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Inferno - Chapter 3: Night Terror
Posted By: Skul<skulkrusha2000@hotmail.com>
Date: 29 June 2006, 11:47 pm
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2139 hours, June 11, 2553 (Military Calendar) / Fire Base Bravo Foxtrot, Planet Earth
"So there were these three Jackals creeping round the side of this building, right? They thought they were real sneaky, but I showed 'em just how sneaky they were by givin' 'em a fragger! Boom! Man, what a mess!" Corporal James Peterson relived flamboyantly to Erim 'Strenbilee, a strong, serious Sangheili, who stood with his arms crossed and an expression of fake interest on his face.
The relatively recent, if tenuous, alliance of the humans and the ex-Covenant races had led to the species living in unity. There were still tensions between both parties and many were not happy about having to live alongside those they still considered enemies. However, others were glad to have the Sangheili, Unggoy and Lekgolo races allied with them. It gave them more of a chance to defeat the Covenant forces that had scattered after the demise of the Prophet of Truth and the victory on Earth.
The ex-Covenant, often respectfully being called Ex-Coves, had started to find homes, whether temporary or permanent, on human colonies. At least, those that would permit them to.
Erim looked at Corporal Peterson as he pretended to throw a grenade and then spread his arms to mimic an explosion.
"Really? Interesting…" replied Erim before turning his head to look out a nearby window, his deep blue robes rustling.
"You don't believe me, do ya?"
"I did not say that," Erim said, evenly, his gaze still on the dark sky outside. Trees silhouetted against the deepening blue sky waved in the warm summer breeze.
"No, but you implied it," said Peterson reaching for his beer bottle which he had set down on a nearby table, allowing him to give a visual representation of his heroic tale.
Erim turned his head back to look at Peterson and said nothing.
"Hey, I don't hear you tellin' any of your stories," Peterson said in response to Erim's gaze.
"I am not a story-teller," the Sangheili stated, simply.
"Yeah, right! Come on, you gotta have some cool stories to share!"
"I have none I wish to relate."
"Is there anythin' I can do or say to make ya tell some?" Peterson asked, absently scratching behind his ear.
"No."
The Corporal raised his eyebrows briefly and shrugged, "Alright."
The two stood in the base's cafeteria, which was empty, save for them and two other marines – one brown-haired with a moustache, the other bald – who had looked over when Peterson began demonstrating his grenade throwing abilities. After Erim had turned to look outside, the two marines resumed their previous conversation.
Peterson took a swig from his glass bottle and then extended it towards Erim, "Want some?"
Erim's orange eyes glanced down at the brown bottle, then back up at Peterson.
"No."
Many of Peterson's peers questioned why he was acting so friendly towards the Sangheili. They never identified Erim by name, or spoke to him. Although there was no hatred towards the Sangheili warrior, they were still not comfortable around his species.
Peterson couldn't answer his friends' inquiries, simply because he didn't know why. He had only saw Erim standing alone by a window and decided to talk to him. The long-necked warrior had been surprisingly responsive, but was initially confused by the Corporal's strange speech patterns, especially the "Wassup?" Peterson greeted him with.
Erim found himself warming to the human. He had never had friends, or thought about making any, but he almost considered the Corporal one.
Peterson swallowed the last of his beer and set the bottle on the table. It was then he heard a low rumble that was steadily getting louder. There were shouts and crashes from somewhere deeper inside the base.
Suddenly, the floor lifted up and settled back down like a wave as something passed under the cafeteria. Windowpanes cracked, lights dimmed, and then flickered back to life, snack and drink machines were tilted onto their fronts, smashing them open and spilling their contents on the floor. Peterson and Erim were thrown into a wall while the bald marine lay slightly dazed under a lightweight table, which had upended and landed on top of him. His moustached friend, who had managed to stay upright by grabbing onto the window-frame beside him, lifted up the table with little effort, asking Baldy if he was all right.
Baldy wasn't injured, apart from a throbbing right arm, which had hit the floor, hard.
Erim got up, quickly and helped Peterson to his feet.
"What the f…?" asked Peterson, breathlessly, too shocked to finish his question, his eyebrows knotted together in a look of confusion and worry.
"What was that? An earthquake, or something?" questioned Moustache.
"Strangest damn earthquake I ever been in," replied Peterson, despite having never been in an earthquake in his life.
"Agreed," nodded Erim.
"It sounds like the rest of the base got hit with that… wave, or whatever it was," said Baldy, listening to the sounds coming from further down the corridor.
"Huh. I can't wait to see what it's done to our bunks…" said Moustache, sarcastically.
They all turned as Peterson sighed, heavily.
"Aw, man!" moaned Peterson, "The drinks machine's busted!"
Erim walked along the cold corridor to his bunk. It was a single-bed room, which suited the Sangheili fine. When he had nothing to do, Erim often spent his time alone in his bunk, thinking or meditating.
