“—cut that Spartan down as it fled for safety. It was a fine shot, if I do say so myself!”
Khyl ’Voramai stepped into the room that served as a mess, and his ears were met with the boastful gloating of another Field Marshal, one fist raised in the air in triumph. He met the gaze of the other warrior that the Field Marshal was conversing with, one of his own Sangheili by the name of L’noro. The young, brash navigations officer rolled his eyes, before nodding in deference to his superior, and breaking himself off from the conversation.
“Repairs on the Destroyer’s Invocation are complete, and she will be ready to join the other ships that are glassing the planet’s surface.” he reported.
Khyl uttered a noise of satisfaction in the back of his throat. “Excellent. See to it that my ship is ready and waiting. I must meet with Fleetmaster ’Utaralee.... something about Rho ’Barutamee being indisposed.” ’Voramai’s words were spoken in a hushed whisper, and L’noro’s eyes widened with surprise.
“There are rumors that ’Barutamee’s supercarrier was destroyed!” he hissed.
“I intend to find out.” Khyl answered grimly, and nodded to L’noro as the navigations officer went on his way. He then strode toward the other Field Marshal, alone now, and still looking very much full of himself. “What feat do you claim to have accomplished, Field Marshal....” He allowed his words to hang, an indicator that he expected a name to be given.
“Xul ’Konaree, second in command of the Devoted Sentries.” The shorter Sangheili stood up straighter, and shifted his gaze upward to look Khyl in the eye. “I have accomplished something that many of our brothers have been unable to, over the course of this long war. I have successfully killed a Spartan.”
Khyl closed his mandibles with a quiet clack; a gesture of dismissal. Thus far, he was unimpressed with ’Konaree’s cocky attitude, and the fact that he was trying to impress the other warriors around him. “What of it, ’Konaree?” He deliberately addressed the other Field Marshal by his surname, to show that Xul had not earned his respect.
“A shot from a Phantom, using a needle rifle. Pinged the human right in the helm as it was running for safety. It was in the city they call New Alexandria; glassing had just begun, and the few humans left were going to hide. I was lucky enough to chance upon an open plaza, and my luck would have it that a group of their armoured warriors were trying to take shelter.” Xul’s eyes gleamed. “Fleetmaster ’Utaralee was most impressed by my skill.”
A sniper’s shot. Pathetic. Khyl ’Voramai could do better than that.
“Pah! You acted like a cowardly Kig-Yar. Shooting a Spartan from afar with a needle rifle?” The taller Field Marshal shook his head, disgusted. “You act so proud of your work, but you’re a Zealot, not a Ranger, and not a Jackal Sniper. You have brought shame to our order! I can only imagine how the other Devoted Sentries would agree with me, and I am no longer of their ranks.”
’Konaree sneered at him.
“And you think you can do better?” He stabbed a finger toward Khyl’s chestplate. “Tell me, brother,” the word dripped from his jaws with sarcasm and venom, “How would you kill a Spartan and do the Zealot Order proud?”
“With the twin blades of my sword.” The hilt of the very weapon was now held in a curled fist, which Khyl shook at ’Konaree, as a thinly-veiled threat. The other Field Marshal took a half step back, and his head lowered a fraction. “That is how I have felled not one, not two, but three of the Demons. And I did not stoop to the rank of a lowly Kig-Yar to do so. I made the Zealot Order more proud than you ever could hope to, with that kill under your belt. I hope you feel shame until the end of your days.”
The doors to the room swished open, and both Field Marshals turned their heads to see who entered. Fortunately, it was Fleetmaster Kantar ’Utaralee himself, and he spared the warriors a look of suspicion. That halted any further conversation, as they spun around to bow their heads in respect to their superior. “Is there a problem here?” he queried, his voice rumbling threateningly.
