and Eayn-based commerce guilds are the most common meeting places of the two cultures in Byzantium's orbit.
In addition, Kig-Yar militias - whose origins far pre-date the Covenant era - are almost fully integrated into the Byzantine colonial guard, assisting both the autonomous planetary authorities and the UNSC in anti-piracy, planetary protection and counter-terrorist operations. I caught sight of one such operation on our approach.
Peering through my passenger window, I could see a UNSC frigate approaching what looked to be a privately-owned light freighter of typical design - a propulsion/command pod attached by an umbilical and magnetic couplings to a cargo container ten-times the size - that was being suspiciously hasty about departing this area.
Sheltering alongside the larger Human warship was a small, rust-coloured Kig-Yar shuttle. It was of a squat, ugly design, a far cry from the elegance of a Phantom transport or any other mainstream Covenant vessel. Judging from its size, it could probably hold no more than six passengers.
In this scenario, however, they were no doubt armed; the small umbilical fixed to the craft's side betrayed the fact that this particular variant of a mass-produced shuttle design was designed as a boarding craft.
The frigate - a Paris-class vessel, the name on the side identifying it as the UNSC Wellington - closed with the suspect freighter in less than thirty seconds. The targeted craft attempted to turn and flee, clearly ignoring the radio warnings being broadcast by her pursuers. But before it could do so, the frigate took action - to the my own shock and those of my fellow passengers - by sending a short salvo of autocannon fire from its point-defence guns, which struck the engines at the command and propulsion module with pin-point accuracy.
The engines blew up on contact with the lethal tracer fire, the gouts of flame that erupted disappearing as quickly as they came in the vacuum, while a small debris field began to disperse in the weightless space. The rest of the vessel, however, including the pressurized section of the propulsion pod and the much larger attached cargo container, remained intact. Throughout our own vessel, I could hear passengers gasping, giving cries and profane exclamations of surprise - and shockingly enough, even cheering with victory.
It was at this point that the Kig-Yar boarding craft moved in, crossing the space to the crippled target in just over a minute. I saw it dock at the pressurized cargo container, but after that point the engagement was obscured by a passing asteroid. I learned later that the freighter was owned by an arms trader suspected and found to be supplying weaponry to the Covenant remnants, as well as Insurrectionist groups. A whole stash of such weaponry was found in the hold, and its crew were apprehended by T'Vaoan commandoes from the boarding shuttle.
The operation I had witnessed was considered routine by the local defence forces. There could be no clearer sign of the success of inter-species integration on Byzantium - and on most other outer colony worlds.
Our passenger craft descended effortlessly through the atmosphere towards the surface of the blue-green planet and arrived in the airspace of Dyrrachium, the planetary capital, located on the Western Coast of the sole continent, Epirus. To the west of the capital lies the vast expanse of the global Belissarian ocean, and numerous island chains; most of which are home to farms, fishing ports, mining operations, or have been left untouched for tourists and holidaymakers.
Dyrrachium is a coastal city, making it an aquatic port as well as a spaceport. Minos Haven, where the capital is located, is a natural anchorage, with imposing high cliffs lining much of the inside of the bay as well as the outside. Around the city-side of the haven however, these cliffs give way to sandy beaches and the piers, promenades and port facilities of the harbor.
The city itself is an expanding metropolis, its dramatic growth over the past dozen years fuelled by both human and non-human immigration. This expansion can very clearly be seen from the air, in the form of sprawling suburbs and outskirts. The city contains the majority of Byzantium's planetary population of over 500,000, roughly three-quarters. Another 100,000 live in Thessalonica, the colony's second city which has rapidly emerged further south down the coast, while the rest live in numerous tiny settlements scattered throughout the islands, as well as on farming and fishing settlements in the lush green strip that covers the west coast of Epirus. The rest of the interior of this supercontinent is dominated by harsh deserts and mountains, settled only by a few isolated, often unmanned mining platforms extracting various ore deposits.
