Halo: Avenger's Quest/Part One

Prologue
Senta 'Refum rushed away from the door, her long plain robes billowing around her as she fled down the hallway and into the humble townhouse's main room.

"They're coming!" she called out to the half-dozen other Sangheili who had been reclining nervously around the sparsely decorated room. "The Jiralhanae have reached this sector!"

One of the Sangheili, one of three who wore armor, snarled impatiently. "So? They're killing all the Sangheili on High Charity! They aren't looking for us anymore."

Another armored Sangheili, much taller and commanding than the others, stood up sharply and grabbed a plasma repeater from the hover-couch he'd been sitting in. "It doesn't matter, you fool!" he barked at the one who had spoken. "Just because my brother's madness wasn't the thing that brought them down on us doesn't mean there isn't a danger!"

He gestured to the other Sangheili. "We can't stay here, and I doubt our brethren will care about the heresy in our bloodline anymore. Arm yourselves! We must join the others in the evacuation!"

All of them started moving at once. The two other armored men readied their own weapons and headed to secure the townhouse's back door. Another man wearing the plain robes of a civilian tore open an upright purple crate and tugged a trio of plasma rifles from within it. He handed them out to the two women in the group and kept the third for himself.

Senta rushed over to the corner of the room where a small child was huddled, shivering in fear. "Get ready Tuka! We need to hurry and get away!"

The child, Tuka 'Refum, thrust his small arms around his mother's elongated neck and allowed her to lift him up. He leaned over and whispered in Senta's ear, "Please, mother, make the noises stop." Even from within the secure townhouse, the blasts and plasma fire from the fighting outside could be heard all around the room.

"They will," she promised. "They'll all stop. But first they need to get louder, much louder. You need to be brave if you want them to stop for good, Tuka."

Tuka nodded, his mandibles clenching together as he tried not to be afraid.

Vonu 'Refumee, the tall leader, leaned over a holographic console and entered a short code. He'd been prepared for such an escape ever since his brother, Sesa 'Refumee, had been exposed as a heretic and a traitor. He and the rest of the 'Refum bloodline had fled here in the fear that they'd be targeted and killed for their kinsman's blasphemy, but now it seemed that a far greater heresy was afoot. At least now they'd have the chaos sparked by the Jiralhanae's sudden uprising to cover their escape.

"The front door is sealed," he told the others. "The surveillance systems show that our warriors are holding the alley at the back. We can escape that way, but we need to hurry!"

The three civilians rushed to join the two warriors, their weapons held nervously in their untrained hands.

His plasma repeater in hand, Vonu crossed the room to where Senta held Tuka. "Get moving," he told her gently. "Keep my brother's son safe."

She looked plaintively at him. "And you?"

Vonu spread his mandibles in a thin smile. "No fear, I'll be right behind you."

Another blast from what must have been a Wraith's mortar sounded, this time from behind the house--their escape route.

"No more delays," Vonu snapped, his military instincts kicking in. "Go-!"

There was an even louder explosion, one that rocked the house to its metal foundations. Tuka started to wail.

Vonu sprinted over to the hallway leading to the back door, but it was too late. It was open and the sounds of plasma fire could clearly be heard throughout the room. And an even worse sound could be heard over them: the whistling noise of Jiralhanae spike rifles.

One of the women tumbled in through the open back door, a trio of spikes embedded in her throat. One of the warriors leapt over her corpse as he tumbled back into the house; his shields failed just as he crossed the threshold.

"They broke through!" he bellowed over his shoulder to Vonu. "An entire pack of the mongrels!"

Vonu leaned around the hallway corner, aiming his plasma repeater at the open door. "Get Senta!" he snapped. "Unlock the front and take her through there!"

Before the warrior could reply, a dark figure bounded in through the door. Vonu let off a trio of shots from his repeater, but the Jiralhanae warrior dodged past them and unloaded his spiker into the retreating warrior. Dark purple blood splashed across the walls and the dead warrior's blue armor as he fell.

Vonu primed a plasma grenade and hurled it down the hallway. He didn't even wait to see if it made contact with the enemy warrior as he darted back around the corner and motioned furiously at Senta. "The console! Get to the console and unlock the doors!"

Back in the hallway the plasma grenade exploded and the Jiralhanae howled in agony.

Senta hesitated. "The others--"

"The others are dead! We must save ourselves! We must save your son!"

Senta hurried to the console just as an even larger Jiralhanae rounded the corner and barreled into the room. This one was clad in the elaborate armor of a chieftain, and he held a massive gravity hammer in his hairy claws. Its sparking head scraped against the ceiling, leaving a long scrape as its owner bellowed with pleasure.

Vonu didn't hesitate; he opened fire, spraying the chieftain's armor with the repeater's plasma. But even as he did so, his life was flashing before his eyes. There was no way he could kill this thing before it swung the hammer, and with him so close to Senta... the blast from the weapon would kill her and Tuka in seconds.

There was no time to think.

Discarding his repeater, Vonu lunged for the chieftain and pushed him back into the hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw more Jiralhanae warriors spilling in through the back door. They held their fire, fearing their chieftain's wrath if they struck him by mistake.

Activating his left wrist's energy gauntlet, Vonu plunged the small glowing blade into the chieftain's side. A burst of red blood coursed down the creature's side, but it didn't even flinch. Instead, it tore him from its body with a single massive fist, then hit him from the side with its hammer faster than the eye could see.

Vonu's shields failed immediately and he knew he was dying before he even had time to feel the pain. He collapsed to the floor in a lump of purple blood and broken bones, but he still managed to draw his plasma pistol and let off a few paltry shots.

The chieftain sneered, not even bothering to dodge the green bolts that splattered against its chest armor. "You're kind's days of arrogance are finished," it gloated over the wounded Sangheili. You have held my people in degradation and humiliation for far too long."

It raised its hammer above Vonu, who had already gone limp from the sheer magnitude of his injuries. "May you rot in all the hells that ever were."

But before it could strike, a renewed barrage of plasma bolts struck his armor and drove him back. On the other side of the room, Senta had retrieved Vonu's plasma repeater and was hammering the chieftain with wild, untrained shots.

"Run Tuka!" she cried to her son, who had returned to the corner, trembling with fear. "Run! You have to live!"

The repeater overheated and Senta dropped it, screaming with pain as the weapon released its pent up heat onto her unprotected arms.

Cursing under his breath, the Chieftain crossed the room in a single stride and struck Senta down with a single blow from the blade on the other side of his hammer's magnetic head.

Tuka screamed as his mother's body collapsed, her purple blood staining the folds of her robes.

More Jiralhanae entered the room now, their weapons at the ready. One wearing violet armor stepped over to the shaking Tuka and aimed its spiker at the small child's head. But instead of firing, it merely let out a small growl of disgust and turned back to its chieftain. "Mallunus!" he called. "There's no one left here worth fighting! Let's move on!"

The words embedded themselves in Tuka's grief and terror wracked mind. Mallunus. The name of his mother's killer.

Chieftain Mallunus chuckled at his young subordinate. "Brash as ever, Kenpachus. But never fear: there will be plenty more of these Sangheili vermin to dispose of before we've had our fill."

"Have your fill of this, murdering traitors!" thundered a voice from behind them. Three black-armored Sangheili disengaged their active camouflage and lunged at the Jiralhanae with their energy swords. Two warriors were felled with in an instant, but Mallunus and the one called Kenpachus fell back. One Sangheili dodged past Mallunus's hammer and landed a swift blow across his shoulder. The chieftain bellowed with rage, but could do nothing but retreat in the face of the three furious swordsmen.

"We must pursue!" snapped one of the black-armored Sangheili. "Mallunus mustn't escape!"

The one who had wounded the chieftain set a hand on the speaker's arm. "No. We have more pressing matters than vengeance to attend to here."

He stepped respectfully over Vonu's corpse and knelt over Senta's body. Tuka was tugging at his mother's robes as if trying to wake her from a deep slumber."

"You've seen enough, young one," he said gently to the whimpering child. "Come with me. I'll take you away from here."

"She said we'd leave," Tuka whispered helplessly. "She said the noises would stop. But they killed her. Mallunus killed her."

The black-armored leader lifted the child into his arms. "But you're still alive, young one. You can still live on in her name."

He motioned for his comrades and they hurried out the way they'd come.

"My name is Roni 'Visagee," the swordsman said into Tuka's ear as they ran. "You're safe now."

Tuka just closed his eyes as the sounds of fighting got louder and louder. His mother had been right: the noises did need to get louder before they stopped. But after what seemed like an eternity, they did.

His mother and everyone else he'd ever known was dead. But he was still alive and he had the name of the one who had done all that. Mallunus.

One day he would be strong enough to make Mallunus and all the other monsters like him answer for their crimes. He'd be strong enough to make the galaxy safe for everyone.

Someday...

Chapter One: Graduation
The gathered Sangheili pupils tried to hide their stares as the blademaster introduced their twentieth member, the one who would complete their class size.

''Roni 'Visag nodded at the human by his side. "While I understand that many of you will be uncomfortable working alongside one you view as an outsider, particularly with the many wounds from our long war still taking their time in healing, my decision here is final. I have reviewed him thoroughly, and I judge him worthy of my tutelage. I hope the rest of you will come to the same conclusion."''

''Tuka could feel his classmates struggling to repress their protests. Roni 'Visag was one of the most respected sword instructors on Sanghelios and throughout the whole of Sangheili space, and almost all of them were guests training in his keep at their families' request. As Kaidon of the Visag keep, all of the decisions he made were more than final, they were the law. But this was too much, even for one with Roni's reputation.''

''"This must be a joke," whispered Tuka's friend, Ventu 'Kosol, beside him. "The blademaster's human pet will be training with us?"''

''Tuka didn't whisper back, unwilling to do anything disrespectful towards the person who had been as much a father to him as a teacher for almost as long as he could remember. Instead, he examined the "human pet" more carefully.''

''The human was short, though that was true of most humans when compared to Sangheili. Though Tuka hadn't studied much about them other than what pertained to the Great War, he was fairly certain that this human was young, most likely a phase or so younger than the rest of the class. The hair on his head--Tuka had always thought this to be the strangest thing about humans, the way hair only seemed to grow on their heads--was black and reminded Tuka of a tangled bush he might have seen while hiking in the mountains above the keep. His skin was pale, though this was far less unusual for humans than it was for Sangheili.''

''Roni seemed to have arranged for the keep's tailors to piece together some sort of human-shaped garb for his guest to wear, because the human was wearing what looked like a regular Sangheili robe that had been cut many times too short. A white bandage was wrapped around his head, covering up the forehead, and through the opening in the human's robe Tuka could see more over the chest. He wondered if the human was badly wounded or if he always dressed like that.''

''And then there was the arm. The human's left arm was completely gone at the shoulder, and in its place was a smooth, metallic prosthetic. Tuka could easily tell that it was Sangheili made--the keep's technicians had most likely constructed it--but it had been modeled after a human arm rather than a Sangheili one.''

''Roni had brought this human in several cycles ago, after he had personally led a clan raiding party against a Jiralhanae slaver camp. Tuka had wanted to go, but he was, of course, too young. But he'd be ready soon enough. Ready to go out and hunt down the Jiralhanae that had butchered his family before his eyes so many phases ago.''

''"... show proper patience and thoughtfulness..." Roni was telling the class. Tuka hoped that his mentor wasn't so naive that he'd believe that a little speech like this would convince them all to treat the human well. He'd do his best, if only to please Roni, but he wasn't sure the others would follow his lead.''

''"His name," Roni said, finishing his talk. "Is Simon."''

How strange,Tuka thought. No family name. Doesn't he have some human clan or bloodline he belongs to?

''He took another look at the human, not gazing at him in his entirety and instead concentrating only on his face. There was a look in those strange, grey eyes of his, one that Tuka understood completely. There was a fire in those eyes, one that spoke of steely determination and deep hungers and yearnings. Yes, Tuka understood that look completely. He felt that fire within himself every day.''

Perhaps this human wouldn't be so bad after all...

Two Years Later

The ceremony took place in one of the Visag keep's many gardens. This one was a simple enclosure, with only the grass and a handful of shriveled-looking trees within it. Sparse, perhaps, but like just about everything else within the Visag keep, it had a kind of natural, unassuming beauty about it. The Visag clan had always been as passionate about their natural art as they had been about swordplay, and the gardens within the keep were one of the best testaments to that passion.

The entire class was lined up on the grass, their large, bare feet resting comfortably within its cool blades. In other Sangheili circles, a ceremony like this would have called for some sort of armor or other military apparel, but Roni--or Blademaster 'Visag as he was called in these situations--had requested that the class wear only simple robes for their graduation ceremony. This was as much a celebration of the pupils' growth on their path to adulthood as it was about how well they had mastered Roni's sword teachings.

Tuka 'Refum fought to stand as straight as he could manage. He was certain that the back of his robes had somehow gotten stained, but he wasn't sure how this could have happened or what exactly had put that idea into his head in the first place. At least the suspected stain wasn't on his front where everyone could see it. He felt both furiously excited and terribly nervous at the same time, so much so that he almost felt as if he would split apart right then and there like one of the fruits they cut with their blades in midair during daily exercises. He'd been waiting for this day his whole life: the day the great Roni 'Visag acknowledged him and the rest of his friends as having completed his training and sent them out into the great unknown galaxy.

Well... most of his friends would be acknowledged. One was no longer here to receive such an accolade.

Beside him, Ventu shifted uncomfortably. Tuka's shorter friend had never been much for ceremonies and rituals. A short letter of congratulations from the blademaster would probably have been just as meaningful to him as this observance and most likely would have been far more welcome to boot. Tuka wondered how Ventu would manage once he entered training in the Sangheili military. From what he'd heard, there was just as much ceremony and tradition within those ranks as there had been during the old Covenant times, if not more.

Of course, Tuka wouldn't be in much of a position to learn any of that for himself because he, unlike more than half the class, didn't plan on entering training.

He had more pressing matters to deal with.

After what seemed like an eternity of waiting, the blademaster himself stepped out of a nearby doorway that led into the keep's main building, which had massive wings and dormitories that stretched throughout the keep's walled interior. He was wearing his Kaidon's robes, which were emblazoned with many intricate patterns colored with the Visag clan's signature red and silver markings. His wife, Benta, followed behind him wearing a similar but slightly less elaborate garb.

Roni 'Visag paced across the grass, scanning each and every one of the assembled pupils with his emerald eyes. Time may have been beginning to take its toll, as his slightly stooped shoulders and fading skin could attest to, but in Tuka's eyes he still struck the same imposing figure that he had when he'd rescued him from the Jiralhanae all those years ago. There was a grandeur about him that couldn't be diminished merely by an aging body. The blademaster carried it within him and it shone out from his eyes and through the very words he spoke. All present had been affected by that present at some point during the phases they'd spent training with him, and the utter silence that greeted his appearance was a testament to their unwavering respect for the blademaster. No one so much as twitched a muscle as Roni continued to pace up and down their ranks, appraising them each with his solid, unblinking gaze.

He paced like this at least three times before finally stopping and gazing at them all. Even from his place near the end of the line, Tuka could see the pride that radiated from his eyes. Even if he'd been blind, he'd have been able to understand that merely from how the blademaster sounded when he began to speak.

"When your families sent you from all over our people's territory, they wished for me to teach you all that I knew of swordplay," Roni began solemnly. "They wished for you to honor your bloodlines with the skills I would impart on you, and they were right to do so. Though the Great War may have ended, the sacrifices of my generation have not brought our people a lasting peace. We live in times that are still troubled by war and strife, much of which stems from the divisions we have allowed to come between ourselves. I fear that it must fall to your generation to do what my own could not and purge our great people of the miserable curse of constant warfare.

"Victory will not come from strength of arms, but through our own determination and convictions. Only by holding true to these can we be successful, for without them we are nothing. Family, rank, status; all are worthless without honor and loyalty. Those are the true spirit of the Sangheili, and we must all never forget our duty to uphold them with our dying breaths."

He began to pace again, but he never tore his eyes from the line of his pupils. "I did not set out to teach you how to kill with a blade. My teachings in that regard were merely the vessel through which I gave to you my true gift: the gift of knowledge. After this day you will go out into the galaxy and you will have more than just the skills to survive in it. No, you will also have the teachings of honor, nobility, and faith that have kept us all strong throughout our people's many trials and tribulations. As long as those teachings remain alive, the spirit of our people stays alive as well."

He faced the front once again and snapped his right arm over his chest in the time-honored respectful salute of the Sangheili. "My students, it has been a pleasure to instruct you. I ask you not to seek to honor me with them, but to honor your bloodlines, your ancestors, and your gods."

Tuka and the rest of the class did the same, but they all bowed deeply as well. None of them said a word, and they remained silent after they had risen and the blademaster had begun to walk down their line. He stopped at every pupil and placed his hand at the center of their chests in blessing. Benta followed him and anointed each one on the forehead from the small dish of water she carried with her.

Tuka fought to keep the emotion from showing on his face as Roni neared his place in line. His whole life had been leading up to this moment. Even before he was old enough to be instructed, he had been practicing to wield a blade. Roni had given him everything he had ever needed, but this honor... this honor trumped them all.

As Roni reached him, Tuka locked his body ramrod straight and stared straight ahead. When his mentor placed his hand on his chest, Tuka met his eyes with what he hoped was the steely determination he wished he was feeling at the moment. Instead, his gut was clenched tight with nerves.

Roni merely nodded and moved on. He had never shown Tuka any preferential treatment during the training, and Tuka loved him for it. He inclined his head to Benta to receive the anointing water and as the cold liquid spilled down his forehead he knew that he would feel its cool touch on his skin for the rest of his life.

His training was finally complete. Now his real work could begin.

Roni finished his path down the line. Nineteen pupils had been blessed and anointed. There should have been twenty, but Simon was gone. Tuka had to bite down his disappointment for his friend. He hadn't really reflected on the full cost of the human's departure until now: Roni, the one who had saved him and given him a new life within the keep, would be unable to bless him and welcome him into the Visag fold.

The blademaster bowed again to the line of graduates before heading out the way he had come. None of them moved as he departed, and they remained perfectly still long after he and Benta had vanished into the main household.



Tuka felt strangely drained of energy after the ceremony, as if he'd just undergone a rigorous sparring match rather than a simple ritual. He'd expected to be refreshed and full of energy, but instead he just felt like he needed to go lie down.

But he'd been taught to ignore these feelings, so instead of taking a nap he was helping Ventu pack. It was more of a friendly gesture than anything else, as the living space each student was allowed barely fit one Sangheili, let alone two, but he felt that Ventu appreciated it anyway.

"So," Ventu said, folding one of his robes and settling it into a small bag. "An inspiring ceremony, of course."

Tuka nodded, handing his friend a stack of holopads. "The blademaster would do nothing less for us."

"Well, of course." Ventu inspected the small room for anything they might have missed. "We do have his star pupil in our class, after all."

He cast a meaningful glance at Tuka, who looked intently at a crack on the far wall. Ventu snorted.

"Stop being modest and acknowledge it," he told Tuka. "Everyone knows that you're the best student this keep has ever seen. I bet you'll even be a match for the blademaster himself one of these days."

"The rest of you are just as good as I am," Tuka said quickly. "I've just been swinging a training sword around my whole life, that's all."

"Skilled and modest," Ventu mocked playfully. "You'll make a fine Kaidon yourself if you ever get around to finding a keep of your own."

"It was a good ceremony," Tuka said firmly, changing the subject. "I'm sorry Simon wasn't here to see it."

Ventu snorted. "I'm sure that nasty little human's doing fine out in the real world. You think about these things too much."

Although his words were harsh, his tone remained playful. Ventu had actually been one of the first pupils to really warm to their human classmate. After Simon had beaten him senseless during a sparring match, Ventu seemed to have decided that he was worth getting to know.

"Yes," Ventu continued. "He's probably out there right now, farming rocks or whatever it is humans do when they aren't fighting."

Tuka decided that another subject change was in order.

"What about you?" he asked, stepping out of the cleared-out dormitory. "Joining the military?"

Ventu nodded. "That's where I'm headed once I leave the keep. Once training's over, I'll probably wind up on the frontier, looking out for pirates."

"You don't think you'll be hunting the Fallen, do you?" Tuka asked, thinking about the anti-human separatist faction that the military was fighting as they spoke.

"No, I doubt they'd give that kind of job to a raw trainee like me," Ventu replied, stepping out into the hallway as well. "The Council probably has whole legions of veteran warriors crushing them this very moment."

He paused. "And you? Going to try for the military as well? There's still time for you to apply, you know."

Tuka shook his head. "I wish I could come with you, Ventu, I really do. But there's something else I need to do now that I've graduated from this school."

