Concurrence Chapter 2-2

2953 words

The Zealot turned away in some vain attempt to hide his shame, Seela allowing herself a little bit of a smile as he finally shut his mandibles for two seconds.

“We have more pressing issues to address,” the Marshal went on. “there is no time to waste squabbling amongst ourselves, so listen. There has been a complete restructuring of the chain of command, directly from the Prophet himself. I am… no longer to be your Field Marshal.”

“Are you being replaced?” Seela asked, the Marshal nodding. “By who?”

“Me,” a gruff voice answered. Seela turned around to face the newcomer, and her mandibles began to flex in disgust. Standing there in the threshold was a Jiralhanae, his towering body covered from his stumpy two-clawed feet to his wide neck in an armour the same shade of gold as the Zealot’s own suit.

The Captain Major’s lower part of his face was hidden behind a scraggly, grey beard that was braided into three thick strands, red bands of cloth wrapped over them to help keep their shape. From behind his lower lips emerged a pair of tusks as thick as her fingers, sharpened for cutting through flesh. Above his flat snout were two yellow eyes, regarding the Marshal and the Zealot with a resigned suspicion. When he turned his gaze back on Seela, his suspicion was instead replaced with smile that made her skin crawl.

“It has been too long since I’ve seen a female among the Sangheili ranks,” the Captain Major remarked, taking a few steps forward. “I wasn’t aware the Marshal was delving into his reserves, too many casualties, perhaps?”

“Tell us what the meaning of this is,” the Zealot ordered, the way he stepped between Seela and the Jiralhanae almost coming off as protective. When it came to the racial clash between Sangheili and Jiralhanae, the chauvinism always took the backfoot. “Never has a Jiralhanae ever given orders to us.”

“A Zealot doubting the Prophet’s will?” the Jiralhanae chuckled. “Truly, your battalions need some reevaluating if these two are any reflection of your field group, Marshal. Or should I say, Ultra?”

“Do not presume to think I’ve been demoted,” the Field Marshal replied. “I have been recalled to the carrier because the Prophet commands me so. Your leadership here is temporary at best, so do me a favour and leave everything exactly where I left it for my return.”

“If you say so,” the Captain Major replied, finding the whole situation more amusing than anything. “Your ship is waiting, Marshal, better to not keep my pilots waiting, nor the Prophet, he insisted on speaking to you.”

The Marshal glanced at Seela and the Zealot before making for the threshold, making sure to give the Jiralhanae a pointed stare as he passed him. As she made to follow him out, the Major put up a furry hand, the thing as big as her face.

“Not you two,” he ordered, taking up the Field Marshal’s position at the table. “Since I have you here I may as well relay your new orders.”

“What has happened to cause such a drastic change of command?” the Zealot demanded. “We are in the middle of an invasion, and you dismiss our Marshal?”

“Again, you doubt the orders spoken by Regret himself,” the Jiralhanae chided, before gesturing at Seela. “At least our little sister here knows how to keep quiet like a good mate.”

“What are our new orders?” she asked. She’d heard similar comments from her kin, but from a Jiralhanae it felt ten times worse.

“And eager, too. Too bad I find the Sangheili people a little thin to my taste.” He chuckled again, his tongue flicking out to wet one of his tusks. “You are both to take your squads on new patrol routes to seek out any remaining Heretics that are dug in, south of the base.”

“We are to work together once more,” the Zealot remarked. If the Marshal was still here, the Zealot probably would have complained, but now he was all too glad to be with kin, female or no.

“I cannot wait,” she replied sarcastically, rolling her eyes at him.

“You’re in luck, little sister,” the Jiralhanae interrupted. “I will not be sending you out together, as of right now all Sangheili teams are to be accompanied by one squad led by a Jiralhanae of my choosing. They will assist you in securing this city from the Heretics. One of my Captains is already outside waiting for you, Zealot, unless you have more objections?”

He clearly did, but decided to hold his tongue, storming back out into the daylight without a word, the Jiralhanae chuckling dryly as she was left alone with him.

“And who is to be my escort?” she asked when he didn’t continue.

“Leader,” he corrected. “One of my Minor’s will come find you when he is ready. Do not worry, you’re easy to pick out.” His yellow eyes played up and down her body. “Rest and rearm, have your share of heretic meat, if you wish.”

“I’d sooner die,” she murmured, taking that as a sign she was dismissed. She made her way back outside, looking around until she spotted her squad resting on the concrete nearby, some of them hanging their heads to catch what little rest they could.

As she went to join them, a hand fell on her shoulder. She bristled, turning around to expect to see some male trying to sidle up to her, her arms relaxing when she realised it was the Marshal.

“I thought you had been recalled?” she said, glancing up at the carrier far above them.

“I didn’t want to speak in front of the Major,” he replied. His voice was a whisper, like he didn’t want to be overheard. “This change in who leads the ground invasion worries me, sister. What did the Major tell you?”

