Cross Blades

Cross Blades

Chapter the Eighteenth: Honour’s Sacrifice


“Nitro suggested I ask you for new armour,” Usze said contritely to Fil Storamy, as he stood with his head bowed in the Quartermaster’s storeroom domain. “Something that would let me blend into the new SpecOps recruits.”

“Gonna take more than that.” Fil hadn’t thrown a punch at him yet, but she was still clearly unhappy with him for the way he’d tried to pull rank on her at their first meeting.

Usze swallowed his pride. “N’tho told me I would owe you favours and I am willing to comply.”

“No, I mean on your end. More work to hide you. Those eyes of yours just scream ‘Sumai. I suggest you wear a patch over one of ‘em. Depending on how hardcore you are, you might consider gouging one out.”

His mandibles dropped.

“Sorry,” Fil said, sounding not very sorry at all. “Two different eye colours equals ‘Sumai Keep. It’s that easy.”

“I’ll take the patch,” Usze mumbled.

“Another thing. You need records. If you try to fit into SpecOps, eventually someone’s going to notice that you have no past history.”

“I don’t know what I can do about that,” Usze muttered.

“I do. Falsified records, then we hack the system and drop ‘em in.”

Usze paled. “You can do that?”

“Can. Have.” She shot him a glance. “Will, if you pay me enough.”

‘Taham couldn’t stop himself. “By the Rings, do you have any respect for regulations whatsoever?”

“Not particularly.”

Usze sighed. “I should probably be grateful for it.”

Fil considered him carefully and then smiled. “Yes. You should.”

“What do I owe you?”

“We’ll have to see about that. Anything you’d rather die than do?”

Usze was trying to think of a tactful way to ask if any of her “favours” involved breeding when his comm unit began to vibrate against his thigh. “Excuse me a second. I’ve got an incoming message.” Usze pulled out his comm unit and frowned; his instincts were telling him something bad was coming.

It was an audio file from Nitro. At first there was nothing but dead air. Then he heard Nitro speaking: “Blademaster ‘Sumai” and “your son, Usze ‘Taham.”

Usze paled.

Fil, ever perceptive, saw him falter. “What is it?”

“The Ascetics,” he whispered, suddenly frightened. “They sent my father. Blademaster Toha ‘Sumai.”

The Chief Quartermaster frowned. “Do us all a favour and don’t duel him.”

“What?” Usze was completely bewildered. How could he not duel an assassin, his own father?

Fil pointed at the sign hanging over her door.

WE FIGHT DUELS
DUELS HAVE RULES

“No,” she said quietly. “You need to slaughter him.”

Usze gaped at her.

The Chief Quartermaster got to her feet, her eyes shining ferally. “You cannot afford to play by your old rules of honour, Usze ‘Taham. The issue at hand is not whether you or your father is the better Swordsman. The issue at hand is the future of all Sangheili. What will we be? A united people, standing as one against a hostile galaxy? Or a thornbeast that eats her own young, preying on our own kind until we all fall together?”

‘Taham recognized his own words. It must have shown on her face, because Fil grinned smugly. “’Gamul’s not the only one who can access the ship security cameras.” She turned to her associate, the Jackal. “Kip. Find Toha ‘Sumai on the security cameras. Sangheili Ascetic with different-coloured eyes.” The Quartermaster hesitated. “Find N’tho ‘Sraom of SpecOps as well.”

Usze was still uncomfortable with her suggestion. “Just because I dislike their philosophy, it makes it acceptable for me to cheat?”

Fil’s expression softened. “Put it this way, Usze. If battle skill were all it took, Admiral ‘Jar Wattin could challenge the Arbiter to a duel and we would be ruled by the victor. But ‘Jar Wattin, fine fighter though he is, is not doing that. Instead he plans political machinations with the Ascetics and the Priestesses. Instead he asks you to slay the Arbiter in his sleep.”

She rose from her chair and picked up her gravity hammer, a prize she had taken from the Brutes on the Delta Halo when they had turned on the Sangheili. She paced the room now, gripping the hammer in both hands. “If ‘Jar Wattin and ‘Gamul and the Ascetics had their way, I wouldn’t have this job. I’d be on my knees in a breeding chamber somewhere. You think females have it bad in this fleet now? That’s nothing to what ‘Jar Wattin wants to do. The only reason there’s female staff on our ships at all is because the Prophets wanted more male warriors—too many to let us fill our support roles with males. Hence, female support staff. I am not going back to our Dark Ages, Usze of the house of ‘Taham. Admiral ‘Jar Wattin’s coup will fail or I will die fighting.”

“The Priestesses?” Usze frowned. “I thought ‘Jar Wattin’s rule would strip females of the powers they have.”

“Too many Priestesses are willing to settle with ‘Jar Wattin to simply keep the powers they already have—powers they fear to lose now that our religious beliefs are in transition—while the rest of the females are brought low. But the females of the Home Guard are with the Arbiter. They will fight to win more freedoms.”

‘Taham didn’t even ask how she knew all this. It was clear that Fil Storamy had her own sources, her own methods, and that she was a complete and utter rogue, more dangerous than he’d ever suspected. But there was one thing he could be grateful for.

