Cross Blades

Cross Blades

Chapter the Fifteenth: Heart’s Shards


Usze ‘Taham slammed the door of the mess hall open and peered into the dim corners, trying to catch a glimpse of Nitro. He listened intently, but the one sound he longed to hear—Nitro’s racous laugh—eluded him. He sniffed desperately; the mixture of scents inside the room was too complex for him to say for certain whether or not N’tho had passed this way.

Uzi made a circuit of the room, and though he saw several warriors in compromising positions, not one of them was Nitro. His relief intermingled with worry. If N’tho wasn’t here, where was he?

Usze searched the room for anyone he recognized. There was Rycl ‘Otsed, sitting alone and sipping at a drink pouch. Usze really didn’t want to ask Rycl about N’tho.

Then Usze saw a flicker of blue SpecOps armour at the bar.

Nitro? ‘Taham darted forward, only for the other Elite to turn his head and signal to the bartender. It wasn’t N’tho. It was Ki ‘Chaz.

But Ki had been one of the trio chasing Nitro on the Ark. It was possible he might have been chasing him again. Usze swallowed his pride and took a seat beside ‘Chaz. “Greetings.”

Ki turned his head. “Blademaster,” he said formally.

“I…” Usze swallowed. “I need to know if you’ve seen Nitro…N’tho…recently.”

“No, sir.” Ki’s tone was cool.

Usze felt a spike of anger, driven higher and hotter by panic. “It’s extremely urgent.”

“Haven’t seen a thing, sir.”

‘Taham could take no more. He clamped his hand down on Ki’s wrist. “Is there anyone who might have? He is in trouble…”

Ki’s eyes narrowed.

“…and if I do not find him quickly I may be too late to help him.”

The other Elite’s eyes widened. “You mean you’re not pursuing him to hurt him?”

“Hurt him? Why would I…”

‘Chaz tilted his head. “He said something a couple days ago. Something about you and hurting him…” Ki appeared confused. “Then he spent the night with Subcommander ‘Moiril and after that he just went wild. And, well, I asked him about it. I know he had a reputation at his old unit, but by the Ancestors...” The Minor Domo shook his head, as if he lacked words to express N’tho’s behaviour. “When I asked, he blamed it all on you.” ‘Chaz regarded ‘Taham suspiciously. “What the hell did you do to him? Sir?”

“Nothing,” Usze replied defensively. He ignored the voice nagging him that doing too much nothing for too long had helped to cause the current situation. He curled his hands to deny the impulse to rip out Subcommander ‘Moiril’s throat. He also tried to ignore the images flickering through his head, reminiscent of the BattleNet videos, of Nitro fucking warrior after warrior and laughing at Uzi all the while… Then his memory replayed the scene in the Phantom on the Ark—the scene of Ki and N’tho and the Major Domo playing sexual games. “You…you and N’tho didn’t….”

Ki held up his hands in surrender. “No.”

Usze found himself feeling cranky and frustrated, viciously so. He was sure that tearing a few ribbons out of ‘Chaz would make him feel better, but he fought the urge—he was more self-aware now, and he knew that even if he had proof that ‘Chaz had mated with Nitro, punishing Ki would not solve the problem at hand.

Ki must have read Usze’s expression because he tilted his wrist. “See?”

‘Chaz was wearing a shiny silver cuff around his wrist—the kind worn by consorts. Usze took a closer look at the entwined family sigils engraved on the cuff. House of ‘Chaz and Keep of…

Usze’s eyes widened. “’Qorop?”

Ki’s face purpled. “What can I say…you took Nitro away, and we were bored.” He looked at Usze shyly. “It went…well. It’s still going well.”

“Aj ‘Qorop kept you both?”

“Both?” Ki repeated. “Oh, no, it’s just me and Aj. You’re talking about that other guy, what was his name…Zhaal ‘Lymux. The Major Domo.” He shrugged. “I don’t know what he did. He took off as soon as Aj got out the chains and…er…maybe you don’t want to hear about that.”