An estimated twenty percent of Byzantium's population is non-human, and though the overwhelming majority of Dyrrachium's architecture is of human design, non-human buildings have since arrived and are proudly shown on the colony's travel brochure. Some of the large, domed, purple-coloured structures which were designed by the Covenant as mass-production pre-fabs can be seen on approach to the spaceport.
Upon landing at the spaceport, the diversity of docked craft can be plainly seen - UEG civilian starliner transports, privately owned freighters, Kig-Yar shuttles and transport ships, Phantoms and Spirits (most of which looked to re-purposed as civil freighters). These were also interspersed with Pelicans, Albatrosses and even an old Condor dropship, all of which looked to be in-use with the Byzantine Colonial Guard as well as the UNSC garrison.
I took in the scene for a few minutes until the announcement came from the captain in the cockpit that all passengers were free to disembark. I shouldered my rucksack, left my seat and strode down the aisle, my hired bodyguards keeping close behind me.
After passing through the tedious process of baggage collection and customs checks (I did not fail to notice the jaundiced look that appeared on the face of the customs officer upon hearing I was from Earth), my bodyguards and I made our way out of the spaceport entrance, where our pre-arranged minivan taxi waited.
As the minivan drove us to the Hotel, I continued to note the visible and incredible diversity of Byzantium. Alongside human pedestrians, Kig-Yar are the most prominent non-humans that are immediately noticeable. Individuals of all three sub-species can be seen here - though they are not alone. Unggoy - now a common sight in most UEG colonies with an alien immigrant population - also walk the streets relatively unmolested.
This latter fact is unusual, given the large Kig-Yar population on this planet and the fact that Unggoy immigrants are frequently easy targets for Human supremacists. Many racially-motivated riots, murders and terrorist attacks by groups such as Sapien Sunrise have been directed against Unggoy, due to the large proportion of that species among Covenant asylum seekers, as well as their high birth-rate. Just last month, a crowded Unggoy home on Sigma Octanus was firebombed, killing several families of immigrant workers.
This incident received the usual ritual media condemnation, but it is just one of many incidents that illustrate the powerful xenophobic feeling within both Terran and Colonial society. It is also indicative of the tragic fact that, after hundreds of years of near-slavery and regular discrimination under the Covenant, most Unggoy now find that little has changed for them, caught between Human, Sangheili and Kig-Yar racism.
Here though, they enjoy reasonably better tolerance than elsewhere - in spite of the usual tension with the Kig-Yar. Other species that can be seen include the lesser known races of the fringe sectors of the former Covenant Empire; Yonhet, Pinata and Varuni are all known to call this world home. Even a few Sangheili and Jiralhanae can be found here - most of them off-world traders or mercenaries - and their imposing forms often resulting in other races giving them a wide berth.
The diversity of pedestrians on the streets is also reflected in the alien architecture of certain quarters of the city. As mentioned, human buildings still dominate Dyrrachium - the familiar glass, metal and concrete towers rule the skyline around the city centre.
Yet as we passed through the Kig-Yar quarter (we chose a hotel close to there, for practical reasons), I was blown away. We had stopped in the middle of a traffic jam, and our windows were open - and the first thing I noticed was the strong, salty aroma wafting into our car.
"Get a load of our birdlife," the taxi driver grunted, jerking his thumb out of the right side window. "They've got their nests all over the damn place."
I followed his gesture - and laid my eyes on one of the largest alien communities on any UEG colony world.
Non-human buildings had sprung up among their Terran counterparts - not simply the familiar indigo, crimson and violet-coloured spires and domes, but also the architecture and urban layout that was clearly traditional to Eayn. Here lay narrow streets and lanes, the main streets just wide enough for vehicles to pass through, lined with plasma torches that looked to be of native Eayn style, made of carved yellow wood rather than the purple metal of Covenant constructs. There were some signs of the human roads that had once had this space to themselves - including the one our Taxi was on - but they had long since been swallowed up in the sprawl of immigration.
The vehicles that travelled these cobbled streets were even more fascinating. There were hovercars and speeders that appeared to be miniaturised in order to fit in the narrow Kig-Yar lanes - they reminded me of the bubble cars still popular in Mediterranean Europe. They had probably been manufactured in Covenant factories for Kig-Yar tastes, and clearly fit easily in their cities. They included van-like creations as well as personnel transporters.