She was on his side.

*

When N’tho woke up, he found himself in chains.

There were steel cuffs on his wrists, each attached to the floor by a short length of chain. The chains were too short for him to stand; it was awkward even to squat or kneel. The only positions he could comfortably hold would be on all fours, or lying down.

His armour was gone. His comm link and weapons had been taken away as well. Most of his clothing was also missing, cut away from the looks of it, including the bandage that had covered his skinless shoulder. He still had the remains of his bodysuit on his hands, held in position by the cuffs, torn at the edges into makeshift gloves. He breathed a sigh of relief to see his bracelet still encircling his lower arm. Otherwise he was naked. He shivered, feeling the cold air on his hide.

N’tho remained lying down for now, feigning unconsciousness to buy himself time to think.

He was still in Epse ‘Gamul’s stateroom. He could hear Epse and Toha speaking. He wasn’t sure if Rycl and Zhaal were in the room as well, but he was willing to bet that they were. He didn’t think he’d been out for very long.

N’tho forced his mind to think through the pain of his burned muzzle. Toha ‘Sumai had come to fight Usze. And Toha had two swords. Two fucking swords.

It was rare for Sangheili to fight with two blades. It took an exceedingly talented swordsman to control two swords at the same time; most swordsmen only ever mastered the use of one. In battle it was better to use one weapon which you were skilled with than two which you were not; those not practiced in the use of two blades often paid too much attention to their technique and not enough attention to their opponents, with deadly consequences.

N’tho remembered a video he’d seen shortly after joining SpecOps. On the film, Subcommander Kusovai—Rtas ‘Vadum’s deceased mate—had demonstrated what happened when a warrior with a single sword went up against a master of the twin blades.

The fights had always been short. Kusovai would catch his opponent’s blade on one of his, holding it out of action; then he’d bring his other sword around in a slash that would usually have eviscerated his opponent had the fight been for real. Sometimes Kusovai demonstrated how the free second blade could be used to cripple the opponent’s leg, or cut the opponent’s sword arm clear off. Once he showed how the second blade could be unleashed at point-blank range—he’d done it over his opponent’s shoulder, but noted how moving his hand a few inches to the side would have sent the prongs springing between the bottom of his adversary’s mandibles and right up into his brain.

Usze was a great Swordsman, but N’tho felt a chill in his belly when he imagined Uzi duelling Toha ‘Sumai.

N’tho was trying to think of his next step when he felt a jarring kick in his head.

“Wake up, filth,” Toha ‘Sumai was saying.

N’tho let his fear turn to anger; it was easier that way. “What game are you playing?” He jangled his chains. “Sangheili don’t take prisoners.”

“Sangheili rarely take prisoners,” Toha corrected him. “Every situation has its…exceptions.” ‘Gamul smirked at him from behind Toha’s shoulder.

“This doesn’t seem very honourable of you,” N’tho said, squirming while his brain sought buttons to push. “Isn’t that what you old-school Sangheili are all about? Your honour? Where’s the honour in this? Why don’t you let me out of these chains so we can fight, warrior to warrior?”

Toha laughed, cold and malicious. “I don’t want to fight you, you pathetic Unggoy-spawn.” The Shipmaster paced restlessly behind him, driven by an infernal energy. “I know that you would lose. You know it as well.”

“At least I would have a chance to die with honour.”

“Oh, don’t worry, little warrior. You very well might. First, though, there’s the matter of my wayward son. Usze has already sold his honour to betray the Ascetics to the Arbiter. He is a coward. He would run from me. He would make me chase him across the universe and beyond. But Shipmaster ‘Gamul assures me that Usze will not run away as long as I hold you. No, my dear…what does he call you? Nitro? As long as I have you, Usze will have to come to me. And when he comes to me, I will kill him.”

“Usze’s a fucking Blademaster,” N’tho said, a tremor in his voice. “Are you so sure you can beat him?”

“I am also, as you call it, a fucking Blademaster,” Toha retorted, delivering a sharp kick to N’tho’s ribs.

“What happened to your Mark of Punishment?” ‘Gamul asked, slapping him on his barely-scabbed shoulder.

“Mark of…” Toha hissed.

“We should give him another one,” ‘Gamul replied. “Perhaps right on the snout.”

Toha looked disgusted. “This…creature…is Usze’s mate?” He ran his claws over N’tho’s bloody shoulder, making N’tho close his eyes as he struggled not to let any sounds escape his mouth. The exotic claws that Usze used to gently scratch, to tease, to stimulate his nerve endings were used by Toha simply to inflict suffering.

“This creature is half the ship’s mate,” ‘Gamul laughed. “Isn’t that right, Rycl?”

Rycl ‘Otsed turned his face away in shame.

‘Gamul ran a proprietory hand over N’tho’s bare ass as he walked around him to approach ‘Toha. “My most esteemed visitor, Toha ‘Sumai…” He smiled wickedly. “Would you care to sample N’tho for yourself?”