‘Taham could only guess that he looked disgusted. He forced his mind away from the mental image of Ki tied up—the thought did nothing for him save to unsettle his stomach—and back towards the issue at hand. “Do you know where Zhaal is now? Or anyone who might know where N’tho is?”

Then the door opened…and standing there was N’tho himself.

*

N’tho ‘Sraom could see coronas around the lights in the bar and the eyes of its occupants. The faces of the other Sangheili blurred in a tumult of sound and motion. By the Rings, he hadn’t been so drunk since he drank Private Doyle’s screech back at Crow’s Nest on Earth.

The screech incident had been worse—at least he was still conscious right now—but by the Ancestors, he was shaky. He seemed to recall he was supposed to be meeting someone here, though he couldn’t be sure if he wasn’t perhaps remembering something in the past, or maybe it was tomorrow…

He didn’t know. He didn’t care. There’d be some sort of distraction here, possibly more alcohol, possibly more company.

He ached with every step. Thinking back on it, he probably should have told the gun crew no. But they’d been insistent that between the six of them, they’d be able to give him plenty of distraction; after all, they were in Sanghelios’ airspace and there was no chance of an enemy Brute vessel being dumb enough to attack them in their own backyard, so the odds of the plasma cannon being called into action were a million to one…

The plasma cannon had indeed not been called into action, and servicing six very horny, very bored gunners had quickly turned from entertaining to a downright grueling workout. At least they’d had alcohol…though it hadn't lasted as long as their attentions...

…and at least it had taken his mind off Uzi, if only for a short time.

Now he was sobering up and he was thinking about Uzi again. Where the hell was the Blademaster? Why hadn’t he come—why hadn’t he even sent a comm?

Because you shared something special and now it’s over.

Usze probably just hadn’t had the words to tell him. Or maybe Piro was right. Maybe Uzi was back in his snotty, arrogant world of Ascetic vows and Blademaster propriety, and now he was too good for a Minor Domo with a Mark of Punishment on his shoulder.

Uzi told you he wasn’t the consort type. That should have been your first clue.

No, Nitro had been fooling himself. If he was sad…if he was surprised that Uzi had dumped him…he had only himself to blame. He’d known better than to fall in love with Uzi. He’d known better all along.

He was a slut, a fool, and a failure.

Now, despite the fact that his head was pounding, his vision was blurred, and his intimate places were aching and raw, the hollowness in his soul still hurt the most. He limped his way to the bar, seeking something, anything, to drive it away.

*

Usze watchd N’tho stumble towards the bar. ‘Sraom was more than a little drunk, judging by the way he swayed on his feet, and though his eyes swept right over Usze and Ki, he did not seem to recognize them.

A figure in red armour bounded out of the shadows and grabbed N’tho by the shoulder. They were close enough for Usze to hear them talking. ‘Taham recognized the other Elite as Zhaal ‘Lymux, the Major Domo from the Phantom.

“Took you long enough,” Zhaal growled.

“I was busy,” N’tho shot back.

Zhaal sniffed at N’tho’s neck. “Busy with who?”

“None of your business.” Nitro shot Zhaal a glare. “I don’t belong to you.” But for all N’tho’s brave words, his speech was slurred and he was weaving helplessly in Zhaal’s grip.

Zhaal sniffed again, getting close to N’tho in a way that made Usze’s blood boil. “Smells like you belong to half the ship if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you.” N’tho folded his arms. “You know what? Fuck you, Zhaal.” He jabbed at Zhaal’s chest with his finger, but missed. “I don’t need your shit.”

“Hey ‘Sraom,” another voice called from across the bar, “if you don’t want Zhaal, we could go again….”

Usze snapped his head around, registering the identity of one of Shadow’s flight crew and vowing to beat the shit out of him later. He felt sick. Piro was right; N’tho had gone right back to his old habits. What they’d shared on Earth hadn’t been enough to change him.