However, these were few and far between, probably as a result of the Covenant's collapse. Alongside these were more primitive vehicles; bizarre half-tracks with fronts that resembled a moped or snow mobile, supported by anti-grav units or even wheels at the front and treads at the back. The driver stood as he piloted the track-mobile, gripping the handles. In the rear there was a space for passengers and cargo. I could see whole families - parents driving, often with chicks strapped in behind them - winding through the streets in these things as the chugs and buzzes of their engines filled the air. It seemed to be a indigenous Kig-Yar design, rather than a Covenant creation, and it was by far the most common.
Keeping the contrast between high-tech and medieval, the modern powered vehicles shared the lanes with animal drawn wagons and carriages. These were pulled by strong, stocky, beasts of burden with tusks and horns that I could not identify. However, the taxi driver informed me they were native to this world and already domesticated by humans - the first alien settlers had just simply followed the local practices. There were even some carts hauled solely by Kig-Yar - strong T'Vaoans pulling the handles behind them, like rickshaw men on Earth.
Between the crowded streets stood stacked, almost nest-like structures of polished wood, wattle, daub, grey mud bricks and building material more commonly associated with modern human buildings, which had obviously been pilfered. Most were covered with vine-like plants - some sporting beautiful, alien flowers - that were clearly introduced from the Kig-Yar homeworld. The same applied to the many human structures still present here, which also had building extensions of wood, wattle and daub attached to them. Clearly Byzantium's immigrants - like all immigrants - had brought pieces of their old home with them, assembled them together on arrival and made their new home their own.
All throughout this alien quarter, the streets bustled with Kig-Yar going about their business - traffic, pedestrians, vendors operating both on foot and on covered market stalls. Only a few humans could be seen, clearly day visitors or tourists, sticking out like sore thumbs. I could not make out any Unggoy - they probably regarded this place as being a no-go area for their kind.
The buildings were clearly packed with Kig-Yar too, almost like overcrowded roosts or nests. On one balcony I could see a mother Ruuhtian with her brown furry chicks, which almost reminded of those of swans or some penguins (whether she was scolding them, nursing them or both, it was impossible to tell). In another building we passed by, crawling with the slow traffic, we could all see a female T'Vaoan squawking furiously out of an upstairs window at a male in the street below (likely her husband) over some domestic trouble - perhaps tardiness in going to work. The mate returned her ranting with calm, tired quacking.
I could even make a street some way away blocked up as a result of a traffic accident - a reckless hovercar driver had crashed into the back of a track-mobile carrying what looked to be fruit and groceries. It had been this incident that had apparently led to the traffic jam we were in. Enraged squawks and hisses flew back and forth between the two motorists, who looked to be on the verge of tearing out each other's throats, watched by Kig-Yar and human bystanders, some of which were holding the two belligerents back.
Then came a pair of Skirmishers - clad in what looked to be modified Commando harnesses - who arrived on the scene, stun batons and plasma pistols in their belts, looking intent on restoring order. I raised an eyebrow - the Kig-Yar are often characterised as a lawless species - yet they clearly at least had traffic cops. I did not get the chance to see them in action, however - the traffic picked up again and we quickly drove off.
Throughout the Kig-Yar quarter, their distinctive scent and bird-like calls filled the air. The jackdaw-like squawks, quacks and other calls, combined with the overwhelming smell, was strikingly reminiscent of a giant seabird colony on Earth.
"Noisy buggers, aren't they?" The driver grunted.
Such an environment - along with its residents - was clearly not popular with everyone on the planet. Our driver scowled as we left the Kig-Yar quarter. I asked him if he had a problem with them being here.
"No problems, so long as they stay in that space." His reply came out as a resentful growl. "And stop taking over any more of ours." He muttered under his breath.
"Fucking seagulls..."
I decided to leave my questioning at that.
The Hotel Pastides (named after a Byzantium-born Marine who was declared KIA at Reach with honours) lies just outside the Kig-Yar district, on an overlook facing the sea. As such, the journey there was not much longer.