She relayed to him her new orders, the Marshal shaking his head when she finished. “He should hardly expect any Sangheili to willingly follow the orders of a Jiralhanae,” he murmured. “I do not trust this Major for one moment.”

“You think the Prophet’s made a wrong decision?” she asked, looking over her shoulder as a pair of Jiralhanae walked by. She’d never heard of a superior being so doubtful, least of all straight to her face.

“Regret knows how to lead, not how to invade,” he replied. “I will personally find out what reason he has to make such drastic changes, I should be back by the time your patrol is finished. In the meantime, you and your brothers must watch each other’s backs.”

“We will, Marshal.”

“I must go warn the others before I’m missed. Farewell, sister.”

She watched him leave, shifting from one foot to the other. The Marshal was one of the few males she’d known that didn’t talk down to her, and a masterful tactician. The ground invasion had been going as planned, just why did the Prophet want him back on the carrier?

She joined her Unggoy, crossing her legs as she sat down next to them, telling the ones who were awake what their new task was. They didn’t seem particularly interested, especially the Kig-Yar, who were mercenaries above all else, they didn’t care what power struggles happened within the Covenant, but she felt compelled to clue them in regardless.

She bowed her head, drifting into a sleep riddled with nightmares. That damned infant just wouldn’t leave her thoughts be, her mind convinced it could hear its screams in the distance as a pack of Kig-Yar chased it down through a dark, swirling maze, her mind reeling in horror when she couldn’t move her muscles, couldn’t stop the aliens from devouring the defenceless Human.

Her eyes flew open, and she looked up, judging by the sun’s position that she hadn’t slept long. Footsteps rumbled the hard ground beneath her rump, and she looked up, sighing when she saw a Jiralhanae coming over to her, flanked by a small procession of Unggoy and Kig-Yar.

The colour of his armour identified him as a Minor, no doubt the one the Captain Major had earlier mentioned. He looked adolescent, a little less brawny than others of his kind, and he stank like a corpse, Seela brushing at her snout as he loomed over her.

“On your feet, female,” he ordered, his thick beard barely long enough to hide his features. They took great pride in the length of their hair, it held some cultural significance Seela hadn’t bothered to learn the details of, so to see one so clean-shaven reflected his inexperience. “We have Heretics to clear out. The rest of you runts get behind me,” he added, growling at the Unggoy settled in beside Seela.

“You do not hold authority over my troops,” she said, her mandibles clenching as she rose to her feet. “We are to patrol as two units, mine and yours. Those are our orders.”

“Our orders are that I take charge,” he insisted.

“I’m sure you think that,” she replied, gesturing at her helmet. “Do I have to remind you that an Ultra outranks a Minor, or are you too fresh out of the womb to realise who gives orders to who?”

She wasn’t an Ultra in any official capacity, of course, but the Jiralhanae didn’t know that, and she wasn’t about to start telling them. She’d never dream of talking like this to a kinsman, but her disdain with these Jiralhanae offered a bit of leeway, and she’d be damned to let one of them walk over her.

The young male could tell she wasn’t going to budge, his jaws exposed as he forced out a humourless laugh. “Looks like she has tusks. Very well, keep your runts and follow me, the sooner we get this over, the better.”

“On that, we are agreed,” she replied, motioning for her underlings to follow. With the Jiralhanae’s squad that put their group at about twenty strong. The procession moved out from the safety of the barricades, beginning their patrol as they disappeared into the winding streets.

***

“How long have you served in the Covenant?” Seela asked, trying to make conversation. They had patrolled for a good time now, with no sign of the Heretics despite the Major saying they were dug in around this area. It wasn’t silent, however, the distant sonic booms as aircraft broke through the atmosphere to swoop down on faraway skirmishes reminding her this planet was covered with Humans.

“One standard rotation,” the Jiralhanae replied, his eyes following his rifle as he swept the area for Heretics. There was something almost casual about the way he trailed his weapon back and forth, stalking through the alien streets without bothering to keep close to cover, like he knew this part of the city was long evacuated.

“You ever seen a planet so heavily defended before?” she continued, looking up at the dimming sky, the clouds joined to the ground by thick smoke columns trailing up from the worst areas of resistance, the sky occasionally filling with Banshees and Human spacecraft delivering airstrikes or reinforcements.

“Once. We must be on one of the Heretic’s core worlds,” he replied with a grin that exposed his many teeth. “Perhaps we have them cornered, and it won’t be long before all Heretics are purged.”

“They will fight harder than ever if that is the case,” she said. They emerged out from the maze-like streets into a sort of plaza, the clearing centralized by a monument representing a Human figure, half of the bronze statue scorched with plasma fire. Blocks of rubble littered the footpaths near it, and off to one side was an armoured vehicle laying on its side, the engine compartment coughing smoke. Heretics and Covenant alike lay scattered around, they must have just missed the fight.

