Three parts of this in less than a week. I need to lie down. Enjoy.
Part Eleven - To show mercy
The
pod hit the ground, and Sorran felt pain. Inescapable pain. His shields
did indeed break, and he felt like every bone in his body had too. The
Sangheili minor opened his blurry eyes, and saw the pod begin to
unseal. With a burst, it smashed open, and Sorran as suddenly staring
into the face of a human.
He wasn't a soldier; not even one of
their militia. The human was old, Sorran reasoned, white hair riddled
his head, wrinkles were deep set around his eyes. The man shrieked at
the sight of Sorran and tried to run away. The elderly human's legs
collapsed, and he fell to the ground with a cry.
The man then
resorted to dragging himself along the floor, weeping, crying out for
his son to save him. There was no one else around. This human was
alone. There would be no rescue for him.
Sorran unfolded his
arms, and hopped out of the pod. Ahkrin's own was no where in sight. No
doubt they would meet up later. But for now, it was just Sorran, and
the old human in the small area.
The Elite looked around, and
realised he seemed to be in a secluded area of garden. Evidently, the
elderly man had thought it wise to cower in a place it was unlikely the
Covenant would search. Life, evidently, was determined to prove him
wrong.
Looking down at the human, Sorran raised his rifle, and felt his arm tremble as he did so. Could he really kill; nay, murder
this helpless human in could blood? Sorran knew what the brutal,
efficient Ahkrin would do. Zharn would probably give the man a weapon,
hoist him to his feet, and then kill him; thus feeling better about
himself. But Sorran wasn't Ahkrin, or Zharn. He was himself.
The
man had backed into a stone corner, shrunk against the wall on his
behind, a look of terror on his face. The human grappled for something
within his clothes, and Sorran prepared himself to strike, thinking it
to be a gun.
The Sangheili was halted as he beheld what the old
man now held in his hand, affixed to his neck by a silver chain. Sorran rotated his head to one side inquisitively in the manner of the
Elites. The human held what seemed to be a small silver cross in his
hand, and had his eyes shut, murmuring words, clasping the cross
tightly. Did Sorran's eyes deceive him, or was the human praying?
This
was a revelation to him. The Prophets had lectured that the humans were
athiest infidels who cared not for any reverence to Godly beings. But
here was a human, evidently praying. To the Forerunners? Unlikely, more
of a chance the human had his own God. Still; they were all one and the
same were they not? No matter how you went about it, or in what manner,
the Forerunners were your God, so lectured the Prophets.
Was
this human under the protection of some divine force? Sorran had never
been a truly religious being, but to murder an elderly, religious
person, even if that person was human, seemed to be wrong.
"Just
kill me now; please, get it over with. Don't make it painful." the old
man whispered up at Sorran, who was momentarily surprised, snapped out
of his reverie. The man had a different way of speaking to the other
humans Sorran had heard. The Sangheili shook his head; how could he be
thinking of pity at a time like this? Even now he could hear the smoke
pour in from the houses in the lower district of the city. Sorran
reached down, and grabbed the elderly human with one hand, lifting him
high into the air. Tears were streaming down the man's cheeks.
Sorran
drew out his metallic blade, holding it with his left hand. The Adam's
apple of the human was bobbing up and down nervously, with layers of
wrinkled flesh covering it.
No; Sorran could not do this. It was
wrong. They were fighting a war, not committing genocide. Weren't they?
Some would disagree. They were effectively hunting humanity to
extinction. And for what reason? In all their time of warring with the
humans, the Covenant had come across but a few Forerunner artefacts,
all of them untainted by the humans. And yet the High Prophet of Truth
claimed otherwise; that the humans were defiling the relics. That
didn't seem to be the case. Was there another, darker motive behind
this war?
Sorran, lost in thought, dropped the human to the ground, not looking down. I shall ponder upon this later, the Elite decided, turning to face the old man.
"You
will not die today; not by my hand. Run human, hide. And do not let my
fellows come across you; they shall not be as merciful as I." Sorran
told the human, who's eyes grew wide with gratitude. The elderly man
tried to move off the ground, and cried out in pain as he did. Sorran
looked down incredulously.
"Is there a problem?" the Sangheili
whispered, frowning. The old man began to weep once again, no doubt
thinking Sorran would consider it easier to merely kill him than bother
himself further. He did consider it easier. But he wouldn't do it.
Instead, he bent down, and spoke in a soothing voice. "Come now, I have
given my word I shall not harm you. What is the problem?"
If one
of the council had seen this, Sorran would be in chains. No Covenant
soldier was supposed to do this; it was unprecedented, forbidden.
Still, he couldn't help it. He was no killer; he was a scholar. His
goal was to preserve and understand, not destroy.
"My back...I
can't move." the human gasped, face screwed up in pain. Sorran sighed,
and hefted the man up again, intending to find him a hiding place
himself.
Before he could though, a voice cried out from behind him. A human voice.
"Get
your filthy claws off my father you ***!" the voice cried, that of
a male's. Before Sorran could turn around, he felt a bulk smash into
him, and dropped the old man in shock, flown forwards by the son's
weight.