My own suite was provided with a balcony that gave me a fine view of the coast and port. My entourage and I checked in, found our rooms - at that point I was finally left with some time to sort myself out and think things over.
My Waypoint pad also held a surprising new message - from Fac, my Kig-Yar contact. The first part of his message told me he had changed his plans, deciding to forgo meeting at his home in the Kig-Yar quarter and would meet me at one of their traditional teahouses, closer to the hotel, first thing tomorrow morning. Renowned on Eayn and its colony worlds, these establishments have long since become popular on human worlds with a Kig-Yar population. So popular, in fact, that Earth opened the doors to its first Kig-Yar teahouse only a year ago.
This particular place was literally on the other side of the street from my hotel, in lush human-planted botanical gardens that date back to Dyrrachium's foundation. That put our meeting place in a wonderfully convenient spot, and Fac was keen to insist that the majority of our meetings would take place there.
I raised an eyebrow - he had said meetings - I had assumed we would only have one or two, to discuss how he acquired the Scheherazade. The message however, made clear that he wanted to arrange multiple meetings, perhaps even a long-term contact if we both decided that such a proposal would be "necessary", in his words. It seemed rather excessive for an inquiry into a spacecraft purchase - perhaps he would explain that to me tomorrow.
As it turned out, however, he did explain the reason for more meetings - and I didn't have to wait until morning. Any notions that I might have entertained before - that I would be meeting this Trau Fac to find out how he had acquired the stolen escape yacht - were soon torpedoed by the final part of the message. Or rather, a single sentence and following paragraph that shook me to the core.
I have a story which will answer all your questions - but it is a long one.
If you are not prepared to hear it, then I am happy to simply tell you how I acquired the Scheherazade. However, once I tell you how I did so, I am sure that you will still wish to hear my story. After all, how I acquired the Scheherezade, thirteen Earth years ago, is a major chapter of my story - and yours.
I look forward to seeing you presently.
Trau Fac
I felt my palm comp slip from my hands. I did not even bend down to pick it up as it clattered to the floor.
My heart raced at this latest revelation. The unstated but obvious implication was all too clear.
Thirteen years ago. My story and yours. Fac had been present when the Scheherezade had been stolen, as I had been.
He was one of those who had taken it, right in front of my family and neighbours as we were being held hostage. He had been one of those Kig-Yar - one of those who spared our lives. My life.
I was barely able to sleep that night.
Morning came quickly on this world. Being a temperate-tropical planet in its summertime, that was only natural. As a child, I always loved the summer mornings - they lasted longer and woke you earlier, leaving so much more to do during the day.
It helped me prepare. There would certainly be a lot to do - a lot to talk about - this day.
I stepped through the gates of the botanical gardens, which were styled in much the same way as the gates to English stately homes. They bore the coat of arms of this world, which included a likeness of the Byzantium, the colony ship of pioneers that first settled the planet in humanity's era of expansion. What an innocent time to have lived in.
The gardens themselves are dominated by plants collected across the planet's sole continent and surrounding islands, mixed in with Earth's rainforest species. Periwinkles, palms, ferns and banana trees, amongst others, occupy one sector of the gardens, the native species another - in the centre, close to where the Kig-Yar teahouse lies, they mix together. Since arrival of Byzantium's newest immigrants, flora from Eayn has also been introduced, increasing the diversity of the Byzantine gardens.
Many paths wind through in a serpentine fashion, like in all good public parks. One of these paths, leading into the centre, now bears a signpost in both English and Ruuht'ka script; the language of Ruuhtian Kig-yar that serves as a lingua franca for all sub-species.
Beyond this point, straight on along the central path, lies a wire-frame arch covered with alien vines. Many sported the strange flowers I had seen earlier, though I could also see vines native to Earth wrapped among their counterparts from Eayn. There were also ferns and budlejas on either side of the arch. The intermixing of both worlds on this colony can even be seen in the flora, right at the entrance of the Dyrrachium Teahouse.