Nitro’s eyes widened in horror as he took in the meaning of that statement. He fought against the restraints, jerking his wrists back and forth with all the strength he could muster, but though he succeeded in cutting his skin and setting his wrists to oozing blood, he could not tear the cuffs free of their chains.

Across the room, Rycl was looking at him. The SpecOps commander’s expression seemed apologetic, but Rycl did not say a single word in protest. Meanwhile, Zhaal was watching everything with an undisguised glee.

Toha made a disgusted face. For once N’tho was grateful to be a dirty slut of a warrior.

“N’tho is…not to my tastes,” ‘Sumai replied. “Get me a female.”

“Of course,” ‘Gamul replied. “Rycl, get the Blademaster a female. As for me…if you’re not interested in ‘Sraom here…” He leaned over close to N’tho’s earbud. “I think it’s time for me to find out what Rycl and Usze find so appealing about you.”

Oh, by all the Gods, no.

“Maybe after I’m done, I’ll let Zhaal have a turn,” ‘Gamul purred. “Would you like that, Zhaal?”

Zhaal grinned, apparently willing to accept ‘Gamul’s seconds if it meant the chance to humiliate N’tho further. “Yes, sir.”

“It’s settled, then,” Toha said smoothly. “First we shall have ourselves some entertainment. Then we can send a message to my wayward son and wait for him to come here to save his favourite bed-warmer, and I will cut him down like the fool he is.”

“And I have the perfect way to send that message,” ‘Gamul replied. “Something that will send Usze ‘Taham running up here, blind with anger. It just so happens that I have a camera.”

*

“Quartermaster,” Kip the Jackal said, startling Usze from his reverie. “Sorry to interrupt,” he added as Usze glared at him, “but there’s something coming up on the monitors that you two might want to see.”

Fil hit a bunch of buttons on her computer and an image bloomed to life.

“What is this?” Usze breathed.

“I’ve got a tap into Shadow of Intent’s security systems.” She shot Uzi a look. “No, it’s not authorized, yes, the Arbiter knows, no, he doesn’t care. Besides, you might be grateful,” she added as she selected an image and clicked. “This is from inside ‘Gamul’s stateroom.”

There was picture and sound. Usze felt his guts turn over as he recognized N’tho, minus most of his clothing, chained to the floor. He struggled not to become physically sick as ‘Gamul and ‘Sumai casually discussed their entertainment of choice.

“We have to get Nitro out of there,” Fil said grimly.

Usze swallowed his rising gorge, willing his stomach’s contents to stay down. “Fil, that’s what they want. They want us to go charging up there, swords blazing and hearts raging, and when we get there they’re going to cut us to pieces.”

“They won’t be expecting me.”

“Do you think you can take ‘Gamul?”

“Probably.” She hesitated. “Maybe.” She hesitated again. “He is pretty good. And his quarters are pretty crowded for two pairs of fighters. And that craven rat Rycl is there. He could kill Nitro while we’re fighting. Or Zhaal could.”

“Yes.” His guts twisted. “I…I don’t think I can take ‘Sumai. Not two swords against one.”

“I can give you another sword.”

“I don’t know if I’m good enough with two. My father…he’s a master.”

“That’s your father with Gamul, Rycl and Zhaal?”

“Yes.”

“Shit.”

Shit pretty much summed it up.

Usze’s thoughts raced. “We have an advantage. They want to send me a video after the fact, but we know now, and that gives us some extra time. We could set up an ambush. I could get Piro and Ki and Aj, and you could pull in some favours, and we could enter that room in force. Maybe you could get the Grunts to roll knockout gas grenades through the vents; anything to stack the odds in our favour. Then, when I actually receive that video on my comm link and go up there in response, I can take an army with me.”

“Ordinarily I’d agree with you, but your plan’s got a problem, Usze. If you wait to get that video over your comm link…” she gestured to the screen, “…’Gamul will have already had his way with Nitro.”

The logical, Ascetic-raised part of Usze’s mind was telling him calmly and rationally that it was just sex. Nitro had had sex plenty of times before—rough sex, even. Wasn’t it more important to make sure the both of them survived this encounter? Usze wasn’t going to be angry at Nitro for having had sex with Epse. Nitro could handle anything Epse did to him.

But what Usze saw on the monitor told him a different story.

N’tho’s mandibles were flared wide in horror, as though he were screaming, but there was no sound coming out. No wild laughter, no screams of terror, but a horror that had completely silenced him. His wrists were bleeding from his struggles to get free. His eyes leaked a single tear.

Then his mandibles moved and though no sound emerged, Usze knew what he was saying.

Uzi. Help me. Please.

And Uzi’s heart strangled that logical voice into silence.

He could not stand here and watch his bondmate get raped.

That was Nitro, his hero, who turned that Mongoose around on the Omega Halo and almost died himself in his mad insistence on rescuing Uzi from the Blademaster’s own mistake. There had been no logic in N’tho’s decision. There had been only love and a certainty that he would rather die than abandon Uzi in his time of need.

Usze ‘Taham reached into his storage compartment, took out the bracelet with his and Nitro’s names on it, and closed it around his wrist.

It was time for him to be worthy of his bondmate.