Ventu stared at him for a moment, then flexed his mandibles slowly. "Oh, right. I keep forgetting about that. I should probably tell you that you haven't got a chance, but I'm sure better tongues than mine have tried that before."

He shouldered his pack and smoothed his robes. "Well, I'm off to my family's keep now. It'll be a while before I can see them again."

Tuka crossed his arm over his chest. "Farewell, Ventu. May the gods smile upon you."

Ventu clicked his mandibles impatiently. He, like many other Sangheili, did not bear the same patience with the gods that Roni had drilled into Tuka. "If they exist," he said in that blunt way of his, but he also returned the salute. "Best of luck finding that chieftain. Try not to get yourself killed."

He headed down the hallway, but threw one last remark over his shoulder as he vanished around a corner. "And if you find Simon out there, tell him I still need to hit him back. He'll know the spot."

Then he was gone, his footsteps vanishing quickly into the air.

Tuka stood in place for several moments. Yes, Ventu had read him right. It was time for him to hunt down that chieftain, Mallunus. Foolhardy? Quite possibly, but Tuka had spent his training getting ready for this. There would be no better time than now.

But there was one person he needed to convince of that. He refused to leave the keep where he had grown up without Roni 'Visag's blessing, and he knew that the blademaster would be opposed to his plan. But he wouldn't give up now, and he knew exactly where to find his mentor.

As he headed towards the keep's council chamber, Tuka pondered the last thing Ventu had told him. He'd been thinking about it himself for some time now, but Ventu's words had driven the idea home.

Once he went out there, he wouldn't just be looking for Mallunus.

He'd also be looking for Simon.

Chapter Two: The Blessing
Tuka walked quietly as he entered the Visag keep's council chambers. Technically he wasn't permitted in this area of the keep at all, but for as long as he could remember Roni had allowed him access to the room so long as the council wasn't in session.

The council room was circular and housed a series of hover-chairs where the Visag elders sat during council meetings. The chamber was large, allowing them to raise themselves high off the ground while discussing clan matters with the Kaidon. This was yet another one of the clan's famous methods of promoting free, natural thought. The irregularity of the hover-chairs' flight paths was meant to remind the Kaidon and elders about the often chaotic nature of the galaxy.

Running up the chamber's walls and onto the ceiling was the Visag clan's family saga: a record of all the greatest deeds performed by their ancestors. Every keep was supposed to have one, but Roni had told Tuka that since the Great Schism many clans had been erasing their sagas and starting fresh. They believed their time in the Covenant had tainted their honor, but the Visag clan felt differently. The Sangheili people had lost countless warriors in defense of the Covenant, and they deserved to be remembered, regardless of whether or not their cause had been completely just.

Tuka gave the saga a respectful bow as he edged past the dormant chairs, arranged in a circle around the room as they always were when not in use. He passed over the tiled floor, which had been painstakingly constructed to form a complex pattern like the one Roni had worn on his robes during the ceremony. When he was younger, Tuka had managed to awe himself every day at the sheer mastery inherent in every aspect of the Visag keep, and even now he couldn't help but admire every architectural work of art in the compound he'd lived in for over half of his life.

Maybe one day, when there was nothing left for him to do out in the galaxy, he'd come back to Sanghelios and tour every keep he could to see if any could match this one's beauty.

But that day would be a long time in coming. There were more important things for him to do in the here and now.

He stepped out of the council chamber and into a long hallway with curved walls and a low ceiling. The hallway lacked any light sources, meaning that Tuka had to rely on the light that entered in from the council chamber and his own body's memory of this path to guide him. He ran his hand over the curving wall as he did so, his fingers feeling the grooves and lines created by a series of carvings etched into the stone, each depicting a different scene from the Sangheili's ancient history.

Reaching the end of the hallway, he paused before a small door. Unlike most doors in the keep, this was not an automatic entrance but rather an archaic wooden one with a simple metal handle set in its center. There were no markings on this door, but there was a small basin of water not unlike the kind Benta had used during the morning's ceremony sitting beside it.

Tuka dipped his finger into the water and anointed his head with it, murmuring a small benediction as he did so. With this finished, he grasped the door handle firmly and pulled it open. Lowering his head in a small genuflection, he entered the Visag keep's chapel.

The Visag bloodline, and Roni in particular, were known not only for their legendary swordsmen but also for their piety and dedication to the gods. Even after the stunning revelation that the Covenant's long sought-after Great Journey was nothing more than a misinterpretation of ancient artifacts--a revelation that Tuka's father, Sesa 'Refumee, had helped spark--and the Sangheili's species-wide descent into religious confusion and disillusionment with even the belief in gods, the Visag clan still clung stubbornly to the gods and traditions that their pre-Covenant ancestors had worshiped. The Great Schism had not disproved the gods' existence, the Visags argued, but had instead showed the Sangheili people just how far from the true path the Covenant had drawn them from. It was not a commonly held belief and certainly not a popular one, but Roni and his clan remained firm in their commitment to upholding it.

Tuka had been raised with this mindset ever since Roni had brought him into the Visag keep and overseen his upbringing. He'd faced skepticism and even derision from his fellow trainees, including friends like Ventu, but he'd remained firmly set in the faith throughout it all. He didn't mind it all that much either. The Sangheili people had just emerged from countless ages of deceit and blindness. It was only natural that their rude awakening would jar many from the path.

This chapel was not the only place of worship in the keep, but it was by far the most important. It was circular, as the council chamber was, but far smaller; at best it could only house about a dozen Sangheili at a time. Carved entirely from stone, it lacked any sort of carvings or even writing on its walls. The only decorations of any kind were located within a series of small alcoves that had been carved along the length of the curved walls. Each alcove housed a statue depicting a different god in the Sangheili pantheon. The statues were the work of master craftsmen who had chiseled lifelike features into the tiny statues.

There were no seats in the chapel save for a single stone bench, which sprouted up from the stone floor as if it had grown from the rock itself. This bench was currently occupied, and the Sangheili sitting in it was gazing at the chapel's centerpiece: a larger alcove protected by a glowing energy barrier, the only source of light in the entire room.

From where he was sitting, Roni 'Visag raised his head at the sound of Tuka's entrance. He didn't turn his head, but Tuka knew that the Kaidon could tell it was him. He stood over the chapel's threshold and hesitated. What should he say?

But Roni beat him to breaking the silence. "Ah, Tuka. I wondered when you would come."

Tuka took a moment to collect his thoughts, which had suddenly been churned up like a cloud of disturbed dust, before replying. "You knew I was coming?"

Roni chuckled softly. He still had not turned to face his pupil. "Tuka, I've known you since you were a child. I haven't gotten so addled that I can't predict my own students."

He motioned towards a space on the bench beside him. "Come, sit with me a moment. Tell me what's on your mind."

If Roni had known that Tuka would seek him out here, than he would also be quite aware of why Tuka had come as well. Tuka couldn't quite grasp why Roni didn't simply get to the point, but then again, that had never been the way the blademaster did things. Although he wouldn't approve of the comparison, Roni carried out everything the same way he carried out his swordplay: calmly and patiently, always giving his sparring partner time to set up their own attacks before he moved in with his own swift combinations.

Tuka slowly crossed across the chapel, the cold stone stinging his bare feet. His robes brushed against the floor and he drew himself up a little straighter as he neared the venerable Kaidon.

In the flickering, watery light cast by the energy field, Tuka saw that Roni had changed out of his formal robes and wore simple robes like his own. And yet even with his aged features and humble garb, the blademaster still radiated wisdom and authority.

Roni indicated the large, shielded alcove, or rather, the object within it. Suspended by a gravity field within the barrier floated a massive sword. Although shaped like a regular energy sword, this blade was composed entirely of grey metal and its twin prongs jutted out far past its grip, which was double rather than single handed.

"Magnificent, isn't it?" Roni asked, his voice low with reverence. "Out of all the many treasures within this keep, the Sword of Harka is the one I cherish above all the rest."

Tuka nodded, his gaze fixed on the sword. Harka was a legendary Sangheili warrior who had lived back during the formation of the Covenant. It was he whom the Visag bloodline considered their first ancestor, and it had been he who had become one of the first clan leaders to support the Sangheili people's union with the Covenant. Harka had been the one who opposed the Arbiter Fal 'Chavamee's attempts to oppose the Covenant's formation, and the two warriors had died at each other's hands.

Now that the Covenant had been broken and its promises revealed as lies, many amongst the Visag wished to remove the sword and distance themselves from its owner as much as possible. But as with the clan saga, Roni had refused to do so. To him and to many of the clan elders, the blade was an embodiment of duty and loyalty, and he never missed an opportunity to relate this to his pupils.

"I have spent my whole life looking at that blade," Roni murmured. "I see it every time I grasp my own sword and every time I instruct others in the use of the blade. Though many wish it were not so, it is as much a symbol of our clan as our emblems and colors are."

Tuka had always tried to share his mentor's appreciation for the ancient weapon, but it had always reminded him too much of the savage-looking bladed weapons the Jiralhanae wielded. "I understand why it is so important, Kaidon," he said slowly. "But doesn't it bother you that its wielder was a supporter of the very Covenant that betrayed and led us away from our gods?

Roni inclined his head. "It has occurred to me from time to time," he admitted. "But I believe that a warrior can live and die nobly even if the cause they believe in is the wrong one. We all must believe that, or risk dishonoring the countless warriors who died during our war with the humans."

He sighed. "Even so, we still must make amends for the destruction we brought upon them. I thought I could assuage my own guilt by bringing one in to learn our ways, but I was wrong."

Tuka looked at the Kaidon with surprise. "You didn't make a mistake by bringing Simon to us, Kaidon," he assured him.

Roni's mandibles parted in a slight smile. "I never said that I thought it was a mistake," he said calmly. "But perhaps it was a mistake to let him leave."

Tuka remembered the battered human ship that had somehow found its way to the keep and contacted Simon. There had been someone aboard it, someone who had convinced him to leave the keep and vanish into the galaxy. Roni hadn't lifted a finger to stop his human pupil from leaving; in fact, he had given Simon his blessing as the young man departed. And now it was time to get a blessing for himself.

"When Simon left," he said quietly. "You gave him your blessing. I've come to ask for one as well."

Roni lowered his head and did not speak for several moments. Tuka's entire body was stiff with nerves and anticipation. Would the blademaster be angry at his request?

But the Kaidon merely sighed. "Yes, I know what you're talking about."

He looked up at Tuka with an unreadable expression. "I know that you've been planning this ever since you were old enough to hold a practice blade. Even though you never said anything, I could see it in your eyes as plain as the light of the sun. But tell me this: is avenging your mother worth the effort?"

Tuka blinked. He certainly hadn't expected this response. "I... but... Yes, of course it is!"

"Really? You want to avenge someone you can barely remember, find and kill someone who might not even be alive? It's clear to me that you aren't suffering now because of your loss, so why do you want to set down everything and do this?"

"I've gone through the records of the Chieftains killed during the war," Tuka said stubbornly. "Mallunus wasn't on them then, and I know he's still alive today. Besides, this isn't about vengeance for me, it's about justice."

Roni sighed. "You're still young Tuka. Young and impatient. Leave things like justice to the institutions we put in place to deliver it. If you truly want to become an instrument of justice, join the military and let everything I've taught you guide you through its ranks. Work to achieve a position of power and then you will be worthy to dispense justice."

"Perhaps I may do that," Tuka protested. He had never argued like this with his mentor before, but this was urgent. He felt as if a great weight were pressing down on his chest. Every moment he stood here bartering for Roni's approval was another he could have used in hunting Mallunus. "But I can't do anything with my life before I do this! I can still remember how that monster cut my mother down in front of me; this is something I need to do."

The Kaidon just sighed and looked away. Tuka wondered if he needed to get down on his knees.

"Why do you need my blessing?" Roni asked finally. "You've kept the name of Refum; I have no authority over you now that you're training is complete."

For some reason those words stung Tuka more than he could imagine. "Kaidon, please. You have given me everything I could ever need. You saved me when I was a child. You raised me as if I were your own kin. You gave me a home and a clan to live with. I want nothing more than to be accepted into the Visag bloodline. But before I can do that, I need to avenge my kin."

Roni let out a tired chuckle. "In that case, you should start by killing the one who killed your father. Thel 'Vadam lives as a leader for our people, does he not?"

Tuka drew back. "He did what he did out of duty to the Covenant he served. Mallunus killed my mother in cold blood. It isn't the same."

"Hmmm," said Roni thougthfully. "Have you really forgiven him because of that? Or is it because he is one of our kind and Mallunus is a Jiralhanae? Or perhaps because you never knew your father?"

"I don't understand."

"My point, Tuka, is that you can't apply justice to one thing and deny it to another. Don't treat it as something that can be meted out in one place and not another. If Mallunus, who killed your mother, must die then so too must Thel 'Vadam, who killed your father. Since you have no desire to kill 'Vadam, then you can only call what you ask for vengeance."

But there was one thing that Tuka hadn't told Roni yet. "Finding Mallunus isn't my only desire, Kaidon. I also want to find the one who departed from us and bring him back to you."

He realized that he had chosen his words poorly the moment he said them. Shortly after the end of the war, Roni's own son had departed the keep and vanished after committing some unspeakable crime. Tuka knew that whatever had been done was unforgivable, but no one ever spoke of anything more than that. But Roni seemed to understand.

"You mean Simon?" he asked, and shook his head. "No, I know that I won't see him again. I wish it were otherwise, but he's lost to me. It will take more than my teachings to guide him back to the light."

"What do you mean?"

"Wherever he is, Simon lives in the darkness. I could see it in him from the moment I laid eyes on him. Benta did as well." Roni looked intently at Tuka. "You do know he was a Spartan, don't you?"

Spartans. The Demon warriors who had fought on equal terms with Sangheili warriors and struck terror into the hearts of the Covenant's finest legions. Tuka nodded. "He told Ventu and I, yes."

Roni sighed. "Great enemies during the war, and great allies now as we battle the Fallen. But that one... he was born in darkness and trained in darkness. I saw traces of light in him, and hoped that they would overcome the darkness, but he left before I could realize that dream. I only understood the true nature of the darkness inside him after he had gone and it was too late for me to help him. And I fear that, if left unchecked, he may become a herald of darkness."

Tuka shook his head. "Forgive me, Kaidon, but I still don't understand."

The Kaidon laughed softly. "Ah, I'm just an elder who spends too much time reading ancient scriptures."

"Simon wants the same thing I want. He's told me about his own troubles, and he wants the same vengeance I do."

Roni's laughter ceased and his eyes flashed. "If you are to emerge unscathed from the path you are about to walk," he said sharply. "You must never fool yourself into believing that. You want one chieftain dead, nothing more. But in the depths of his heart... he lusts after a vengeance that is unobtainable, and if he's left alone for too long, it will swallow him up."

He shook his head. "Go find him. He will help you get your revenge, and you in turn must guide him the way I could not. You have my blessing, and I will provide you with the tools you will need to begin your journey. But always bear in mind the things I have taught you. Let the gods and your ancestors guide your feet and you will be victorious."

Tuka bowed low in gratitude. "Thank you, Kaidon. I will bring honor to this clan and to your training."

Roni nodded, but he looked a little sad. "Remember your obligation to me. Tell Simon that he doesn't have to live as an exile consumed by hate. Tell him that there will always be a place in this keep for him. And tell him that his name has been entered into the Visag family roll. From this day forward, no matter what he chooses to call himself, the Visag clan will know him as Simon 'Visag."

Tuka was stunned at the sudden pronouncement. Such a thing--the acceptance of a human into a Sangheili clan--was unknown, at least as far as he knew. But he kept his composure and bowed again. "I will tell him."

"Remember," Roni said, turning back to look at the Sword of Harka once again. "Once you have slain Mallunus, let your blade rest. No matter how good vengeance may feel, do not heap any more blood upon your hands than necessary. Otherwise..."

He shook his head and motioned for Tuka to leave the chapel. "In my time, I have seen far mightier Sangheili than you fall to the temptation of bloodlust. You are the finest swordsman I have ever trained, and it has been my honor to raise you in this keep. I have lost so many family and pupils to the galaxy's unceasing conflict that I can't afford to lose any more. And whether you like it or not, your name as also been added to the family roll. Keep the name of 'Refum, if you desire, but within the walls of this keep you will be known as Tuka 'Visag."

Tuka found that he couldn't speak. He merely bowed as low as he possibly could as he stumbled through the chapel's door and into the cold darkness of the stone hallway.

Chapter Three: The Hospital
Several hundred light years from where Tuka was preparing for his journey, the human that Roni 'Visag feared might become a "herald of darkness" was picking his nose.

Leaning back in a folding chair, Simon dug a finger deeper into his nostril and glared at the tight confines of the prefabricated shack he was in. The entire room, meant to serve as a makeshift rec room, was drenched with the stench of sweat, beer, and tobacco. He'd figured a few days spent dealing with it would make it more tolerable, but so far it smelled as disgusting as ever.

Apart from himself, three other people were in the room. Two men and one woman, all wearing filthy undershirts that exposed muscles the size of Simon's head, were on the other side playing a game of pool. They were engrossed in their game and didn't pay any heed to the scrawny young man as he rolled up a wad of dried snot and flicked it in their direction.

Flexing the metal fingers of his artificial left arm, Simon scratched his mop of black hair with his organic arm and listened to the steady pounding of artillery fire that pulsed throughout the room. He'd at least grown accustomed to that constant noise, as well as the rumble of engines and the drone of energy vehicles.

So this is where I end up, he thought idly, watching as one of the men hit a poor shot and released a string of curse words. From the keep of a Sangheili noble to some turf war in the middle of nowhere that no one gives a shit about.

He sighed and cracked his neck. Maybe he should get back to his ship. Sure, he'd have to listen to Diana's unceasing barrage of insults and sarcasm, but at least he wouldn't have to resist the urge to gag every time he took a breath...

The door to the room burst open and a man wearing a frayed military uniform and some combat armor poked his head in. "They blew the damn bridge! We've got a whole column of Grunts and Elites pinned down on the other side, we gotta move! We aren't paying you to sit on your asses, so move it!"

The pool players grabbed their rifles and darted out as Simon slipped his helmet over his head and retrieved his own weapon. He dashed out after them, fingering the two small energy sword handles strapped to his armor's chestpiece. Yes, he'd definitely gone a few places down the galactic dogpile, but at least this was a living...



It Tuka less than a day after arriving on the colony world Cordial Harmony to realize just how little thought he'd actually put into his grand plan.

As far as supplies and assets, he was more than prepared. The Visag bloodline had been spared much of the cost--in both funds and warriors--that the ravaging war with the Fallen had imposed upon many other keeps, and Roni had been happy to provide Tuka with both a small, Slipspace capable personal transport and a substantial credit account in an Interspecies Union bank, which he had assured the young traveler would be acceptable to most "civilized" humans and Sangheili. Tuka had protested such generosity, but Roni had insisted.

"You will need plenty of money if you plan on succeeding in this venture," he had assured Tuka. "I'm sad to say that you'll find that concepts such as honor and justice hold very little gravity in the places you will need to look. Even Sangheili in those places care only about the amounts of money you can give them."

So he had a new, state of the art personal ship and access to more money than he'd ever imagined, and absolutely no idea of how to go about finding Simon or Mallunus.

He's spent so much time wondering about how he'd go about killing the chieftain that he'd never really stopped to consider just how he'd track him down. As far as the Sangheili military's official records went, there had been a chieftain named Mallunus serving the Covenant at the time of the Great Schism and that he'd participated in several battles following the initial betrayal at High Charity, but other than that... nothing. No mention of him or his pack in accounts of Covenant guerilla actions, no records of any of his activity amongst the Jiralhanae worlds, no mention of him in the listings of various pirate kings and mercenary leaders. It was as if he didn't exist.

But at the moment, Tuka's principle worry was finding Simon, which was proving just as difficult. The best lead he had was that yes, the fleet in orbit above Sangheilios had detected a small human craft enter the atmosphere on the day the shuttle had arrived at the Visag keep and departed with Simon. It had been provided the correct codes that were provided to any commercial vessel headed to Sangheilios, so they had let it come and go without any trouble. The one thing they had done was check its course when it had entered Slipspace and calculated that it had been heading for this sector.

Even without this knowledge, Cordial Harmony was the first place Tuka would have checked. While technically in Sangheili territory and resided under a Sangheili government, it was regarded as the most developed interspecies colony in the galaxy. There were just as many human residents as there were Sangheili ones in addition to hearty amounts of Unggoy, Kig-Yar, and even Lekgolo colonists as well.

From the stories Simon had told Tuka, the young Sangheili could assume that his friend would not head for any human-governed colonies, which left Cordial Harmony as the most appealing destination for a human with only a passing grasp of Sangheili languages.

