Chapter 7

It was always the same, they wanted him to trust them sight unseen, to let them stand at his side unproven. And all was well until the blood letting began. Then they would shake and sob, the events swirling around them too much for them to bear. The sounds of battle, the moans of the dying, the smell of death and burning flesh. It overwhelmed their senses, turning them into dangerous fools. Dangerous fools that would end their lives and possibly those of their fellows in a panic. Oh they'd start calm and composed, some might even call them brave. But when the blood started flowing, and things started going wrong, they lost their nerve.

Old one eye never let these dangerous fools within a light year of his missions, if he could help it. In his youth he had been more trusting, and paid a price for it. That was the way of things, he went on as others died by the choices he made. And by the time he tested one Jill Valentine on a dark and lonely Omega night, the tally of those he had seen die through his errors had grown quite large indeed.

So was this human woman a dangerous fool like the rest? Oh she was dangerous. But not a fool. He could order her to her death, and she would have that strange light in her eyes that he had. That many hard men and women had. There would be no panic. No stupidity. That was enough for him.

She was talking at him, 'at' being the correct word for it, as her words barely registered. Maybe he had been on his own too long, as Cliff had said. He only ever needed to justify his actions to himself, the thought of being questioned at length about his methods by one who hadn't seen as much action in her life as he generally saw in a month seemed a waste of precious time.

But still she went on, becoming more upset that he was ignoring her. Was the logic of that test truly that difficult to grasp? Where was that human adaptability he had heard so much about?

A strange compulsion stirred within him, and he began to speak. Jill stopped short as she realized he was softly telling a story few now living had heard.

The Covenant were here, and they had taken the colonists. The midday sun on the planet Isato II beat down on the Klausian's uncovered head, the whispering jungle wrapped around him. It was a living thing, the jungle, and if you stopped and listened you could here it breathe. The plants rustled, the wildlife scurried, and the jungle breathed. And now it shuddered at the passing of the interlopers, and these interlopers were known to him. They were an alliance of xenophobic fanatics know as the Covenant, their prime goal being religious purity among sentient races of the galaxy.

Their empire lay far beyond the borders of citadel space, but they were still watched closely, and when a small occupation force had landed on Isato II, a small jungle world home to a human colony within the terminus systems, it was the Klausian Specter who had gone to investigate, free of the constrictions placed on the regular forces of the Citadel.

Perhaps he was too late. The Covenant had no mercy in them, he knew this as he had seen the results of their barbarism on other worlds. Mangled bodies, swift but messy executions, all left for him to find long after the perpetrators had departed. If the colonists weren't dead already, their deaths were certainly forthcoming.

The Klausian made his way silently through the jungle, disturbing nothing as he rushed with incredible haste towards the colony from the sheltered river delta where he had landed his small ship. After a time he crested a ridge, and looked down at the small research colony below him.

Looking through the scope of his rifle with his lone good eye, his acute mind assessed the situation.

"One wraith, two platoons of infantry." The Klausian observed impassively. One tank and forty foot soldiers, difficult, but not impossible. More concerning was the Covenant frigate that was in low orbit over the world. It had not detected his approach, but the moment the ground forces reported an assault to said frigate, more ground forces would undoubtedly be inbound.

Scanning the small collection of modest buildings, the Klausian spied the colonists. A pair of windowed transport containers stood at the north end of the compound, opposite the side the Klausian was approaching from. They were both jammed to capacity with frightened, pleading humans. If he could deal with this relatively small detachment of troops, then free the colonists before Covenant reinforcements arrived, they could flee into the jungle, the thick foliage and wealth of life forms would defy even the Covenant's sensors. And even with the fifty some colonists in tow, eluding the would be invaders until their own reinforcements arrived would be child's play.

"Forty infantry, but only a half dozen elites." The Klausian shouldered his sniper rifle, his hand going to absently rub his chin. "Obviously not planning on any true opposition. Kill the elites and disable or destroy the tank, and the grunts will scatter like the cowards they are."

So how to approach it then? He could snipe a dozen, maybe two, before they centered on his location. If it was just infantry, and he didn't have the colonists to worry about, he could have pick them all off. He'd lead them on a merry chase through the woods, his blade cutting down stragglers, his bullets shattering skulls from a thousand unseen vantage points. They'd never even lay eyes on him, all forty would simply fall like wheat to the scythe. And if the frigate sent reinforcements they'd fall prey as well. But that would take time. Days even, and right now the hapless colonist's lives could probably be measured in minutes, not days.