By the Ancestors, it was not becoming of an Ascetic to care so much! Usze could only wish that he might be the Perfect Warrior, if only because a Perfect Warrior would not feel so inadequate, so betrayed, so…so heartbroken.

“Shut up,” Zhaal said to the flying officer. “It’s my turn now.” He grabbed N’tho by the arm and pulled him close, rubbing his knuckles over the SpecOps warrior’s mandibles. “I give you five minutes, N’tho, before you forgive me everything,” he murmured seductively.

“I don’t want to.”

“Yes, you do.” ‘Lymux reached down, started caressing N’tho in a way that Usze didn’t want to think about—right in the middle of the mess hall! N’tho’s knees buckled and he sagged against the other Elite. Zhaal wrapped an arm around him. N’tho moaned and lay his head submissively on ‘Lymux’s shoulder.

Zhaal smirked hungrily. “I knew it. I knew you just can’t get enough, you little slut.”

N’tho whimpered sadly.

Usze saw red. And yet, he remained on the seat next to Ki ‘Chaz, watching the scene unfold. Just watching, not wanting to draw attention to himself, not wanting the whole bar to witness….

…to witness what? Usze intervening on N’tho’s behalf?

By the Rings, was Piro ‘Kipaz right?

Impossible. N’tho had been cheating on him. Why should he intervene?

Was it cheating when they’d never promised each other anything?

Usze didn’t want to think that Piro’s assessment of his character was accurate. But if it wasn’t, why wasn’t he stepping in? N’tho was clearly intoxicated and seemingly ambivalent about this encounter with Zhaal, and Usze was sitting here letting it happen.

Usze was every bit the coward Piro had said he was.

N’tho’s mandibles churned weakly. “You better…you better not be rough.”

The Major Domo shook N’tho forcefully. “I’ll be as rough as I want. You know you like it…”

Forget red. Usze saw black.

In that moment his precious reputation ceased to matter. He sprang from his seat and crossed the room in the blink of an eye, pulling N’tho away from Zhaal and sending the Minor Domo staggering clear. Usze stuck his muzzle right up in the taller Major Domo’s face. “Keep your hands off him,” he growled menacingly.

Zhaal blinked. “Blademaster ‘Taham,” ‘Lymux said with a smirk. “Fancy you interrupting a lovers’ spat.”

“I said leave him alone,” Uzi persisted.

“Why?” ‘Lymux countered. “He likes it.”

Usze turned his head. “Nitro. Tell Zhaal to fuck off.”

Nitro was staring back at Uzi with a look of horror.

*

N’tho’s mandibles worked, but no sound came out. He had to be hallucinating. He had to be.

Usze had been gone without so much as a goodbye. He had not contacted N’tho during the whole Slipspace voyage. Why was he here, now, in the middle of the mess…

…watching a drunk Nitro hanging all over Zhaal, stinking of mating from his encounter with the gunners?

Nitro realized, like a blade to his heart, what a mistake he’d made.

He should’ve waited longer. Should’ve trusted Usze to keep his word. Should have believed that Uzi had a good reason for disappearing and staying out of touch so long. Instead, he’d lost faith. Now Uzi could see clearly just what a filthy little slut his hero was.

Usze’s expression was starting to waver. Zhaal had folded his arms and was smiling smugly.

“Nitro?” Uzi asked. “Nitro, who do you want to listen to….me or him?” Uzi’s hand twitched slightly, and N’tho remembered very well how Uzi trembled when he was nervous.

“You,” Nitro whispered. No matter how angry Uzi might be, no matter how much N’tho didn’t deserve him, when phrased that way, there was no contest. Zhaal was acting cold and aggressive and they hadn’t even mated yet; Nitro had no intention of ever placing the selfish, rough Major Domo over Usze ‘Taham.

“You heard him,” Usze said. He leaned right up against Zhaal and snarled, “Now fuck off.”

