6Disclaimer: The characters used in this story do not belong to me. They are the property of Bungie and affiliated.
Genre: Horror
Rating: G
Warning: Spoilers for Halo Graphic Novel (Infinite Succour)
Author's Notes: This is my first Halo fanfiction, and it hasn't been betaed. If a kind soul would point out any errors or pose some suggestions in a review, I would appreciate it very much. This is supposed to be Gothic horror – not blood and gore – and I hope I have made it convincing. Enjoy!
Perihelion
The deep violet panels of the sparring-room's walls reflected the silhouette of Rtas 'Vadum. Each blurred image shifted as he did, in unison – then advancing, then retreating, then turning deftly on his heel, fighting his invisible foe. The light of his energy sword swept elegant trails across the walls, revealing the dents and scratches that testified to the room's frequent use. Otherwise, the room was dim, lit only by floor-lights, and its crevices were hidden. It was also quiet, as it was either time for sleep, a meal, or staffing duties for the three shifts of personnel onboard the Shadow of Intent.
Rtas preferred the calm of these periods, far from noise and bustle, and so did the Arbiter. They had trained together for some time before the other Sangheili had excused himself and headed for the cleansing chambers. Left alone, Rtas had continued to practice.
Slowly, his movements came to a stop. His sword glowed at his side as he raised his head warily, sampling the air with great attention. There was something distasteful present; only traces at first, but soon it became quite foul. Rtas frowned. With weapon at the ready, he advanced toward one of the corners draped in shadow; perhaps some vermin had crawled into the vent, he told himself; they were apt to become vicious.
He tried to ignore how similar the stench was to that of the Flood.
There was nothing at the first corner. He proceeded towards the next, following his keen sense of smell.
Someone stood at the second corner; a dark-armoured Sangheili. Upon closer inspection, it was no other than his long-time comrade and friend, Bero 'Kusovai. Rtas relaxed. Bero could be as still as death when it suited him, and just as silent. Therefore, Rtas mentally excused himself for missing his presence; after all, the room was dark, and he had been concentrated on training.
However, he tensed again upon recalling a particular phrase that he had said to Bero earlier in the day, and all that which had followed. Why had he said such a thing?
- A pleasure to meet you, he said, standing a little awkwardly in the centre of the room. He deactivated his sword and put it away.
Bero drew his sword with his left hand.
- Did you discover that foul odour also?
The question was met with no reply. Instead, the other advanced purposefully, with his sword pointed at Rtas's face. Rtas took one step back. There was great hostility in 'Kusovai's stance.
- If something troubles you, my friend, the please express it with words; I don't intend to spar with you at the moment.
'Kusovai was an excellent fighter. In the time it would take for him to retrieve his weapon, Rtas knew, 'Kusovai could drive a blade into at least one of his hearts.
Two steps forward for one, two back for the other.
Are you sending the ship into a star? Why? Why had he said it? And why would Bero be so deeply disturbed by such an innocent phrase?
It was a few units ago; Rtas had made his way to the bridge to ensure that the vessel was in order. Save for some sections come loose in the areas recently patched after being smashed by debris from High Charity, it had been an uneventful journey back to Sanghelios. The carrier travelled at sub-optimal speeds; their luck was not to be pushed, suspect repairs and all. Due to the long slipspace voyage ahead, the number of crew in the bridge had dwindled to zero.
Rtas had been surprised to find Bero there, looking at the holoscreen depicting the destination of the jump. Soldiers were known to visit occasionally, counting down the time until they would arrive back home, but Rtas had never expected such behaviour from the collected and, some would say, detached 'Kusovai. 'Kusovai had looked up, bearing an inscrutable expression, and Rtas had stupidly blurted out:
- Are you sending the ship into a star?
He had thought it to be humorous at the time.
They stepped over the threshold of the sparring room and into the corridor, 'Kusovai still holding Rtas at sword-point.
- If this is about the bridge, Bero, I can only say that I do not understand why I responded in that manner, and I hereby apologize. Nevertheless, I also cannot comprehend why I have so offended you.
- Please lower your weapon, so we may discuss this more civilly.
The back of his leg made contact with the wall. 'Kusovai's sword slid almost lazily past his remaining set of mandibles, grazing one lightly, and came to rest just beside his neck. The small wound felt as if it were on fire due to the proximity of the crackling blade. 'Kusovai's gaze was usually intense and serious. At the time, it was simply empty. Not even anger managed to surface.
And the smell grew stronger. He could almost see sickly green tendrils curling around the doorframe behind 'Kusovai - tentative at first, but soon extending their greedy grip to the formerly pristine corridor.
Echoes reached his ears. Footsteps.
With a hiss, the threatening blade retracted. Rtas turned instinctively towards the source of the distraction.
The Arbiter turned the corner, his helmet in his hand and a curious expression on his face.
- I heard voices.
Rtas glanced sideways. 'Kusovai had disappeared, as he expected. He did not prefer the company of others, and social situations often strained him.
Moreover, he was openly attacking a senior officer. The Arbiter did not need to know of this dispute, Rtas decided.
- You are bleeding.
But he would find out.
- Do you sense a peculiar scent in the air? Rtas tried to draw his attention.
- You had asked before, my friend, and I must again disagree. Who inflicted that wound?
- We were fighting intensely.
An ephemeral smile crossed the Arbiter's features.
- I did not land a single blow, and it was not due to lack of effort on my part. And I highly doubt, he continued when Rtas tried to interject, that you injured yourself during the time I was away.
- Who are you protecting, Rtas? He replaced his imposing helmet, and gave Rtas a searching look.
In each section of the carrier, there was at least one terminal, usually for the use of technicians. The two Sangheili gathered around the holoscreen.