The teahouse itself (I later learned) is modelled on an example in Tilu City, one of Eayn's most ancient population centres, right down to the arch of vines. The Tilu Teahouse, like the city itself, dates back to before the annexation of Eayn and its inhabitants by the Covenant, and as such is one of the most high-priced and favoured haunts of wealthy Kig-Yar shipmasters and merchants. The Dyrrachium Teahouse serves a similar purpose - though the price is somewhat less, it is still regarded as part of Byzantium's ritzier sector of life.
The building itself is human, with extensions of alien construction that include the same stacked, nest-like levels on top. Eayn-style tapestries adorn its interior, along with other ornaments and furniture of clear Kig-Yar design. Like its forbear on their homeworld, the teahouse has an outdoor area, presided over by statues of famed Kig-Yar Shipmistresses and masters - and shaded outdoor tables that remind one of outdoor Cafes popular with humans in the more temperate regions of Earth.
I entered this area at the front of the building, passing a strange mix of human businessmen and local public servants such as lawyers and city councillors, Kig-Yar of all subspecies, merchants and ship commanders alike, and even a few wealthy Unggoy merchants wearing platinum or gold plated methane harnesses, with silk robes attached. Their presence in a Kig-Yar-run establishment was far more astonishing than the presence of humans.
As I passed the uncomfortably diverse patrons, the pit that had been in my stomach from the moment of my arrival grew to its heaviest - heavier even after having received the message from my source the previous night. How should we greet each other, we who had met and parted ways on opposite sides of a war, at the burning of my home? What should I say to him? What would he have to say to me? It seemed that he had plenty to say, judging from the fact he'd requested future meetings.
In any case, there was only one way to find out. I passed through the heavy bead curtains that served as the front door to the teahouse, their beads and flakes of amber, jade, obsidian, pearl and even what looked like forerunner material enveloping me with soft rattles as I stepped inside.
Though the interior was adorned with beautiful paintings, tapestries, mosaics, carvings of stone and wood and a whole host of other diverse customers, I focused my attention solely on the large counter of polished marble - and the solitary Ibie'shan behind it, very obviously the presiding waiter, dressed in a white and cream robe. The more saurian form of his kind was closer to Earth's long extinct dinosaurs, in the sense of being the least bird-like.
The message of invitation made it clear I was to check in with the establishment first, and ask for only one name. I got the waiter's attention in English - I knew he'd understand it.
"May I speak with Fac, please? My name is Ian Crawford."
The dinosaur-like Kig-Yar eyed me intently, and then the two larger bodyguards behind me. My contact had obviously provided him with a name to expect - but even so, he seemed somewhat shocked by the extra muscle I had brought. Still, he must have realised the matter Fac had entrusted him with was serious (and probably well-paid), since he instantly reached for a communicator.
A brief exchange of Ruuht'ka followed - during which those raptor-like eyes never left me - before the Ibie'shan put down the communicator and addressed me.
"The merchant's suite, upstairs. He's waiting for you. Would you care to have some tea prepared?"
"Var-liit, please." It was a blend and type considered most popular among those who indulged in Y'Deio teas. "Do you do it with sugar?"
The waiter nodded. His people are known to use something different to sweeten their tea - a kind of sugary sap from a specific tree native to Eayn. For my part, though, I preferred to stick with the sweet-tooth I knew.
"Would your heavies care for refreshment as well?"
My bodyguards answered in the negative - they were content with water. This teahouse apparently broadened its menu to include human drinks. I could make out a cold bar with beers and soft-drinks inside behind the counter. It really was incredible how two warring cultures could so quickly integrate.
The waiter called for an assistant to man the counter in his absence, before leading us up a set of winding stairs up to the third and top level. This part of the building seemed to be of largely of recent alien construction - the original human building was apparently a ground floor summer house. The additional levels are made from the sturdy wood and mud brick typical of Kig-Yar buildings, and lined with vines and other plants in almost every corner.
The conference rooms for visiting shipmasters and businessman were located on the second level - but my host had chosen the luxury lounge suite for our meeting. Clearly, he wanted a relaxed setting and had no intention of causing me to feel discomfort - which reassured me only slightly.