The Sangheili shivered and wondered why it was so cold. The day had been extremely hot, but there was sufficient cloud cover in the early evening to trap most of the heat.
As Erim pondered this, a broad-shouldered marine passing by him purposely bumped shoulders with him, hard.
"Hey, watch where you're goin', Elite!" the marine spat at him over his shoulder as he continued walking.
Erim's brow came down and one of his mandibles twitched. The Ex-Coves had requested to be called by their races' true names – Sangheili, Unggoy, Lekgolo – and not what the humans had referred to them as during the Human-Covenant war. The human tags had since become kinds of insults to the Ex-Coves, although some still referred to them using human terms if none were within earshot, simply because the alien names sounded strange.
"Ignore him, Erim," said a female voice behind him.
The Sangheili turned and looked down at a smiling, blonde-haired woman. She inhaled sharply as Erim turned to face her; she still found the Sangheili race's height intimidating, even scary, at times.
Erim recognised her as Private Leslie Hughes. She was often seen smiling and always seemed to try and talk at length to him. He was uncomfortable enough with Corporal Peterson talking to him without someone else trying to befriend him. Despite not really wanting to have friends, he never gave anyone the cold shoulder.
"Haven't I told you before?" continued Hughes, "Masters is an asshole. He's just trying to get a rise out of you."
"A… rise?" queried Erim.
"He's trying to make you angry," Hughes explained, patiently.
"He is succeeding," the Sangheili replied, craning his neck to look back over his shoulder, scowling.
Hughes patted Erim's arm, "Don't worry about that big bully."
"Hm," Erim grunted, nodding briefly.
"Hey do you know what made that big earthquake?"
"I do not."
"I wonder how much damage it caused…?" pondered Hughes, her smile replaced with a thoughtful look.
"That is what I was on my to ascertain."
"Oh. Then I won't keep you any longer," replied Hughes, her bright smile returning.
Erim gave her a courteous nod and then continued on his way to his bunk, his feet slapping on the metal floor.
Upon entering his room, Erim turned on the lights, as the illumination coming in through the window from the outside lights did little to brighten the room, and surveyed the damage. He did not have many possessions, so there was not much out of place. The bed was askew from the wall and the blankets flowed from the mattress, pooling on the floor. The carved wooden chest with ornate silver trappings that contained his personal belongings had been tipped onto its front, but the lid had remained shut. The contents inside would definitely be in disarray, however. There were small cracks running along the walls and one of the windows had shattered, but most of the fragments had landed outside, only a few slivers of glass glittered on the floor.
The Sangheili's eyes fixed upon his great-grandfather's ceremonial sword, which had been shaken loose from its mounting brackets on the wall. The blade was darkened, translucent, and had been for many years. Erim bent down, grasped the handle and lifted his family's heirloom. With great care, he reverently replaced the sword on its brackets and allowed himself a rare smile. Being in the sword's presence always seemed to fill him with peace and made him feel whole. As he had done many times before, his eyes always on his treasured sword, Erim got down on both knees and loosely crossed his arms, his long fingers lightly touching the opposite arm's elbow. Lifting his gaze from his great-grandfather's sword, Erim raised his head to the ceiling, closed his eyes and slowly said a Sangheili prayer.
Opening his eyes, the Sangheili's gaze fell once more to the sword. Peace flowed through him like pure spring water, cleansing his soul. Erim's orange eyes slowly closed once more and he released a breath of contentment. Letting his great head slowly crane downward, Erim felt himself getting lighter, his thoughts dissipated like petals on the wind and he fell into a trance, a state of being that was between consciousness and unconsciousness, something that had taken him years to master.
Only thirty minutes later, Erim opened his eyes, but did not raise his head. He felt a presence in his room. If somebody had entered, he would have noticed, but not a soul was with him. The presence he felt had suddenly appeared and he had the uneasy feeling of being watched. Erim knew that his observer was behind him, he could feel it; his senses were always heightened for a short time after meditation. It also felt as if the observer was above him, too. The only creature he knew that could position itself in such a way was a Yanme'e, but that didn't seem plausible. How could it enter without him noticing? As a matter of fact, anything trying to get in undetected would fail. Security was extremely tight. The humans certainly were a cautious species; Erim would admit that.
He decided to act before the entity behind him moved. He tensed his muscles, formulated plans for as many outcomes as he could and then leapt up, turning in mid-air to face the intruder.
Erim had no idea what he would encounter, but nothing could have prepared him for the misshapen creature that stood upside-down on his ceiling, staring at him, unmoving with its dead eyes. The beast took a deep breath, its dark, spike-riddled body inflating and deflating with each breath. Erim's mandibles sprang open in shock and surprise.
As if that were a cue, the creature slowly backed up, its terrible gaze holding the tall Sangheili. The black monstrosity reached the angle connecting the ceiling to one of the four walls of the room. It took its eyes off of Erim for a few seconds to turn and face the wall and then it began climbing down towards the floor, looking at the Sangheili, once again.
