Cross Blades

Cross Blades

Chapter the Fourth: Confusion’s Haze

Time setting: Halo 3, levels “Crow’s Nest,” “Tsavo Highway,” and “The Storm”

TO: Blademaster Usze ‘Taham
FROM: SpecOps Commander Rtas ‘Vadum
RE: Minor Domo N’tho ‘Sraom

Blademaster:

Your concerns have been duly noted. I shall inventory my SpecOps personnel and choose alternate candidates for the Arbiter’s evaluation. Be aware, however, that the ranks of SpecOps have been severely depleted by combat losses, and it may be some time before a replacement can be spared.

I am tasking you to write a brief report on the development of Sangheili-Human relations, with particular emphasis on the role of the Arbiter’s Honour Guards in the strengthening of our new alliance. I understand that combat takes precedence; nevertheless, I wish to emphasize the fact that yourself and ‘Sraom are two of only three Sangheili in regular contact with Humans.

With all good will, if you are unhappy in your current position, I would certainly welcome you aboard Shadow of Intent.

In our fathers’ honour,
Rtas ‘Vadum
SpecOps Commander

PS What did you do to make Fil Storamee so angry? I have requisitioned a Combat helmet for you, in deference to the Human custom regarding visible faces, and she had many things to say about you—most of them unrepeatable over public comms.

*

TO: Minor Domo N’tho ‘Sraom
FROM: SpecOps Commander Rtas ‘Vadum
RE: Blademaster Usze ‘Taham

Minor Domo:

Your concerns have been duly noted. I shall inventory my carrier’s personnel and choose alternate candidates for the Arbiter’s evaluation.

The Arbiter congratulates you on your skill at interactions with the Humans, and we are currently considering how best to use your abilities in this area. When the current battle is over, you may be recalled to SpecOps, or posted long-term on Earth. In consideration for your service, I will take your wishes into account. Do, however, realize that your professionalism will also factor into my final decision, and conduct yourself accordingly.

In our fathers’ honour,
Rtas ‘Vadum
SpecOps Commander

PS Try not to antagonize the Blademaster—though I understand that it can be difficult.

*

TO: Chief Quartermaster Fil Storamee
FROM: Minor Domo N’tho ‘Sraom
RE: Blademaster Usze ‘Taham

Dear Fil:

Usze ‘Taham is a total jerk.

I hate him.

Best wishes,
“Nitro”

*

N’tho trudged away from the Crow’s Nest showers, newly armoured, not sure what to do with himself now.

He wished he could go talk to Pti ‘Firogee to get some advice, but ‘Firogee had been one of the SpecOps soldiers killed on Delta Halo by the Brutes. Fil Storamee had already left with Commander ‘Vadum, returning to Shadow of Intent. N’tho suddenly felt very alone, and there was really nobody he knew that he could go to be with.

By the Rings, he’d propositioned—and been shot down by—that stuck-up aristocrat Usze ‘Taham, hereby proving that he was lonely and desperate enough to fuck anything, and if he didn’t get back to his quarters and lock himself in right now, he’d end up in bed with someone truly awful, like...like a Jackal.

The fact that a Jackal was sounding not too bad right about now meant that his depression was starting to affect his mind.

N’tho opened a door and bumped into someone standing in the hallway.

“Sorry,” ‘Sraom muttered.

There was no answer. N’tho suddenly registered that first, he was standing in a dark hallway, and secondly, the person was big, big enough to send N’tho stumbling. Humans didn’t grow that large. And the only Elites in Crow’s Nest were himself, Usze, and the Arbiter.

N’tho didn’t remember the Arbiter wearing blue armour.

Or being hairy.

He barely ducked in time as the Brute pulled out a pair of Spikers and unleashed a hail of darts in his direction. N’tho let the spikes pass over his head. He whipped out his energy sword and thrust his fist upwards, igniting the sword as he raised his arm, letting it trash the Brute’s energy shields.

He’d left his plasma rifle, grenades, and carbine in his room; a fully armed Elite walking around the base might scare the Humans. The only weapon he had was the blade, because it was concealable.

The Brute roared and swung its meaty fists. N’tho’s chest plate took the brunt of the damage, though he had no doubt he’d have bruises tomorrow.