Finally, we reached the third level - a single ostentatiously decorated longue inside a single wooden and stained-glass dome on the roof of the building, surrounded by a circular, open promenade balcony tier on all sides, allowing a fresh breeze to cool the room.
By the time I had reached the top landing, the waiter was already addressing the person who could only be my contact.
The lounge included several private, booth-like rooms, their entrances covered by bead curtains. Inside one, a teapot - a cylindrical affair with an elegant spout similar to those found among the Arab cultures - was filling the private space with sweet-smelling steam, which also flowed from the painted porcelain drinking bowl clutched in the talons of its occupant. Clearly, he liked his tea served extra-hot.
It was this individual who the Ibie'shan was addressing. He was clearly T'Vaoan, covered with feathers and seated on a large velvet cushion, so large it almost resembled a chair. He sipped his tea calmly, yet he drank in the curiously duck-like manner that his kind are known for - almost lapping up the tea like a drake lapping up plant-filled pond water. He exhaled after his last sip, the breath from his nostrils and mouth almost visibly mixing with condensation from the steaming tea.
Gingerly, he returned his bowl to the silver platter tray on the low table that lay in front of him, before rising from the cushion. My bodyguards took position behind me, ready for anything. I stood ready as well.
My heart was in my mouth even before I saw his face. The reason for this was that as I saw him part the bead curtain and step into the main suite, I noticed something unusual about his left hand.
On that hand, the mid-talon was missing, leaving a rugged stump - as if the claw had been completely torn off by a terrible force. Yet what was left of the middle digit almost looked like it had been burned to the point of cauterization after the injury had been received - perhaps a harsh form of medical treatment.
That missing digit had not changed a bit since the last time I had seen it. Nor had the deep, jagged white scar that ran across both jaws on the left side of the face, extending upward and just missing the eye.
There was no mistaking which of the Kig-Yar it was now.
Trau Fac, that scarred alien leader from my childhood, now stood before me, dressed in flowing scarlet and brown robes, with a deep purple tailored waistcoat beneath. His orange eyes glimmered slightly, before he exhaled with a soft grunt. He clearly recognised me as well - he obviously knew how to remember a face.
"Greetings, Mr Ian Crawford," his voice broke the silence with a gravelly rasp. "And welcome. I appreciate your response to my invitation."
He paused, taking in the moment, as I was. But I could not force words from my mouth. He clearly recognised this, giving me a mirthless smile that formed across his long jaws.
"It has been a long time, human. We have much to talk about."
Having covered many extraordinary events that have taken place on our planet, in our arm of the galaxy, I have long accepted the existence of extraordinary coincidences - events that defy belief, that happen against all the odds that could render them impossible occurrences. Such events, if they were written as part of a work of fiction, would be dismissed as being unbelievable, beyond ridiculous and part of badly written plot on the author's part.
Yet I have seen them happen in multiple stories I have covered. The story of the Great War itself is full of unbelievable events. Many still choose not to believe them - an option made all the easier that many key events of the war remained state secrets for years after. There are probably many other secrets within ONI's locked down archives that would blow even the most open mind.
However, for such an event to happen to me - it was almost irreconcilable. For the leader of a group of Jackals and Skirmishers to spare my life, my family's lives, my neighbours lives, human lives, in the midst of a genocidal war against humans was against so many odds. For that same leader to remember me, for me to establish contact with him and for us to meet again, after thirteen years - the odds against that happening were staggering.
That was undoubtedly why I had been unable to speak, even as he invited me into his private booth, showing me the cushion seat on the other side of the table. My bodyguards, at my insistence, took seats at once of the few tables outside, within visual range. My tea arrived shortly thereafter, courteously poured in a human-made teacup. As luck would have it, Fac was drinking the same tea as me - or maybe he simply made an educated guess as to what I would order. Var-liit is by far the most popular Kig-Yar tea blend, both domestically and abroad. Grown on Eayn island chains controlled by the Var clan, it has since become one of that world's most successful exports.
Clearly, I was dealing with a highly intelligent and canny individual. He knew that I would recognise him - that fact and the previous night's revelation would be the shock factor that would ensure I stayed and listened. After all, he knew I would want answers. The question now was simple: what did he want to say? What did he want to arrange with me, in this place?