Erim prepared himself for the attack which he knew would come. He watched as the horribly mutated creature slithered onto the ground as easily as a snake would descend from a tree by hanging from a branch.
He calmly studied the creature's movements, his perception still heightened by his meditation, waiting for anything that might tell him if the creature was about to lunge.
He backed up slowly, the creature coming closer, watching him. It stopped and in turn, Erim ceased moving. This was it. He sensed it. The beast was preparing to lunge.
The two stood as still as statues. The creature took another deep inhalation, and noisily exhaled, the skinny body inflating and then deflating once more. Erim observed it closely. Waiting for a sign.
The creature cocked its head.
There!
Erim slid agilely to his right, despite his flowing robes, just as the creature reared back and pounced. Without waiting, Erim grabbed the momentarily confused creature by its bony hind legs and pulled, causing the black beast to lose its balance. It hissed in rage, a sound that made Erim's skin crawl.
Showing incredible strength, the creature kicked free and whirled to face the Sangheili warrior, its hard mandibles clicking together, horribly. Rather than give his opponent time to think, Erim launched a mighty kick at the ugly, misshapen head. The creature flew and landed near Erim's wooden chest, in which his weapons were stored. Erim knew he would have the upper hand if he wielded a weapon, but he could not simply open the locked container while the creature was still a threat. He would have to knock it out or break open his chest. However, the chest was made from hardened wood. It would take some time to break it open and he was not fond of the idea, but his energy sword would give him an advantage. At that thought, Erim turned to look at his grandfather's sword and considered wielding it.
No! It is not a weapon, anymore!
Erim turned to the creature, which was already getting to its three-toed feet. It shook itself, vigorously and then began slowly edging towards Erim. The Sangheili responded by moving back, the two effectively circling each other.
The Sangheili threw off his robes, as they would hinder his movement, and raised his arms in a fighting stance as they locked eyes.
Basic combat it is, creature… thought Erim.
The creature stopped when it saw Erim raise his arms. It hissed, flexing its shoulders. Erim almost lost his composure as the creature rose up to stand on its hind legs. Several cracks issued from its back as the spine remoulded itself to support the creature in an upright position. It was now almost as tall as the Sangheili warrior.
Not wasting any time, Erim sprang forward, launching a kick at the creature's torso. It stumbled back, but did not fall. In retaliation, the creature leapt towards Erim and swiped one of its claws. The Sangheili felt a sharp, searing pain in his chest. He looked down for a moment and saw a deep, bleeding gash. Erim felt himself shaking uncontrollably. He knew he was going into shock, and he struggled to keep himself focused on his enemy.
The creature stood, waiting for him to move. Erim took one shaking step forward, and another one, watching the creature. His senses were in disarray, now. He was unable to tell when the creature was going to attack. Not waiting to find out, Erim launched a fist at the beast, but it landed with much less power than he anticipated. The black-skinned creature grabbed his arm, its sharp talons digging into his flesh, drawing blood. He tried to wrench his arm away, but the creature would not let go. Erim screamed in agony as the claws dug deeper, puncturing his strong muscles. He tried punching the creature with his free hand, but it landed with almost no force as before.
Erim knew was weakening, he could feel it. The claws in his arm were pulled out, viciously, causing fresh pain to course through his arm. He clapped one shaking hand over the punctures, sweat pouring down his face. It wasn't just shock that was affecting him. The creature's talons must have been tipped with some kind of poison. Already he could feel a terrible warmth spreading through his arm, snaking its way through his bloodstream towards his chest.
Erim began to feel weak. His vision blurred and he fell against a wall as the room canted. He pushed off the wall, but lost his balance and fell to his hands and knees. He looked up and saw the creature leering down at him. It got down on all fours, again, its spine cracking back into its original position.
Erim waited for it to finish him off. He almost hoped it would. The poison in his blood was starting to cause pains in his arm. The pain raced into his chest area like a jolt of electricity. The muscles in his arm spasmed painfully and he fell flat on his chest.
Erim lay on the floor in pain while the creature observed him, seeming to enjoy his suffering.
The Sangheili felt himself getting drowsy. He knew it must have been either from blood loss or something in the poison the creature had injected into him. He could still hear it, breathing in and out. Distantly, he imagined its skinny body, covered in dark spikes, inflating and deflating like an Earth fish he had observed on one of the human's broadcasting devices. TeeVee, they called it.
His thoughts were broken as the poison touched Erim's heart, stopping its life-giving beats. Erim grabbed his chest with his uninfected arm, rolling onto his back. His breath came in short, sharp gasps. The poison's invisible fingers curled around his heart, squeezing it. Erim felt his body going cold and then numb, his vision greying. He lifted his gaze and grimaced at the creature as it stared at him, clicking its mandibles. The Sangheili's head lolled, his vision resting on his grandfather's sword, the only shining object in a dark, grey nightmare. Erim's eyes closed and he left the world of the living.
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