Unfortunately, this was as far as Tuka's guesswork was going to take him. He couldn't exactly enlist the human government's aid in finding one their renegade operatives and he couldn't run a search on Simon's image either for the exact same reason. Tuka carried a hologram of his face just in case he needed to have anyone identify him, but that wouldn't be useful unless he actually found someone who knew about him. Running a search on the name wouldn't help either. Tuka had been told that "Simon" was a fairly common name among humans and the fact that the only family name his friend had ever provided was a meaningless string of human letters and numbers wasn't much of a help. He couldn't search under "Simon 'Visag" because as far as he knew, Simon had never considered himself to be a true member of the Visag keep.

So here he was in Cordial Harmony's largest city, Obliterated Solitude. Just about every species on the planet had managed to divide the sprawling city into species-specific districts, which had certainly done plenty to reduce racial violence but hadn't seemed to do much to improve the quality of the districts themselves. Tuka found himself appalled at the filth and squalor that he was presented with at every street and building block. He had to keep fighting the urge to gag at ever new stench that presented itself to him.

He was beginning to wonder if he should have gotten out of the keep a bit more when he was younger.

At first, upon entering the district Tuka had been disappointed by the decidedly small population of humans residing there. All it really reminded him of was one of the poorer villages or towns on Sanghelios, albeit with a few dozen humans here and there. Most of these humans were dressed in Sangheili style robes of the kind that Roni had commissioned for Simon when he'd begun training at the Visag keep. Tuka had thought the robes looked awkward enough on one human, but a district full of them was something else entirely. He'd heard that the humans on Cordial Harmony were disruptive and mean-spirited, but silly robes aside these humans seemed quite decent, albeit poor. They walked through the trash-strewn streets, strolled into the Sangheili-style buildings, nodded and smiled at each other and non-humans alike, and could even be heard exchanging greetings in Sangheili languages.

Tuka was quite charmed. Clearly this planet's poor reputation was largely undeserved...

And then he realized that this wasn't the real human district. No, the real human district was actually beneath his feet. And it more than lived up to its infamy.

Back when the city had first been built, its Sangheili colonizers had built a massive network of tunnels underneath its streets to aid in waste disposal, maintenance, and even transportation. But these tunnels weren't needed anymore, and when the plethora of human colonists had migrated to the planet in the years following the Great War, most of them had wound up settling down there.

Tuka was now picking his way through this makeshift town, his dark traveling cloak wrapped tightly around his body. The only light in these tunnels came from a series of lights that had been installed on the roof high above Tuka's head. He could see that they were powered by a wide range of technology, from human generators to Sangheili emergency lighting and even some Lekgolo worms attached to the bulbs. More lights had been strung up along the walls and on the hundreds of prefabricated buildings the humans had installed to live and work in.

Trash was strewn across almost every spot on the ground, and a good amount of that was moist. Tuka was thoroughly regretting his decision to walk bare-footed for this trip; every step he took was met with a repulsive squishing noise and that horrible cold feeling of wetness spreading across the bottoms of his feet. Now he really had to choke down a gag-reflex every time he drew a breath.

Until today, Simon had been the only human he'd ever seen outside of holograms. The humans up on the surface had been tolerable, most likely due to their familiar clothing styles and the presence of the Sangheili they'd mingled with, but now they were everywhere, with their varying skin tones, hair colors, and those odd, bumpy features on their faces. Not to mention those odd horizontal mouths of theirs. Even after all the time he had spent with Simon, Tuka still had to fight back revulsion when he looked at them.

Remember, they think that I'm the ugly one, Tuka reminded himself, doing his best to be patient with both himself and the odd-looking aliens. He thought of one of Roni's many teachings about physical appearances: Go beneath the surface and seek out the true nature of someone through their words and deeds.

Unfortunately, it didn't seem like there was much beneath the surface to find appealing about the tunnel-district's denizens. These humans did not seem quite as grateful for the use of the planet as their surface-dwelling kin had been. They shot glares at Tuka as he walked through the center of the large tunnel--which seemed to have been collectively agreed upon as the street--and he found this universal hostility to be extremely disconcerting. He saw a few Sangheili amidst the throngs of tightly-packed humans, but these all looked as hostile as the humans did.

And it seemed that every other person down here was armed.

Everywhere Tuka looked, he recognized human weaponry from his military study. The humans carried pistols, rifles, those strange Jiralhanae-esque "shotguns", and even the odd plasma weapon. It was as if there was no government on the surface to regulate these sorts of things.

Now Tuka was understanding why Cordial Harmony was the laughingstock of Sangheili space. He felt dizzy trying to take it al in, which certainly wasn't helping him get any closer to finding Simon. Tuka was wondering if he should just pull out the hologram of his friend's face and wave it around. At least then someone might be urged into saying something to the crazy, picture waving Sangheili.

Tuka sighed. It would probably be for the best if he headed back to a Sangheili district for now. By the local time on his chronometer, it was already early evening and he'd been warned by the port authorities when he landed not to be caught wandering the city by himself at night. That, they had said, was how one got murdered for the very clothes on their back, and from what he'd seen so far Tuka believed every word.

This planet needs the Kaidon's piety, he thought to himself. A little meditation and prayer would sort most of the inhabitants out quickly enough.

He was just about to give up and head back to the surface when he noticed a slightly smaller tunnel branching out from the main one and heading off in a different direction. It was still crowded, but there were far less people heading into it than out of it. Perhaps he would find something useful down a less beaten path.

Tuka turned into it and followed it, passing more flimsy buildings and open-air vending stalls along the way. Most of these stalls were selling food or weapons of some kind, the only two things that this district did not seem to be lacking in. He used one hand to keep his cloak up while the other stayed on the hilt of his deactivated energy sword, which hung at his waist. It was his only weapon and most prized possession; he wasn't going to let some thieving vagrant steal it.

The crowds and buildings continued to thin out until only a handful of shops and people remained. A calm, reasonable voice in Tuka's head told him that he wasn't going to find anything useful down here, but he pressed on regardless. At least this was better than heading back, though he wasn't entirely sure what he expected to find. Maybe he'd bump into Simon, sitting out in front of one of these shacks.

Tuka laughed quietly to himself for his optimism. If the gods did choose to smile on his search, then they wouldn't do so in such an abrupt manner. Besides, Roni had taught him that to ask such miracles of them was prideful and unworthy of a humble, devout Sangheili. Nevertheless, Tuka thought up a quick prayer to the gods in case any were listening.

Anything, he asked silently. Give me a lead, a sign, something to tell me I'm looking in the right places...

The tunnel widened and ended. Tuka suddenly found himself standing within a large semi-circle of buildings, and he realized that the constant roar of the crowd that echoed throughout the tunnels behind him had died down to a low murmur. This area was also cleaner, as if some effort had been made to clear away the trash and refuse that littered the rest of the tunnel district, for which Tuka was eternally grateful.

Most of the buildings in the semi-circle were smaller residential ones, with small groups of humans loitering around outside them. As with the rest of the tunnels, most of these people were armed.

The biggest building was at the furthest end of the semi-circle and looked as if several regular prefabricated buildings had been stacked on top and beside each other and then welded together. A large glowing symbol hung over its battered metal front, one that depicted a pair of intersecting red lines. Tuka gazed at the symbol, cocking his head with confusion. He was sure he'd seen that image before in his human studies, some sort of religious icon or talisman, but he couldn't quite place what it meant. Perhaps this was the district's religious center.

Then he noticed that a small crowd had formed just outside of the large building. He made out a few humans, but was surprised to see that there were just as many Sangheili standing before them. And to make everything even more puzzling, these Sangheili were wearing armor.

This was worth investigating. Tuka meandered over towards the group, but as he did so he noticed that many of the humans around it were heading quickly in the opposite direction. People around the semi-circle were retreating into buildings or even leaving for the main tunnel. What were they afraid of?

As Tuka neared, he saw that the group of Sangheili were facing a somewhat larger cluster of humans. A few of these were armed, but just as many were not; all of them wore plain clothes with no armor at all. One Sangheili stood with the humans, unarmored like they were. He carried a human rifle, but from his posture Tuka could tell that he was very nervous.

One of the armored Sangheili stepped forward and shoved a human, pushing him to the ground. As a ray of light from the overhead generators threw the Sangheili into better perspective, Tuka stopped in his tracks. He knew exactly who these Sangheili were.

Fallen. The army of separatists who had opposed the Sangheili's alliance with the humans, currently locked in a brutal war with the regular Sangheili military. These warriors were all willing set aside their honor to accomplish their goals; several years ago they had even gone so far as to abduct Sangheili newborns and tried to blame the humans for their crimes.

What were these Fallen doing here, in a place swarming with humans? There were so many armed humans around here that they could easily overwhelm the Fallen with sheer numbers; why weren't they doing so now?

Tuka stood where he was, frozen with fear. This wasn't his concern, he told himself sharply. Whatever was going on wouldn't help him find Simon, especially not if he got drawn in and killed.

He was close enough now to see and hear the group clearly now. All of the Fallen warriors wore plain white (albeit dirty) armor; all except for one, who had a violet trim to his own. This one didn't seem to have any visible weapon, but the others all carried plasma repeaters and looked as if they knew how to use them.

"You're out of time," the violet-trimmed one spat at the human he'd just pushed down. He was speaking in a human language, and the translator Tuka was wearing in his ear cavity picked it up and deciphered it clearly. "We gave you one of your weeks to pack this building up and leave this place. I don't see any progress."

"Please," the man on the ground gasped. He had short red hair and a small, craggy face. "This hospital... we only use it to treat people down here. It's not a threat!"

The Fallen leader snarled angrily. "This disgusting building is the only thing that's keeping this wretched hive afloat. As far as we're concerned, you bloodletting vermin are polluting this sector more than all the filth your kind coat it with combined!"

Another human, a female, stepped forward and helped the fallen man up. As she faced the Fallen leader, Tuka saw that she was young, younger than most of the other humans in the area. Light brown hair fell down past her slim shoulders and her body lacked much visible muscle. The expression on her face, if Tuka's human studies had taught him anything, was a polite one, but even from this distance he could see a determination in her eyes that belied her unassuming body frame.

"We hardly get any Sangheili patients," she told the leader calmly. "This hospital isn't hurting anyone."

The leader examined her for a moment, as if actually considering her words. Then, with a huff of disgust, he struck her with a backhand across the face that drove her several steps backwards and left a visible welt on her pale cheek but failed to knock her down.

"Speak when you are spoken to, human breeder," the Fallen leader sneered. He turned back to the man the female had helped to his feet. "Your kind gives its breeders far too much liberty. It is but one of the traits that makes you so pathetic."

Something about the female's courage and the way the Fallen leader had dismissed it stirred up something inside Tuka's clenched stomach. He could understand why the Fallen had set aside some honor, but such casual violence against creatures who weren't even armed went against everything Roni had ever taught Tuka about the concept. Tuka placed one trembling foot forward, then the other. His disloyal eyes automatically counted the number of Fallen in the group: ten.

It would be just him and a handful of lightly armed civilians against ten armed, armored, and no doubt experienced Sangheili warriors. This wasn't gallantry on his part. This was suicide.

Nevertheless, Tuka forced himself to continue moving toward the dispute. He was beginning to realize just how sheltered a life he'd led. He'd never faced any real danger before aside from the pain brought on by a training blade's strike. How could he have ever thought he could head out into the galaxy to kill a Jiralhanae chieftain? He wasn't even able to face his own kind.

All of Tuka's self-confidence was gone; he felt like a worm in the face of the rest of the galaxy. But still, he walked on and kept walking until he reached the group. Some of the humans turned towards him, alerting the Fallen group to his presence. Moments later, all eyes were on the young, cloaked Sangheili who seemed to have stumbled into the Fallen's intimidation session.

"What do you want, child?" the Fallen leader asked contemptuously. "Either join our cause or return to the rest of our race's blind acceptance of these vermin."

It took all of Tuka's courage and more to reply. "Perhaps, ah, brother," he said in a quavering voice. "You should take, ah, you're righteous cause elsewhere. Aren't there, ah, far more worthy targets for your warriors', ah, prowess?"

The leader snarled angrily. "Don't meddle in affairs you don't understand," he barked. "These humans defile this Sangheili planet with their foul profession, and yet our kind stand back and do nothing! We are the only ones who see past their pathetic facade, and we will punish them for their impudence!"

Tuka gulped. "Perhaps, ah, a more peaceful solution can be found. We must remember our, ah, honor--"

"Honor?" the leader bellowed, causing Tuka and several of the humans to flinch. "What honor is there, when these vermin are allowed to establish vile pits such as this disgusting sewer on the very planets our ancestors used to bring glory to Sanghelios? What honor is there, when even the most respected keeps whore themselves out to the humans and the unnatural monstrosities they call Spartans? What honor is there when our kind abandon their own families to fight alongside the humans for pay?"

He motioned to one of his warriors. "Show this young fool how we deal with traitors who prostitute themselves to vermin."

The warrior nodded, then brought his plasma repeater up and shot the Sangheili standing with the humans twice in the head. Before anyone could react, the Sangheili's corpse slumped to the ground, his rifle clattering away on the hard floor.

The red-haired human gasped, "Qulo!"

Another one of the humans leapt forward and withdrew a small weapon from his coat. "Bastards!" he snarled, training it on the Fallen.

"No!" the young female yelled. "Don't!"

But it was too late. Another warrior gunned the offending human down in the blink of an eye.

The Fallen leader unclipped an energy sword hilt from his hip and activated it. "Shoot their leader," he instructed calmly. "If anyone around here tries to resist, kill them as well."

Everything seemed to slow down as Tuka watched the warrior who had killed the Sangheili raise his repeater again. Instinct took over then, and Tuka's body acted almost before his mind knew what was happening. He cast off the traveling cloak, seized his own sword, activated it, stepped in, and swung the blade in a deadly blue arc.

The blade struck the warrior at the waist, overloading his shields and burying itself in his body. Tuka wrenched his arm upwards, just like he'd been trained, and he would never forget the slight resistance he felt as he did so, the small effort it took for him to take a life. His sword sliced through the warrior as though it were cutting through a training dummy back at the Visag keep and exited out beside the Fallen's neck.

Purple blood gushed out from the dying warrior, splattering the other Fallen, the humans, and Tuka himself. Without so much as a whimper of pain, the warrior tumbled to the ground and lay still in a widening pool of his own blood.

Everyone stared down at the dead warrior in shocked silence. Tuka felt his blade arm trembling as he worked his mandibles silently, searching fruitlessly for something to say.

''I... I just killed someone.''

The Fallen leader's eyes looked like they were about to explode with fury. "Traitor!" he bellowed. "Kill them all!"

And then everything started to happen very quickly.

The other humans either drew their own weapons or tried to flee, and out of the corner of his eye Tuka saw that several other armed humans from different parts of the semi-circle were rushing towards them, drawing some of the Fallen's attention away from him. Gunfire--from human weapons, not plasma--clattered through the air, and several Fallen's shields flared. They responded in kind, but Tuka was too busy to see the results of the shooting. The sword-wielding Fallen leader was lunging toward him, blade upraised.

He took a deep breath and suddenly, in spite of everything, wasn't afraid anymore. He wasn't even in some strange tunnels surrounded by separatists and aliens. He was back in the Visag keep's practice courts, beginning a sparring match with another trainee. And he knew exactly what to do in a sparring match like this...

He flicked his blade up and intercepted the Fallen's as it raced towards his neck. As the leader blinked in surprise, Tuka sidestepped and lashed out with an elaborate pattern of blade strokes that put his opponent on the defensive and drove him back into his own men.

Most of the humans Tuka had been defending had fled under the cover of the fighting, but the young female seized up the dead Qulo's rifle and emptied its projectiles into the nearest Fallen's shields. She depleted the rifle's magazine just as the warrior's shields collapsed but without a second's hesitation she discarded the weapon and lunged forward, drawing a razor-thin knife from her pocket as she did so. With a slash that was almost impossible to see, she opened an artery in the warriors neck and sent him toppling to the ground as he choked on his own blood.

A distant part of Tuka was impressed. This human had clearly fought with weapons before and was also well-versed in Sangheili anatomy.

Then the Fallen leader was attacking him again and Tuka couldn't afford to think about anything besides defending against the furious separatist's blows. He had caught the leader off-guard the first time, and from his attacks Tuka could tell that Roni's training had given him the advantage in form and speed. But this warrior had far more power and was using it to drive him back, step by step.

Tuka parried another blow and swung into another offensive pattern that managed to at least halt his opponent's advance. There was yelling all around them, but Tuka was so engrossed in his duel that he couldn't even tell what the other Fallen and the humans were doing. Right now, all that mattered was how he handled his opponent right here.

He launched into yet another pattern, this one meant to throw the opponent off-guard and lull them into making a careless mistake. The Fallen leader parried desperately, clearly outmaneuvered by his smaller, faster opponent. Tuka could see the dawning fear in the leader's eyes. He was going to win this fight, and they both knew it.

And then another Fallen warrior took the opportunity to shoot Tuka in the gut.

Fire seared up Tuka's chest and he gasped in agony. This was a pain unlike one he'd ever felt before, and it brought him to his knees. He went against a lifetime of training and dropped his sword to the floor, where it deactivated and lay useless before the leader's feet. Tuka tried to move, tried to pick up his sword, but the agony was too great. He was paralyzed by pain...

The Fallen leader sneered with contempt and brought his sword up for the kill. In spite of his pain, Tuka glared up at his opponent. If he was going to die here, without even getting close to doing what he'd set out to do, then the least he could do was remain defiant to the end.

The blade began to come down, and Tuka sent up a silent prayer to the gods, thanking them for the life they had given him.

And then the blade wasn't there anymore, and neither was the arm holding it. Both Tuka and the Fallen leader gazed, stunned, at the bleeding stump that had once been the latter's right arm. Before the leader could even register the pain, another Sangheili wearing the grey armor of a military Ultra lunged in and knocked the disabled leader aside. Then, leaping forward, he stepped into the middle of the Fallen formation and lashed out with his energy sword as they turned to track him. Three of the warriors went down in an instant, and two more followed swiftly after.

There were only two Fallen left, and these turned tail and fled. But before they made three paces they were cut down by plasma fire from two other Sangheili warriors who seemed to be with the Ultra who had just saved. One of them, a red-armored Major Domo, stepped forward and nodded to the Ultra, who stood amidst the corpses of the Fallen he had just killed.

Tuka realized that his vision was getting blurry and that the pain in his chest was receding. Was he dying anyway?

"It is as you predicted, Fira," the Major said, indicating the dead Fallen. "There was a group operating in this sector."

The Ultra nodded. "I left their leader alive, Warra. Collect him and see to it that these humans don't take revenge on him. I want him alive for interrogation."

He turned away from the Major, Warra, and stepped over to where Tuka lay gasping for breath. Even as his vision continued to fade, Tuka could see surprise and recognition in the Ultra's eyes.

"You, brave young one," the Ultra said, bending over and placing a hand on Tuka's shoulder. "What is your name?"

Tuka took a deep, painful breath before answering. "Tuka," he gasped. "Tuka 'Refum."

And then the pain from the wound surged up again and all he saw was blackness.

Chapter Four: Fira
Tuka's dream began as it always had for as long as he could remember.

He was a small, helpless child again, swathed in small robes and crouching on the floor of a dark room. The air was filled with smoke and he could barely see his surroundings. The scent of blood was thick in the air, and far through the smoke he could see the huddled outlines of corpses.

The only thing not obscured by the smoke was a female Sangheili standing close by. Her back was to him, but Tuka, as always, knew exactly who she was.

"Mother!" he called out, and his mother turned and smiled at him, raising a hand as if to silence him.

A small part of Tuka was quivering with fear. He knew how this went, how it always went. The hulking chieftain Mallunus would stride out of the smoke, cut his mother down without stopping, and then move on to crush Tuka himself with a massive gravity hammer. There was nothing he could do to stop it and there was no point in trying.

But this time was... different.

Instead of turning back to face the oncoming Mallunus, who hadn't even begun to materialize yet, Tuka's mother seemed to freeze in place, her hand still outstretched as though she were a statue.

Tuka, still crouching on the floor, blinked in confusion.

There was movement beside him, and then a human child strode out of the smoke and stood next to Tuka. His clothing was ragged, even by human standards, and filth seemed to be clinging to every spot of him. His dark, unkempt hair seemed to blend in with the smoke that was all around. Looking down, Tuka realized that there was a grey metal human pistol in the child's hand.

The child look down at Tuka, his expression stoic and unfeeling. Looking into the child's cold, grey eyes, Tuka saw both conviction and utter mercilessness.

The human child pointed at Tuka's mother with the hand that wasn't holding the gun, and Tuka saw that his arm was raw and bleeding. He followed the child's pointing finger back to his mother, and saw another human, this one taller than the child, step out from the mist. He was wearing some kind of human armor, but there was a glowing energy sword in his left hand.