The whole mess hall was staring, rapt, as the cool and professional Ascetic snarled curse words at the Major Domo. Zhaal, on the other hand, was not fucking off. He continued to leer at Usze. “And why should you care, Blademaster?”

Usze grabbed the handle of his blade and put his muzzle right against Zhaal’s. Then he said, in a lethal whisper, “This is your final chance to leave before I put my sword through your guts.”

Zhaal blinked and paled, his bravado fading. “You’d kill me for helping myself to the ship’s slut?”

“Stay and see,” Usze said, his expression horrifying, his words almost seductive, as though he wanted Zhaal to stay. As though he was hoping for an excuse to kill the Major Domo.

Zhaal ‘Lymux was mean but not stupid. The Major Domo backed away carefully and beat a hasty retreat.

Usze ‘Taham put his arm around N’tho’s shoulders and growled to the entire assembly, “This is a lesson for all of you. Stay the hell away from my mate.”

And with that pronouncement, he muttered in N’tho’s earbud, “Come on. We’re getting out of here.”

*

“Where’s your quarters?” Usze asked as he guided N’tho down the hall, away from the mess.

N’tho’s head lolled against his shoulder. “Fuck, I hate you,” he mumbled. Usze couldn’t tell if N’tho was talking to him, or if he meant the words for Zhaal or some other ghost. “I hate you…I love you…I hate you…”

“Nitro, this is important. You need to tell me. Now.”

“I’m not taking you to my room, you fucking dick.” N’tho’s eyes were focused on Usze this time. Uzi could only guess that N’tho was mad at him.

Perhaps he deserved to be. Right now, though, they didn’t have the luxury of arguing in the middle of the corridor.

Usze was cursing himself for telling the entire mess that he considered Nitro to be his mate. If there were any assassins on the ship, they now had two targets. ‘Lymux had just gotten him so angry…so possessively angry…

There was no excuse. He’d lost control. Something about Nitro seemed to make that happen time and time again, and yet, Uzi could not blame Nitro for this. An Ascetic took responsibility for his own actions. Usze might be at odds with the Ascetic Order on several points, but he couldn’t change the fact that for most of his life, he’d agreed with the Ascetic Order’s philosophies and practiced its tenets. Right now, he had to rein in his wild emotions and focus on protecting them both.

“Nitro. I have assassins after me, do you understand? I can’t be out in the open, and as long as you’re in my presence, you are a target too. Now where are your quarters?”

N’tho folded his arms stubbornly. “Piro won’t let me bring fuck buddies home.”

“Is that all I am to you?” Usze demanded, unable to hide the hurt he felt from echoing in his voice. “A fuck buddy?”

There was a long pause.

“No,” N’tho replied grudgingly. “Come on.”

N’tho led him on a long, winding path through the ship. Just when Usze was beginning to wonder if ‘Sraom was too intoxicated to find his quarters, he stopped before a nondescript door in a row of similar doors. He pressed his hand to the access panel and the door opened.

Usze urged him through before shutting and locking the door behind him. He hoped nobody had noticed them entering; he had no idea what he’d do if assassins burst in while he was with Nitro.

Usze took a look around the room. He knew his old stateroom had been larger than most, but how did two Sangheili live in quarters so tight? There was a bunk on either side of the room. One was carefully made, simply decorated, and neatly marked PIRO ‘KIPAZEE. The other was a messy snarl of tangled blankets, including something which looked remarkably like a Shipmaster’s doarmir-fur cloak, coloured brilliant purple. The walls to the front and side of this bunk were crammed with photos and shelves and all manner of junk, including an impressive collection of models of both Covenant and Human vehicles and numerous postcards of Earth. The nameplate said N’THO ‘SRAOM with the “EE” suffix scratched to near-illegibility. A throw rug lay between the two bunks and in front of a shared end table.

N’tho swayed beside him. Usze turned his attention away from the room in order to guide Nitro into the head. Carefully, he stripped N’tho’s armour and suit; the SpecOps warrior did not protest. Usze lowered ‘Sraom to the floor in the corner of the shower.