Sorran was thrown against the wall, and grimaced in
pain. He then felt his body explode as a sharp object entered the base
of his spine. He felt his back warm as blood leaked out, and managed to
throw the human off in his pain drunk state. Sorran reached around his
to his back, and grasped the hilt of a human knife, yanking it out. His
shields had not yet recovered from the drop; the recharging mechanism
was in all probability damaged,
He saw the son of the old man
rise off the ground, and Sorran noted he was a marine. The Sangheili
would have to be all the more careful then, his shields were down, and
this human evidently knew his business.
"Miguel, stop!" the
elderly human still lying on the ground cried out weakly, but his son
didn't heed his father's warning. Instead, the one named Miguel drew
out a pistol, and aimed it at Sorran. Before he could fire, the Elite
managed to toss the knife at the attacking human. Miguel's eyes grew
wide, and he looked down in horror at the hilt buried deep in his lone
heart. His mouth opened twice in a wordless scream, before his eyes
glazed over and he collapsed in a river of dark red blood.
"No!
You fool Miguel!" the still living elderly man cried out, a rush of
adrenalin propelling him off his feet towards his dead son. The old
human knelt down in the pool of crimson liquid, cradling Miguel's limp
head in his arms, hugging the marine dearly. "Mi hijo, mi querido, mi
querido hijo..."
Sorran realised it as 'Spanish' for 'my son,
my dear, dear son.' Evidently, the old man and his son were of a
Spanish descent. The Sangheili squirmed, guilty. Guilty! He knew he
shouldn't feel that way, but he did. Sorran averted his gaze towards
the floor.
"I'm
sorry." was all he said, in shame. The old man looked up, but where
Sorran had expected to see anger, he saw but forgiveness.
"You
killed my son. But it wasn't your fault. He would have killed you, you
had no choice...I understand. Even as the Lord does, I forgive you,
strange Elite. Now go, leave me with my dead son. No doubt I will join
him soon."
Sorran frowned against his better judgement.
"There
is still time to hide old man. I would not have you killed, I owe that
much to you for killing your son." the Sangheili protested, and the old
man shook his head firmly.
"No, I will remain here."
Sorran shook his head, and took a step towards the elderly human. This felt all wrong, yet at the same time, just.
"Nay,
you shall not." Sorran breathed, placing two fingers upon the man's
shoulder and squeezing. The human instantly collapsed, out cold. Sorran
lifted the man out of the pool of blood, and, searching around, managed
to find a set of doors embedded in the ground. He ripped one off, and
lowered the old human down the stairs, setting him to rest inside.
Sorran then shut the hatch from the outside, leaving the unconscious
human below. He then dipped his finger in Miguel's blood, and traced
the shape of a Y on the two doors, which would indicate to other forces
of the Covenant that the house had already been searched.
The
old man was safe. Until the glassing started. There was nothing Sorran
would be able to do to stop that though. He had done his best.
Why?
The answer to that question still eluded him, alas. But Sorran knew he
had done good that day. He looked sadly at the body of Miguel, and
noticed that he too, like his father, wore a cross around his neck.
Sorran reached down, and grabbed the chain, ripping it from it's dead
wearer. He held the cross up in the light, admiring it's fine
craftsmanship. Tiny human letters were grooved in the man body of the
cross. Even from the distance he was holding the religious item, Sorran
could make out the words.
'CHRIST IS FOREVER WITH YOU.'
What
did those words mean? Obviously something important to the man and his
son. Who was Christ? Some sort of Demon? Sorran decided it best to
leave the body of Miguel, if Christ really was a Demon who was with
him. Still, the Elite kept the cross, and it's chain, draping it around
his neck and tucking it under his armour. He did not know why.
The
Sangheili hurried out of the alley, aware of a dull throbbing at his
back. The knife wound had indeed been painful. Fire was rising from the
city, and smoke was clogging the streets.
Up ahead, Sorran could
make out the faint shape of a fellow Sangheili. One wearing black
armour. It was hard to tell who it was through the thick smog.
Sorran moved closer to Ahkrin, who turned around with an expression of surprise, noticing the Sangheili minor.
"Is
that you Sorran? Good, good. This smoke is heavy, what is Zharn's
attack force doing? They should be keeping the smoke away from the
city, all it is doing is hampering us and them." Ahkrin told Sorran,
covering his maw with a thick hand. Sorran did likewise. Ahkrin then
noticed blood dripping from Sorran's back.
"You're hurt Sorran! What happened?" the Stealth Sangheili questioned worriedly. Sorran began to feel a little dizzy.
"One
of their marines, back in an alleyway. Attacked me with a knife. My
shields aren't recharging." Sorran explained, coughing as he inhaled
some smoke. Ahkrin grimaced, and pointed towards a building at the end
of the street.
"Come, let us get out of this foul air and
somewhere where I can heal you." Ahkrin instructed Sorran, who nodded,
following his friend. Screams could be heard all around them,
especially in the lower districts, and the stench of blood was thick in
the air. Sorran felt sick.
War was not as glorious as the Elders made it out to be.
"This one has forgotten whether it's heatsink is over capacity. It wonders whether the criminal scum considers itself fortunate" ~ Blasto, the only Hanar Spectre.