His prosthetic left hand.

Tuka's mother lowered her arm and looked at the human newcomer.

Before Tuka even had time to cry out, the new human sprang into motion and slashed the energy sword across his mother's chest. Drenched in purple blood, Tuka's mother fell to the dark floor and didn't move.

"You and I," said the human child, his voice completely calm. "Are after the same thing."

Tuka looked back at the child in time to see the pistol come up and train itself squarely at his head. He stared down its barrel as the child continued speaking.

"Can't you hear it, Tuka? That beast of vengeance, curled up inside of you, always whispering to you: Kill. Kill the enemies of your friends. Make sure they suffer the way we suffered."

Tuka shook his head. It was strange, the things that were said and done in dreams, but all of this looked so real and clear. "No. I don't want to cause suffering. All I want is justice."

The human child shook his head slowly. "If you keep lying to yourself then you'll never get your revenge. But then again, I guess you can't here it. You and I really are different breeds, aren't we?"

"I don't understand," Tuka gasped. "Who are you?"

The child didn't answer, but his eyes shifted over to where Tuka's mother and her killer lay. Tuka followed his gaze just as the energy sword-wielding human stepped into the light.

Tuka stiffened with shock. There, standing in the spreading blood from his mother's corpse, stood Simon. The corner of his friend's mouth was turned up in a small, heartless smile.

"What-?" Tuka turned back to the child just in time to see the gun flash.



Tuka sat bolt upright only to be met with a sudden pain in his abdomen. Grabbing at his side, he realized that he was lying in a human-style bed that seemed to have been extended to accommodate his larger body. A large bandage and some sort of cold, humming device were wrapped around the painful area on his body.

As he sat there, blinking in surprise, everything started to come back to him. Cordial Harmony, the human district, the hospital... the fight.

Tuka squeezed his eyes shut and wrapped his arms around his knees. He could still feel his blade forcing its way up through the Fallen warrior's body, could see the purple blood flowing and his fellow Sangheili dying. He had killed him, and regardless of whatever lay on the other side of death for that warrior, there was no bringing him back to this life.

He hadn't expected killing to come easily to him. He actually hadn't expected or hoped to kill anyone besides Mallunus. And yet here he was, nowhere near to finding either the chieftain or Simon, and he had already killed one of his own kind and helped aliens kill more.

They chose their path, he tried to remind himself. They preyed on the weak and were punished for it. But that didn't stop him from seeing the hacked, blood-stained corpse of the warrior he had killed.

Was that what he had spent his whole life working towards? All those years of training he had struggled through to master the blade, and the end result was just a corpse on the ground?

"Ah," said a voice, jarring him out of his fugue. "I see that you're awake."

Tuka turned to see the grey-armored Ultra who had saved his life standing in the corner of the room. His blue and red-clad Major Domo comrade stood beside him.

The Ultra nodded at Tuka. He had taken his helmet off, revealing a head of dark grey skin and a pair of black eyes that seemed to be taking in everything at once. "For a while, we thought that the humans' treatment might not have been enough. But you're far stronger than you look."

Tuka jumped off the bed and did his best to stand upright in spite of the pain it caused to his chest. It would be shameful for him to sit in the presence of an Ultra, especially since his wound was hardly serious enough to merit much attention...

He realized too late that he wasn't wearing a robe; his body was uncovered and his bandages and the healing device were exposed for all to see. He hurriedly knelt and did his best to conceal the shameful features. It was disgraceful for a warrior to have his blood spilled outside of combat, which meant doctors like the ones he had just saved were some of the lowest members of Sangheili society.

"My apologies, Ultra," he blurted out. "Had I known you were here... I assure you, these things were put on without my consent...!"

The Ultra raised a hand and Tuka immediately fell silent. But there was a mild amusement in the older Sangheili's eyes rather than the disdain that should have been there, a fact that made him slightly less nervous.

"Don't worry," the Ultra assured him. "I've been here ever since that fight ended; I saw everything the humans did to you. They only treated the burns you sustained from that plasma shot. Nothing more, nothing less. I can assure you that none of your blood was spilled dishonorably."

Tuka bowed his head in thanks but didn't rise, unsure of what a civilian like himself was supposed to do in a military officer's presence.

"You should know that the humans were quite insistent that you be treated here," the Ultra went on. "They carried you in here the moment the battle outside had ended. I wanted to have you transported to a facility on the surface, but they seemed convinced that you wouldn't last long enough to be helped. I believe they felt indebted to you for saving them."

Kneeling even lower, Tuka murmured, "I did only what seemed right to me at the time. I merely carried out my duty."

"Hmmm," said the Ultra slowly. "Your duty, eh? Defending humans against your own kind?"

Tuka blinked, surprised. Might the Ultra actually be displeased with how he'd acted? If that was the case, then perhaps the best course of action was to make up another reason for attacking the Fallen. But Roni had always taught him that in cases like this, once he had started down one path it was best not to turn around and take another midway through. He would have to defend the first reason he'd given.

"Yes," he said slowly. "Those warriors cast aside their honor when they preyed on those weaker than them. I was always taught that it is the duty of a swordsman to help those in need, so I tried to solve matters peacefully. But the Fallen would have none of it."

He thought again of the warrior he'd killed and repressed a shudder. "So we fought."

There was a terrible moment where the Ultra remained silent and Tuka feared that his answer had displeased the grey-armored officer. But then the Ultra took a few steps back and motioned for him to get up.

"You did well, young swordsman," he told Tuka, whose nausea and apprehension were suddenly replaced by an overwhelming sense of pride. One of the military's elite officers had just called a lowly traveler like himself a swordsman! He raised his head to face the Ultra and began to rise to his feet.

"The Fallen didn't cast aside their honor back there," the Ultra continued. "They all forfeited it long ago in order to pursue their own vile goals. As far as I'm concerned, anyone who defends anyone from them is as brave and honorable a warrior as any."

He paused and gave an amused chuckle. "But next time, you might wish to wear something more protective." He motioned at the corner of the room, and Tuka saw that his traveling cloak and robes had been draped over a chair. There was a tell-tale scorched hole in the robes from where the repeater bolt had struck him.

Tuka lowered his head again. "My own fault, Ultra. I lost sight of the full battle and made myself a target. It won't happen again."

The Ultra snorted. "It was a shame; you would have won your little duel if that other coward hadn't shot you. But I can tell that you haven't exactly been trained for battles like that. It was all over your stance and moves; your work with that blade was some of the best I've seen in a long time, but you acted as if you and your opponent were the only ones around you. You're no soldier. You've been trained as a duelist, haven't you?"

Tuka nodded respectfully. "I've spent over half my life training in the art of the blade. But I see now that I'll need to know more than just that in order to last out in the galaxy."

The Ultra clicked his mandibles. "It's a good start, far better than most get. And I'm glad that there are still those of us who maintain our way of the sword."

The Major Domo, who'd stood silently in the corner all this time, stepped forward now and saluted the Ultra with a fist across his chest. "You said you had things to discuss with this one, sir. I'll go and assist Ruso with the prisoner."

The Ultra nodded. "Very good, Warra. Remember, I want him to live, but don't be too gentle with him. Get as much information from him as you can now, before we return to the surface and the special divisions insist they take charge of him."

With another salute, the Major turned and strode over to a door on the far side of the room. Tuka had been so preoccupied with his own worries and the conversation with the Ultra that he hadn't heard the faint snarls and yells that were slipping through the cracks around the door (one of the many aspects of human architecture that he had never been able to understand). He realized that "the prisoner" must be the Fallen leader that the Ultra had saved him from. As for what was happening to him... Tuka decided it was best to just ignore the yelling and squelch his own curiosity.

The troubling sounds of the Fallen's interrogation rose as the Major opened the door and passed through it, then faded back down as he closed the door behind him, leaving Tuka alone with the Ultra, who seemed to notice the discomfort on his face.

"Distasteful, I know," the officer admitted. "But these separatist vermin have cells all over this tainted world. We've been hunting for prisoners for many cycles now, and this is our first success. Hopefully we'll be able to use the prisoner to weed out a few more of the traitors in this area."

He shook his head. "So many had high hopes for this planet. I can't say I'm fond of all humans, but I welcome anything that will heal the wounds brought between us by the war. But instead of helping us understand each other, this world has just given the scum of the universe another place to lay their heads."

Tuka blinked. "Other than the Fallen?"

The Ultra snorted with disgust. "Clearly haven't been in this sector for too long, young one. This entire planet is overrun with some human criminal organization. 'The Syndicate', I think it's called. The human government can't keep it in check, and neither can we. Wherever there's corruption and greed, you can be sure that that group isn't far from it. Between them and our vermin brothers..." he trailed off into a low growl.

"You seem to hate the Fallen," Tuka put in, not knowing much else to say.

The Ultra grimaced. "Any Sangheili who steals children from his own kind deserves no fate besides death."

Tuka's eyes widened. "I always thought that those stories were just rumors."

"They were no rumors," the Ultra told him. "I should know; I saw many of the kidnapped children with my own eyes."

"You must have seen a great deal of fighting against the Fallen," Tuka said admiringly. The officer merely clicked his mandibles and seemed to look off into the distance for a moment, as if recalling something.

"But I forget myself," he said after a moment of this pondering. "My name is Fira 'Demal of the Sangheili army. As you said, I've seen many battles, though at the moment I've been posted to this nauseating planet. My superiors seem to think that I can help them root out the Fallen cells here."

He sighed and shook his head. "But I shouldn't be talking like this in front of you. In fact, I'd prefer to discuss the reason you're here. What did you say your name was?"

Tuka could vaguely remember telling someone his name right before passing out during the battle, but he couldn't recall which family name he had used. With an adoptee like himself, things like this were a constant headache for him. He'd insisted that he couldn't join the Visag keep until Mallunus was dead, but this Ultra--Fira 'Demal--had praised his swordsmanship. Perhaps using that name might win Roni's keep a bit more prestige. "Tuka 'Visag," he answered after a moment's pause.

Fira frowned. "That wasn't what you told me earlier. Perhaps you were delirious the first time, but I distinctly recall you calling yourself 'Tuka 'Refum.' Am I wrong?"

Tuka gulped. He didn't want to make this officer angry, especially after all the concern and praise Fira had given him, so he rushed to explain the misunderstanding. "Of course not, sir," he said quickly. "My family name is Refum, but I was raised and trained in the keep of Roni 'Visag."

Fira chuckled. "Roni 'Visag, you said? Haven't heard of that old blademaster in quite some time. I was worried his keep had been caught up in all the fighting back on the homeworld."

"No," Tuka assured him. "The gods have spared us from any damage from the war."

Fira's expression grew more serious. "But you are indeed from the Refum line? I thought they were all killed during the Great Schism."

"They were," Tuka agreed. "But Blademaster 'Visag saved me during the fighting on High Charity and raised me in his keep when I was very young."

"Hmm," Fira murmured, cocking his head and examining Tuka. "I knew your father back when we were part of the Covenant. You are Sesa 'Refum's son, are you not?"

Tuka inclined his head. "I remember my mother talking a lot about someone called "Sesa" before the Schism, and Blademaster 'Visag had tests run to be sure."

"Your father was a brave warrior," Fira told him. "You should be proud to carry on his name."

Tuka nodded in agreement, but apart of him drifted back to Roni's hypothetical suggestion that he kill Thel 'Vadam, his father's killer, to completely avenge his family. But that was completely different than with Mallunus, Tuka assured himself. Thel 'Vadam had redeemed himself of his crimes by leading the Sangheili people to victory during the Great Schism. Mallunus, he was quite sure, had done nothing of the kind to atone for his own sins.

"I have heard great things about my father," he admitted slowly. "And I am honored to have been sired by him. But I was raised by Roni 'Visag. It would be despicable of me not to consider him my true father."

Fira regarded him for a moment, then nodded approvingly. "A wise choice. But I must say, you resemble your father a great deal. I'm sure you also share his determination and willpower."

"I hope so," said Tuka fervently. "If battles like this are what I have to look forward to out here, then I'll need a great deal of faith and perseverance if I'm to accomplish my goals."

Leaning back against one of the hospital's cheap metal walls, Fira regarded Tuka appraisingly. "Which brings us to what a young swordsman like you is doing in a wretched hole like this."

Tuka nodded. He hadn't felt right about telling the port authorities about his quest, but this officer made him feel secure. Even though they'd just met, Tuka already felt as if he could entrust everything, including his own life, to Fira. Perhaps that was what true leaders were made of.

"I'm hunting a Jiralhanae chieftain named Mallunus," he told Fira. "Back on High Charity, during the Great Schism, I watched him cut my mother down in front of me. I know that he hasn't faced justice yet, so I intend to deliver it to him."

For several moments, Fira stared at Tuka without saying a word. This went on for so long that Tuka began to worry. Was this disbelief? Was the Ultra so flabbergasted that a youth like him would pursue something so impossible that he couldn't find the words to express his disproval?

Then Fira tilted his head back and let out a shout of laughter. "Ha! Delivering justice to a Jiralhanae chieftain?"

Feeling ashamed, Tuka lowered his head. "Forgive me for my presumption..."

"No!" Fira cut in as he continued to laugh. "I've been stationed here for ten whole cycles, and in all this time that's the first half-reasonable thing anyone's said to me!"

The Ultra's laugh died down, and he looked back at Tuka with a more serious gaze. "And have you located this chieftain yet? How do you plan to go about killing him?"

Tuka looked away again. Fira had just picked on and unraveled the same flaws in his grand plan that he himself had been worrying about just before the fight. Now he was so ashamed that it was all he could do to take his own quest seriously anymore. "I don't know," he said slowly, his words heavy with reluctance. "I don't know about either of those things. It all seemed so clear when I was setting out, but now... now that I've begun, I don't even know where to begin."

Fira cocked his head. "And this Demon?" From the tone in his voice, Tuka could tell that the soldiers his friend had once been part of were not the Ultra's favorite topic. But Fira had still risked his life to save humans just now. Tuka could trust him with information about Simon.

"I'm looking for him first," he admitted. "I assumed he'd be amongst his own kind, and this seemed to be the best place to start."

"Why not contact the human authorities?" There was still an edge of revulsion in Fira's voice, as if the very thought of Spartans made him ill. "I'm sure they could set up some sort of meeting, though I doubt you'd have an easy time of it."

Tuka hesitated. Was it really safe to tell an army officer that he was looking for a traitor to the human government? Fira might feel obliged to bring Simon in himself, and with his apparent distaste for Spartans it might be best not to give him more reasons to do so.

"This one is no longer in the human military," he said carefully. "Retired, as it were."

"I see," said Fira dubiously. "So you plan to find both this Demon and the chieftain that killed your mother--on your own, I might add--and you haven't a single lead or clue to there whereabouts?"

"The Demon's name is Simon," Tuka said, feeling more secure now. "I can't remember the numbers that came after it."

"Hmm," Fira murmured. He closed his eyes, as if working something out in his head, before opening again and smiling broadly. "Well, we haven't much time to waste then, do we?"

Tuka blinked. "We, sir?"

"Of course, we. I find it only proper to accompany such a promising warrior such as yourself on such a journey. After all, it would be a shame to see you die without accomplishing any of your goals."

"But--but--" Tuka stuttered, flabbergasted at the Ultra's proposal. "I'm unworthy to draw you away from your post here!"

"No, you're not worthy to keep me stuck on this miserable planet one cycle longer than I already have. Warra can take over for me with our hunt for the Fallen cells here; he's more than capable of handling an operation like this. I, on the other hand, insist on going with you."

"Can... can you do that?"

Fira clicked his mandibles impatiently. "Warra will explain to my superiors that a more important task came up. If I'm desperately needed to fight against our disgraceful brethren, I'll head back to my station at once. Do you have a ship?"

The last question took a moment to register as Tuka struggled to come to terms with this sudden development. "Of course," he said after a moment. "It isn't armed, but it's new and fast enough."

Fira stood away from the wall and nodded to Tuka. "That should do. While you recuperate here, I'll go make the arrangements for my departure. Perhaps I can find some leads where you could not. The names were Simon and Mallunus, correct?"

Tuka nodded silently.

"I'll see what my intelligence brethren can dig up." Fira turned swiftly on his heel and headed for the far door. The shouts of the the captured Fallen warrior had fallen silent; the interrogation was either finished or had been moved to a different location. "Take care to heal well, Tuka 'Refum. I'll leave a means to contact me with the humans here."

And with that, the Ultra had vanished through the door, leaving Tuka alone with his churning thoughts.

Chapter Five: Cassandra
Tuka returned to the human bed, though he did not pull the covers over his body. Instead, he pulled his long legs up and hugged them close to his chest.

He wasn't sure whether to be happy or perturbed by Fira's abrupt decision to accompany him. On the one hand, an experienced warrior like Fira would not only be able to guide him better through the galaxy but might also have access to more intelligence sources than Tuka had been able to use while searching for Mallunus. On the other hand, this was his quest. Was it right for him to allow an outsider to join him just because it would make things easier?

And although he still couldn't understand why, he was somewhat bothered by Fira's respect for his father. It made him uncomfortable to be lumped in and associated with a parent he had never known. Perhaps that was the real reason he planned to cast aside the 'Refum name entirely once he'd killed Mallunus. He could handle living in the shadow of a famous blademaster like Roni. But a historical icon like Sesa? After his conversation with Fira, he was quite sure that he didn't want that.

And when one got right down to it, his father had been a visionary thinker, the first tremblings of the wave that had freed the Sangheili from the Covenant's dominance, but he hadn't been there when his wife had needed him most. Tuka had never been particularly bitter about this--he hadn't ever seen the point to it--but he certainly didn't want someone like that painting everyone's perception of him.

Before he could mull over the issue any further, there was a tapping sound at the door Fira had just left through. Tuka cocked his head and frowned, wondering if some machine or other was broken or alerting him of something. Then he remembered that he was in a human building where human customs were observed. The tapping was someone requesting permission to enter.

"Come in," he called in the best human dialect he could muster. The effort hurt his chest, and he rubbed it ruefully while looking about the room for some sort of translating device. Finding none, he rested his legs on the bed and leaned back against the wall, not looking forward to speaking with his newest visitor at all. He knew enough human speech to get by without a translator, but right now he didn't feel in any condition to converse in it.

The door opened and a human female entered; from her brown hair and the welt that still marked her cheek, Tuka could tell that it was the same one who'd confronted the Fallen leader outside the hospital. She was wearing regular human clothes and carried a small bundle under her arms, but what really caught Tuka's eye was the small human pistol strapped to her side.

This human looked younger than most of the humans Tuka had seen and from her slender frame he would have assumed she was even weaker than the rest of her species. But he had seen her stand up to a fully armed Sangheili warrior and kill another with just a human rifle and a knife. In spite of her unassuming appearance, she had clearly had some sort of combat training in the past. Perhaps she worked with the irregular militia groups that seemed to dominate the human sector.

The human female held the bundle out for him to see. "We gathered your things together when we carried you in here. It didn't look like anything was damaged, so here you are."

Tuka inclined his head, hesitating to respond as he fumbled to find the right words to express himself. But the female pointed to one of her ears: a silvery translation unit was clipped there.

Relieved, Tuka cocked his head. "Thank you. Aside from my robes, they're all I have."

"We're the ones who should be thanking you," the human said, but while her face contorted into one of those strange human smiles, her eyes seemed to be looking through Tuka, as if she were thinking of something else. "If it weren't for you, we'd have lost even more people before that officer and his warriors had shown up."

Rolling his legs forward and onto the floor, Tuka reached for the bundle. "I just did as I've been taught," he replied, wanting to give the human a good impression of Sangheili culture. While political ties between their two races were strong, Tuka knew that plenty of humans still blamed his people for the destruction the Great War had brought them.

The human nodded and offered the bundle to Tuka. He could see his energy sword amongst the small pile of possessions, and to his immense relief it didn't seem scratched at all. It even gleamed a little; perhaps one of the humans had given it a polishing before handing it back. A minor breach in sword etiquette to be sure, but since a human had undoubtedly done it Tuka knew it was a well intentioned gesture. But just as the bundle passed into his hands, the human female made a small gesture and tugged one item loose from the collection: his hologram, the one encoded with Simon's face.

Tuka blinked and held out his hand for the hologram. He needed it if he was going to have any chance at all of tracking his vanished friend down.

"Please," he said, trying to sound both polite and forceful at the same time. But the human shook her head.

"Don't take this the wrong way," she said as she flicked the projector on. Simon's glowering features filled the air above it, slowly turning around and around. "But I need to know what you're doing with this on you."

