Concurrence Chapter 2-1

2389 words. Sorry about the cheeky few days of silence. 

Seela

Streets of New Mombasa

30 Minutes Before Rupture

She watched the planet’s star begin to sink beneath the urban horizon, the plummeting temperature making her shiver beneath her power armour, pausing on the next corner to catch her breath. Her Kig-Yar had been running down the Human survivors through the winding streets non-stop, panting like a pack of rabid animals as they fell into their bobbing sprints, their desire to hunt overpowering their sense of tactics and discipline.

She had tried to reign them in, but the Kig-Yar were restless, ignoring her orders as they raced off into the streets, breaking formation and disappearing out of her sight. Insubordination was one thing, but to hunt down Humans in a Human-made city was starting to fuel her depleting temper.

This was supposed to be a simple reinforcement assignment, now they were hunting down fleeing Humans through countless identical streets. She wasn’t a slouch when it came to physical performance, especially compared to the diminutive Kig-Yar, but the avians could be unnaturally quick when they smelled blood, and even she was starting to tire after so much running.

“We give up chase now?” one of her Unggoy asked, doubled-over as he panted for air. At least her Unggoy had the sense to stick with her. The one who’d spoken nearly tripped over when she rose to her feet, almost thrice his size as she stood to her full height.

“No,” she replied, her hooves thumping on the concrete as she picked up the pace. “We follow the Zealot’s will, and by extension, the Prophet’s own.”

Her Unggoy hopped along impotently on their stumpy legs, following her as she rounded a corner. Even beyond the sight of her devoted kin, she wasn’t about to betray his command, she was no Heretic. Yet she couldn’t shake the feeling of what seeing the human infant had instilled in her. The Great Journey was paved by flowing blood, but this was a step too far. If only she could find a way to reason with the Zealot, they were so reverent of the cause, perhaps to a fault…

She banished these Heretical thoughts from her mind, but not just because she was fearful of the Prophet’s will. Over the endless stretches of colourless buildings had echoed the unmistakable report of Human gunfire, too close to be from anything else but their quarry. She fell into a hard run, following the direction the noise had come from.

Rounding into an alleyway, she glimpsed a pair of Kig-Yar at the far end, a couple of plasma shots carrying on the wind, the green muzzle flashes painting the crumbling walls in their emerald glow. The sound of the bolts filled her with guilt, what if she came upon the corpse of the tiny Human?

Her avian sharpshooters were stood in a circle, looking at something on the ground out of her view. She pushed her charges away, and when she saw what was laying there, the grip on her carbine relaxed a little. The Human that had depleted her shields earlier was lying face down, a plasma burn in the middle of his back, and another male Human was sprawled on the ground nearby, his thin clothes betraying him as one of the civilians.

She glanced to the right, the alley splitting off into one other direction, not counting the one she’d just walked down. The trundle of footsteps could just be made out on the edges of her hearing. At least some of them had gotten away, her relief mixed with an underlying guilt as she realised she was rooting for the enemy.

“This one hardly put up a fight!” one of the Kig-Yar chittered as he prodded the Human warrior with his needle rifle. His beak angled up at her as he noticed her presence. “Ultra, the others went that way, shall we cut them down?”

“Break formation like that again,” she growled. “And it is you who shall be cut down. What were you thinking?” she barked, turning to the other Kig-Yar, each one wilting under her furious gaze. “Charging forward like that? What foolishness compelled you to break ranks?”

“Th-The humans were escaping,” one replied meekly. “We have to hunt down all Humans…”

They were clattering their beaks at each other, anger and confusion getting the better of them. She had to say something or else they might run off again.

“You have to follow my lead,” she chided. “What if the Humans had laid a trap? They know these streets better than we do, you would have walked right to your deaths, throwing all sense of caution aside as you were, then it would have been youlaying on the ground.”

She jabbed a finger at the dead Humans to make her point. She knew enough about the avians that their feathers were flattening in a display of guilt, she was getting through to them.

“None of you are of any use if you’re dead,” she added. “Control yourselves next time, believe me when I say that one who charges eagerly into any situation is nothing but a fool.”

“We go after Humans now?” an Unggoy asked her, Seela turning her attention to where the rest of the Humans had fled, her mandibles flexing in thought.

“No,” she said, the Kig-Yar tilting their beaks up at her. “We have hunted them down, including their warrior.” She gestured to the Human with the weapon. “Let the rest flee, they will tell others this area belongs to the Covenant. We’re done here.”

As they made to move out, one of the Kig-Yar spared her a suspicious glance, perhaps confused by her approach. Sangheili and Jiralhanae would have dealt with insubordination with violence at best, and this avian had probably seen more than one underling fall under the hand of a superior.

“Fall in,” she ordered tersely, the avian hopping away as she took up her position at the head of the squad, the relieved Unggoy at her flanks as she led them back they way they’d come without further incident.

She glanced up to watch a pair of Phantoms rising up from the city in the distance, banking on their downward-facing engines as they rose up to the Prophet’s carrier, its presence inspiring in her heart a feeling of protection, as though the Forerunner’s themselves were up there watching over them.

Movement drew her gaze to the side, and she squinted after spotting another two Phantoms rise from the city to float up to the giant ship. The dropships disappeared into the many hangers pocketing the belly of the carrier, but did not come out. Perhaps they were getting ready to move to some other part of the city?

Her squad relaxed as another Covenant group walked towards them from the other end of the street, the golden armour of her kin glinting in the light as he stood at their head. He brushed aside a two-wheeled vehicle that was in his path, his mandibles twitching as he met her gaze. “I’ve given you ample time to complete your task,” he said when he was close enough. “Report.”

“Following me, brother?” she asked, nodding in the direction he’d come from “What happened to holding that ground?”