It was at this time he felt the jungle breathing again, and knew there was another in the forest. It was not a jungle creature, but nor was it a Covenant soldier. A human then? The Klausian smelled the wind. Yes, a human. Probably outside the colony proper when the invaders had attacked. The intel he could provide could very well mean life or death for the captured colonists below.

With cat like speed and balance, the Klausian vaulted the two hundred or so feet down the sheer ridge wall.

By the time the Klausian reached where the human boy was hiding, he had already been spotted by a Covenant patrol. The human was running at break neck speed, an elite and seven grunts charged after him, crashing through foliage as they ran south, unwittingly moving to where the Klausian could intercept them.

The elite ran well ahead of the grunts, his long legs allowing him to lope with far greater speed than his short, almost stubby allies. Raising his energy weapon to his shoulder, the elite was about to fire on the fleeing human when out of the thick foliage to his left a long thin blade snaked out at knee level. The force of the sword strike, coupled with the Elite's own quick pace, saw to it that both legs were severed cleanly just below the knee. With the speed of a striking falcon the Klausian broke cover, and then, turning his blade, drove it through the now prone form of the Elite. A sizable spray of purple blood gushed from the wound, staining the ground.

The grunts skidded to a halt, their expressions nearly comical. The Klausian smiled grimly as he pulled the shotgun from its holster on his right hip, emptying both barrels into the cluster of enemies before him. Yet more blood sprayed as the grunts fell. The Klausian dove to the side as the remaining grunts opened fire, their energy weapons raking where he had been standing just a second before. He circled them with his inhuman speed, scaling a tree with a few quick leaps. Below him, the confused firing of the brainless and cowardly grunts continued, a clear indicator that they had no idea where the strange apparition with the long black coat had disappeared to.

With a flick of his wrist the Klausian expelled two smoking shell casings from the sawed off Krogan shotgun, and just as quickly, loaded two fresh ones. Leaping down into the midst of his enemies, the Klausian wielded his shotgun in one hand and sword in the other, making quick work of the remaining five grunts.

When it was all over the Klausian wiped his blade on the corpse of a grunt, sliding it silently back into its sheath.

"You may come out, human." He said without looking, his fingers deftly sliding two new shells into his shotgun. "If I wanted your life I would have it. But I do not, and if you wish to save your fellows at the main camp, time is pressing."

There was a pause, then a quiet rustle as a youngling, perhaps only fourteen or so earth years old, clawed his way out of the bushes. "Good God." He gasped, surveying the carnage that now littered the makeshift jungle path. "Just who are you mister…" The boy's eyes locked on the three black rings encircling the Klausian's throat, and he blinked.

"You.. Are you a Klausian?"

"No time for trivialities." Old one eye replied calmly. "If I am to save your friends then I must know more about the layout of your colony, most importantly, which building houses your energy cells?"

The boy still looked shaken, but the calm yet commanding tone of the Klausian seemed to at least bring some color to his face.

"East side of the compound, near the shore of the river." He gasped, still trying to catch his breath from the chase. "Do you really plan to take on all of them?"

The Klausian waved the question away. "I have no time to explain myself to a civilian, let alone a child. I suggest moving away from here as quickly as you are able."

"No!" The young human shook his head vigorously. "I can help! I was helping guard the colony at night, I know how to use a gun, let me help!"

To this day the Klausian doesn't fully understand why he relented. His kehl had warned him, even the eye if his imagination, which the templari had taught him never to ignore, showed him the possible outcomes.

But still he relented. Standing that day in the jungle, had he seen some of what he once was in that young human? Mayhap. Did he regret not listening to his kehl that day? Indeed he did.

The Klausian sighed, turning to the boy. "The only true danger is the wraith. With it prowling about a frontal assault would be risky to say the least. Nor can I release all fifty colonists fast enough if I were to circle around. The infantry would pin us down and the wraith would finish us. No, I must disable or destroy the wraith first, and since I lack any heavy weapons, ill have to improvise one with the colony's energy cells."

"My dad is.." The child swallowed. "Was, the head of security, I know the codes for the defense turrets. Give me a chance and I'll turn that beast into a smoking heap."

There was steel in the child's words. Of course there was fear in his eyes, but the Klausian chose to ignore it.

"Tell me what you need."

One. Two. Three. Three rapid shots split the tranquil jungle dusk, and with these shots, three elites fell dead, leaving three to command. The following scramble of confusion was satisfying.

