Chapter 5
Morning came too soon for Kurr, who had had an amazing sleep. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he didn't feel the pangs of hunger that occurred not half-a-cycle after a trip to the teat. The meat kept the Unggoy satisfied and content. No wonder the Hierarchs condemned its consumption.
Since the Unggoy rebellion, countless cycles ago, the Covenant had made a policy of treated the five foot tall creatures as poorly as they could. They were sent first into battle and were last to be evacuated. They were the bottom of the Hierarch, the lowest of the low. They were even given the bland tasting milk from the teat, the bland concoction that must some how instill submission into those that drink it. All this was done to deter another rebellion.
The belief was simple enough: give one nothing, and one becomes nothing. Grant the Unggoy nothing to hope for, nothing to strive for, and they would become the cannon fodder they were expected to be. Break them with the least effort.
The thoughts that swam inside Kurr's head made him cringe. They were heresy, and he could be killed just for thinking them. But how had these thoughts come about? Did the taste of meat unlock some long dormant thoughts, or the memories of his ancestors? Or perhaps the radical beliefs of Commander Zulfar had finally begun to rub off on him. Either way, it made Kurr feel strange. Not a bad strange. Good strange.
Kurr slowly rose to his feet and stretched his stubby arms. When he spied the commander, he saluted and said, "Sir."
"Have a good rest?" the Sangheili asked.
It was such a casual question, Kurr had no immediate response. He wondered if the commander had always been the maverick he was now. The Sangheili had been known to criticize his superiors from time to time, perhaps even refuse an order, but what Kurr had seen the past few days was heresy. So what did that make the genocide of Jiralhanae, the one that was authorized by the Hierarchs. Right and proper?
These were thoughts for another time. Kurr had been asked a question by a superior, and had been taught to answer since birth. Old habits, and old fears, died hard.
"Yes sir," was his response. "I slept well."
Without warning, Commander Zulfar drew his energy sword and leapt into the forest, letting out a throaty roar of battle. Next, there was a frightened scream, and the limp body of a human came flying into clearing with motions reminiscent of a toy doll.
Kurr dove for the thickest underbrush purely by instinct. To obtain cover was to, perhaps, live another precious day. To stand in the open was to fall dead. And even though the Hierarchs tried for countless cycles to break that will to live, they could not, not in all the Unggoy.
The humans, dressed in their body armor, came forth, firing, cursing in their strange tongue. Marines, Kurr believed they were called, and he counted twelve of them. Twelve battle rifles against his tiny Needler. But there concern wasn't with Kurr. They walked into the clearing and fired at the commander who amazingly dove into the center of the fray. He moved so fast, too fast for Kurr to follow, but he did hear the sizzle of blood on the energy blade. Quivering chunks of man sprinkled over field.
Numbers proved Commander Zulfar's undoing. Kurr lost count of the number of humans as they poured forward, the screams of battle rifles was deafening. Bullets punched their way through the commander's armor. A sheen of blood covered his dirty white armor. A shot to his sword arm and he dropped his weapon. Another shot to his knee cap knocked him down. And Kurr remembered wanting nothing more than to be strong and rush out into the field and save the Commander. Instead he was weak, and stayed huddle in the brush.
Distinguishing humans was difficult for Kurr. To him, they all looked alike. This wasn't helped that they covered most of their body in battle armor. Kurr knew the one that walked forward was female by her smaller stature and shapely chest. A similar differences applied to the Sangheili women and men.
It was a human woman who drew her pistol and shot Commander Zulfar in the head at a distance of ten feet.
Kurr didn't move for a long time, long after the commander was dragged off by the remaining humans. At last, he crawled forward and inspected the dead soldiers. Weapons! Rations! He brought all he could carry into the foliage where the sub-commander still lay. He would wait until she regained conciousness. Then, he decided, he would make the human pay for killing the commander.