‘Sraom didn’t even bother trying to maneuver his sword at close quarters. He didn’t need the blades getting snagged in the Brute’s ribcage or caught on its armour. Instead he deactivated it, repositioned, and activated it again so the blade snapped to life right through the Brute’s throat. The big Jiralhanae gurgled and died. Its life’s blood dribbled down N’tho’s arm.

‘Sraom realized, all of a sudden, that alarms were going off and lights were flashing. This Brute wasn’t a spy—he was part of a wholesale assault.

Usze.

N’tho sprinted down the hallway, in search of the claret-armoured swordsman.

*

The barracks were full of Brutes.

Usze blasted away at the Jiralhanae, a plasma pistol in one hand to decimate their shields, a Magnum in the other to punch holes in their skulls. The combination was devastating one-on-one.

But now there were five or six Brutes coming his way, and the plasma pistol’s battery was running low.

“Hey fuckers!” came a voice from behind him. “Eat shit and die!”

A rocket whistled past Usze’s shoulder and plowed into the ranks of the Brutes. The explosion send Usze staggering and rattled the teeth in his skull. His shields flared as debris rained down all around him.

Beside him, N’tho ‘Sraom was holding a rocket launcher and laughing maniacally.

It was the laugh that drove Usze over the edge. ‘Taham grabbed the other Elite by the collar, slammed him bodily into the wall. “When are you going to shut up?” the Blademaster hissed. “This is no laughing matter!”

N’tho kicked, landing a hoof in ‘Taham’s midsection. The other Sangheili’s grip loosened enough for N’tho to writhe free; once his feet were back on the earth, he thrust his head right up into Usze’s helmet. “Sometimes, sir,” he growled, “when you stop laughing, you start screaming. Save your critique for something important!”

Nitro was out of line, and Nitro knew it, too. Usze could see the fear in his eyes—and now, this close, he could see that N’tho’s right eye was out of focus. He’d been injured, and was hiding it, the magnificent, reckless, renegade…

…who had just helped him out of a nasty situation. Again.

Usze became suddenly, acutely aware of how close N’tho was. He could smell the scent of him through his helmet, feel the heat coming off his body…that smell so familiar from the night before…

Damn those images on the BattleNet! Now every time he looked at ‘Sraom, his brain automatically started thinking about sex!

“You might want to pick up a plasma pistol,” Usze muttered instead. “It drops the Brutes’ shields. Makes the kill easier.”

N’tho’s mandibles gaped as he stared.

Usze, wordless, turned away.

*

Nitro hammered away at the invading Brutes with a plasma pistol in one hand and a Magnum in the other. Uzi was right—this combo really worked! The suggestion had been…almost nice of him. N’tho wondered why Usze was being nice even after making it clear that he wasn’t interested in sex.

N’tho ‘Sroam knew that he ought to count his blessings, that he hadn’t fucked the Blademaster while drunk. Somehow, though, he felt strangely regretful. Of course, it would be better yet if he had done it and had also been able to remember it…

N’tho shook his head, pushing these dangerous thoughts away. Just because there were worse people to wake up next to…like a Human, or a Brute, or Rycl ‘Otsed…didn’t mean that mating with Usze ‘Taham would be a good thing.

But N’tho couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off the Blademaster as they plowed through the ranks of the attacking Covenant soldiers.

Usze ‘Taham was not particularly large or powerful for an Elite, but he moved with a sinuous grace, every step measured. His strikes were lethally precise; not a single movement was wasted. He passed through the ranks of the Brutes as though the battle were a dance, and he left dead and dying Jiralhanae in his wake. He had turned carnage into an art form, and as N’tho watched him, the SpecOps warrior knew he was looking at a master.

By the Ancestors, what would he be like in bed?

N’tho imagined those hands moving over his skin in the same carefully calculated movements, now expressed as strokes and caresses. What it would be like to feel that body moving against his with the same artistry…

The thought made N’tho weak in the knees.

He shook his head, knowing he had to concentrate on the battle. He could think about Uzi and sex later…

…he shouldn’t be thinking about it at all, but he knew himself better than that. He knew what he’d be dreaming about when he next had a chance to sleep.