"I don't understand," said Tuka slowly, his eyes fixed on the holographic face hovering in the human's palm. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Why do you have this person's holo?" The human's voice remained calm, but it now possessed that iron firmness it had taken on when she had been talking to the Fallen leader. She made no move for her gun, but Tuka couldn't help but feel wary all the same.

"Why," he said slowly, still staring at the hologram. "Does it matter?"

"Why do you have his holo?" the human repeated stubbornly.

Finally, the pieces in Tuka's mind fell into place. Truly, the gods were smiling on his quest after all!

This female had to know Simon if she'd recognized him so easily. That meant that she'd have some clues as to where he was, or at least a better chance of guessing at it then he did.

First he'd been sent Fira, and now he'd been presented with this gift as well. Tuka's apprehension vanished as he tore his gaze from the hologram and stared his visitor square in the eye.

"I'm tracking him," he told her. "Since you know him, then do you know where he is?"

The female blinked several times, her mouth contorting into an expression that Tuka couldn't place. She glanced upwards for a moment, then looked back at him.

"In a better place, I hope," she said quietly. "But knowing Simon, he probably went in the other direction. He's dead. I watched him die three years ago."

Tuka frowned, puzzled. "You can't have."

Now it was the human's turn to frown, and Tuka detected a trace of anger in her voice when she spoke again. "How can't I have? I saw the Brutes shoot him!"

"I last saw him a little more than one of your years ago. He was alive and well, I promise you."

The human blinked several more times before the ramifications of what Tuka was saying struck home. "He's... he's alive?"

"I hope so." Tuka indicated the hologram. "My foster father brought him back to our keep after a raid on a Jiralhanae slaver camp. He trained in swordsmanship with my class for a time until a human ship arrived and took him away."

The human stepped back looking stunned. She shook her head. "I don't believe it," she murmured, her voice so soft that Tuka had to strain in order to here it. "I thought he was dead..."

Then she seemed to snap back into reality. Looking up sharply, she asked: "What was the ship like? Who was on it?"

Tuka clicked his mandibles and thought back to the day Simon had left the keep. "It was battered," he said. "I remember we half expected it to just fall apart when it came in to land. We didn't know what was going on, but Simon recognized it and went to it. I never saw anyone come out of it, but someone spoke to him from inside it."

The human's eyes narrowed. "Diana."

"Who?"

"The last person he should have gone off with. Did he say anything to you before he left?"

"He came back to collect his things and say good-bye to us all. We tried to convince him to stay, but he wouldn't listen."

A faint smile creased the human's face. "That sounds like him all right. And you haven't seen him since?"

Tuka shook his head, his hopes punctured by her confusion. If she had thought Simon to be dead for all this time, then she clearly hadn't heard from him since then. But perhaps there was something she knew about him that might help Tuka track him down faster.

"How do you know him?" he asked.

The human shifted slightly. "We kind of, uh, grew up together."

If Tuka remembered the stories Simon had told him back at the Visag keep, then he had grown up in training with other Spartans like him. Was this human one as well? But that was impossible. There was no way a Spartan would end up working for some battered medical center in the slums of a Sangheili colony. Besides, this human was young, too young to have fought alongside Simon in the Great War. Simon had attributed his own youth to an extended stay in suspended animation, but this human couldn't have undergone the same fate, could she?

There were plenty of holes that needed to be filled in, but at the moment Tuka was still, in spite of the lack of current information, elated to find a human who actually knew his friend. If she wanted to keep her own story to herself, then she had every right to do. Right now, all he wanted from her was a way to find Simon.

"Are you sure you don't have any idea where he'd go?" he asked. "At this point, any information, even if it's just guessing, would be welcome."

But the human was frowning again. "Why do you want to find him anyway?" she said cautiously.

"My master from our keep wants him to return there," said Tuka, deciding that honesty would be both the honorable and practical thing to do in this situation. "He wants more time to bring Simon back into the light, or at least that's how he put it."

The human looked away. "Simon never was much for the whole honor and nobility thing. But if you really want to find him, I might be able to help get you going in the right direction."

Tuka's heart leaped. "You can?" he asked eagerly. "How?"

She still wasn't looking at him. "That ship that picked him up? I've got data on it, and I know some... people who'll know how to get a hold of it."

Tuka was too elated to push for details. Now he had two allies helping him in his search! Perhaps getting shot in that fight was more of a blessing than he'd first thought.

He was quickly reminded of the wound's drawbacks when he attempted to rise and was greeted with a shooting pain in his chest. Grasping at the device strapped to the wound, he fell back with a small yelp.

The human was at his side in an instant, checking at the device and motioning for him to lie back down. "I treated the worst of the burn," she informed him. "But you'll need a few more hours of rest before you'll be ready to move again."

Tuka vowed silently that he would not be laid up that long. He knew that Sangheili warriors in the field sustained much worse than he had and kept fighting. It was imperative that he not seem weak, especially not now that Fira had decided to join him.

"I'm impressed that you know how to treat my kind," he told the human as she rose and turned to leave.

"We get more than our share of Sangheili patients in here," the human explained. "You warriors might not approve of us, but the rest of your species doesn't seem to."

"One last thing," Tuka called. "What's your name?"

The human paused at the door. "Cassandra," she said before stepping out and closing the door.

Tuka blinked. A name without a family title attached to it, just like Simon's was. Could this human--Cassandra--really be a Spartan as well?

But in the end, it didn't matter. So long as she and Fira could help him track down Simon and Mallunus, she could keep all the secrets she wanted.

Chapter Six: The Departure
"You were right," Fira told Tuka. "Apart from an old record from before the Schism, there's nothing in the records about Mallunus. It seems like he was just a rank and file chieftain, which means that he could just as likely have died during the war as escaped."

"If he were dead, I'd know it," Tuka replied. "The gods have guided me well in this quest so far. I'm sure they will reward my diligence with even more success as I advance."

"Hmph." Fira looked away. "I wish I shared your faith."

The two were standing on one of the many hovering landing platforms that dotted the skyline of Obliterated Solitude's most advanced district, which housed the majority of the city's Sangheili population. Transports of all sizes flew past them as they followed the flight patterns established by Obliterated Solitude's traffic control force. Tuka could see all kinds of civilian craft as well as a few patrolling Phantoms and Banshees. There were also some human-made craft of various sizes, though most of these were generally found around the non-Sangheili districts and ports rather than amongst the mainstream traffic.

Tuka's personal vessel was parked on the other end of the platform, held securely in place by a series of gravity beams. Generally these platforms were reserved for Sangheili government officials and those rich enough to afford them, but Fira had had Tuka's craft moved here shortly after he had departed the human hospital. Clearly the officer had some influence over the local port authorities.

"Let's hope this human contact of yours is reliable," Fira rumbled as the two Sangheili watched Obliterated Solitude's traffic continue to glide by.

Tuka hoped that Cassandra would pull through for them. She had seemed more than sincere back at the hospital and had been confident that she could at least track down the ship that Simon had left Sanghelios in. How she intended to do that, Tuka still didn't know. He had left the hospital shortly after his discussion with her, his wound healed and his mind determined to get back on the hunt. He'd received a message from her several cycles ago telling him that she'd gotten the information they needed.

Fira--who had somehow located Tuka the moment he had left the human district--continued to be wary of Cassandra's credibility, and Tuka couldn't blame him. He hadn't been interested at all back in the hospital about how the human went about getting her information, but now he was curious to know how she'd managed to gather the promised data so quickly. But still, anything she could have dug up was better than the nothing Tuka had had before he'd run into her. At the very least he'd be able to learn more about Simon--and Cassandra's history with him--from her once she arrived.

"I trust her," he replied after another moment spent watching the traffic. "Besides, she had no reason to deceive me."

Fira clicked his mandibles. "I envy your confidence. However, you'll learn soon enough that most humans are not the best creatures to place your trust in. They don't share our reverence for honor and aren't above lying and cheating in order to get ahead."

"They can't really be all that bad," Tuka replied, a little surprised at Fira's misgivings.

"Oh, they're excellent allies," Fira said quickly. "They have helped us greatly in our recoveries from the Schism and the war against the Fallen. This Interspecies Union we have formed has been entirely beneficial for our people. But places like this tend to attract the worst of all species. You have yet to see just how low humans can sink when their backs are against the wall. It is what made them such formidable foes, in spite of their weak bodies. But you should never let your guard down with them, no matter how harmless they may seem."

Tuka frowned, thinking about how Simon had often been punished for breaking sparring rules in order to win matches. If he was anything to go by, then Fira certainly had a point about humans. Nevertheless, that didn't mean that Cassandra was going to betray him. After all, what was there for her to betray him to?

He was still considering his benefactor's words when a small public transportation hovercraft detached itself from the flow of traffic and drifted over to land on the platform.

Both Tuka and Fira turned to face the transport as the doors to its passenger compartment slid open and revealed the slight human form of Cassandra. It was only as she got out of the vehicle and pressed her palm against a small scanner to pay the pilot that he realized that she was wearing what must have past for light combat armor amongst humans. Her arms and legs were covered only by regular, if somewhat shabby, human clothes, but a flexible chest piece was strapped onto her body and she carried a large bag with her.

"Time to see if this lead of yours bears any fruit," Fira said, starting towards Cassandra as the hovercraft departed. Tuka hurried after the officer, both eager to hear what news the young human doctor had and ready to act as a mediator in case Fira's distrust of humans began to rise to the surface. He didn't want to see sparks fly between two people he was very grateful to.

Cassandra didn't wait for them to reach her and instead walked forward, meeting them in the center of the platform. She nodded to Tuka, then looked uncertainly at Fira.

"He's with me," Tuka assured. "Allow me to introduce Fira 'Demal. He led the warriors who saved us all back at your hospital."

Cassandra nodded and, spreading her hands out before her, bowed in a Sangheili gesture of gratitude and respect. As she did so, the bag that she had slung over her shoulder slipped over and tumbled to the platform with a clatter, nearly pulling her down with it. She recovered swiftly, but Tuka saw a red glow cross her face as she turned back to face him and Fira. He'd seen it enough times on Simon during training to know that it was some strange human reaction to embarrassment.

But regardless of the slip-up, Fira seemed impressed by her attempt at Sangheili communication. His tone was casual as he asked: "You are Tuka's contact?"

She nodded again, her embarrassment clearly forgotten. "Uh, yes sir. That's me."

"And what do you have to report?"

Perhaps it was only Tuka's imagination playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn that the young human seemed to stand a bit straighter when she heard Fira's commanding tone.

"I don't know where Simon is," she said, sounding slightly apologetic. "But I do know the registration number on the ship he was using and I managed to track it to its last known location."

Now they were getting somewhere! Tuka stepped forward eagerly. "Excellent! Do you think we'll find him there?"

Cassandra frowned. "I don't think he owns it anymore, to be honest. I was told that whoever owns the ship now goes by 'Mordred'."

"Mordred?" Tuka asked, curious at a name that sounded neither human nor Sangheili.

"It's from an old story," said Cassandra. "I think it's a code name or something. Anyway, this Mordred person is some sort of mercenary. He's out on some planet called Gamma-13, out on the fringes of colonized space."

"Hmm," said Fira. "I've heard rumors about some planet like that, something about a small war going on there. Nothing major enough to warrant intervention from the I.U., but still something worth looking into."

He paused and looked Cassandra over, as if something was just occurring to him. "If you don't mind my asking, where did you come by this information."

Cassandra's brown eyes shot downwards for a moment, then moved back up to gaze back into Fira's. "I have some contacts back in my own district that know things."

"Criminal contacts perhaps?"

Now she didn't seem so eager to meet Fira's eyes. "Maybe. It doesn't really matter to you does it?"

Tuka decided that now was the time to step in before things got out of hand. "So we can go to this place and question this Mordred, see what he knows about Simon."

Fira nodded slowly, but it was several seconds before he tore his gaze from Cassandra and faced Tuka again. "It's as good a lead as we'll get here," he admitted. "Besides, this is your path."

The officer's mandibles split into a smile. "I'm just here for the ride."

Tuka took another look at Cassandra's light armor and the clattering bag. "Are you going somewhere as well?" he asked. "I didn't know work at a hospital required such gear. Are you going to hunt the Fallen to avenge your comrades they killed at the hospital?"

It was a motivation he'd expect from a Sangheili rather than a human, but he remembered Simon's vague talks about avenging people and getting revenge and wondered if humans valued that sort of thing as well.

But Cassandra shook her head. She hesitated momentarily, her eyes shifting from Tuka to Fira. Then she gripped her bag more tightly and looked Tuka square in the eye.

"I'm... I'm coming with you," she announced. There was uncertainty in her voice, but it was layered with hardened determination.

"This will be hard enough without a civilian to look after as well," Fira said gravely, but Cassandra just shook her head.

"I can fight a lot better than most humans," she said. "And I'm even better at patching people up. You wont find a better field medic, even if they're Sangheili like you."

She had a point. Even with more progressive ways of thinking percolating into Sangheili society, most warriors and even many civilians still shunned the doctor's profession.

"Besides," the human continued, her brown eyes not leaving Tuka's. "I spent the past three years thinking that Simon was dead. Now you're telling me he's alive. I can't just let you go off after him without me."

Tuka hesitated. It would be beyond helpful to have someone else who knew Simon along for the search, but he didn't want to disrespect Fira's far superior experience and authority. He owed a huge debt to the veteran officer for his help with this quest and it would be beyond shameful for him to undermine Fira's will.

But Fira was considering the thin, pale human with a newfound interest. "Another person interested in this Demon?" he murmured, almost as if he were talking to himself.

The move was almost imperceptible, but Tuka could have sworn that Cassandra flinched at the word "Demon".

Fira turned back to her. "I saw you fight back at the hospital. So did Tuka. If you come with us, can you guarantee you won't be a burden?"

She nodded once.

"Then you've gained another ally, Tuka," said Fira. "Let's hope your good fortunes continue."

He looked over at the ship Roni had given Tuka for the journey. It was a small civilian transport capable of Slipspace travel, a new model fresh from the docks. Even without any weapons, it was still sleek and agile, and Tuka could see that Fira was impressed.

"Your master spared no expense," the officer noted. "And I'd been under the impression that the Visag line was impoverished."

Fira turned back to Tuka. "I would be honored to pilot it to our destination."

Tuka bowed. "The honor would be mine."

Behind them, Cassandra closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A part of her was no longer on a landing platform in Obliterated Solitude. Instead, it was light years away, back on an icy rock of a world...

Chapter Seven: Cassandra's Tale
"Understanding your comrades is far more critical than understanding your foes. In battle your foes will always surprise you, and as warriors you must be ready to adapt and fight on without delay. But there will be no time at all to improvise if you allow yourself to be surprised by an ally. You must trust your comrades as though they were your blood-kin."

- From the teachings of Roni 'Visag

Although he would never admit it, Tuka was secretly glad that Fira wanted to pilot his ship.

The flight from Sanghelios to Cordial Harmony had been bad enough; Tuka had spent the whole trip gripped in the fear that. any number of things might go wrong, and even with the craft's civilian-style, user-friendly controls he had mostly been forced to rely on its autopilot the entire way. Having only ever flown simulations and one stripped-down, recreational Banshee, he didn't consider himself to be anything close to a pilot by any stretch of the means.

Now, with a far more experienced pilot at the helm, Tuka felt far safer flying into a war zone than he had when he was landing in a peaceful city. Fira, however, had not shared his sense of security.

"And you're absolutely sure they won't shoot us down the moment we enter the atmosphere?" he had demanded of Cassandra prior to liftoff. "This craft may be maneuverable, but it has no shields. All it would take is one good hit to kill us all."

"Don't worry," Cassandra had replied. "I've got the landing codes we need to land in one of the outposts. They'll think we're more freelancers coming to sign on and let us through."

"And how did you get these codes?" Fira had said, his eyes narrowing.

But Cassandra had evaded the question, just as she had dodged answering the question of how she had gotten the information on this "Mordred" character. Fira seemed content to let the matter be for now--he hadn't questioned her any further after that--and Tuka was still far too thankful that his two allies had helped him truly get his quest underway to be suspicious of Cassandra's information.

He and Cassandra were now seated in his craft's small living area while Fira continued to man the ship's cockpit as it traveled through slipspace. Tuka had offered Cassandra the use of the single sleeping bunk while he had slid himself onto the smooth floor and begun to go over his energy sword for dirt or scratches. She had given him an odd look then, and kept shooting him glances from where she sat on the cot. She had opened the large bag she carried, and Tuka had caught a glimpse of what looked like human weapons within, but the thing she had taken from it was just a smaller bag. Its contents had turned out to be human medical supplies: small knives, vials, and bandages.

Had she been a Sangheili doctor, Cassandra would most certainly have gone over the tools of her trade privately rather than risk offending any warriors by displaying them openly. But humans did not seem to have ever shared any of the stigma that turned Sangheili away from the medical profession, and as Fira had managed to tell Tuka several times now, things were changing.

Back in the Visag keep, Tuka had never seen much of the hardliner approach to doctors that warriors like the Fallen displayed. Roni had encouraged the pupils at his swordsmanship academy to treat their wounds themselves and to use the pain to reflect upon the risks of taking up arms, but were a trainee or a member of the keep seriously injured, he wouldn't hesitate to call in a nearby doctor without any of the usual attempts at hiding the occurrence. Still, it was odd to watch Cassandra's casual focus as she examined her medical equipment. Just like when she had gathered her resolve back on the landing platform or when she had stood firm before the Fallen leader, it seemed as if the polite, obliging young female that she normally seemed to be had vanished and been replaced by a proud, confident warrior.

Tuka knew the comparison would appall a traditionalist Sangheili, but she almost looked as if she were inspecting a blade of her own. Perhaps she held her job as a healer as highly as Roni had taught Tuka to hold his skills with the blade.

They both kept at their respective tasks for some time, but Tuka knew that something would have to give: Cassandra's curiosity or his own. And he found that he experienced a small, somewhat childish, thrill of success when the curiosity that proved stronger turned out to be Cassandra's.

"You knew Simon for long?" she asked, her fingers still sifting through the medical supplies.

Tuka thought about it for a moment. "He trained with us for about two of your years," he said finally. "No one liked having him in the class, but Master Roni insisted. He latched onto a friend of mine, and then he became my friend as well."

He ducked his head. "It was a shame to see him leave."

Cassandra gave him a frown and made a motion with her shoulders that Tuka had learned was a human analogue for the Sangheili mandible click. "He never did like things like training and discipline. I'm surprised he worked under your master at all."

Tuka clicked his mandibles. "I always supposed he felt grateful for being rescued from the Jiralhanae. And it wasn't like he had many other places to go. You humans still aren't safe in most Sangheili space, not with the Fallen active and the Covenant still fighting on. But I do think that Simon was looking for something in my master's teachings."

"Did he find it?" Cassandra asked. "Before he left, that is."

"I don't know.."

Cassandra was quite for several moments before responding. "You know he's a traitor, right?"

"Yes." Simon had apparently divulged much of his past to Roni before he'd begun training, and he'd talked about it with Tuka and Ventu on several occasions. "I suppose that's why I didn't start by looking for him in human territory. But I don't aim to drag him to face human judgement. I just want to convince him to come back to the Visag Keep."

"It's not going to happen," said Cassandra with a certainty that caught Tuka off guard. "If he decided to leave once, he won't be keen on coming back. That's just the way he is. Even if he's realized that he had it better there than anywhere else, he'll just keep going in the direction he's headed."

"Perhaps he's changed," Tuka countered, not willing to let his plans for fulfilling his promise to Roni be shattered by Cassandra's doubts. "Perhaps you don't know him as well as you think you do."

A faint smile creased Cassandra's odd human lips. "Oh, I know him all right. Probably a whole lot better than whatever mask he put on to train with you in that keep of yours"

Her voice remained conversational, but there was an edge to her words that bothered Tuka more than they should have.

"Oh really?" he countered. "Then enlighten me."

"Simon," said Cassandra. "Is without a doubt the most stubborn, good for nothing bastard I have ever met. He doesn't give a damn about any kind of cause or principles or honor; the only thing that matters to him is how he can work everything out to his own advantage. I'm sure he put on the whole grateful alien act for your master, said he appreciated all the things you all gave him, but I'll bet anything that the only thing he got that mattered to him was learning how to use those swords of yours. Why do you think all it took for him to leave was a familiar ship stopping by? He'd gotten all he could from that training and he knew it. He was probably scared one of you would sell him out to the UNSC and he was probably getting tired of being all submissive and obedient. So he ditched you all the second he got the chance. Simon does what's best for Simon. As far as he's concerned, pretty much everyone else can go jump in one big lake."

From her tone, so firm and certain, Tuka could tell she'd been mulling this over for some time, perhaps even as far back as when he'd first told her about Simon in the hospital. But he just couldn't believe a word of it, couldn't believe that the friend he'd sparred and ate and trained with had just been a mask thrown up by the self-serving creature that Cassandra was describing.

