User:Dragonclaws/Ascension8

A Gratifying Rest
The Arbiter led the Unggoy to the leaders’ chambers, feeling apprehensive about his actions. Had he made the correct decision? Protecting the Humans is one thing, but forgiving a traitor? “Now, Unggoy, you are not to repeat anything you hear,” he ordered him. “Everything discussed in this room is classified.” He slid his hand down a strip of light projected at the side of the threshold, causing the door to slide open.

“Greetings, Arbiter,” Commander ‘Setfethee bade as he entered. “Are you well rested?”

“Well enough,” he answered. “However, my armor could not be fully mended.”

“Such I have heard,” High Councilor ‘Lafatee said with a trace of amusement. “Nearly all of our workforce has been tasked to craft you a new suit, one which appears to be recycled from that of a Special Operations officer.”

“I apologize for diverting the unit’s resources,” he began, only to have the Councilor cut him off.

“Not at all,” he said. “If it were not for the Arbiter, we would all be dead now.”

Feeling appreciative of the praise received, he turned his attention to the upcoming battle. “Have we achieved the necessary means to engage the Jiralhanae? The Brutes?” he asked, switching to the Human term for their race.

“Yes, Arbiter,” ‘Setfethee answered. “Commander Keezz has been most helpful; she has provided us with code we may use to disguise our ships.”

He noticed the alien shift her balance – what he believed to be a sign of discomfort. Perhaps she dislikes praise, he reasoned. “Promptly after our equipment is prepared, we shall move,” he decided. “What is our force comprised of?”

“6 Seraphs, 7 Phantoms, 2 Spirits,” ‘Setfethee stated. “Approximately 250 Elites and Grunts, 6 Hunters, and two Humans,” he glanced over at them. “I know not what has become of our deployed skirmishers.”

Unfortunate numbers, he thought. As for the Humans… “Perhaps it would be wise for Commander Keezz to remain here during the battle,” he suggested, looking at her for approval. “Because no true treaty yet exists between our races, it would be most regrettable should the first Human leader to consent fall in battle.”

Keezz sighed. “Agreed.” She looked at her companion, “Jahnsen, you up for it?”

He straightened, pulling his rifle to his side. “Yes, ma’am.” He looked at the hologram depicting their target, before turning to him and asking, “So why can’t you call up your buddies and ask for back up?”

“High Charity began polluting the battlenet not long after our struggle began, corrupting our transmissions,” ‘Setfethee answered for him. “Presumably, no radio signal outside this complex will be received. The Prophets have granted the Brutes many gifts…”

Is that so? The apparent lack of communication between the various Sangheili units he had encountered became clear. Remembering ‘Opskitee, he spoke, “Commanders, I believe warrior ‘Opskitee to be a vulnerability. Repeatedly has he spoken against me, against the truth. Just now, he came to me claiming the Grunt traitor was a result of my alliance with the Humans.” At his side, the Unggoy shifted uncomfortably.

“Officer ‘Opskitee is the sole survivor of my elite Special Operations unit,” ‘Setfethee said, his expression darkening. “Despite his unfaltering obedience to the Oath, he has proved his worth. I will not cast out a loyal warrior simply because he has shown grief after we abandoned our teachings in favor of that which the Oracle has preached.”

“Very well,” he agreed after a tense moment. “I believe you would understand him better than I.”

“Indeed,” answered ‘Setfethee calmly, but with an intense look in his eyes as he stared at the Arbiter. After a moment he sighed, closing his eyes. “Do inform the Arbiter of the Prophet, High Councilor,” he requested, reopening his eyes when he had regained control of his temper.

“Very well,” ‘Lafatee muttered, obviously annoyed at being ordered by a Ship Master. “The Brutes in control of the Spirit that attacked your Phantom were guardians of the Prophet High Councilor of Justice. In the last four cycles, the Prophet has steadily grown in power and influence. When the High Prophet of Regret was killed, it is probable that Justice sought a place in the Hierarchy. In what was likely an attempt to gain the High Prophet of Truth’s favor, Justice presented his Brutes with artifacts forbidden to races outside the Union, specifically the body shield and sword.”