It was a while before Trau Fac spoke again.
"You are clearly shocked, Mr Crawford. Confused, even."
I could only reply with a nod.
He let out a grunt. "I expected as much. My only fear was that you would be so shocked you would turn away. But it seems that I was correct that you would want to meet me in the end, to question me. You want answers. You are an investigator, yes? A seeker of facts, a recorder of events..." He hesitated, looking to be deep in thought. "What is the word...a journalist? Correct me if I'm wrong."
"No, you're right," I surprised myself - I could hear my voice, but it didn't feel as if I was speaking. It was almost an automatic response, like an answer-phone message. "That's my job. I'm a journalist."
Fac nodded in acknowledgement.
"I have become familiar with your writings over the years. I read the writings of your own story, as you know. What I noticed before that, though, was your open mind." He looked at me intently. "That a human would talk with those who tried to destroy him, his world, his family, his race, everything he knew. That he would consider their view of this universe as he wrote of them. Even as they viewed him as mere vermin, just years ago, he wrote their stories." He snorted with amusement. "Your people never cease to amaze me."
I considered my reply carefully. When I spoke again, I finally managed to regain my composure. I stared straight at him, at this figure from the opposite side of the war which shaped us all today - that brought our people inches within extinction. I spoke to him then, as part of the Covenant that tried to eradicate us all.
"You brought me here for a reason. As you said, I'm looking for answers." I then cut straight to the point. "Why did you let us live that day, when you stole our ship? And why were you so far away from Covenant lines? You weren't on a special mission from your commanders. You only wanted that ship. Your superiors wouldn't have cared about that. You stole it for yourselves."
He did not answer, but instead took another sip of tea. His eyes descended downward, as if recalling so many memories.
I knew I had the advantage in this conversation, now. I made use of it as I pressed my position forward.
"What were you, then? Hmm? Deserters? Did you decide to turn pirate that day? There were human soldiers who arrived later, you know. We told them about you. The UNSC would have shot you down if they'd arrived five or ten minutes earlier. It would have been easier for you to kill us..."
At that point he put down his bowl with a sharp clang.
"Yes," he replied calmly, though I could hear his voice bristling, "it would have been easy." Then he sighed. "But not as easy as you think. Not for me. Not by that point."
As he fell silent, I repeated my original question. Perhaps the only question that really mattered.
"Why did you spare us?"
Once again, those orange eyes descended into deep thought. Fac turned his head to the window of our booth, which faced outside to the promenade and the view beyond. He stared out the window for a long time, regarding days gone by. I was about to repeat myself before that gravelly voice finally broke the silence once more.
"You have many questions, Crawford. And I know you also hope for a story. I have a story that can answer all your questions." He then turned to face me again. "Every question you have - about our Covenant, the war, how I survived, how you survived - the story of my life had the answers. Or most of them, I hope." He paused to sip his tea once more. "I have been wanting to tell my story for a long time. I just needed to know the right person to record it to memory. Now I have found you."
I had to take several minutes to process this. He was offering point blank to tell me the story of his war - not just how he came to hold me hostage and spare my life. I would be hearing much more than that.
I took a breath. As a journalist, this was exactly what I had been hoping for. After so many interviews with Sangheili veterans, I was finally getting the chance to interview a Kig-Yar who had fought in the bloodiest war the Covenant Empire and the UNSC had both ever been engaged in and survived. This was potentially the pinnacle of my career. Since the Kig-Yar have become the Covenant race which humanity has closest ties to - second only to the Sangheili - my readers would be curious to hear a story through their eyes.
After all, the Sangheili had been the highest echelons of the Covenant - their stories were useful, but mostly in a "top-down" narrative of history. Writing down a story from a lesser Covenant soldier, from one of the low-level client races - this would be the first part of a history of the Covenant and the war they fought from a "bottom-up" perspective.
From my own point of view as a human being, I needed to hear the story of this particular T'Vaoan Kig-Yar. Perhaps now, after thirteen years, I could have some closure. This was the opportunity of my life.