“Maybe he was like that when you knew him,” Tuka said slowly. “But I knew a different person. And I know for a fact that he wasn’t just putting on some act.”

Cassandra offered him another distant smile. “I hope you’re right,” she said. “But the Simon I knew wasn’t big on changing how he did things.”

“If that’s the case,” Tuka snapped. He was angry, angry at Cassandra for challenging his friendship, and angry at himself for allowing the words to get to him. “ Then why are you so keen on finding him? Why’d you even help me if he’s such a terrible person?”

She cocked her head. “Because he’s my friend,” she replied, as if she was surprised that Tuka needed to ask. “Because I care about him.”

“Then I don’t understand why--”

“Look, I know what he’s been through, alright? We spent a month stranded together on some miserable frozen rock. There was a lot of time to... talk about things.”

“I knew him for close to two of your years,” Tuka countered. “How can just one of your months possibly make you know him better?”

Her pale skin colored--another human feature that Tuka had never understood--and she looked down at her medical equipment. “I knew him... before then,” she muttered. “Like I said, we kind of grew up together.”

“In training?” Tuka guessed shrewdly. “Training to be Spartans?”

Cassandra didn’t respond for several long moments. Then, without looking back up, she nodded. “How obvious was I?” she muttered, almost as if she were talking to herself.

Tuka clicked his mandibles. "Simon told me a lot about the program. He said that most of his friends from the human insurgency were dead, so there was really only one other possibility." He kept his tone conciliatory, but couldn't help feeling more than a little proud of himself for piecing it together.

He voiced a concern he'd been pondering ever since he'd decided that his new companion was one of the human warriors. "But Simon never mentioned anything about having any companions, especially not one as close as you."

Although the young Sangheili couldn't be certain, he could have sworn that another one of those odd human flushes crept into Cassandra's pale complexion.

"It's complicated," she said finally. "And you're probably better off asking him those kinds of things. When we find him, that is."

"Yes." Tuka nodded in agreement. The mere mentioning of his first goal set his mind back firmly on his quest. He'd find Simon and show Cassandra that she was mistaken about him. Then he'd convince Simon to help him and they'd track down Mallunus and finally get justice for his mother's murder.

And after that?

As far as Tuka was concerned, there was no after that while Mallunus was still alive. He'd only stop to think about that once he'd closed this chapter of his life, the one that had been going on since he'd watched his mother butchered in front of him.



Fira 'Demal leaned back in the ship's pilot seat. The Slipspace jump to the world where this "Mordred" character would take a while longer, and as much as he liked the young Tuka's enthusiasm and was beyond grateful for the excuse to leave Cordial Harmony, he still needed a little space to collect his thoughts on this whole venture.

It had been a spur of the moment decision to help Tuka, a decision born of his disgust for Cordial Harmony in general and his curiosity about what such a skilled youth would make of himself. But now that they were on there way, Fira had run into some pressing doubts that hadn't really concerned him before they'd taken off.

This renegade Spartan they were chasing... how did Tuka know him and, more importantly, why did he want them dead? Fira himself held no love for the human "Demons"--they had butchered dozens of his family during the Great War--but it still seemed odd that someone as young as Tuka would include one of them on the list of people he wanted revenge on. Much as Fira hated to admit it, Thel 'Vadam would have been the name he expected to find Tuka hating, but the son of Sesa 'Refum seemed to have been raised either in ignorance of the details surrounding his father's death or by someone with a level enough head to tell him while keeping him rational about things.

And who was this Cassandra person anyway? How did she know their quarry and how had she acquired the information on this "Mordred" mercenary's whereabouts? The whole thing reeked of something criminal to Fira, who had spent enough time on Cordial Harmony to know that just because a human--or Sangheili, for that matter--wasn't covered in scars and tattoos didn't mean that they weren't working on the far side of the law. That foul human-based organization, the Syndicate, had its corrupting fingers everywhere, even on Sangheili planets that weren't home to thousands of humans.

He sighed. The future after the Covenant had collapsed had been supposed to be a bright one, so why was all this filth springing to the fore now? The Fallen, the remaining Covenant forces, criminals, mercenaries; all of them seemed to be eating away at the foundations of galactic civilization.

Perhaps that was why he had taken a shine to Tuka. The youth reminded Fira of all the warrior qualities and idealism he had been raised to believe in even before the Great Schism. A bit naive, perhaps, if his trust for this Cassandra human was any indication, but that would be shed in time. Hopefully his other good qualities wouldn't go with it.

Fira closed his eyes and folded his hands over his chest. For now he'd play along with whatever Cassandra led them to. It was Tuka's journey after all and the youth had never asked Fira to come along. But he would never be able to trust humans, and if what he'd heard of the location they were headed for was any indication, his view of them would not be improved by the time this was over.

In the meantime, he'd just have to trust that Tuka's master, Roni 'Visag, had trained him as well as the old blademaster's reputation dictated.

Chapter Eight: Brush War
"The situation on Gamma-13 is proceeding acceptably for now. Obviously it would be best for neither of the parties involved in the conflict there to gain dominance over the prospective future population, but as it stands it is considered preferable under our current security contingencies for the mercenaries and criminals to have the run of the place rather than the rebels. Until military assets can be allocated to provide a favorable alternative for the colonists, we will have to be content with sitting back and hoping that the mercenary coalition continues to succeed, though not overwhelmingly so."

- UNSC Office of Naval Intelligence report regarding fighting on prospective colony world Gamma-13

A funny thing about the galaxy's species once the Great War was over: none of them seemed to fully grasp the concept of strength through solidarity.

True, they all had their central governments and most of them, particularly Sangheili and humans, liked to say that they were all united in reconstructing the galaxy. But there had always been naysayers and rebels before, during, and after the war, and they were by no means in short supply now. The Sangheili had the Fallen alongside a rising number of individuals and keeps who felt it would be better to apply their skills to mercenary or criminal work rather than remain within the confines of traditional Sangheili society. The humans, for their part, had dozens of rebel factions that squabbled and cooperated with each other at an equal rate as they sought to establish their independence from the United Earth Government. Humanity contributed even more individuals to the mercenary and criminal worlds than the Sangheili did, and along with these freebooters came an even greater contribution: the Syndicate. Before the war, there had been no real centralized, interplanetary criminal groups. Now, like a massive, malevolent octopus the Syndicate had stretched its tentacles of influence into the governments and societies of every political and racial system in the civilized galaxy, and it showed no signs of weakening its hold anytime soon.

And in such a large galaxy, rife with planets, too sundered by conflict for the official governments to control all of its innumerable systems and a thriving criminal underworld to take advantage of the opportunities such a situation created, small habitable planets like Gamma-13 became war zones.

Like most conflicts, the situation itself started out quietly enough. A small group of human miners had approached a small group of Kig-Yar pirates with a deal: if the pirates provided security for their operations on Gamma-13 then they in turn would allow them safe haven and equal share in a planet that was, for all intents and purposes, completely off the Interspecies Union's radar. The pirates, seduced by the mountain of moneymaking opportunities such an arrangement would create, had agreed and the small coalition had set up shop on Gamma-13. Within days the miners had found valuable ores and everything seemed to be preceding according to plan...

...were it not for the fact that the planet already had groups that had claimed it as their own. A band of human Insurrectionists were trying to do the same thing the pirates and miners were doing, and the outside intrusion was not welcome.

At first the groups had done their best to avoid each other, and a wary but stable philosophy of "live and let live" was adopted by both sides. But they'd both kept expanding their mining operations, gradually discovering that over half the planet was covered in valuable ores and minerals. Soon they were shooting at each other over mining sites and then they were shooting at each other's existing mining sites. And then the Kig-Yar had decided to put an end to the whole thing once and for all by bombing the Insurrectionist base camps.

It had sent the human rebels into an uproar. They immediately sent out a call for all like-minded Insurrectionist groups to converge on the planet, promising them a share in its riches in return for aid. As ships full of eager rebel troops descended on Gamma-13 the miners and Kig-Yar turned to their own equivalent of an intergalactic community and began hiring any and all mercenary groups they could afford.

Within the month, both sides were dug in and ready to go to any lengths to claim the planet. The towns that the Insurrectionists and miners had put up suddenly became command centers and battlegrounds. Soon, the original sides were lost in the sea of factions they had called in to preserve themselves. Now the battle was about the fate of the planet itself: would this government-free gem of a world become an Insurrectionist bastion or a multi-species hub of criminal and mercenary operations?

With the war locked in a bitter stalemate, the mercenaries made use of any freelance guns-for-hire that made their way to Gamma-13 eager to make some quick credits. Speed was of the essence if they wanted to win before the Interspecies Union got involved, and that meant that anyone who showed up was an acceptable soldier. These were hard creatures, beings who were used to paving the road to their own survival with the corpses of those who had less willing to do so. They were certainly not the kind of crowd an inexperienced young Sangheili swordsman, a proud officer of the Sangheili army, and a certain medically-inclined ex-Spartan would be able to meld with easily. But this was exactly what Tuka, Fira, and Cassandra would need to do in order to find the mercenary named Mordred, the one who would give them a new clue towards finding the renegade Simon-G294.

And they were not the only ones seeking employment that day...

Chapter Nine: The Hired Help
"It's not that we're ungrateful for the help, but I gotta say I'm surprised you came to us," commented Colin Patterson, chief recruiter for the Insurrectionist forces on Gamma-13, reaching into a chilled portable cooler and withdrawing an icy bottle. "Beer?"

"No thanks," replied the man he was addressing. "I don't drink with jobs. It's bad business."

Patterson shrugged and popped the bottle's cap himself. "Suit yourself."

After taking a swig, he indicated a large map that had been taped to the wall of the battered pre-fab building he used for an office. "You said you wanted sniper work?"

"Yeah," replied the other man, idly scratching at his head of close-cut hair that was somewhere in the process of aging from black to gray. "Somewhere with lots of targets, preferably."

"Alright," Patterson replied. "Well, you can just take your pick, really. We've got a few towns and mining centers out there being overrun by the mercs if you really want to do some good."

"I'm not in this to help you win," said the graying man casually. He indicated the room's third occupant, who was off by herself crouching by the door. "She needs practice with urban combat. That's why my fee is so low."

"Uh... yes, I see," said Patterson, shooting a nervous glance at the girl leaning against the door. She couldn't have been older than fifteen, possibly even younger, but she wore a flak-jacket over a combat jumpsuit that encased her thin frame and somehow managed to look completely at home in the getup. Rather than paying attention to the two men's conversation, she was idly playing with a combat knife as if it were a simple toy, passing and even tossing the weapon between her hands with a look of cheerful fascination on her face.

Patterson licked his lips and rubbed the back of his neck before looking back over at the graying man. "Uh, this wouldn't have anything to do with that little project everyone says Venter's been working on these days, would it?"

The other man shrugged his powerfully built shoulders. "Couldn't tell you if I wanted to," he replied as he turned towards the door. "Just get us a ride to the nearest war zone and we'll be good to go."

He stopped by the girl and plucked the knife from between her fingers with a single, lighting-fast grab. The blade didn't do so much as nick either of them.

"Alright, Nimue, break's over," he told her, pushing the office's door open. "Time to get back to work."

The girl--Nimue--pushed the bangs of her dark hair back and rose to go without a word.

Patterson watched the two of them go and took another swig of beer. Yes, it was probably better that he didn't ask so many questions. Better for the cause and better for him personally as well.

Besides, when David Kahn came to you and offered to work for less than even the going freelance rate, it was best to be as accommodating for him as possible.

He felt almost sorry for the mercenaries who were about to come under Kahn's gun. Even the aliens.



The human behind one of the dozens of desks that lined the recruitment center rubbed his face.

"So," he said, sizing up Fira. "You're more freelancers?"

From where he stood behind the larger Sangheili, Tuka found himself noticing all the subtle body signs Fira was sending out that the recruiter could never have picked up on. The way his back kept stiffening and unstiffening, the small twitching motions he made with his fingers, the occasional spasms in the neck that sent his head tilting this way and that...

All of them told Tuka that the Ultra was fighting the urge to reach across the desk and send the recruiter flying across the cramped room.

They had agreed that, as the older and larger Sangheili, Fira would do the talking when it came to signing on with Gamma-13's mercenary forces. But neither of them had anticipated the callous, almost flippant reception they were receiving. It was particularly jarring for a ranking officer like Fira, who was used to receiving at least some modicum of respect on the battlefield. The fact that they were hiring themselves on as mercenaries, metaphorically selling their swords, even added to the humiliation even though it was all just the easiest way for them to find "Mordred" and find out what he knew about Simon.

"Yes," Fira was saying. "How much..."

He paused and snapped his head to either side with a quick jerk of his neck. Tuka could tell that he was having to literally force the words out through his mandibles.

"The going rate for freelancers is a hundred credits a week, plus a fifty credit bonus for every confirmed kill," recited the recruiter in a bored tone. He'd obviously been asked the question countless times in the past and wasn't willing to wait while Fira worked up the nerve to discuss the issue. "You don't like it, go find a paymaster and take it up with them." "Very well," Fira grated. "Just tell us where to go now."

The recruiter frowned. "You and you," he said, indicating Fira and Tuka. "Can head into the rest of the camp and report to any officer who'll take you on. But she stays here." He pointed a dirt-encrusted fingernail at Cassandra.

She blinked. "What? Why me?"

"Just 'cause we ain't picky about who we sign on doesn't mean we're taking kids as well," the recruiter told her in a tone that Tuka decided was the human form of condescension. "Do your parents know where you've smuggled yourself off to, sweetie."

"I'm seventeen," she retorted, adjusting the shoulder strap on her traveling bag. "I've been trained to handle this sort of work."

The recruiter rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right. Been watching a lot of 'vids, played some hologames, so of course you know your stuff."

Cassandra seemed at a loss for words, and Tuka knew exactly why. Since Fira was either just as puzzled or had simply decided to let the whole thing play out, he decided to step in.

"I've seen her fight," Tuka told the recruiter. "She killed a full-grown Sangheili warrior by herself and she was even better at healing me." He tapped the spot under his traveling garments where he'd been shot back on Cordial Harmony."

The recruiter blinked at him for a moment. Clearly this man's brain was not used to processing several thoughts at once. Finally he shook his head and entered something into the datapad on his desk.

"Crazy galaxy these days," he muttered. "Gets crazier by the minute as far as I've concerned."

He glanced back up at Cassandra. "Is he right?" he demanded, all concerns about her age apparently gone. "You've got med experience?"

She nodded.

"Alright, then get the hell out of here and take a right. Report to Lieutenant Vince at the med center."

Cassandra hesitated. "Where's that?"

"Just look for all the dead people, sweetie," the recruiter said with a sigh. "The two of you, go find yourselves an officer. Next!"

"That was easier than I'd feared," Fira remarked as they exited the recruiting station. He kept rubbing his armored wrists as though trying to wipe some non-existent stench from them. "Now all we need to do is find this Mordred..."

He stopped talking then and stopped walking as well, quickly followed by Tuka and Cassandra. They had left the makeshift spaceport's facilities and had entered the mercenary camp in its entirety.

Ugly, boxy prefabricated shelters were spread out as far as the eye could see, hiding much of Gamma-13's dull brown ground from view. It was as if someone had taken the undercity from Cordial Harmony and transported it above ground, though in this version everyone had guns.

Tuka had never seen anything like it. Almost every race imaginable seemed to be present here, from Sangheili to humans to Kig-Yar. There were small gaggles of Unggoy scampering here and there, while Yanme'e fluttered around from shelter to shelter with no discernible purpose in mind. There was even the occasional pair of armored Lekgolo, usually resting silently within their hulking frames. Weapons of all shapes and sizes were being toted around by their equally varied owners.

Beside him, Cassandra sighed. "I thought I was finished with all this."

"It doesn't look all that different from where I found you," replied Tuka absently, still drinking in the whole bewildering scene.

"Oh, it's different," she muttered. "It's definitely different."

Fira turned back to them as a small human military vehicle tore through the muddy ground past them, its whining engine almost drowning out the sound of his voice. "Report to the medical facilities like you were told," he said to Cassandra, passing her a small purple communicator. "See if you can find anyone who knows where Mordred is."

She nodded and melted into the crowd without a word.

Tuka looked up at his companion. "And us?"

Fira clicked his mandibles. "We ask around as well. There's no other way around it, so let's get moving. I'm feeling filthier with ever moment I spend here."



"After this," Fira was grumbling some time later as he and Tuka exited one of the dozens of multi-species cantinas that had been set up throughout the mercenary base camp. "I'm volunteering for an extended deployment within the fleet. Or the army. Just somewhere where I can be with honorable warriors, not these sell-sword trash."

The two of them had now thrown the nameMordred around in countless bars and other gathering places with next to no success. They'd found a pair of human mercenaries who'd claimed it sounded familiar, then vanished into the crowd once Tuka had prompted them with a few credits, and a Kig-Yar sniper who said he thought he'd heard the name mentioned once in passing. Everyone else they'd asked had just responded with mute, contemptuous stares that had done nothing to improve Fira's mood.

For his part, Tuka couldn't help but feel responsible for the older Sangheili's rising ire. "I owe you a great debt," he told Fira s they plodded on down the base camp's filthy streets. "I know how bothersome this is for you."

Fira savagely clicked his mandibles while watching a group of humans and Kig-Yar taking bets on a street fight between a pair of Unggoy. "You never asked for my help," he replied. "I came of my own accord, as did that human Cassandra. You aren't responsible for either of us. But take heed of this place and the scum that dwell here, particularly the Sangheili ones. By selling their swords and their honor for a fee they have doomed themselves to a long, slow death that will end only when they fall to the perils of their wretched profession. And then they will be nothing more than worthless, nameless corpses in the dirt."

They passed on in silence for some time. Tuka found himself glad at the boots and light body armor he'd worn under his robes ever since they'd landed: they kept the accumulated muck and dirt off of his skin. He hadn't realized it back on Cordial Harmony, but he was beginning to wish that he'd spent more time hiking and camping in the wilderness of Sanghelios. Right now he couldn't help but yearn for his home at the Visag Keep, with its warm rooms and clean gardens. A far cry from the filthy cesspits he'd been finding himself in recently. Only the thought of his search for Simon and the hunt for Mallunus kept him from even considering giving up and going back.

He looked around at the base camp, with its cheap living quarters and the multitude of races that inhabited them. "It seems odd that so many species can live side by side after the destruction of the war and the Schism," he commented thoughtfully.

"Greed transcends old feuds and grievances," said Fira darkly. "These scum don't care about the past or the concerns of their brethren. They'll cooperate as long as they can turn a profit from doing so, but they'll turn on each other the moment it seems that that will yield a greater bounty."

"Heh," rasped a voice behind them. "Hear that, Ro? This guy think's he's got us all pretty well figured, doesn't he?"

Both Sangheili whirled to face one of the largest Jiralhanae either of them had ever seen. He was encased from head to shaggy toe in battered, filthy armor that looked as if he'd assembled it from over a hundred different suits. His scarred, bulging forearms could be seen through the brutal tapestry of plates and buckles and his tree trunk-like legs looked as if they could crush Tuka as if he were merely an annoying insect.

Tuka took an involuntary step back and nearly tripped over his traveling robe as he craned his neck to look up at the monster before him. He'd seen a few Jiralhanae around the base camp, but never up close and personal like this. He hadn't seen any of them up close ever since that fateful day on High Charity when Mallunus had murdered his mother.

Anger at the memory clouded his mind for a moment, and he reached for his energy sword's hilt while scanning the Jiralhanae for weapons. Curiously, he saw nothing save for a few grenades affixed near the beast's waist and a hilt of some kind that jutted up from his armored back.

The Jiralhanae saw Tuka's reaction and grinned, his eyes radiating with a savage, feral intensity from under his helmet. But there was no hate in those eyes; instead, Tuka saw only a fire of fierce joy and anticipation dancing in their dark pupils.

"Go ahead," the Jiralahane chuckled. "You'll be making my day... if you put up a good fight before I kill you."

"Tuka," Fira warned, and Tuka's hand froze a hair's breath away from his blade. If he drew it on this creature, he couldn't put it away without attempting to draw blood or risk fatal dishonor. And one look at the hulking figure before him told Tuka that this Jiralhanae wouldn't need any weapons to kill him if he attacked. He'd rip him limb from limb before Fira could even begin to step in to help.

The Jiralhanae made no move to either come at them or back off. Instead, he just stood his ground as Tuka and Fira held their own, both sides waiting to see what the other would do.

An amused chuckle broke the silence, but it didn't come from the Jiralhanae. An armored Sangheili stepped out from behind the Jiralhanae and inclined his head in a mocking salute to Tuka.

"Smart kid," he commented, shaking his head as if he were a human. "It's not wise to get Kenpachus all excited like that."