‘Taham could have really hurt him. He’d been unconscious, at the Blademaster’s mercy, and Usze had been angry with him. He’d seen other warriors with patterns carved into their flesh by displeased superior officers; N’tho might well have ended up the same. Instead, the bruises on his ribs were almost healed already. Sangheili society was very physically demonstrative; N’tho would have lost respect for ‘Taham if he’d been completely unscathed for his sin. But to escape so lightly…’Taham had been very merciful. Maybe Uzi liked him, just a little bit…

On the other hand, ‘Taham had seemed disgusted, not intrigued, by N’tho’s advances.

N’tho sighed. ‘Taham might only like females. Wouldn’t that be just his luck.

*

Sometimes when you stop laughing, you start screaming.

Usze couldn’t get N’tho’s words out of his mind as he manned the Warthog’s turret while ‘Sraom drove down the Tsavo Highway.

Usze ‘Taham was neither a laugher, nor a screamer, nor much of anything, really. His own family—his mother and stepfather and uncles and half-sibs, the only people who ever saw him without his helmet—had remarked on it, on how little emotion he showed. He knew it made his uncles worry. His stepfather had even gone so far as to say that an Elite should be passionate, and love his honour and his people with a burning fervour that shone like a flame.

But it was easier to feel nothing. ‘Sraom had essentially admitted it—being emotional put you that much closer to breakdowns, to sorrow and terror and rage and loss. In a war like this one, distance was invaluable. It could save your life.

‘Taham had to admit, though, that not everyone was cut out to be an Ascetic. There was the Perfect Warrior, a being who existed only in the Sangheili collective imagination, and then there was reality, a species of creatures who all fell more or less short of that glorious ideal. Some of them were inevitably going to be farther from perfection than others, and that included emotional beings like N’tho ‘Sraom.

But ‘Sraom wasn’t useless, not at all. It seemed that it was that same emotional nature that made the Humans like him. He laughed at their stories, understood their grief, shared their hatred and fear of the Brutes. While the Humans still looked at Usze with suspicion, they opened right up to N’tho. And he adapted to Human equipment—like this Warthog—with ease. No, N’tho wasn’t an incompetent. He was just…different.

And if he was different but valuable, then he had to have his own ways of coping with the hell around him. It seemed as though by making fun of the situation, he could keep his mind too busy to dwell on his fears. If he were to stop, those terrors might rise up and overwhelm him.

So Usze vowed to try to have a little more patience with N’tho’s stupid jokes and mocking remarks. He needed the other Sangheili to help him relate to the Humans, so he would be more tolerant, and stop dwelling on ‘Sraom’s failures.

Instead, he found himself dwelling on the particular nuances of ‘Sraom’s scent wafting back from the driver’s seat. And the glee in his eyes when he charged into battle, and the skill with which he operated the Human machine, and the absolute fearless courage the SpecOps warrior displayed over and over. It didn’t matter how many Brutes there were, or how much armour they wore, or what weapons they carried—‘Sraom charged forward, reveling in the battle, glorying in the challenge, and his enthusiasm swept the Human soldiers forward in his wake.

You still wanna bite me, Uzi?

He didn’t dare think about those images on the BattleNet…or of what might happen if the answer to N’tho’s question turned out to be yes.

*
Laid up on a hill outside the city, in the wreckage of a now-silent anti-aircraft battery, the surviving Marines and the two Sangheili took a moment to catch their breath. In between bites of “pork sui choi” wrapped in tin foil, Nitro activated his comm unit, hoping to catch up on the latest BattleNet news. Instead, his mailbox popped open, displaying the first communication.

TO: Minor Domo N’tho ‘Sraom, SpecOps
FROM: Minor Domo Ki ‘Chaz, SpecOps
RE: SpecOps Party

Greetings to my newest battle brother!

When this is over, SpecOps is going to be having one hell of a party! Subcommander ‘Otsed has already invited every single Sangheili taking part in this operation. We are going to set Shadow of Intent on fire. Get ready!

Come by my quarters first if you like…we could have our own private party.

