Halo: Indelible Past/Chapter Thirty-One

Something was wrong.

Tuka watched the guards around the holding room as they talked into their radios and made sure their weapons were in working order. Over half the contingent watching him and his fellow prisoners had gone dashing off not too long ago, leaving only four very nervous looking humans to hold the room. The young Sangheili kept the knife he'd gotten from Simon low. If one of the remaining guards saw it now, he'd have no chance to help his friend.

From where he sat amidst the throng of his fellow prisoners, he could catch snatches of the guards' conversation. Most of their discussion seemed to be regarding what to do about the prisoners, and the snippets Tuka picked up were not encouraging.

"...no use for them now," one of the humans was saying. "You heard the boss. Snuff 'em and we can haul ass to the hangar."

"Well unless Venter sent down some spare clips, I'm not doing any shooting," the guard closest to the bars retorted. "I don't have any spare ammo and I'm not wasting what I've got here."

Beside Tuka, one of the other warriors in the holding pen grunted softly. "Not good. I doubt we have long to live."

"Don't be so sure, brother," Tuka whispered back, flashing the knife in his hands. "We mustn't give up hope yet."

The warrior raised an eyebrow. "How did you get that?"

"The human who fought here, the one they took away, he slid it in here before he was defeated," Tuka explained. That was the other thing that drove him not to give up hope. He couldn't die here because Simon was a prisoner somewhere. To die would be to fail him as well as the civilians here in the pen.

"Well, unless he slid you a grenade I don't see how that will do any of us much good," the warrior replied, sliding back down to the floor.

Out beyond the pen, one of the guards was checking a computer bank. "Maybe we should get the Reaper down here. I bet he'll have something to take 'em out with."

"That hardcore bastard's probably on the front lines at this point," another retorted. "Where's those fuel canisters we hauled down here? I've got an idea."

"Oh, nice thinking. We can just douse 'em and throw a match in there."

The guards paused as the chamber's lights flickered. When they switched back on, several remained out. The human at the computer bank checked the monitors again. "Ah, shit. The fence is out."

"Good thing they don't know that," a guard laughed as he hefted two large containers and headed for the fence. "Someone give me a hand here, will you?"

Tuka tightened his grip on the knife. ''Thank you, Simon. Thank you for this blade... and for forcing me to learn the human tongue.''

The electricity on the pen was down. That meant there was nothing to prevent him from reaching through the bars...

"Follow me," he told the warrior beside him. "There isn't much time."

Without waiting for a response, he slipped through the crowd of despondent Sangheili. He crept closer and closer to the fence as the guard drew near. Father, mother, guide my hand, he prayed silently.

The guard reached the fence, then paused to unscrew the caps on one of his burdens. There was not a moment to lose. Tuka lashed out, his arm slipping past the bars and stabbing the surprised human square in the gut.

Someone moved beside him, and then the warrior he had spoken to had also reached through the pen to pluck the guard's weapon out of its holster. Adjusting his grip on the weapon, the warrior calmly took aim and fired one shot, then two, then three. The guards across the room collapsed one after the other. None of them had time to even reach for their own rifles.

The Sangheili around them shifted and started to call out, utterly surprised by what had just happened. But the only thing Tuka could focus on was the pained gasps of the guard he had on the end of his knife. He had killed before, in pursuit of vengeance for his family and in the service of Sanghelios, but it never felt natural or right no matter how much he did it.

"Open the gate," he ordered the guard. "Open the gate and I won't kill you."

Face screwed up in pain, the guard haltingly drew a small card from his belt and swiped it down the side of a device strapped to the bars. The fence slid open, leaving a large hole for the prisoners to stream through.

Tuka withdrew the knife and staggered out of the cage. It was all so surreal, the turn of events that had led to this sudden freedom.

It was only when he heard a stifled scream from behind him that he realized he had only promised that he himself would not kill the surviving guard. He had made no such promises on behalf of his fellow prisoners.

The warrior who had helped him was already on the other end of the chamber. He and several other freed prisoners were busy appropriating the dead guards' weapons and equipment, looping ammunition belts over there chests as makeshift bandoliers. Tuka followed them and took a human pistol for his own.

"We need to get these civilians out," the warrior told him. "More guards may come when their friends don't report in."

"I used to work in a mine like this," one of the prisoners said, stepping forward. "I can guide us to the quickest route to the surface."

"You go," Tuka told his compatriot. "Guard the civilians. There is something I need to do here still."

The warrior nodded. "The other human?"

"He is bound to me by more than his gift of the knife. I will not abandon him here."

The warrior rested a hand on Tuka's shoulder. "The gods be with you, young one."

"And you as well," Tuka replied. He could only hope that the gods that had led him to victory against Mallunus would also guide him to wherever the killers had taken Simon.