This warrior wore what might once have been considered the armor of a Sangheili Ultra like Fira but was now just as much a battered and mismatched tapestry of plates as the Jiralhanae's armor. Like the Jiralhanae, he was an impressive specimen, standing at least a head taller than Tuka, and even with his battered armor covering his body it was clear from the way he stood that he was even more powerful than the average Sangheili warrior. But unlike his companion, he was bristling with weapons. The hilts of two energy swords were strapped to his waist along with a human-style pistol and several plasma grenades. A brown, human-made pouch was slung over his armor and seemed to contain even more grenades and there was a large plasma repeater clipped onto his back. Tuka found him just as intimidating, if not more so, as the huge Jiralhanae. He'd never seen anyone carrying so many weapons at once.

Fira was less impressed. "What business do you two have with us?" he demanded, voice dripping with contempt.

The scorn seemed to amuse both of the warriors and they both exchanged their respective species' version of a grin.

"No business," the Sangheili replied after he'd turned back to them. "We were just interested when we heard that a pair of Sangheili were wandering around the camp asking questions about Mordred. It's obvious that you aren't mercenaries like us and we'd like to know who you two really are."

"What's it to you?" Fira shot back. "We have our reasons for being here and I'm sure you have your own. We don't need to answer to you."

The Jiralhanae snorted. "Ah, give it up," he growled, shifting his weight from one enormous leg to the other. "They aren't interested in cooperating or fighting. This is getting boring already."

But the Sangheili mercenary wasn't about to give up so easily. "Ah, they'll wear down in a second," he said, inclining his head at Fira. "A name'd be a good start," he commented. "I'll kick things off: I'm Ro'nin, and my friend here is Kenpachus."

Kenpachus. The name seemed to resonate somewhere within Tuka, as if he'd heard it before, but the only Jiralhanae names he had ever bothered with were those of Mallunus and the more famous chieftains that he'd been taught in his history lessons. In the meantime, Fira was already busy dealing with another detail.

"Your name," he informed the other Sangheili coldly. "It's not Sangheili. What clan do you belong to?"

The Sangheili mercenary, Ro'nin, snorted as if this were a ridiculous question. "Don't have one, don't need one," he retorted. "My fool of a father taught me that ages ago when he exiled me from our keep."

Fira practically recoiled with disgust. "An exile," he whispered, and Tuka felt a twinge of revulsion as well. Only the most heinous, most dishonorable crimes could incite a keep's Kaidon to cast an individual from his clan and keep. The more traditional capital offenses such as treason or disobedience carried punishments that at least offered some chance of an honorable death, but an exile was doomed to live with the shame of his abominable sin until someone decided to put him out of his misery.

It was as if the admission of his guilt served to warp the way Ro'nin looked to Tuka. Suddenly he wasn't just another dirty mercenary and was instead a kind of dangerous, prowling beast. The casual, almost lazy, intelligence that could be seen in his eyes now looked devious and cunning and the casual stance he was now standing in was just a ruse to lull them both into complacency before he unleashed his arsenal on them. Tuka found compelled to look away from Ro'nin, as if he was seeing something unclean or shameful. Fira continued to stare at the mercenary, but his mandibles were parted in an expression of utter disgust.

Strangely, their revulsion seemed to amuse Ro'nin, as if he'd long ago gotten used to such reactions and now drew a measure of satisfaction from them. "I know, I know," he said casually, as if he were discussing a mildly interesting rumor. "Can't trust an exile, unclean, dishonored and all that." He waved his hand dismissively.

"He gets it all the time," Kenpachus put in. "You split-faces can get so... prissy."

Ro'nin laughed. "I know, can't we?"

Fira turned to leave and Tuka eagerly followed suite. "If you'll excuse us," the older Sangheili told the two mercenaries coldly. "We have things to be doing around here."

Ro'nin clicked his mandibles. "Suit yourselves," he told them. "It's a shame though, seeing as we were going to help you two out with your little Mordred problem."

Tuka spun around so quickly that he nearly bowled Fira over. "Wait!" he yelped as the mercenaries began to walk away. "You said Mordred? You know Mordred?"

Ro'nin stopped walking and looked back over his shoulder, his mandibles parted in a smirk. "We've had the misfortune of crossing paths, yes. Can't say I understand why anyone would be looking for that pathetic runt, but then again I also can't understand why a pair of honor-bound snobs such as yourselves wound up in a dung-heap like this. Lots of mysteries in this universe, wouldn't you say?"

Kenpachus had also turned to go, revealing that the hilt on his back was attached to one of the largest swords Tuka had ever seen. It reminded him of the Sword of Harka back in the Visag keep, except this one was a single blade rather than the two-pronged Sangheili style. "The only mystery I'm interested in," the Jiralhanae grunted. "Is why we aren't already heading up to that mining town. That's where the fighting is."

"Right, right," Ro'nin agreed, beginning to walk again. "Wouldn't want you to miss out on any of the fun."

"Wait!" Tuka found himself pleading as his first and possibly only hope of finding Mordred began slipping away. "What do you want in exchange for taking us to him?"

Ro'nin stopped again. Kenpachus let out an impatient huff but nevertheless stood alongside his partner in the filthy street.

"We've got all we really need right here," the Sangheili mercenary admitted, spreading his arms to indicate the mercenary base camp in all its squalid glory. "Cash to earn, battles to fight, and no government to get all sanctimonious with us. Now while it's beyond me why two dandies like you want to meet a dung-licker like Mordred--"

"Cowardly little weasel," Kenpachus broke in. "No fun in a fight."

"--I'll admit that I'd like to see what this is all about for myself," Ro'nin finished with a glare at his partner. "So we'll take you to him free of charge."

"How kind of you," said Fira coldly. "Though I'm certain you'll think of some way to profit from doing this."

"Such mistrust," said Ro'nin, feigning offense. "Breaks my hearts to see it in you, especially when we're willing to do you such a charitable favor."

"Generous of you," Kenpachus pointed out with a nasty grin. "Especially after how they've been talking to us."

"I'm just a walking fountain of sympathy and altruism, aren't I?" noted Ro'nin, clearly enjoying seeing how far he could bait Fira.

"Contact Cassandra," Fira told Tuka, clearly not in the mood for civilities. "Have her use our beacons to find us before we head out to wherever they think Mordred is."

"Ah, so there's a human involved too." Ro'nin shook his head. "This is getting more interesting by the second."

"Just tell her to hurry up," growled Kenpachus. "I've waited around here long enough as it is."

Chapter Ten: David Kahn and Mordred
Tuka had never much liked flying in a planet's atmosphere, and the design of the human-style troop transport--called a "Pelican" for reasons Tuka couldn't fathom--that Ro'nin had acquired for them was not improving his outlook. With its cramped troop bay that opened up into thin air without any kind of mechanisms to hold the occupants in, the low-flying transport did not seem to have been designed in the least for passenger safety.

Tuka had chosen a seat as far away from the edge as possible, but his mind couldn't help but conjure up any number of scenarios that ended with him tumbling out of the Pelican to his doom. The design of the Pelican's seats did not help to assuage his worries: they had been shaped to accommodate a regular-sized human and Tuka, despite his youth and smaller size, could not seem to fit himself completely in the space and had to keep shifting around. Fira and Ro'nin had not encountered this problem; both of the warriors had opted to stand, holding onto handles that had been laid into the roof of the troop bay. They seemed to have reached some sort of mutual consensus of loathing that neither would allow themselves to be one-upped by the other. For his own part, Kenpachus had crammed his hulking frame into no less than three spaces, looking perfectly comfortable as he ran a brick-like sharpening stone down the edge of his massive blade. Cassandra sat across from Tuka, cradling her rifle and medical bag in her lap. Her hands were still stained with dried blood from a multitude of species, as were her face and hair. Whatever she'd been working with at the medical center must have been truly stomach turning, but it hadn't seemed to phase her in the slightest.

Fira turned his head towards Tuka. "I understand that we'll be flying into a combat zone!" he yelled over the roar of the wind and the Pelican's engines. "Don't panic when the shooting starts! You and the human should just stay close to me and keep out of the fighting until we find this Mordred person!"

"If he's even there when you arrive," Ro'nin scoffed, his voice just barely loud enough to be heard. "I know this fellow: young, for a human, but certainly one of the most deceitful, cunning little bastards you'll ever meet. With his track record, he could easily have run off to somewhere safer by now."

Fira shot a glare at the mercenary. "We will find him," he retorted. "And then we will get off this miserable planet and hopefully be able to forget we ever met."

Ro'nin clicked his mandibles as the wind quieted somewhat. "Never did get your names," he said after a moment. "Seems only fair that you should give them to us, seeing as we're helping you and all."

Fira glared at the Sangheili outcast, but Tuka couldn't help but admit that Ro'nin had something of a point. "My name is Tuka 'Refum," he told Ro'nin. "I was trained and raised in the Visag Keep."

At Tuka's words, Fira shot a warning glance at him. But Ro'nin seemed more startled than smug at the information he'd been given. "Refum," he muttered, his voice barely audible. "Visag. Now there's a pair of interesting names. Funny to be hearing them together like that."

"What is it?" Tuka asked, surprised by the mercenary's reaction. "Do they mean anything to you?"

"Not really," replied Ro'nin, but Tuka could practically feel the lie as it passed the other Sangheili's mandibles. What was he hiding?

"My name is Fira 'Demal," Fira said grudgingly after several moments, but Ro'nin did not seem at all interested in that bit of news. Instead, he cocked his head and looked at Tuka thoughtfully.

"You're a son of Sesa 'Refum?" he asked.

"Yes," said Tuka. "He was my father, though I never knew him."

"Ever know of a Sangheili called Shinsu?" Ro'nin asked after another pause.

Tuka blinked, confused. "I've never heard that name before," he said. "Who is he?"

But Ro'nin just shook his head. "No one important. Just a warrior I knew once. Don't know why I even brought him up."

"Stop avoiding the question," Fira growled, clearly eager for a chance to snap at Ro'nin.

But before the conversation could descend into a full-fledged argument, the dropship's intercom crackled. "We're approaching the LZ," the human pilot announced over it. "Once we stop moving, get your asses off this ship. I've got three more flights today and I don't want to spend any more time getting shot at than I have to."

"Here we go," Ro'nin said, sounding pleased. "Try not to get your head taken off by a sniper before you find Mordred."

Kenpachus grunted happily. "Let's hurry this up and get to the fighting!" he said enthusiastically.

Tuka could now hear the sounds of human and Sangheili weapons being discharged in the distance. He found himself stiffening as the sounds drew nearer. This would be a hundred times worse than that skirmish on Cordial Harmony. True, he now had body armor to protect him, but it was still light fare, nothing like the full-scale combat harnesses that Fira and Ro'nin wore. One false move, one turn of bad luck, and he would be finished.

He was still struggling to bring his nerves under control when he was surprised by the sound of Cassandra's voice in his ear. She had linked an ear-communicator mounted on her own head to the ones that Fira had given him along with the light combat skin he wore under his cloak.

"Just focus on the goal and stay with Fira," she said. Her advice and calm demeanor was strange, almost disconcerting, coming from such a small, young human, but then again, she was a Spartan. She had to know what she was talking about. Perhaps she'd been trained to sooth nerves as well as injuries, because Tuka did feel somewhat better and nodded gratefully to her.

"My advice to you if you want to find Mordred is to stick to the rear," Ro'nin said as he prepared to exit the descending dropship. "Try to find a place that isn't taking too much fire. Unless he's feeling extra confident, he won't be anywhere where real fighting's going on."



"More Wraith's opening up," said Nimue, looking up from where she lay on the floor of what had once been a regular building rather than a bombed out wreck. "We're relocating now."

David Kahn nodded approvingly. "To where?" he asked, though it was clear that he was the teacher in this situation. Nimue was merely the student completing yet another test in her lethal education.

The girl blinked, licked her lips, and closed her eyes for a moment. "The two story building two blocks down from here," she said, her eyes snapping open again. "The enemy's been hitting that area hard for two hours. They'll be coming straight down the street there, and there's plenty of ways to move if they start targeting us."

"Good girl," Kahn said approvingly. "Now get moving to that building. I'll cover you."

He hefted his sniper rifle and scanned the street while Nimue sprinted out from cover, her own rifle clutched tightly to her chest. Though she was of slight frame, she still managed to carry the weapon without allowing herself to be encumbered by it. Kahn allowed himself a small amount of satisfaction at how well her training was coming along. Every day she proved to him that she was even better than the assassin he was being paid to raise her as... which was why he challenged her all the more with his tests and field exercises. He took risks with her because it was the only way she would know how to survive when the day finally came for him to hand her over to the Insurrectionists who had hired him to raise her in the first place.

A Wraith mortar detonated near the building, causing it to shake violently. Noting that Nimue was already halfway to their target building and not drawing any fire, Kahn clipped his rifle to the back of his dark, ODST-style armor and drew a high-calibre handgun from a holster on his thigh. Time to get back to the task at hand.

As he ran down the street, he barely noticed the Pelican lift off from the opposite side of the embattled town and soar away towards the horizon, its passengers safely delivered.



Somewhere else on the battlefield, another mercenary was feeling the tremors caused by the Wraith blasts. "Damn," he grunted, raising his head from where it was resting against the wall of an abandoned basement. "Sounds like they're getting things back up to speed up there."

"Well, we both know what that means," said a youthful female voice that seemed to come from the light armor the mercenary was wearing.

"Know we don't," the mercenary shot back. "What the hell does it mean?"

"It means nap time's over, dumbass!" the female voice snapped impatiently. "Or do you want a stray blast to get in here and fry us?"

"Yeah, yeah," the mercenary grumbled irritably. "I'm moving."

He got to his feet, stretching as he did so, and picked up his battered assault rifle from the floor. Scratching his tangled mop of black hair, he cricked his neck and stooped again to retrieve his helmet from where he'd set it on a pile of bricks.

The mercenary called Mordred lifted the helmet up with his right hand and lowered it onto his head while deactivating the small motion sensor system he'd set up on the floor with his left hand.

His prosthetic left hand.



Tuka closed his eyes for a moment and fought to drown out the constant pounding of the Wraith emplacements that seemed determined to reduce what had clearly once been a civilian town to rubble. He, Fira, and Cassandra were currently taking cover within a small, portable shelter erected by the mercenary forces during what must have been a day-long struggle to capture the area. Humans, Sangheili, and Kig-Yar were everywhere, emptying their weapons into the nearby buildings while dodging the fire that darted back out at them. The human rebels were apparently firmly dug in, and the dozens of corpses that littered the streets in front of the mercenaries' main offensive front served as a grim reminder of that fact.

"How are we supposed to find Mordred in this mess?" he asked Fira as the Wraiths began unleashing their latest salvo.

The warrior poked his head out from the shelter and looked around. "No idea," he admitted, darting back in before a rebel sniper could notice him. "We'll just have to rely on the luck that's gotten us this far."

"So what do we do?" Cassandra asked, clearly unimpressed by Fira's answer. "Help the mercenaries capture this whole town?"

"That could take days," Fira muttered as a rebel mortar strike shook the ground around them. There was a large explosion, followed by the screams of wounded mercenaries. Tuka looked out of their shelter to see the smoldering wreckage of one of the Wraiths.

"It looked like the mercenaries are strong here," Tuka commented as the crossfire picked up again. He had to keep talking, focusing on Fira and Cassanrda, in order to keep his mind off of the carnage around him. Any moment his concentration might slip and he'd be forced into a gibbering, useless state of sheer terror. "They should overrun the rebels soon, right?"

Fira snorted. "These mercenaries' idea of strategy is to waste as many soldiers as possible in these foolish frontal assaults," he told Tuka. "The rebels may be outnumbered, but from the looks of things they know how to defend their positions with what they have."

Before they could discuss the situation further, a dark-armored Sangheili mercenary appeared in the door of the shelter. "Move it!" he snarled at them. "All of you, on your feet! They're trying to fall back, so now's our chance to charge them!"

Tuka hesitated for a moment, and the mercenary stuck the business end of a plasma rifle in his face. "I said move it!" the warrior barked. "You are not being paid to hide from the enemy!"

As more troops appeared behind the mercenary, there was nothing the three could do but scramble out of the shelter and fall in with the dozens of other mercenaries who were suddenly moving all around them. As if to prove Fira's point, they were massing for a charge on the wrecked buildings the rebels had just recently been firing from. If Tuka hadn't been so terrified, he might have payed more attention to the human figures who were stumbling out of the buildings and drawing fire from the gathering mercenaries. All around him were the multitude of species he had seen back in the camp, but this time they were pressing in on him and filling his nostrils with the scents of fear and excitement. There was no time to consider just how suicidal the mercenary tactics were, because several Sangheili were already moving forward and the press of the crowd was dragging Tuka along with it. By now he had completely lost sight of Fira and Cassandra; he was on his own amidst the charging mass.



Fira snarled angrily as he scanned the charging mercenaries for any sign of his companions. Finding none, he sprinted down the street, doing his best not to run with the rest of the pack. To the mercenaries' credit, they had certainly torn this town apart before launching their head-on assault, but this tactic was still incredibly foolish by the terms of contemporary warfare. But perhaps that was the intent: the more mercenaries who died here meant that less would be around asking for pay once the fighting ended. It was a concept that disgusted Fira just as much as the mercenaries themselves, but he couldn't deny the logic it hid within insane tactics like this.

One massive figure had pulled ahead of the rest of the charge: that Jiralhanae savage, Kenpachus. Roaring with excitement, he overtook a pair of fleeing rebels and, with a single blow from his massive sword, cut them both in half. More of the humans turned to oppose him, but their gunfire clattered off his bulky armor and he tore through them with as much ease as he had the first.

A cheer went up from the other mercenaries, particularly the Jiralhanae and Sangheili. They too rushed forward, eager to lay into their exposed enemies. Soon the massed charge had dispersed into a somewhat more intelligent scattered formation of troops, though they would still be easy pickings once the rebels managed to regroup and concentrate their fire.

As he paused to look again for Tuka and Cassandra, Fira noticed that a second wave of mercenaries was now advancing up the street. These troops--a mixture of humans and Sangheili--seemed to wear similar uniforms to each other and moved in cohesive units rather than a disorganized mob. Some Sangheili lead what looked like lances of Unggoy, while others moved in groups to occupy buildings and fire on the rebels.

Now things made a little more sense to Fira's veteran sensibilities. The frontrunners would be the freelancers that the organized mercenary groups couldn't rely on to operate regularly. These troops were thrown against the enemy defenses first while the trained soldiers moved in behind them to take advantage of the chaos their initial charge wreaked on enemy positions.

So these sell-swords aren't complete fools, he admitted to himself. But for now, he'd be forced to stick with the attacking freelancers. Tuka was out here somewhere, and while the young warrior had plenty of courage, he didn't yet have a place in a battlefield like this. Fira would need to find him in order to keep him safe; it would be a shame if Tuka came this far only to be shot down in the street like one of the honorless mercenaries around him.

And as much as Fira was wary of humans, he wasn't eager to see the human girl, Cassandra, die either. Whatever vengeance she wanted against the Demon they hunted, Fira was prepared to allow her. It was only fair, really, seeing how much she had helped them this far.

Fira sprang up again and rejoined the freelancers. One Sangheili, the warrior who had threatened Tuka earlier, had rallied several more Sangheili to his lead and Fira fell in with them. They sprinted down the rubble-filled streets, firing wildly at any rebels who exposed themselves for too long. As he ran, Fira desperately scanned the streets for either of his companions. Still, no luck.

They were just rounding a corner and charging towards a small two-story prefab building when it happened. There was a sudden popping noise and then the Snagheili were falling, their shields torn away and their armor blown through as if it weren't even there. Fira dove for cover just as the lead warrior's head exploded.

"Sniper!" another mercenary yelled. Fira looked up at the prefab building. Though he didn't see any flashes coming from its dark windows, that didn't mean the rebels weren't using it as a nest to pick off the freelancers.

He readied his plasma rifle and gathered himself up for a sprint. If he could just take that building, he'd be able to get some communications through to Tuka and Cassandra. All he needed to do now was to make it to the building without being blown apart by the sniper inside it...



"Good shot," David Kahn noted as Nimue's first salvo sent the mercenaries scattering. He'd given her plenty of experience firing on multiple targets before, but he hadn't expected her to do this well in a combat zone.

She didn't make the mistake of acknowledging the compliment and instead ejected her spent magazine and loaded a second into her compact sniper rifle. Kahn leaned out with his own and gunned down a pair of Jackal snipers who were trying to get a position to fire on them from.

"Two minutes," said Nimue, planning out their actions like he'd instructed her to. "Then we relocate."