Ki

*

N’tho blinked. He didn’t feel that he’d gotten to know any of the SpecOps warriors well enough to be getting invitations like this so soon. Still, it was flattering and it might be fun…

He closed the message. Another popped open.

TO: Minor Domo N’tho ‘Sraom, SpecOps
FROM: Zealot Aj ‘Qorop, Shipboard Operations
RE: Nice movie.

You never change, do you?

If you put up any footage of me, I’m going to kick your ass.

Aj

PS See you at the SpecOps party. Bring your own chains.

*

“Movie?” N’tho muttered to himself. He toggled to the third message.

TO: Minor Domo N’tho ‘Sraom, SpecOps
FROM: Major Domo Khuf Toruf, 895th Battle Group
RE: Hot stuff

Hey there,

If you want some excitement, give me a call.

N’tho blinked again. “I don’t even know this guy!” He glanced at the subjects of the next few messages; they all appeared to be either come-ons, or invitations to the SpecOps party which also contained come-ons.

Nitro liked sex a lot and he liked attention even more, but as he scrolled through the very long list of messages waiting for him, he developed a sinking suspicion that he had gone from the 812th’s unit slut to being the go-to guy for the entire Fleet of Retribution. How had it happened? By the Rings, there weren’t enough battle accolades in the entire Sangheili military to compensate for the infamy he’d heap on his family name if he took up even half these invitations. He was recognizing names. Names of people he knew damn well had wives or bondmates; names of commanders; names accompanied by some very graphic subject lines which managed to shock even him. What could possibly have caused this?

Then he heard the beep of a live transmission. Feeling agitated, he activated the line. “Minor Domo ‘Sraom,” he said nervously.

“N’tho!” came a gravelly voice, and the image display unit showed a familiar face looking back at him.

“Piro,” Nitro said with a grin, “What’s up?”

Piro ‘Kipaz was Nitro’s best friend in his old unit, the 812th Battle Group. An older Sangheili, Piro should have retired to Sanghelios by now, but he stayed on in the fleet anyway. ‘Kipaz would not be the first elder who preferred death in combat to life under the command of the Home Guard officers—ranking females.

Piro was one of the few Sangheili in the 812th who N’tho hadn’t fooled around with. Nitro had offered once, but Kipaz had insisted that it would be wrong. Apparently he viewed N’tho like a nephew.

It had been the only rejection that had ever left N’tho feeling good. There was something nice about having a friend who didn’t like you just for sex. It had felt comforting to know that Piro was around looking out for him, particularly when he’d done something stupid. And Piro had been so proud when N’tho had received his commission to SpecOps.

“Nothing good,” came Piro’s crackly voice over the line.

Nitro frowned. Piro, on the Shadow of Intent, was supposed to be picketing High Charity. Why was he close enough to Earth for instantaneous transmission?

“An infected cruiser is heading your way.”

“To Earth?”

“Yes. Warn the Arbiter. And the Humans.”

N’tho excused himself, lowered the comm and waved to attract the attention of one of the Marines. After passing on the message, he spoke to Piro again. “I’ve informed the Humans. They’ll pass it on to the Arbiter and the Chief—they’re on the other side of the city.”

“Take care of yourself,” ‘Kipaz said. “When this is all over, can we get together and talk?” Piro sounded uncomfortable. “Before the others show up and want to, um…”

“Others? Show up to what?”

‘Kipaz paused. “The activities in that file you put up on the BattleNet.” He swallowed. “I have to say I’m rather surprised, N’tho. And somewhat disappointed. I thought you were going to become more respectable, start over. Remember? The last night before you went to SpecOps, you told me about wanting to make a new start. What went wrong?”

N’tho was about to say Rycl ‘Otsed and booze, but then he blinked. “I don’t know what you mean. What file?”

Now the other Sangheili looked worried. “You didn’t put that up there?”

“Piro, don’t tease.”

But Piro wasn’t laughing. “N’tho, there’s a file full of pictures, and video, of you, up on the BattleNet.”

“Pictures of me?”

“Yes. Pictures of you…you know.”

“Oh.” Understanding dawned, and horror came hard on its heels. “What?”