Nitro had been quiet all this time, but now he spoke. “I fucking hate you,” N’tho mumbled, looking at Uzi out of the corner of his eyes.

“If you hate me so much, why don’t you tell me to get out?” ‘Taham couldn’t quite keep the irritation from his voice as he struggled to figure out what to do. N’tho was too unsteady to stand, and sponging him off from the sink would take so long.

“Cause you wouldn’t listen to me.”

Usze sighed. “I would if you were sober when you said it.” He felt strangely hurt as he wet a towel and laid it down over the drain in the floor of the shower.

“What’re you doing?” N’tho’s head lolled.

“I’m making the closest possible approximation to a bathtub,” Usze said as he stripped his armour. “Do you want me to leave my suit on?”

“You don’t have to,” Nitro replied dully. “I’ve seen it all before, right?” He tried to smirk, but he couldn’t keep the expression on his mandibles. His face lapsed back into despair.

“Nitro,” Usze murmured, stung. He tossed his helmet, armour and suit aside. Uzi stepped into the shower stall, kneeling down beside N’tho, running his hand over the SpecOps warrior’s cheek. “What is wrong with you?”

N’tho didn’t answer. He sat there, staring at the wall.

Usze pulled a cloth off the rack, activated the force field to seal the shower, and turned on the water. He picked up the soap—a simple general-issue bar, not the thick liquid Usze favoured—and rubbed it across N’tho’s back. ‘Sraom did not resist as Usze washed his body. Any thrill ‘Taham might have gotten from bathing him all over vanished when he realized how unresponsive Nitro was; he gave no signs of pleasure, but neither could he be bothered to struggle. As a result, washing N’tho’s genital vent ended up a clinical rather than an erotic experience, and when N’tho winced in pain, Usze found his thoughts clouded by a choking rage. He could barely force out the words. “Did they hurt you?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Did they…” Uzi choked. “Did they rape you?”

“No.”

“You asked for this?”

“I told them I didn’t care what they did,” N’tho said flatly.

‘Taham struggled to keep his temper. “Who did this?”

“Main gun crew…second shift.”

“Nitro,” Usze said, feeling his soul breaking. He ran his knuckles gently over N’tho’s mandibles. The SpecOps soldier jerked away as if Uzi’s touch burned him.

“You know what I’ve been up to since we got back from Earth, right?” N’tho said, his voice too loud and too fast, his tone artificially bright. “I’ve been out fucking the fleet…yeah, that’s right…stooping for anyone who’ll look at me, every chance I get, because you know what? Epse ‘Gamul is right. I’m a little slut, and I’ll fuck anything, because I’m only good for two things: cannon fodder and sex. And I am never, never, ever going to change…”

“Shut up!” Usze barked at him. “Shut up—I don’t want to hear it!”

*

Nitro was well and truly angry now.

Who the fuck did Usze ‘Taham think he was? Leaving Nitro alone that long, not even a comm, not even a rumour passed through the fleet to let Nitro know he was okay, let alone to talk to him or Forerunners forbid, come to see him…

N’tho had been pacing around this little room like a thornbeast in a cage during the entire Slipspace flight, feeling more and more lonely, more and more agitated, sleepwalking through his assignments from ‘Vadum, hiding from ‘Gamul, upsetting Piro, until finally he hit the breaking point. Something had to give. Something had to change before he lost his mind.

Nitro had been particularly tempted to get it on with Ki ‘Chaz and Aj ‘Qorop after that little incident on the Ark, but he discovered that turning them down on the Ark had created an unexpected side effect. Ki and Aj were apparently very busy with each other these days, to the extent that neither was interested in anyone else.

N’tho wasn’t sure how Ki had managed to put a leash on ‘Qorop or keep the Zealot’s more…painful…tastes under control, but they seemed very happy in their relationship and Ki apparently gave Nitro the credit for getting the two of them together. ‘Chaz had made several friendly but non-sexual overtures.