“New orders. Plus, my faith in another is reflective of their standing in the Covenant,” he replied, his eyes flicking over her shorter frame. “Interpret that as you will, and give me your report. Did you find the humans you failed to catch?”

“Yes,” she growled, suppressing her rising anger. “We hunted them down.”

“How many?”

“Two. One of them was their protector. He held us back to buy time for his charges, and they slipped away, deeper into the city. I lost track of them.”

“You let them go once again,” the Zealot sighed. “It is no wonder one who has served as long as you have has failed to gain any real worth in the Covenant. The rumours hold no small semblance of truth…”

“What rumours?” she snapped, her anger getting the better of her. She regretted her tone of voice, watching as the Zealot let his arms hang by his sides, the way he brushed the hilt of his deactivated sword not going unnoticed.

“Do you think to ask things of me?” The Zealot’s mandibles clenched in a challenge. As they stared one another down, she was vaguely aware of their squads watching in silence around them, glancing between each other as they waited to see what happened next.

She broke eye-contact, sighing as she backed off in deference. “No, brother, I just wish to know what these honourless kin are saying, that they would stoop so low as to whisper behind my back rather than face me.”

“There is little glory in gossiping like a bunch of Unggoy, I concur,” the Zealot huffed, making sure his own runts were aware of his displeasure. “-but to react like one, there is less so. You’d do well to remember this, few females outside of the household ever learn such things from the truly devoted.”

She was clenching the grip on her carbine so hard she was starting to hurt her fingers, Seela turning away as she heard another telltale warble of a rising Phantom, tracking the craft as it soared overhead.

“Are our ships being recalled?” she asked aloud, changing topics.

“That would be those new orders I mentioned before,” he answered, their armours clinking together as he brushed past her. “The Field Marshal has recalled all units back to the nearest outpost for new deployments.”

“Has the Forerunner artifact been found?” she asked. She wasn’t privy to all the details of the Prophet’s mission on this planet, but any Sangheili knew that the presence of even one Zealot meant an artifact would be close by.

“Nothing more could force such a redeployment,” the Zealot replied, as if he was explaining to a fresh-faced minor. “but temper your eagerness, the Humans will viciously defend these sacred relics, whether they know their true purpose or not. Follow me, we return to the base.”

Seela

Streets of New Mombasa

15 Minutes Before Rupture

Enclosed on all sides by walls of glass and alien stonework was a clearing, the ground made uneven by rising sets of stairs leading to the facades of the structures, and many walkways branching into the upper and lower parts of the nearby city. Covenant engineers had swept the abandoned vehicles and the debris Seela was so accustomed to seeing away, erecting a command post alongside four watchtowers to safeguard the perimeter. There was enough room around the command post that phantoms could land and take off behind the safety of the base’s barricades, Seela watching as one did just that the moment she and the Zealot emerged into the adjacent street.

Up on the closest watchtower, an Unggoy manning a stationary plasma turret peered down at the approaching squad with his beady eyes, the floating platform he was sitting upon gently bobbing on the anti-gravity beams holding the thing aloft. At the foot of the structure were Sangheili-sized barricades, walls of purple alloy with grooves between the sheets to allow the defenders ample cover, Seela seeing many Kig-Yar standing guard behind them as she followed the Zealot between two such barricades.

Groups of covenant milled about around the command post, weapon crates full of carbines and pistols and other various weaponry spaced throughout the area. As the Zealot moved for the command post, she paused as her Kig-Yar started clicking and squawking in their native tongue, Seela turning to see what they were looking at.

In the corner of the base, just beside the base of the northernmost watchtower, were a pile of dead Humans. Flesh had been torn from bone, black blood drying up in a circular splotch around their splayed limbs. It looked like she had mercifully missed the Jiralhanae feasting on the bones of the defenders.

She flexed her mandibles in disgust, finding the whole ritual barbaric, as did most of her kin, one of the few things she and her kin had in common. She had heard of more influential Sangheilians trying to ban the act of consuming flesh, but the Prophet’s hadn’t listened, they had even encouraged it, if the rumours were to be believed.

“Get some food and rest,” she said to her squad, a sour look on her face as the Kig-yar sauntered over to the pile. She turned and walked through the command post portal, feeling eyes on her back as her fellow kinsman watched her disappear inside.

The cramped interior was occupied by a command table, and the Zealot was stood to one side of it, along with another kinsman. He was wearing a suit of colourful, purple armour with an ornate helmet, two decorative horns branching off the top of his head. This was the Field Marshal, the fuel rod gun on his back moving as he spoke with the Zealot.

He noticed her presence, his stance adjusting to a more relaxed state as he addressed her. “Sister, I realise you were unsuccessful in catching some escaped Humans after your deployment to reinforce one of our patrols.”

Seela glanced form him to the Zealot. “See you’ve been busy giving my reports for me, brother.”

“I merely wish to inform the Marshal of all the details,” the Zealot huffed in reply. Now that they weren’t alone, Seela decided she could afford to be a bit more flippant with him.

“In that case, did you mention the fact they slipped through your fingers first? You had them, indoors, with that sword of yours, it would difficult to miss them with arms such as yours.”

“Our plan was to flush them out,” the Zealot snapped. “had you not hesitated this would have-”

“Quiet!” the marshal interrupted, and they did, it wouldn’t be wise to disobey their commander. “You should know better than to treat a mouth of the Prophet's with such disrespect, sister.”

She didn’t reply, knowing that anything she’d say would do more harm than good.

“And you,” the marshal continued, turning to the Zealot. “you represent the Prophet’s themselves, yet you squabble over the words of one who is lesser in rank. To let such petty emotions cloud your mind, your father would be disgraced.”