“Yes, it’s pretty dirty, N’tho. I’ve heard the guys around here talking, and…they think it’s an advertisement or something, half the ship wants a go…”

‘Sraom felt sick. “Piro, I told you when I got promoted to SpecOps, my days of being everybody’s fuck buddy are over. I’m a SpecOps soldier now. I’ve got to start acting respectable and stuff.”

“Nobody’s going to believe that as long as the file’s on the BattleNet.” Piro shook his head.

“I didn’t put it there, Piro.”

“Who did?”

N’tho had no idea. He was stunned to even think about it.

Suddenly the comm unit was yanked out of his hands.

“Stop wasting time,” Usze growled disapprovingly. “The Flood are in the city and you’re sitting here yapping.”

“Gimme that!” Nitro grabbed it back. “Piro, I gotta go. Message me about this link on the BattleNet and take care of yourself.”

“Be careful, N’tho.”

“You too. And Piro—thank you. I’m always going to have time for you. You’re my friend. Don’t forget that.” He shut down the communication and turned the unit off.

“Who was that?” Usze sounded huffy and disapproving. “One of your many bed mates?”

“None of your business,” N’tho retorted, “but if you must know, his name is Piro ‘Kipaz and he’s my friend, not my fuck buddy.”

“If you say so.” Uzi didn’t sound as though he believed Nitro. At all.

N’tho swallowed. “Have you heard anything about me and, um, a file on the BattleNet?”

Usze nodded slowly.

Nitro felt sick.

“Did you…look?”

Usze nodded again.

Nitro felt sicker.

“Okay, give it to me.”

Usze tilted his head. “What?”

“You’ve got something to say to me. I know it. So say it, get it over with. Please.”

“I don’t have any words to express my sentiments.” Usze’s tone of voice was an expressionless monotone; between the blank voice and the helmeted head, Usze’s private thoughts were an enigma. N’tho wondered if he had any, or if he was completely blank inside as well as out.

N’tho bowed his head. “What is my punishment, Blademaster?”

“Did you put that file on the BattleNet?”

N’tho shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Do you have access to Fleet security cameras?”

“No, sir.”

“Do any of your…bed mates…have that kind of access?”

“I don’t know, sir. Maybe.” He looked up, curiously, not daring to ask why.

Uzi put his hands on his hips. “Whoever put that file up used Covenant security cameras to take those images. I had clearance to access the coding. What I do not have is clearance to get the name of the individual who posted it. It’s protected, up to a very high level.”

N’tho felt a glimmer of hope. “So you believe it wasn’t me with a camera posting that to…er…advertise.”

“Even if you didn’t post it, you still did those things, ‘Sraom. I am, ah, uncertain how to properly convey my shock, disgust, and general disapproval. That being said, yes, I do believe that you were unaware of both the filming and the public posting of said images.”

“Can you…” N’tho swallowed. “Can you get that file removed?”

“Not without informing Commander ‘Vadum.”

N’tho swallowed again. “Then…”

“Which has already been done. Unfortunately, we’re both aware of the fact that he has more pressing concerns.” Usze leaned over and asked softly, “Why do you do it, Nitro?”

N’tho regarded the Blademaster. Uzi was close to him…really close…and his helmet was right next to N’tho’s mandibles. If Nitro reached out his hand, he would be touching the Blademaster. ‘Sraom did not dare to move at all.

“Why don’t you find a bondmate and settle down?”

“I’ll never have a bondmate,” N’tho replied, his eyes on the ground.

“Why not? It seems to me a fine warrior like you should…“

He flinched away. Usze’s kind words hurt, and Uzi must not know about… He didn’t want to be blindsided by the Blademaster’s condemnation when ‘Taham read his file in detail. He didn’t want to watch Uzi’s attitude towards him change from this new kindness to disgust.

Or maybe ‘Taham already had read it, and he had gone from simple needling to twisting the knife in deep. Maybe Uzi was being cruel…sarcastic…knowing all along that the simple dream of a bondmate was forever out of N’tho’s reach.

When Sergeant Johnson radioed that the assault on the Flood-infested city had begun, N’tho felt a sudden relief. Right now he’d rather face the Parasite then confess his sins to Blademaster Usze ‘Taham.