“You Sangheili always praise the Heretics,” the Jiralhanae spat, pushing the human vehicle out of his way while Seela just walked around it. “you admire those who worship false Gods, who fight the Great Journey at every turn. How the Prophet’s thought of you as the best of the Covenant I cannot guess.”

“There is honour in defending those in need,” she chided. “then again you probably don’t even know what half those words mean, I should save my breath.”

He bared his teeth at her in a snarl, began to speak, but his words were lost as a blinding flash of light erupted behind them. Seela covered her eyes with an arm, turning to watch as the shadows around her began to strengthen, looking up at the smokey sky to see a ball of off-blue energy had appeared at the nose of the Prophet’s carrier, her eyes tracking the giant ship as it seemed to be pulled towards the rupture.

In a moment, the carrier was no longer there, the orb of energy popping out of existence too, a spreading shockwave of crackling electricity replacing it. The buildings closest to the carrier simply disintegrated, the ones further away crumbling apart from the expanding force, Seela’s eyes going wide as she felt a massive weight hit her front.

She dug her hooves into the ground, the Unggoy having no such luck as they were thrown around, bouncing and skidding off the pavement, the Kig-Yar joining them as they were knocked off their feet. The Jiralhanae braced himself against the derelict vehicle, shielding his face as the rushing air coursed through the plaza.

When the ferocious gale lessened, she turned her gaze up to the alien megastructure dominating the horizon, a column of metal rings spiraling up into the clouds. It rattled on its wire thin supports as the eruption washed over it, tilting off-center but managing to stay upright.

“Ship blew up!” an Unggoy squeaked. “Humans destroy Prophet ship!”

“Quiet, you runts,” the Jiralhanae snapped, his armour clinking as he brushed himself off. “The carrier has jumped to slip space.”

“Gods,” she said in disbelief, plucking one of her Unggoy to its feet when he couldn’t roll off his methane tank. “Why did they do that? We had hundreds of troops stationed right below the carrier!”

“Do not question the Prophet’s will,” the Jiralhanae replied. “They had to have a reason.”

“We’re going to die!” another Unggoy wailed. “Prophet’s leave us on Human world!” The crustaceans were running about as though they’d run out of methane, even the Kig-Yar were gathering up, looking nervously around as they searched for places to hide.

“Warriors of the Covenant!” the Jiralhanae shouted. “Shut your mouths or I’ll shut them for you. The Prophet’s have a plan, and so do we. We’re going to look for survivors from the blast and gather our forces. Lead the way, Ultra,” he added, motioning with his plasma rifle. “I’ll pick up the rear, make sure these cowards do not run.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, how could he know what the Prophet’s were planning after such a sudden jump out of the system? The chance of survivors being at the very middle of the rupture was nigh impossible, did he really think they’d find anyone?

She set aside her worries, leading her squad as she took up the lead, moving in the direction of the blast zone. They moved out onto a four-lane street chocked with abandoned vehicles, the ground beginning to tremble as one of the buildings up ahead give way beneath its supports, the tower of brick and stone listing over the street, kicking up a mountain of dust as it crashed to the ground.

“The shockwave has weakened all these buildings,” she said, looking round to see if the street branched off somewhere, cursing when there wasn’t. “We must double back, find another way to-”

She turned, and found herself staring down the muzzle of a plasma rifle, the prongs crackling with warming energy. Behind its curved top, the Jiralhanae grinned at her with his yellowed teeth.

“What are you doing?” she asked in disbelief, watching as his subordinates began to raise their rifles at her as well. “Heretics!”

“No, it is you who is the Heretic,” he replied. “The Prophet’s finally grew enough sense to dismiss you, Sangheili. The Captain Major told me to wait for the signal, and that rupture was it. All of you!” he barked, gesturing at the Kig-Yar and Unggoy behind her. “Relieve her of her weapons, the Major wants her brought back alive.”

Her charges looked to her, then to each other, the conflict visible in their eyes as they hesitated. Seela’s eyes went wide as they began to aim their weapons.

“W-We know you no Heretic!” one of the crustaceans said.

“Yes! We like Sangheili lady!” another added.

“It’s obvious who’s the Heretic here,” a Kig-Yar began. He raised his needle-rifle, and pointed at not at her, but the Jiralhanae. “Only a fool charges in without thinking, and I think this Jiralhanae is lying.”

Seela felt a surge of relief as her squad joined him, pistols and rifles angling past her at the Jiralhanae’s squad. It seemed her desire to command through respect had paid off, and her words had stuck with the Kig-Yar, who she had thought would betray her at the first chance.

Her squad coalesced around her, Seela raising her carbine at the Jiralhanae’s chest, who frowned seeing so many weapons being aimed at him.

“You would all follow this female?” he snarled. “Very well, it makes no difference to me.”

He pulled the trigger on his plasma rifle, and so did Seela, both their shields flaring as the superheated gas clashed against each other’s protective barriers, forming white bubbles around them as they dashed for cover.