- There, Rtas said, gesturing towards an image of 'Kusovai. The Arbiter tapped it, bringing up his information.
NAME: BERO 'KUSOVAI
And both of Rtas's hearts skipped their next beat.
STATUS: DECEASED
Collecting himself, Rtas managed an expression of confusion to replace the one of shock.
- This is an error. I must rectify this as soon as possible.
Bero could be as still as death.
He turned around. The odour seemed almost sentient, and malevolent; it had crept to this part of the training complex – surely it was following them, pulling itself along the violet halls with its tentacles. For the first time in what seemed like eternity, Rtas became extremely nervous. Subconsciously, he reached for his sword in preparation, as if the Flood were just about to round the corner.
- There is something in this ship. Perhaps … perhaps we did not rid ourselves of the contamination.
The Arbiter looked away from the screen. One side of his face was bathed in blue light.
- There are no Flood aboard, Rtas. His tone was one of deep concern.
In the dark recess between two containers full of plasma, a growth pod pulsated gently, like a diseased organ. It had begun as a single spore, fortunate enough to pass through an Unggoy's filtration system. It had commandeered its host, slowly replicating its cells and gathering more biomass – deciding correctly that a few soldiers would not be missed. Now, it grew undisturbed in the warm niche, nurturing infection forms, waiting for its chance, waiting…
Rtas forcefully shoved the image from his mind.
Are you sending the ship into a star?
Bero could be as still as death.
- Are you quite certain that you met Sub-Commander 'Kusovai?
He was promoted to Commander.
- Of course, Arbiter. I met him twice today, once in the bridge.
- I did not hear another set of footsteps in the hallway. The Arbiter's frown deepened. Nor did I smell his presence. Perhaps footage from the bridge…
Are you sending the ship into a star?
After saying that phrase, Rtas had expected a laugh, or even a curt reply in Bero's customary serious manner. Instead, his formerly impenetrable expression had transformed into one of high alertness, the one he reserved for perilous missions. The atmosphere in the bridge had changed abruptly for the worse.
Before Rtas had had time to react, Bero had stood upright and pointed an accusatory finger at the Shipmaster.
Are you sending the ship into a star?
No, that had not been Bero's accusation. It was impossible to change the trajectory of a jump after initiation … only the Shipmaster could set new coordinates… it was only a stupid phrase he had said without considering the implications… but what, then, had Bero accused him of?
- Rtas, come closer; this would be of interest to you.
When he did, the Arbiter swiftly pulled Rtas's sword from his side. He turned the hilt in his hand; inspecting it carefully, deaf to Rtas's sound of alarmed protest.
- Now, listen well, my friend.
Bero had hissed words at him as he slowly walked towards the exit, where Rtas had stood frozen. What had he said?
- The recording showed that you were alone in the bridge.
Ignorant fool. Shadow of Intent. High Charity. Flood. Destroy our race. Sanghelios. Urs. Snatches of 'Kusovai's words. Yes, he remembered now.
- Your own blood is on this hilt.
The emergency food stores could lie undisturbed for long periods if the ship resupplied frequently. There, in the most distant corner of the expansive room, grew another pod. It fared slightly better than its cousin in the weapons bay; it siphoned off nutrient water from a nearby leak, and had swelled large indeed. It was beginning to give off some of its distinctive scent, which flowed stealthily through a dusty vent near its abode. Some almost grown infection forms shifted within, making its surface stretch temporarily, but it did not burst. Like a kind mother, it held its fragile children close to its bosom and nourished them, knowing that someday they must be released into the world, and that they must grow strong. Someday soon… someday soon.
- 'Kusovai is not listed in the registry of this ship.
So Bero had been warning him. And he had not listened. Therefore, the Shadow of Intent and her crew must pay.
Are you sending the ship into a star?
Yes, he would. It was one of the most reliable ways of destroying Flood. It had worked for him before – tentacles protruded from between the plates of 'Kusovai's armour, but his head was not forced back, no, the monster within had borrowed Bero's noble face, and it had hurt Rtas more than any wound a blade can inflict … to know that honour itself was corruptible, and very much mortal.
The Shadow of Intent raced through slipspace towards Urs… Rtas slashed the control panel, in case more sentient Flood reached the bridge … the being formerly known as Bero 'Kusovai dead on the floor…
Something was profoundly wrong with his world.
Rtas leaned against the wall.
Gently, the Arbiter held him up.
- He and much of his squad perished during a mission to a Flood-infested ship, the Infinite Succour. Only one soldier returned alive.
The growth pod made a squelching sound, loud and wet. Rtas tried to erase it from his mind. Its children were restless and hungry; nutrient water could satisfy their appetites no longer. They don't exist. It made a sound, almost, but not quite, like a mother's sigh. Bero is dead. Like a mother, it was pained. There are no Flood aboard. It tried to rein in its rancorous children for just a little longer. There are no Flood aboard this ship…
He became excruciatingly aware of his own heartbeat.
Beat.
- You. The Arbiter answered the unasked question.
Beat.
Suddenly, his world corrected itself.
Corridor to his right: his private quarters. Rest. Calm. Peace. Before him: the Arbiter. Status: friendly. Corridor to his left: the bridge. Guilt. Fear. Terror. Danger, danger…
He began with a walk. A few steps later, he broke into a run, and subsequently a sprint at top speed.
- Where are you going? The Arbiter followed him.
- When I visited the bridge today, I made a change to our final destination. He spoke in an even voice, despite the run, despite the fact that his world still spun slightly, caught up in the momentum from when it had abruptly turned upright.
- I must undo it before it is too late.
End
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