Nitro’s more logical mind told him it would be good to have another platonic friend, but his depression had prevented him from fully taking ‘Chaz up on his invitations to socialize. Instead he fell into bed with Vaa ‘Moiril, the other SpecOps Subcommander, and all of a sudden he was back in the mess picking up everyone who looked at him twice.

At first he tried to pretend that the guys he was fucking—or more precisely, getting fucked by—were Uzi, but he gave up on that quickly. They were nothing like Uzi. He didn’t know if they lacked the style and technique, because they lacked the will to even try to do what Uzi did to him. Not even the much-vaunted Vaa ‘Moiril could hold a candle to Usze.
N’tho had entertained daydreams of Uzi walking through the door and seeing his hero from the Omega Halo taking it from whatever warrior was on him at the time. Well, to hell with Usze ‘Taham. It served him right, didn’t it? He could have called.

But N’tho still missed Uzi. Nitro sure as hell wouldn’t turn a Mongoose around on a collapsing ring world for any of his new mates. They were using him, and he was using them. Situation normal.

Had Uzi just been using him too? Fuck, you couldn’t trust an Ascetic, the cold-hearted bastard…

And just when N’tho had been starting to believe the nasty things he’d been calling Uzi, Uzi himself showed up, all tender and concerned and affectionate…and too late to stop Nitro from becoming the ship’s slut.

If there was some explanation for Usze’s long absence—if Uzi really did care for him and had finally come back for him—Nitro had really fucked it up now, hadn’t he?

Filled with anger and hurt and self-disgust and confusion, N’tho lashed out.

“You just don’t want to admit that you’ve got the hots for a little slut like me! You don’t want the fleet to know that you fucked me, and you really don’t want them to know that you loved it, and you especially don’t want them to know that I fucked you and you loved that even more! And you want me again, don’t you? That’s why you came back. You fought yourself this long and you just can’t forget how good the sex was—and you can’t forgive me for addicting you. You’re here right now because you don’t know whether you want to punch the shit out of me, or whether you want to bend over the nearest Ghost and beg me to fuck you silly again!” He struggled to his feet and stepped out of the shower before whirling on Usze. “Well, get the hell on with it already. Get on with it or I might just fuck you here and now, and if I did, I’d open this door and let the whole fleet see that I’m not the only little slut in this room!”

“Step out and turn around,” Usze said coldly as he turned off the shower and opened the force field.

‘Sraom stepped out into the main room and turned his back defiantly.

The Blademaster growled an order. “On your knees.”

N’tho found himself obeying purely out of instinct. He wondered if Uzi was going to beat him, or fuck his brains out. Probably both.

He didn’t even care any more.

Behind him, there was a sound of something cracking. Usze leaned forward and handed him a long, cylindrical object that Nitro recognized.

“Fuck, Uzi, this is…er, was…Piro’s training staff. He is going to be seriously pissed at you.”

“Put it between your mandibles.”

“Wha?” Usze didn’t even seem to care what he’d done.

“Do it. Now.”

“Kinky.” Nitro couldn’t resist the comment, even if it made Usze angrier.

Usze did not respond to the bait. His voice sounded distant, mechancial. “Hold out your arms and brace yourself. Bite down on that stick, and whatever you do, do not flinch.”

“Why?” The word was barely intelligible around the bit in N’tho’s mandibles. Something was wrong. Nitro tried to tell himself that Usze was always serious, and a little stiff, and had no experience in playing these kinds of dominance games, but he could not explain away the strange crawling feeling at the base of his neck, nor could he afford to forget that his fucking around had probably hurt and insulted the Blademaster.

And what sorts of nasty tricks had those Priestesses taught him? What had they done to him that he might do to me now?

“I’m sorry, Nitro,” Usze said. His words rang with a tone of inevitability. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt very, very much.”

Then N’tho heard the chilling sound of an energy sword activating.