"If you want your story to be told, I will help you to do that, Fac. I can make it a book, if that is what you want."
I replied with as much confidence and certainty as I could, pushing whatever reservations I had firmly to the back of my mind. That sharp-toothed smile returned to the raptor-like jaws.
"Good...very good. I appreciate this very much, Mr Crawford. Telling my tales in full has long been a desire, even a need of mine..." his eyes fell to the table, clearly weighed down by memories. Eventually, he lifted his head again. "But I have only one request to make, as your source."
"Which is?"
"That you call me Trau. That form of address seems more natural to me, having served in the military for so long. The Sangheili only ever referred to us by our birth names and for my part, I feel more comfortable being addressed that way by long-term acquaintances, which I hope you will be. Clan politics rarely interests me the way it does for most of my race."
"That's fair enough."
"Are you comfortable with how I address you?"
I paused for only two seconds before answering. "I'll have to get to know you better before I let you call me Ian."
The Kig-Yar - Trau - snorted with amusement. "Very well." He then sipped his tea once more, before his owl-like gaze found me again. "I believe we should start at once."
I pulled out my recording tablet placing it on the table in front of my newly acquired source. He looked at it in curiosity.
"I take it that device is required."
I nodded. "It's called Scribe; and it's not just a voice recorder. Everything you say will be saved into it, processed, and assembled as text. Effectively, you write by talking. Any questions I have will be recorded too, but," I added, quick to outline my personal policy, "I won't interrupt you too much when this is recording. It's my belief that firing off questions only disrupts the narrative and gets what I want, not what you want to say. I prefer to let my sources speak for themselves."
"A fair policy." He was quite sincere. "So, I won't be required to do any writing in telling you my story?"
"No, you won't," I assured, gesturing to the scribe tablet. "It saves time. Once each interview is done, I'll upload the text recorded onto my laptop, and then assemble it into coherent chapters. I'll be editing rather than outright writing, effectively."
Trau looked impressed. "You Humans have such creative minds."
I set up the Scribe into a starting mode. My finger hung over the touch-screen, ready to tap the 'start record' button. Then I hesitated, and withdrew my finger.
"Shall we decide where you'd like to start, first? All stories need a beginning."
He looked lost in thought.
"I'm still considering where I should begin." He turned to the window once more, the filtering beams of sunlight shining on his feathered head, illuminating his dark quills. In the light, I noticed that some of them were greying. "I often ask myself when I can say my life truly began. We all tell ourselves it is when we are born - but as we grow and look back, we all learn better."
He picked up his tea-bowl again, sipping it as he stared outside at the view that included blues of the sea, recalling what looked to be a long and troubled life. Obviously he was struggling to make sense of his past, just as much as I was my own. I decided to give him a push in a coherent direction.
"What would you describe as the moment where your war began? When in your life were you set on the course that lead you down that route? Which event was most significant in taking you to war?"
He turned back to me again, looking thoughtful for a moment, before finally giving a definite answer.
"When I first signed up for service in the Covenant Army. In Y'Deio."
"What lead you to that decision?"
Trau smiled once more. "That, Mr Crawford, is the right question." Once more, he returned his bowl to the tray, strength and determination returning to his voice as he spoke again. "I am ready to begin. Right now."
I reached over, pressed the green start button on the Scribe, sat back in my chair - and the story began.
A/N: I was hoping to get this chapter up much, much earlier, but a combination of a family holiday, illness before and after and work stood in the way. Glad I got it up!
As those who read this have gathered, this story will be Kig-Yar-centric, focused on the protagonist I've introduced. He will play a much bigger role than our human journalist in the story to come. After all, these two chapters are only one big prologue.
This story will be good, I hope. In my opinion, there still isn't much official Halo material that offers deep perspectives of the war from Covenant races besides the Elites, and the Kig-Yar are interesting and still largely untapped with the exception of Mortal Dictata. The idea of telling the story of the war of a Covie infantryman always appealed to me. Since there's already plenty of material with the Elites, I knew I had to write a story from a lesser perspective.
In any case, I hope readers enjoy. Look out for the next chapter!
