CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

LA PAZ HABITAT OUTER RUBBLE, 23 LIBRAE

Thel sat in front of the bars, his legs folded underneath him, watching the two guards. It was a modified warrior’s crouch, one that let a Sangheili rest with his legs beneath him, but in a manner that allowed one to leap up and forward in the blink of an eye. He’d spent long hours practicing with fellow students in the sandy training courtyards of the Vadam keep, learning the pose; now it came as second nature.

The short, shuffling Unggoy that guarded them carried a plasma rifle too large for its frame, and Thel caught the trace whiffs of methane that leaked from around the guard’s mouthpiece. The Unggoy—an annoying lesser being—was careful to remain as close to the far wall and as far away from the bars as possible, rightly fearing the Sangheili’s long limbs.

But that didn’t stop the Unggoy from taunting them and puffing itself up. “Look, you mighty Sangheili. Look you not so mighty now, eh?”

Thel growled from somewhere deep in the back of his throat.

“You ignore the Unggoy, yes. Throw us to die at your feet. Don’t care when other races take advantage of poor Unggoy. No more. Wait until you are taken to Metisette, then see you our might.”

Thel looked over at Zhar. “Might?”

“Unggoy might is a contradiction in terms,” Zhar grumbled.

“So think you,” the Unggoy hissed. “Just you wait. Just you wait.”

“What’s this Metisette? That is the second time I have heard that word,” Zhar observed. “The Kig-Yar who locked us in here mentioned it.”

Thel took a deep breath. “It is the human name for a world around the great gas giant.” His calves burned somewhat, now. But he waited still.

Just under his feet, hidden by his crouch, was the long spear of metal. Using the edge of the bedframe, and their own strength, Thel and Saal had taken turns sharpening it further. They’d also cut rudimentary barbs into the spike by shaving out sections of the crude weapon.

Now it was a case of choosing the best moment. Thel didn’t want to waste their one attempt.

This cell, they had determined, was in one of the far edges of what Zhar had heard the humans call “the Rubble.” Though the Kig-Yar and humans were working together, this was mainly a human creation.

Before Thel’s thoughts meandered further, the walls shook and debris began breaking loose. The bars of metal holding them in started bowing and screeching as they were tortured into slightly different shapes.

Lights flickered, and Thel still remained absolutely still, like a helioskrill imitating a rock back on the home planet, just watching for a meal to unsuspectingly walk by.

As the cell plunged into darkness, Thel felt his weight lift off as the antigravity generators failed. He picked up the spear, the end of it tied off to several lengths of tightly braided sheet strips, and listened.

He could hear the Unggoy’s panicked breathing and the hiss of the methane tank as he struggled in the air.

The spear flew out from between the bars and made a wet, crunching sound as it struck the Unggoy. Thel gave the impromptu rope a quick yank, and the screaming Unggoy was pulled right into the bars.

Zhar and Saal waited there. Their long arms snapped the Unggoy’s neck and quieted it.

Saal retrieved the plasma rifle as Thel pulled the makeshift spear out of the Unggoy and shoved the body away. Bright blue blood hung in the space, expanding into large globules as the Unggoy slowly spun in the air.

“Get the lock,” Thel ordered.

After bracing himself against the far wall, Saal fired at the lock three times. Plasma blew the device away into a cloud of molten metal rivulets that flew across the room, sizzling against Unggoy skin and slapping into the wall.

The four Sangheili pushed the cell door open and floated out as the lights flickered back on.

They hit the floor, along with dried metal beads and the Unggoy’s limp body. Blood splattered the floor a split second later.

Zhar looked around the room, blinking as his eyes adapted to the overly bright human lights. “They brought us in over there.” He jutted his mouthpieces in the direction of a corridor.

Thel moved with the spear, taking point.

The Kig-Yar still here would deeply regret jailing him, he thought, as he turned a corner and spotted one of them standing by an airlock door.

Thel sprinted the length of corridor, caring little for stealth. The Kig-Yar spun, a protective shield flaring up by his forearm, but Thel struck so hard the Kig-Yar’s head smashed into the bulkhead behind him, and he drooped to the ground.

Saal peered in through the window briefly, then pulled back.

“More inside,” Saal grunted. “But they seem preoccupied.”

Thel looked at the door controls, regretting his impulse to kill the Kig-Yar guard so quickly. The collection of buttons that the humans used to control things stumped him. But he managed to tap a large green button that cycled the door open.

The Kig-Yar all turned and found themselves facing Saal with the plasma rifle aimed right at their heads.

“Remember us?” Saal said, and pulled the trigger. Long Kig-Yar faces exploded as Saal calmly shot all four in the head over their screeches of fear and rage.

“And that,” Veer said, stepping over the bodies and closing the airlock door of the ship behind them, “is why you never imprison Sangheili; you execute them.”

The walls and seats were splattered with bright purple blood. Thel looked around with satisfaction. “That is a good start,” he said, a pleased rumble in the back of his voice. “Throw the bodies out.”

Now it was time to find out what the Kig-Yar, humans, and Unggoy were up to.

And make them all pay.