Chapter 3
"This way," roared a deep booming voice that echoed through the jungle trees and made Kurr nearly soil his armor. By the Forerunners, he recognized that horrible voice, that deep throated bellow.
He looked around at the trees, each shadow took the form of those horrible Jiralhanae, each thud and reverberation toyed with his fears.
Kurr rushed to the female Sangheili, stood over her and took her by the shoulders. "Wake up," he begged. "I can't fight. Please, by the Forerunners wake up." But the Sangheili woman just lay there, the only movement that of her chest as she breathed.
The Unggoy grabbed the Sangheili by the ankles and pulled with all his might. At first she didn't budge, but with a great deal of effort, he at last managed to drag her into thicker underbrush. He crouched alongside her, holding his Needler in front of him, though he knew it would have almost no effect on a Jiralhanae, let alone a group of them.
The Unggoy didn't dare breath, for fear even the slightest of sounds would notify the Jiralhanae of his presence. Death would not be quick if he discovered. The Jiralhanae would take great pleasure in a slow, agonizing demise. And what would await the sleeping Sangheili, Kurr did not want to think of it.
When this undying hatred between the two species had emerged, Kurr could not say. Like everything else, the Unggoy weren't privileged to much information on the inner workings of the Covenant. By watching the human's propaganda, Kurr had learned they believed the tension between the Jiralhanae and Sangheili was a sign of the Covenant's inevitable implosion. Soon, the entire alien society would crumble. Stupid humans.
Kurr didn't believe that. He, who had served beneath both Jiralhanae and Sangheili, knew that there was something deeper. The anger, the hatred, went far beyond simple power struggles and thirst for supremacy. It was some sort of primal fury. Perhaps even the Sangheili and Jiralhanae didn't know why they hated each other so.
Behind him, the female commander began to stir, mumble incoherently in her slumber. Kurr forced her mouth to stay closed, clamped her mandible together so no words could escape. "Be quiet. By the Forerunners, please be quiet."
Kurr stayed crouched in the underbrush as the trees parted to compensate the vast form of a Jiralhanae. It shuffled into Kurr's vision, dragging a huge Brute Shot behind him, took a sniff of the air, then looked about.
"I'm sure I smelled something," the Jiralhanae said aloud. There were at least two, Kurr assumed, or this one was talking to no one.
Soon, a second voice confirmed his fears. "We haven't time for this. There are no Sangheili here. We need to find the survivors or SuKahn will have our head."
SuKahn! Oh this was bad. Of all the Jiralhanae, the one called SuKahn was truly the most fearsome. Stories of his deed against the humans were a source of both disgust and fear within the Covenant.
If Commander Zulfar was the embodiment of a good leader: honorable, brave, and devoted to his men, SuKahn was the antipode. A ruthless brute of a warrior, the Jiralhanae had no value for life, whether it be that of the enemy or ally. He won battles, not through strategy or guile, but rather by throwing wave after wave of his soldiers at the objective. And the Prophets didn't care of course. They wanted results. They wanted the objective accomplished. What did it matter if a few hundred Unggoy died along the way? They cared about results.
Paralysis swept through Kurr as the two Jiralhanae moved within spitting distance. If not for his methane breathing mask, the Unggoy was sure he would smell them: the odor of blood and grime that clung to fur rarely washed.
Tales of SuKahn's acts were numerous. It was said (in whispers of course) that after a victory over the humans, SuKahn and his Jiralhanae saw to the important acts of pillaging. Kurr didn't know when the Jiralhanae had acquired a taste for humans, nor could he understand why the Prophets allowed it. Results, he supposed.
During the acts of pillaging, a group of children was discovered, hidden away from the battle by the late human soldiers. It was customary for the Covenant to execute such prisoners: quickly and without pain. It was the only law of war after all. But SuKahn took his time with the children. He and his men tortured the brood for hours. And when the last child's heart beat slowed, he wretched the meat from the tiny creatures and dined on it with his troops. It was a disgusting act by the standards of the rest of the Covenant. A disgusting act by the standards of any decent creature. But the Jiralhanae were perverted. Deranged. And two of them were standing not a foot away from Kurr.
"This is a waste of time," snarled the second Jiralhanae. He brought his huge foot down within an inch of Kurr. A gust of air to wash over the Unggoy's face. He shivered.
The first Jiralhanae took one last sniff of the air, before turning and shuffling away. The second followed behind.