Those foul traitors… “The High Prophet of Truth gifted Tartarus with a powerful body shield, one only Jahnsen’s particle beam could penetrate,” he noted. “Do you suspect our enemies at the Zealous Missionary possess such tools?”

“We simply do not know,” ‘Lafatee answered. “However, it is, of course, best to be alert.”

“Do you not realize?” asked ‘Setfethee in a rather condescending tone. “The crimson rifles carried by the Brutes are no doubt the product of the Prophets’ influence. Did it simply not strike either of you as unusual that the beasts could create such weapons so soon after the conflict began?”

He looked down at his own rifles, attached magnetically to his hips. He had not even stopped to wonder. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the Unggoy, Jitji, also examining them with the infamous fatigue suffered by all his kind. There is no doubt that his failed ‘mission’ intensified such fatigue. “Jitji,” he spoke to the Unggoy, who swiftly looked up at him. “Return to your pit and rest. You can do nothing for me now.”

“Yes, Excellency,” returned the Unggoy. He wasted no time following his order.

***

Heading for the pit, Jitji resisted the urge to drop and walk on four legs as was natural for him. I answer to the Arbiter now. I must remain respectable, he grinned to himself. What a glorious event it had been! He had sat waiting for his execution, only to receive mercy. Not only had his life been spared, he had been given a great duty, one he was sure no Unggoy had ever been given. And his brethren, freed from the bond of food-drink? He would surely have laughed in delight, were it not for the fatigue which clouded his thoughts. He had been more active for longer than he had ever been, and the effects pulled at him.

He paused as his radio spoke up with the Arbiter’s voice, “Attention: I have forgiven the Unggoy traitor. He is now my personal servant; treat him with respect.” How glorious!

He hurried to pit-1. The Sangheili guard scowled at him as he entered the airlock; clearly he did not appreciate the Arbiter’s mercy. He triggered the airlock and smiled as he breathed in the fresh methane. Never had it smelled so sweet. Removing his air-tank, he entered the pit.

What first caught his eye was the missing food-nipple. In its place stood a meat container. He sniffed the air excitedly, breathing in the smell of the roasted flesh. How wonderful, he thought, approaching. As he moved in, all other Unggoy flinched away from him. He stopped. “Why you hide?” No one spoke.

“Why?” he asked again. Confusion filled him, alongside despair. Do they still fear me?

After a moment, a Major approached him cautiously. “We hear you bad,” he said bluntly. “We hear Humans bring bad spirits, turn you traitor.”

“Me not traitor,” he denied. “Me work for all Unggoy. Me work to feed us.” He gestured at the meat. “Me forgiven by Arbiter. You think Arbiter bad?”

“…Arbiter not bad,” the Major decided. “You good.” The Unggoy around him relaxed.

“Me Jitji,” he introduced himself.

“Me Gedeg,” the Major returned. He gestured at the container, “Hungry?”

He smiled and walked over to the container. He picked up a piece and examined it. After turning it over a few times, he realized it was a Kig-Yar forearm. Careful, he placed his mouth over the limb and attempted to use his teeth to scrape the cooked flesh off the bone. Unfortunately, much of it ended up on the ground.

“You learn how,” Gedeg comforted him. “Just act like Kig-Yar.”

He scooped up the meat. Putting it in his mouth, he carefully ground it with his teeth, and then swallowed. The texture felt strange and the taste was strong, but it was far better than food-drink had ever been. He kept repeating the process, somewhat easier each time, until his hunger was sated. “Thanks, Gedeg,” he said. “Me rest now.”

“Rest well, Jitji,” the Major bade.

He entered his quarters and yawned. It far too long day, he thought, curling up to sleep. Truly, most Unggoy would never spend so long without sleeping even a few moments. He drifted off, thinking of the Arbiter’s mercy.