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The High Charity (1-1)
Posted By: Tenebrous Proficient<ForbiddenDeity@hotmail.com>
Date: 26 December 2004, 7:18 PM
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Records of the Last Days of the High Charity
Episode the First
Former Segment
The Kig-Yar's eyes darted back and forth, wide open and alert, despite the fact that Rago had severed the soldier's shield hand with his burning energy sword. He hated killing them, ever since he had been forced to betray his brothers out of a necessity of survival. The Covenant was right to have chosen this race; their ability to continuously scramble for their own existence on the battlefield was somehow honorable. But the Sangheili had no choice, wherever his thoughts did lie, it was to slaughter these Kig-Yar or to have his corpse desecrated by their cannibalism.
But Rago 'Tarkomee still felt pity; his honor forbade him to ignore it. He held the Kig-Yar down in a vice that matched steel, looking deep into its flitting pupils, at the same time dropping his sword. His shields crackled as the dying creature pummeled him with a few shots from a plasma pistol it had been holding. With one electric motion, Rago disarmed the Kig-Yar and wrestled the weapon into his own hand, still holding his enemy onto the ground. Rago's squad gathered and paused to watch, wondering what their leader was going to do. He was known for his... eccentricity, if those under him called it that.
Rago held the smoking pistol, as if to fire, and then put it up against the Kig-Yar's angular skull. He clicked his mandibles, and with his adamant hold unwavering, he forced the creature's hand upon the weapon. Rago clicked his mandibles again. For a moment, the Kig-Yar started to click and wail and he could tell that his victim was desperately trying to plead for his life in Sangheilish. Rago throttled him into the ground, stopped its protest. The Kig-Yar's eyes stopped darting, his beak closed, and he made a short nod. Rago held his enemy's fist onto the plasma pistol.
His victim charged the plasma pistol till the energy wash of the weapon seared his own flesh. The Kig-Yar screeched something in his own language, and then let go of the trigger.
"Kig-Yar are capable of honor." Rago growled, blood trickling down his shields. He grabbed his fallen sword, then stood and faced his squadron. They nodded in approval. Rago grunted, and then peered down in the twilight at the fallen warriors of the finished battle. He walked over their corpses and towards the door.
"Let's get back to the Hold." He told them, "You have five to pilfer any armaments and equipment that you can find, if you aren't back, we'll shut down without you."
***
The Hold was a medium-sized room with walls of unhewn, speckled orange stone, most of the area filled with Sangheili. A small pack of Unggoy socialized in a corner under the light of an atmosphere-lamp, set to methane. The group's two Lekgolo, Edebu and Udobo, sat in another corner of the Hold, checking each other's armor in a passive reverie. The two races waited until the Sangheili finished their daily feast so that they could fight over the scraps, as tradition called. It was likely, however, that some of the higher-ups would pass some larger portions over to the Lekgolo, a sign of respect to keep the walking artillery on their side.
The Sangheili ate only once a day, a tactic that removed the distraction of stopping to eat every few time units. These feasts were ravenous ordeals, pitting each warrior against another in a challenge to consume the most before all was gone. At the feasting table, all rank was removed, and to these soldiers, it was an exercise that would prepare them for war.
It was incredibly dishonorable, then, when Rago was called aside by a sharp wail. The Hold's doorway was open. The meal stopped as all the warriors turned to face the disturbance, weapons out in front of them. They saw only a white-armored Unggoy, limping through the gate into the center of the room. No one recognized the creature; all of their Unggoy were inexperienced conscripts, barely matching the breed that wore the ivory armor.
"Back to eating!" Rago growled to his squad, "You parasites get to eat more than I, and so I pronounce 'beware and heed your backs'." Although his brothers went back to the table, their mandibles greasy with blood, they all knew it was an incredibly bad omen to have one's major sit out from the daily feast. Superstition spelled either the death of their leader, or the massacre of the entire company.
Rago marched over to the mangy little white Unggoy, who took two wheezing breaths and began, "Master Sangheili, my name is Hrenghez, I come with a -" Rago interrupted with a click of his mandibles and turned his head, outright ignoring the strange visitor. He had other things on his mind.
"Who opened our door!" he yelled. The two Lekgolo didn't even look up, and Rago didn't even think of considering that they participated in this... treason. They knew the dangers of even unlocking the entrance. His eyes went instead to the Unggoy huddling under the lamp, weak and skeletal with their armor detached.
"Who opened the door!" he roared again, stepping towards the naked vermin. The beasts quickly singled out one of their own and pushed him towards the major. Rago lifted him up and out of the methane atmosphere.
"Never endanger us again, weakling. I should throw you upon the table; your kind does have a special flavor." Rago threw the choking slave back into the lamp-gas. Of course Rago had never eaten an Unggoy, nor had any Sangheili, he hoped. He believed disgraceful to eat those of the Covenant, for theirs was holy flesh. Some would argue against that principle. The minor Sangheili at the table now devoured the jalapippika sharks that they had wrestled out of an abandoned food nursery, not sentient flesh. It was a ruse, to hide their righteous civility from those who'd think it weakness. It was one of the many that kept the Unggoy host under their command.
"We protect your lives; you must give us the same respect." Rago turned now to all of his comrades, "We are all oath-takers of the Covenant, and that is how we work. Forget that again, and you will cease to be included in this pact." Rago then pressed his palm up against a nearby holo-panel, and the gate closed and pressure-locked itself.
"Honored one," Hrenghez continued, presuming the speech to have ended, "I have brought you news from the Syndicate. It is of urgent priority." The white Unggoy wheezed. He was fluent in Sangheilish, unlike many of the foot soldiers of his race. He must have climbed high in rank, for such talents. Hrenghez's armor was burnt in several places, and the low whine of a methane shortage alarm signified that he was taking his tank's last few breaths. He looked eagerly towards the methane-lamp, his eyes watering from sipping null atmosphere.
"The Syndicate?" Rago flexed his mandibles in confusion.
"All the information- " Hrenghez choked, " -is right here." He hefted a small data-projector under one arm.
"Yes, of course. Take your rest with the others, please." Rago nodded. The Unggoy dropped the device unceremoniously and dove for the atmosphere-lamp. The others quickly removed his armor and helped him breathe.
"Make this beast your new field master, he has earned the right." The Sangheili major ordered the Unggoy contingent. They squealed in approval.
- Continued on Intermediary Segment -
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