The Klausian rotated vantage points with a level of skill sharpened by centuries of battle, but by the time the third elite fell, his time had run out. While the grunts continued to rake the jungle around them with their energy weapons, the massive wraith had begun to turn, its mortar centering not on the jungle fringing the colony's borders where their unseen enemy was picking them apart, but at the closer of the two transports where the colonists were being held.

There was something about battle and the way it was experienced by different races. For most it was a confused rush, a sensory overload of sights and sounds that wore mentally as well as physically. Others, like the Krogan and Klausians, saw it as graceful dance of destruction and death, high art in motion. And like other forms of art, it could be as brutal and savage as it could be beautiful.

Old one eye felt the battle turn against him, by focusing fire on him, he was in control of the grunts as if he himself issued them commands. As if he were the artist painting this picture. But the pilot of the wraith, perhaps a veteran of many battles himself, refused to be manipulated in this way, moving instead to thwart what he recognized as the Klausian's ultimate goal, the colonists.

The boy had arrived at the first auto turret, his hands moving shakily across its control panel. The Klausian perceived him with the eye of his imagination, observing his progress as if he stood beside him.

The turret came to life and roared, the first shell struck the wraith on its starboard, tearing through shield and armor, leaving a smoking hole in its side. But still it hovered, and as it regained its equilibrium, the small hatch below its cannon swung open, revealing the occupant. The elite coughed and swore, fighting the controls, and with a jerk the tank was brought to bear on the turret.

"Too late." The Klausian thought with a grim smile. "The boy has you dead to rights my friend." As he continued to out maneuver the soldiers still pursuing him around the colony's perimeter, the Klausian waited for the second blast, the one that would blow the wraith apart. It never came. The Klausian skidded to a halt, allowing himself to be exposed for a split second as he cast his gaze toward the turret and the boy.

The boy and the elite piloting the wraith stared at each other, neither one moving.

"No…not in the eyes, never look them in the eyes." The Klausian thought.

But it was too late. Looking into the eyes of a living breathing creature, the boy's resolve failed. He had never killed anything in his life, and now his innocence, his naiveté, had doomed him and many others. The tank lurched and then fired, consuming the turret and the boy in purple plasma.

"NO." The Klausian roared. The sound drowning out even the sound of battle. Taken aback, the grunts stopped.

Breaking into a charge that would have frightened a Krogan, Old one eye launched himself at his enemies, tearing through their ranks with his sword in one hand, shotgun in the other.

Across the clearing, the wraith lurched again, trying to take aim on the containers.

The grunts scattered, the vicious assault destroying their resolve as well. The one elite commander still amongst them cursed, drew his own weapon, an energy blade, and tried to bar the Klausians way. For his trouble he received a sword stroke that tore him in half at the waist.

Rage and blood lust consumed the Klausian, at his core however there was a cold sadness, for he knew as he charged at the wraith that he would be too late to undo his own terrible mistake. That cold sadness was the voice of his kehl.

The wraith fired again, and a container holding nearly two dozen humans was vaporized.

Jill and Old one eye were on the Omega transport lift, the clunky elevator slowly bearing them downwards toward the dock. The Klausian had stopped speaking, and while his face was still impassive, the skin around his one good eye had tightened almost into a squint.

Jill had been totally entranced by the story, but the Klausian had stopped talking abruptly, and after a moment it became clear he wasn't going to continue. "And?" She asked, eager to hear the conclusion. "Then what happened?"

"This is not some yarn meant to entertain, Jill Valentine. It is a lesson meant to instruct." The voice of old one eye was as even and emotionless as ever. "Trust is a valuable commodity on the battlefield, Miss Valentine, and as such it should be earned. To give it freely is to invite calamity. That was the point of your test today."

"I'm not some green student in need of a lesson dammit!"

"A fact I suspected before, but now know for sure." Was the reply, infuriating in its matter of fact tone.

Jill's hand slapped the elevator controls, bringing it to a wobbly stop.

"You don't trust me." She held his gaze, trying to ignore the cold stare.

"I do a little. Now." Was the honest reply. "If you must know how events on Isato II concluded, the covenant died. I killed every last one. The other container was saved and so were its occupants, but still experience taught me a hard lesson that day, a lesson I have tried to pass on to you. Do with it what you will." He folded his hands behind his back. "And if you still don't think I trust you, ask yourself this, how many people do you think I have told this story, hmm?" Reaching over, he pressed the elevator's resume button.

Jill was still pondering this when they arrived at the ship.