| This short story, No Honour Among Thieves, was written by Sonasaurus. Please do not edit this fiction without the writer's permission. |
| CY-351 // 183U:55CEN // 9TH AGE OF RECLAMATION [ 1533 HOURS // SEPTEMBER 14, 2535 ] Location: CARGO BAY, KIG-YAR TRADE SHIP EPHEMERAL BOUNTY // IN ORBIT AROUND MADRIGAL, 23 LIBRAE SYSTEM |
The overhead lights blinked before the motion-sensitive doors slid open with a faint chime, allowing Autel ‘Vadamai to step through with the two Sangheili behind him. Though his debilitated vision enabled him to see less than halfway into the cargo bay, his echoing footfalls across the metallic floor painted a faint picture of his surroundings for his attuned hearing. With each step he was better able to make out the hazy forms of the five humans standing at the centre of the bay, accompanied by a half dozen Kig-Yar who were guarding a series of incubation pods placed behind them. Autel felt a flutter of hope within his hearts as he saw that they were indeed the model he desperately needed. Ceyla is due to lay her clutch soon. We must install the pods as quickly as possible.
Behind his left shoulder, Fira ‘Demal leaned in a little before speaking in a low voice. “Four snipers on the catwalks. One in each corner.”
Autel was close enough to pick up their scents now, faint as they were amidst the smell of coolant and plasma residue around him. But he was thankful for his friend’s vigilance regardless, and nodded in response. From his opposite flank, Ka’avni ‘Oltem quietly remarked, “They intend to make the exchange on open ground. Very subtle.”
“This deal is hardly built on trust,” murmured Autel. “Keep your wits about you, but don’t be hasty in reaching for your weapons. We cannot risk damaging the pods.”
The Sangheili came to a halt about ten paces away from the Kig-Yar. Autel appraised them for a moment before casting a sidelong glance toward the humans, who looked a bit tense but were otherwise composed. I suppose it’s a good sign that they haven’t fled at the first opportunity... though they could have made their own deal with the Kig-Yar for all I know. They weren’t military, but that didn’t make them any less suspicious of the Sangheili or vice versa. Autel and his team had captured them not long ago, though it quickly became apparent that these humans didn’t have any answers as to why their species were at war with one another. And so they had cut a deal ― in exchange for the humans’ freedom, they had put the Sangheili in contact with some Kig-Yar merchants they used to trade with. Not an ideal crowd for doing business, but as a fugitive it wasn’t like Autel had any other options.
Chur’R-Jal, the Kig-Yar Shipmistress, stepped forward with one hand on the hilt of her energy cutlass. “Autel ‘Vadamai, I take it,” she said, raising her quills in greeting.
“I did not instruct my captives to volunteer my identity to you,” scowled Autel, mandibles parting at the humans in irritation.
“They didn’t,” Jal told him. “But I look into everyone I do business with now, after Reth’s indiscretion cost us our comfortable setup at The Rubble. Though your kind certainly played no small part in that disaster either.”
The albino’s scowl became even more pronounced, secretly glad the Shipmistress didn’t know just how closely related he was to the perpetrator. “Rest assured, I have no interest in disrupting your business. I shall be happy to pretend we never met once our deal is concluded. Now have the pods brought to the hangar. You will receive your payment once they are loaded onto my dropship.”
She smiled broadly, keen sharp teeth bared. “I didn’t invite you here to collect your money, swordsman. In truth, you are more valuable than the contents of your coffers, even if you were to empty them out to me.”
Fira and Ka’avni reached for their rifles, but Autel raised a hand to stop them. “Who has promised to reward you for my capture?”
“The one who succeeded you as kaidon,” Jal revealed. “From what I hear, Rahnelo intends to make up for your show of defiance. And what better way to prove their loyalty than to bring in the most wanted Sangheili of House ‘Vadam?”
A quick scan of the humans told Autel that they were just as surprised by this development as he was. His voice held steady, tense as it was. “And you think this will prove your loyalty to the Covenant?”
“Not really. But I have to set my sights higher now that my operation at The Rubble has been reduced to... well, rubble. Now, hands away from your weapons. I know how overzealous you Sangheili are about your honour, and I assure you that your deaths will be anything but honourable if you resist. And you wouldn’t want any stray plasma bolts to damage these pods, would you?”
Autel grimaced, already knowing that Jal had picked up on how valuable the pods were to him. Even still, his mind whirled furiously, trying to think of a way out of their predicament with not only their lives but the cargo they had come for.
The metallic slide of a human pistol was heard, and to the albino’s surprise, one of the humans grabbed Jal and pressed his handgun to the back of her head. The other Kig-Yar's guns snapped up immediately but they held their fire as Jonás Basurto, the leader of the ragtag group, held the Shipmistress in front of himself as a shield.
The human female beside Basurto looked just as surprised. “The hell are you doing, Jonás?” she exclaimed.
“What’s it look like?” growled Basurto. “Now back me up before the snipers get a clear shot.”
To their credit, the rest of the humans expediently levelled their guns on the Shipmistress while Fira and Ka’avni did the same. Autel held his breath, realizing that the snipers hadn’t opened fire yet.
Jal hissed angrily. “You’re making a mistake, human.”
“Shut it,” Basurto snapped. “I didn’t tolerate backstabbers in The Rubble and I’m not about to start now. You’d sell your own mother for a profit, I know you’ll do the same to us once you collect on the hingeheads.” He gave Autel an impatient look. “Call your damn pilot while our brains are still inside our skulls.”
Autel hastily activated his communicator with one hand while using the other to train his Plasma Rifle on Jal, hardly able to believe it. “Rakh, meet us at the hangar bay. We’ve taken the Shipmistress hostage, so be ready for anything.”
“Understood, we’re on approach,” informed Rakh ‘Pyron. “Hold fast until we arrive.”
As the albino switched off his communicator, Fira used his rifle to gesture the other Kig-Yar toward the pods. Needing no explanation, they lowered their weapons and hastened to haul the cargo out of the bay. Autel used his free hand to hold Jal’s wrists behind her back, giving Basurto an appreciative nod as he did so. “Thank you.”
“Thank me by getting us out of here,” the human grunted, pistol still raised at the Shipmistress’ head. “You keep your end of the deal and I’ll keep mine. Show me all that honour stuff isn’t just talk.”
How strange that the Prophets are intent on exterminating them, pondered Autel as the humans marched the Kig-Yar out of the cargo bay, weapons held on them while Fira and Ka’avni’s were pointed at Jal. These humans were no nishum, and they weren’t even the strongest warriors of their kind. They are certainly worthy to join the Covenant, and yet the war goes on. Why?
The albino dispelled the thought. There would be time for rumination later, if they made it out alive.