A/N - Henlo everyone. Again i'm so sorry for the massive delay in uploading this chapter. I've gone through and re-written it several times as I couldn't get it to a point that I liked, and after a while I just stopped. Writers block hits me and the drive to continue left me so I stopped. Now that I'm back to work and things are somewhat returning to normal I've decided to get back to this and try my best to keep updating as I go. I did say I wouldn't give this up and I will try not to. Depression hits hard when it does. I've decided to dedicate my Wednesdays, either before or after work to get to writing so hopefully things will progress at a much more active rate.
The halls were much quieter than usual, the Unggoy and Kig-yar were doing their usual patrols throughout the city, causing them to yelp in surprise as Tz'eal walked past them. He did not know where he was going to go once he was out of the system all he knew was that he needed to leave and quickly. He continued down the long winding halls of High Charity leading to one of the many hangar bays. Inside the soft blue illuminating light basked the bay in a gentle glow. The row of Seraph fighters before him.
He walked to the far end of the bay, inspecting each of the fighters as he went, checking any for identifying marks. If anything could be used to track him he needed to be sure to get rid of it. The second from last Seraph was a blank canvas. No markings, no scratches or burns. It would seem this might have been unused or new. Either way it did not matter. He had found his way out.
Glancing over his shoulders the bay was lightly occupied. Several pilots were going about their own business, ensuring their fighters were fitted with enough to keep them going for an extended dogfight should it erupt. Nodding Tz'eal tapped his talons on a nearby console, lowering the rear ramp to gain access to the interior of the fighter. With a few clicks of his lower mandibles he turned around walking to the rear storage room and began gathering items which would aid his survival alone in unknown human territory.
His focus was primarily on food. He figured he would be able to find a suitable water source on any planet the Humans have claimed so that was not as important to him, but until he was able to make contact with Drake, he needed to ensure he did not starve to death. Four crates of dried food. Enough to last him several Units. As long as he rationed his supplies efficiently or found his friend quickly he should be fine.
Slowly he reached over and picked up the first crate, bringing to the bottom of the access ramp of the Seraph, gently placing it down on the ground with a dull thud. Looking around he had not gained the attention of the other pilots in the area. If he was quick they would not notice him nor question him. He gathered the other three crates and placed them at the bottom of the ramp without any issue, happy that things seemed to be going smoothly. He was unsure of what he would say if he was questioned. As a Zealot anything he said should be accepted without any retort but there was always a chance someone did not believe him. Turning on the spot he returned to the storage room and closed the door now focusing on his next task. Weaponry.
This would be slightly more dangerous, the armory was farther down the bay towards the other pilots. Slowly he began to approach. His hearts began to pound in his chest as he neared them. He tried his best to calm himself but was failing. He did not know why but he was anxious that the Pilots would discover what he was planning and everything would be brought to an abrupt end, including his life.
Stopping just before the entrance to the armory he glanced around to the others nearby. Almost all of them ignored him, focusing on their own work, ensuring their fighters were stocked and ready to fly at any moment. A few however did glance in his direction. They gave him questioning looks as he tapped his talons on the console to open the door to the armory. He simply looked back and nodded to them. They simply nodded to him in response and continued about their work.
Stepping inside Tz'eal let out the breath he had held as his nerves threatened to get the better of him. He was trained better than this but the thought of taking heretical actions before his brothers without them knowing was causing him to doubt his abilities to go unnoticed. He stepped through to the back room gathering several Needle Rifles, one attached to his back via the magnetized holstering system in his combat harness with another two, one in each hand. Slowly Tz'eal approached the Seraph but was met with a problem.
Another Sangheili was there, inspecting the equipment that had been set beside it. Taking a deep breath Tz'eal approached the Seraph. The Sangheili, a pilot turned towards him and crossed their arms. Ignoring them, Tz'eal walked past, making his way up the ramp to the interior of the Seraph, storing the three needle rifles away before he heard hoof falls behind him. With a sigh Tz'eal turned to his new guest.
"Is there something I can help you with Pilot?" Tz'eal asked with a grumble as he began making his way back down the ramp.