"Right." Sometimes Kahn regretted having a pupil who only seemed to speak in military terms, but at times like this he was proud of how she'd turned out. Suppressing a self-satisfied smile, he leaned back into the building and watched his student work.



Tuka slid into an open doorway, quickly scanning the battered interior for enemies as he did so. He'd already discarded the plasma rifle Fira had scrounged up for him before the fighting started, and was now deeply regretting his poor judgement. Now all he had to defend himself with was his blade, a small plasma pistol, and the light combat skin that clung to his body under the remnants of his traveling cloak. The sounds of combat were all around him as the mercenaries clashed with the human rebels throughout the shell-shocked town. Tuka couldn't see why such an innocuous place could be considered important enough to spend so much effort on, but perhaps those in control of the opposing forces had a better grasp on the situation than he did. Right then, he was only concerned with finding Fira and Cassandra before a stray explosion put his lifelong quest to an abrupt end.

How are we supposed to find a single mercenary in all this chaos? Tuka wondered, flinching as a Wraith mortar impacted across the street and shook his protective building to its very foundations. Crawling across the room, he slid towards another door that seemed to lead into an alley. He wasn't sure where that might take him, but it seemed best to keep moving rather than wait for some rebels to come across him. As he crawled, he prayed that Fira and Cassandra were all right out in the battle that raged around him.



Fira sprinted through what seemed like a hail of gunfire that poured in from all sides. Some of the projectiles struck him, but his shields took the brunt of the damage and turned them away. The other mercenaries around him weren't as lucky; the bullets tore through their substandard armor and cut them down in droves. The street Fira left behind him was filled with the corpses of the initial wave he and his companions had come in with.

He braced himself on the wall, scanning the surrounding buildings with his plasma rifle. Though he saw a few rebels as they fired from the windows, none seemed to be targeting him so he held his fire. He had no quarrel with these humans, even if they did seem predisposed to hating his species.

But whoever was in the building he was about to storm wouldn't be so lucky. It was unfortunate, but in the end battles were battles and their end would be no different if Fira merely stood by and let the mercenaries do the work instead. Readying his rifle in one hand and a plasma grenade in the other, Fira ducked low and darted through the building's door.

The next thing he knew, he was lying flat on his back with his shields nearly depleted and a cloud of smoke all around him. Snarling in confusion, he grabbed for his plasma rifle and stumbled to his feet. As his vision cleared, he saw that the doorway he had just come through had been reduced to a charred, smoking sculpture of rent and torn metal. Someone had planted an explosive trip-sensor there and he'd walked straight into it. Without his shields and armor, he'd have been torn to pieces.

Cursing, he scanned the room around him and, finding it empty, sprinted for some nearby stairs as fast as his aching body would allow, keeping his eyes open for more traps as he moved. Whoever was in this building now knew that someone was coming in after them and would be preparing to defend themselves from his assault. He'd need to move even faster now that his element of surprise was lost.



Tuka saw the whole thing from the alley. Fira dashed through the open door, which was subsequently consumed by a large blast. When his companion did not re-emerge, Tuka's fear of the surrounding battle vanished and he was suddenly dashing across the corpse-riddled street towards the shattered doorway. No matter what the risk, he needed to do anything he could to help his benefactor survive whatever injuries he must have sustained from the booby trap he'd triggered.



Fira saw an odd scratch on the door before him and emptied a dozen shots from his plasma rifle into its frame. Sure enough, the searing heat from his weapon triggered yet another explosive that obliterated the door and punched a gaping hole in the walls on either side. Without waiting for the smoke to clear, Fira strode into the room, his plasma rifle held at the ready. But what awaited him surprised him so much that even his veteran instincts wavered and he held off from firing.

A well-built human male clad in the dark armor of the famous human "ODSTs" was on the other side of the room while a female human child wearing a small combat vest and carrying a compact-looking rifle moved to unwire yet another explosive trap from a door that seemed to be leading out to the back of the building. The sight of the odd sniper team caused Fira a moment's pause, which in turn allowed the adolescent human to bring her rifle up to bear.

"Forget it!" the male barked. "Relocate! Point Beta, now!"

The girl stood as the armored man seized his own rifle up from the floor and snapped it up to aim at Fira. But by now Fira was moving, darting off to the side and cutting loose with his plasma rifle, though doing his best not to hit the girl as he did so. To his amazement, the man dropped to his knees and rolled, dodging all of his shots. Coming back up, he opened fire and Fira could feel the hum of the bullets through his shields and armor as they whizzed by him. He sent another spread of plasma shots arcing towards his foe, but this human moved faster than Fira would have ever thought possible. Throwing himself flat, the man fired again as the shots soared over his head, singing the tips of his short hair. One of his shots connected with Fira, cutting his shield strength nearly in half with a single hit.

At that moment, the plasma rifle overheated. With a grunt of frustration, Fira discarded it and lunged for his opponent, drawing his energy sword with expert precision as he did so. The human fired what must have been the last two shots in his magazine; both missed and he discarded the rifle. Fira brought the blade down in an attempt to hack straight through his body armor, but the man managed to dodge that as well and drew a large handgun from his leg faster than Fira's eyes could track. A pair of powerful shots tore the rest of his shields away, leaving them both on equal footing as far as protection went.

Fira sidestepped a third shot and slashed again with his blade, but the human dodged away and took aim again. Closing the distance before his opponent could get another shot off, Fira lashed out with his left arm and struck the human's weapon with all his might, tearing it from the man's wrist and sending it flying across the room. But before he could even begin to capitalize on the advantage on the advantage, his opponent simply drew another, smaller weapon and sent a shot into Fira's left shoulder. Ignoring the sudden, stabbing pain, Fira stabbed at the human with his energy sword and cut the newest weapon cleanly in half.

Discarding the pieces of his ruined weapon just as quickly as he'd drawn it, the human dodged a second stab from Fira and actually moved closer, lashing out with his fists as he did so. Fira felt their impact on his armor and grimaced in pain as the blows' heavy impacts worsened the wound in his shoulder. Still forcing the pain away, he kicked out and knocked the human back several steps. With nothing left between him and victory, Fira lunged forward once more.

But this time the human drew a metal combat knife from his armor and met Fira's attack with a stab of his own. Fira easily sidestepped, bringing his sword up to hack the knife in two with the same ease that he'd destroyed the handgun. But without even losing momentum, the human stepped in as a second knife appeared in his other hand. Fira realized too late: the first knife had merely been a feint!

There was no time to avoid the lightning-fast blow. The human buried the knife hilt-deep in a small opening near Fira's waist, then twisted and slashed it out along his right side. Fira's control broke and he gasped in pain as his entire right flank exploded with agony. His energy sword dropped to the floor and deactivated as he clutched at the wound, purple blood oozing past his fingers and onto the dirty floor.

I shouldn't... I shouldn't be losing, he thought desperately as the human brought the knife back for a final, fatal stab to his neck. How could this human move so fast with such strength behind his blows? Was it possible that he'd undergone the same kinds of bodily augmentations that the UNSC's Spartans had received?

The knife came forward, but Fira brought his hand up to intercept it. The blade passed through his palm and punched through the other side of his hand, but Fira brought his long fingers down on the knife--along with the hand wielding it--and twisted sideways, sending the human crashing into the windowsill. Before the man could recover from the sudden impact, Fira hauled him forward and activated his energy gauntlet to finish things off. The human jerked at the last minute and the blade narrowly missed his neck and cut open his shoulder instead. Releasing the knife, he stumbled away from Fira and raised his uninjured arm to continue fighting.

Without even bothering to remove the knife from his palm, Fira brought himself in and slashed again with the energy gauntlet. The human came in with his own series of unarmed attacks, and for a moment they were locked together in a torrent of strikes and counter-strikes that tore their respective wounds open even more but did not decrease in speed or intensity. The pain was shooting throughout Fira's body, but his years of training and experience on the battlefield allowed him to ignore it and keep matching the human's ever attack with one of his own.

After what seemed like an eternity, they stumbled apart, each one momentarily overwhelmed by the intensity of the exchange and their gaping injuries. The human had gained a deep slash on his side as well as several cuts along the unarmored portions of his arms from Fira's energy gauntlet, but he seemed no less ready than Fira was to simply give up and let his opponent cut him down. Both of their armors were covered in purple and red blood; some from their own wounds and some from those of the other.

Fira forced his arms up and activated both of their energy gauntlets simultaneously. He'd need to end this fast now, and this time he wouldn't make the mistake of underestimating his foe. The human saw the motion and fought to do the same, though he seemed out of weapons or tricks to bring into the fight.

"Before you die," Fira grated. "Give me your name." It would be dishonorable to cut down such a formidable opponent without at least knowing their identity.

But the human merely wiped a trace of blood that had leaked from a cut on his forehead and into his eyes, saying nothing.

"Fira!" cried a voice from behind. Fira was experienced enough not to turn his back on his opponent even for a moment, but he started at Tuka's voice. The youth had managed to make it all the way here by himself, which was rather impressive, but Fira's wounds prevented him from dwelling more on his arrival. Readying his energy gauntlets, he attacked with a practiced pattern of well timed strikes that the human was only barely able to avoid.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something moving past him and towards Tuka, but before he could make out what it was the human kicked him in his injured side and knocked him back into a world of pain.



Tuka was so surprised at the human girl who appeared so suddenly in the midst of the brutal combat that he barely reacted when she brought a rifle to bear and opened fire on him. He flinched away as a series of fist-sized holes appeared in the remnants of the shattered door. The girl visibly gritted her teeth and tightened her aim. Tuka was frozen in place now, knowing that no matter what he did, he would die the moment she pulled her weapon's trigger. His hand twitched and he felt a tightness in his chest as he found that he could hardly breath. Had he really waited all those years, trained so hard, come all this way, just for this? Had Fira and Cassandra risked their lives to get him here just so he could die like any of the other rebels and mercenaries on this miserable battlefield?

"No," he whispered weakly. It was too soon...

And then there was a tremendous explosion and the entire building collapsed in an avalanche of metal girders and torn walls.



David Kahn clawed his way out of the building's wreckage with one hand while desperately trying to staunch the blood flowing from his wounded side with the other. His body was in more pain than it had been in in quite some time, and while he could more than handle the aching and the shooting pains from his wounds he couldn't help but be unnerved by the entire encounter. If that Wraith mortar hadn't hit just then, that Elite might have been able to finish him off back there. Kahn did not like to dwell on his own mortality, and the brush with it that he'd just had disturbed him far more than the gunfire and chaos of a battlefield ever could have done.

Behind him, Nimue had also scrambled out of the ruins. Though her face was scratched, her dark hair matted and askew, and her clothing covered in soot and dust, she had managed to make it out relatively unscathed and had even managed to keep a hold on her rifle in the process. Kahn considered punishing, or at least blacking her eye, for not retreating when he'd told her to, but at the moment he didn't feel quite up to meting out the usual blows that entailed disobedience. Besides, her reappearance had prevented that second Elite from joining in the fight and hitting her for coming to his defense just didn't sit well with Kahn.

Instead, he staggered away from the wreckage and looked back at the street. The enemy mercenaries had almost completely gained control of the street in front of where their building had been standing, and while Kahn could have blended in with them he doubted that Nimue's presence would pass without suspicion. He beckoned to her with the hand that wasn't clamped over his oozing side.

"Come on," he growled through clenched teeth. "Point Beta. Let's move."

She started to fall in obediently as she always did, but stopped in mid-step and looked him over. Her brown eyes, the most expressive parts of her somber face, widened.

"You're hurt," she said, tinges of concern and even fear creeping into her voice. Needless compassion like that was another thing that Kahn would normally have hit her for, but he realized that she'd probably never seen him in such a condition. Having to watch the person she'd looked to for guidance and praise for over half her life while he tried to keep from bleeding to death was probably the most shocking thing she'd seen on this battlefield.

He turned away and started limping down a nearby alley. "I'm... fine," he panted. "Now... get moving."

Nimue watched her mentor stagger away for a moment longer, then shouldered her rifle and followed loyally after him, hardly even acknowledging the bruises and aches in her own body as she rushed to catch up.



Tuka crawled out from under a chunk of roofing, at once thanking the gods for saving him and praying to them that Fira had also managed to make it out alive. The roofing that had fallen on him had actually protected him from most of the building's destruction and he only had a few bruises and extra tears in his traveling cloak to show for the collapse. The sounds of shooting were dying out now, but Tuka was still wary of hidden enemies. Unfortunately, his plasma pistol had been torn from his hand when the Wraith mortar had hit, so now all he had in the way of weapons was his own energy sword. Coughing soot from his lungs, Tuka got to his knees and cast his gaze about the area around the building in the hopes of catching sight of Fira. But his companion was nowhere to be found.

Tuka was just getting to his feet and gathering up his panicked breathing to call out for help searching the wreckage when he heard a scrambling noise off to the side. He whirled in time to see the silhouette of a small but armored human clamber over the remnants of a blown-out wall. Tuka cautiously reached for his sword hilt as the figure caught sight of him and slowly raised an assault rifle. Tuka readied himself to spring, his hand tight on his sword.

But just then he caught sight of the figure's left arm. Rather than being covered by the dark-colored armor that sheathed the rest of this human's body, it was completely bare for obvious reasons: instead of organic flesh and blood, it was a robotic prosthetic. A prosthetic that, while human in shape, certainly had a good deal of Sangheili materials built into it.

And the armor the human was wearing... Tuka had seen it before. He'd seen it back on Sanghelios when a human had put it on and left the Visag keep in a battered shuttle. That human had also had a prosthetic arm, one that the Visag machinists had forged to replace the one lost in the Jiralhanae slave camp where Roni had found him...

Tuka's breath caught in his throat as he struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. "Simon?" he whispered, hardly believing his eyes. "Is that really you?"

The human--Simon--didn't lower the gun, and for a moment Tuka feared that he might open fire anyway. But then the weapon's barrel went down and Simon's helmeted head cocked to one side.

"Tuka?" he said in a voice that, while certainly his, didn't seem right coming from the armored figure standing atop the low wall. "What are you doing here?"

And that was when a man in dirty body armor leapt up from where he'd been hiding and emptied a rifle clip into Simon's chest.

Chapter Eleven: Reunion
By the time she managed to drag a battered Fira out of the building's wreckage, Cassandra's forearms were bleeding from several cuts inflicted by the jagged metal pieces. Ignoring the mild pain, she pushed away more debris until she found his white-armored shoulder poking out from underneath a rusted girder. Around her, dozens of mercenaries were busy taking stock of the buildings they'd captured from the rebels and treating their own wounded. She considered asking for help, but decided against it. What was one more dead Sangheili to the mercenary troops anyway?

In spite of her silence, several of the soldiers stopped what they were doing and watched anyway as the thin young woman pushed aside large chunks of wreckage with relative ease. But even with her Spartan augmentations, Cassandra realized as she tried unsuccessfully to haul Fira's body onto the street that some of pieces holding him down would be much harder to remove. She had just looked around and seized a broken rifle to use as a lever when a pair of massive grey hands reached down and yanked the pieces aside as if they were made of cardboard.

Cassandra looked up to see the massive frame of an armored Jiralhanae looking down at her: Ro'nin's companion, Kenpachus. The warrior's armor was covered in dried human blood and the blade strapped to his back was equally gory. But the mercenary just grunted and stalked off, leaving her to pull Fira out onto the street.

His wounds were, thankfully, mostly superficial. Cassandra set her weapons aside and readied her medical kit while mentally prioritizing Fira's wounds. The first to deal with would be the gash to his side...

Ignoring the world around her, she raised the tools of her trade and got to work.



Tuka watched in silent horror as blood leaked out of the holes that had been punched in Simon's chest plate. The ex-Spartan's knees buckled, and he toppled without a word.

Tuka followed the body as it fell, stunned by his friend's abrupt reappearance and even swifter death. Was this what he had come so far to see? Had he left Sanghelios, promising Roni 'Visag that he'd bring Simon back to the keep, just to see him die now, right in front of him?

The body tumbled towards the dusty ground... and vanished.

Tuka blinked, now completely certain that he was dreaming. The rebel who'd open fire shared his alarm, taking a step back and looking furiously about himself. He backed up against a nearby wall, aiming his rifle in all directions in search of the person that he was certain he'd just killed.

There was a muffled hum, and then the twin prongs of an energy sword tore through the wall and up into the man's chest. With a gargling cry, the rebel pitched forward and lay still.

Tuka unsteadily got to his feet as Simon once again reappeared, this time from around the wall the rebel had been standing by. His rifle was strapped to his back and in his prosthetic hand he held one of the human-sized energy swords that Roni had ordered constructed for him.

"But," Tuka whispered, looking back at the spot where he thought he'd seen Simon die. "You were just..."

A small orb shot away from the spot where the dying Simon had disappeared and floated into the gauntleted palm of Simon's free hand. Tuka recognized it as a Sangheili-made holo-drone generally used for communications and training exercises. Somehow, Simon had managed to simulate himself and project his voice through that little orb. But that would have been impossible without a complex computer network delegating commands to the orb. How had he managed to get such a complex order through?

"Hologram," said Simon, voicing what Tuka had already realized. "I've been playing tag with that guy for almost an hour and I needed a diversion."

The two of them stood there, the human and the Sangheili, silently facing each other amidst the carnage and destruction. Finally, they spoke in unison, their languages flowing together into the same sentence: "What are you doing here?"

Knowing that Simon was stubborn enough to wait for an answer before giving one, Tuka continued. "I came here to find you." His words flowed quickly, stumbling over themselves as he hastily uttered them. He was still almost numb from Simon's sudden appearance here, on the battlefield where he thought he'd only be finding the next clue to uncovering his location. "I'm bringing you back to the keep with me."

Simon cocked his helmeted head, and Tuka hated that he couldn't read any expression behind that tinted visor.

"Oh," the ex-Spartan said, his voice as unreadable as his masked face. "That's it?"

"Well," Tuka said, puzzled by his nonchalance. "I'm hunting down Mallunus as well. I've found people to help me bring him to justice, but I promised Master Roni that I'd find you first."

"Ah. I knew there'd be another reason."

"And you?" Tuka asked, now slightly annoyed as well as stunned. "Why are you here, of all places?"

Simon moved his shoulders up and down, the human equivalent of a shrug. "I'm being paid for it, aren't I? Don't know how things are back on Sanghelios, but the pickings are pretty slim these days for freelancers like me. I need to get cash somehow, you know."

"You... you're a mercenary?" Tuka's mind flickered back to Roni's grave predictions about Simon's future.

"Well, I'm not one of these rebels. I hate Innies. But yeah, that's what I've been doing since I left the keep. Just me by myself, really." He looked around, probably making sure that they weren't being targeted, and crouched down. Tuka followed suit, not eager to be gunned down by more snipers.

Simon turned his visor back to Tuka. "Gets pretty lonely sometimes. Nice to see you again."

Tuka nearly breathed a sigh of relief at the belated acknowledgment of their friendship. For a moment, it had seemed like Simon barely remembered him.

"Excuse me," snapped a new voice. This one was also human, but female, and seemed to actually be emanating from Simon himself. "Did I hear that right? 'By myself'? After all we've been through and all I've done for you, you've still just been by yourself this whole time? Talk about ingratitude! If it weren't for me, you wouldn't even be around to have this little reunion party with your buddy in the middle of a war zone, dumbass!"

By this point, Tuka was getting fairly tired of confusing new developments.

Simon sighed, flexing his prosthetic arm. "My A.I.," he explained wearily, tapping what looked like a small data slot on the prosthetic's shoulder. "Diana."

"Your partner," the voice--Diana's--corrected haughtily. "I don't belong to anyone, especially not you, dumbass."

"She seems quite... animated," Tuka observed.

"Don't remind-- get down!" Simon hurled himself flat and Tuka followed suit seconds before a Wraith mortar sailed overhead and incinerated a nearby building.

"We've gotta move back!" Simon yelled, scrambling to his feet and beckoning to Tuka. "We're too far forward to talk like this!"

Without another word, he disappeared into the rubble. Tuka hesitated for a moment before another Wraith detonation made up his mind for him. Still limping from the building's collapse, the young Sangheili stumbled past the wreckage and made his way onto the street in front of it, which was now crawling with victorious mercenaries as they pressed further into the collapsing town. In spite of the ex-Spartan's lead, Tuka caught up with Simon at the edge of the road, where the human was standing stock still.

"What is it?" Tuka asked, moving forward. "Is something wrong?"

"Tuka!" someone called. "You're still alive!"

He saw Cassandra waving him over. She'd propped an unconscious Fira up against a broken wall, and Tuka felt a wave of relief that they were both still alive. Then he realized that they were the people that Simon was staring at through his faceless visor.

Cassandra must have seen them together, and her look changed from one of puzzlement to one of shock. Amidst the carnage and bloodshed, the two Spartans faced each other without a word.