“Simply a debate on how honourable Field Marshal ’Konaree’s actions were, in eliminating a Spartan. There is no trouble, Fleetmaster, of that I assure you.” Khyl said, his tone respectful. He was lucky that he had decided to replace his Energy Sword back on the armour plating of his thigh; if he’d still held it when Kantar had entered the room, he would have been forced to enter combat, as a weapon drawn demanded blood.
“Hmph. Field Marshal ’Konaree, you are dismissed. Go back to your meal. Field Marshal ’Voramai, follow me to the bridge. We have much to discuss.” The Fleetmaster swept out of the mess, and Khyl followed alongside. Halfway down the hall, they were joined by Khusze ’Voliree, Khyl’s trusted second-in-command, and likewise a member of the Zealot order.
“Rumours have it that Supreme Commander ’Barutamee’s supercarrier was destroyed, along with the corvette belonging to General Ardo ’Moretumee. Are they true, Fleetmaster?” Khyl questioned.
“True?” Khusze spoke up without being addressed, something he was not known for doing. “I was there myself, Field Marshal. I saw the whole damned thing, with my own eyes. I was headed out on patrol from the Long Night of Solace herself, in my Banshee. There was a human ship — one of their heavy frigates, I believe — as well as a dropship known as a Pelican, and a handful of fighters that are an equal match to our Seraphs, the ones you don’t see often; could be that they are experimental, or classified, or both.
Anyway, the frigate distracted the corvette Ardent Prayer, as she was headed back to the Solace on a fuelling run, and the humans boarded her, captured her as their own. Shipmaster ’Moretumee was most likely killed in the process. I didn’t see much more than that, as by the time the human fighters began to board, I hid my Banshee in among some asteroids. By the time I came out, the three warships were gone, and our relief fleet was arriving, and they picked me up.”
The Fleetmaster was unoffended or unperturbed by the fact that Khusze had spoken out of turn. Instead, his expression was grave, and there was a pensive look in his eyes that ’Voramai had not noticed earlier.
“Reports say that the humans used the Slipspace drive of their frigate as a makeshift bomb, and that the Ardent Prayer was a trap. She was sent automatically on the fuelling run, and once within range of the Long Night of Solace, the drive was detonated, and both warships were destroyed. The Supreme Commander was likely killed in the ensuing explosion, or when pieces of the supercarrier crashed down to the surface of the planet Reach. And I believe the human frigate was annihilated some time during the humans’ harassment of the Prayer, by the corvette herself.” he admitted solemnly.
“And you are now command of what remains of the Fleet of Valiant Prudence, correct?” the Field Marshal asked.
Kantar dipped his head in a nod. “That is so. And while ordinarily, as the order of things would go, Xul ’Konaree would be my second-in-command, there is something about him that does not sit well with me. While his skill as a sniper impresses me — the fact that he managed to kill a Spartan with a shot to the head is rather astounding — he is far too vainglorious for my liking.”
“Troubling, Fleetmaster.” Khusze offered, and Khyl murmured agreement.
“Indeed it is.” ’Utaralee stopped once they had reached the bridge, and pivoted to face the Field Marshal. “Which is why I have come to you, Khyl. You are a skilled warrior, having proven yourself in battle again and again. Added to that, but you are a former member of the Devoted Sentries. While they may murmur dissent at the fact that you chose to leave, which is dishonourable... They would trust you, perhaps more than ’Konaree. At least, the majority of them would.”
Khyl drew his head back, mandibles hanging slack in shock. “You are not suggesting what I think you are?”
“I want you to be my second-in-command, Field Marshal.” The Fleetmaster looked him dead in the eye as he spoke, which was easier than it had been for Xul, given that Fleetmaster and Field Marshal were nearly the same height. “I trust your judgement, your skill, your blade. And your warship is one of the biggest left in this fleet. It would bolster the ranks greatly to have someone like you to watch over them, down there on the ground.”
’Voramai touched his fist against his chestplate, bowing his head deeply. “It would be my honour, Fleetmaster, to lead and to serve directly under you.” he replied humbly. When he looked up again, Kantar’s four jaws had curled into a smile.
“I look forward to it.”