"Yes. I would like to know why you are packing these supplies into my Seraph." The Pilot responded. Tz'eal stopped and looked at the Pilot. The polarized visor not allowing him to look into their eyes.
"I have need of a Seraph for the task set upon me. I chose this one. Now step aside." Tz'eal replied as he glanced away and continued down the ramp, the Pilot following him.
"And what task is this? I have no information that a Zealot would be taking a Seraph for a task." The Pilot questioned as Tz'eal briskly moved down to the armory again to collect ammunition for the rifles. Looking around as he walked the other Pilots seemed to take notice that one of their own was following a Zealot. He needed to get rid of this nuisance and fast.
"My task, which does not concern you. Now, leave me." Tz'eal replied with a growl. He picked up a single crate of ammunition and began hauling it back to the Seraph, the Pilot refusing to leave him alone.
"I will need to confirm this task with my Commander. Not one Pilot would give up their Seraph without knowing what it was being used for. Do not leave until I return." The Pilot said confidently as he began to turn away.
"Your Commander does not know of my task. You are the only being, aside from the two who gave me this task, who knows of it. You are not to mention this to anyone, if you would like to keep your head attached to your neck." Tz'eal threatened as he reached the bottom of the ramp. The Pilot stopped and glanced around, his gaze landing on Tz'eal finally. Tz'eal nodded to the Seraph before looking to the other pilots. They did not seem to be paying them any attention, continuing about their own business. Climbing the ramp with the Pilot following him Tz'eal stored the ammunition away with the rifles before turning back, the Pilot staring at him with arms crossed, waiting to be told why his Ship was being taken from him.
"The Supreme Commander and The Prophet of Truth are the only two beings who know of my task. With this filthy, human touched planet burning, we need to continue to hunt them down to their home. We can not continue moving High Charity from system to system hoping to find their home, to wipe them out for good. I am being sent ahead to scout promising systems with Human activity and to report back anything I find." Tz'eal explained carefully. Hoping his story would be convincing enough for the Pilot to understand and turn the other way.
The Pilot glanced over his shoulder to the ramp leading down. He didn't say anything but nodded his head slowly.
"I understand Zealot. My Seraph is well maintained and will serve you well. Try to bring her home." The Pilot said after a few moments of silence. Tz'eal shifted slightly at the mention of her. He knew pilots were attached to their ships.
"I will do my best. I have no intention of dying at the hands of the Human filth." Tz'eal replied with a confident nod as he extended his hand to the Pilot. The Pilot nodded in return and took Tz'eals hand, shaking it. The Pilot then turned and walked away, giving his ship and Tz'eal one final glance before leaving.
Nodding to himself while taking another deep breath, Tz'eal walked down the ramp of the Seraph, gathering the crates of food and bringing them aboard. This was his last chance at changing his mind. If he left in the Seraph he would be branded a Heretic, to be put to death if he ever returned. By the Prophets who have lied to him and his people. Who had used them as soldiers, murderers, in their own religious quest.
Drake was correct. Tz'eal did not need the Prophets to tell him what is right and what is wrong anymore. The genocide of innocent humans, some of which were using his won talons. Was wrong. It was time to begin making things right. He entered the cockpit of the Seraph, engaged the engines and made his way out of High Charity, to begin his own mission of redemption.
Once clear of the city Tz'eal set a jump point to one of the nearby systems, one which he hoped contained neither Human nor Covenant forces. The Covenant ships were much faster than that of the Humans. It would not take him long to get to the next system. Engaging the jump drive Tz'eal left the burning planet and the city behind him. Once he was clear the next step in his plan would begin. He needed to locate the tracker built into the Seraph and damage or remove it, to prevent the Covenant from tracking his location and somehow fabricate a message of distress, something to make it seem like he had been detected and killed.
During the jump Tz'eal opened a maintenance panel looking for something that remotely looked like a tracker of some kind. However he was never trained as a Pilot. The wiring and connections in the panel meant nothing to him. Not wanting to risk the Seraph he chose to leave things alone, and hope he was not tracked. Once the jump was complete Tz'eal glanced out into the darkness of space, the distant stars blinking back at him he began to navigate the local system in the hopes of finding some way of contacting Drake.