FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Decart adjusted his glasses as a patch of turbulence harassed the Pelican, unsteadying his view on the holopad in his hands. He continued reading in the dim light once things settled down. His new assignment was supposedly "simple" as described by the ONI spooks that debriefed him. But he knew, it would probably be far less than that. Never once in his career was he sent on a simple job. Why would ONI hire him for "a simple exchange?" Indeed, even as he read yet another report, it seemed far from it.

Three years had passed since the Covenant invasion of Earth, and everything that transpired as a result. The media would have people believe that there was a ceasefire agreement, signed by Admiral Terrance Hood, one of the only high ranking military leaders left after the invasion, and Thel Vadam, better known as the Arbiter. To an extent, it was mostly true, and Thel's people held well to their agreement. But that was Thel and his alliance. What about all the other splinter factions that were beginning to form from the rubble? Would they extend the same courtesy?

He smiled at the thought. No, no they wouldn't. That was why he was being shipped out by ONI. Funny enough, during wartime his skills were pretty much passed on by. They didn't need linguistics and translators. They needed fighting men. And he wasn't that. But now that the war was over, the fighting men needed to know where to point their guns at, if they needed to. And it certainly was the case here.

Shanxi was a recently discovered world, very warm and temperate, largely tropical across the equator and even farther up north and down south. The polar ice caps were small, and in a zone between the vast sprawling jungles and ice, sat two jagged, rocky regions devoid of both ice and jungle. And as the UNSC explored, they found vast reserves of metals and minerals. Both of which could help them produce anything, from new infrastructure back on Earth and her ravaged colonies, to making new ships to defend them.

It all sounded very convenient to Decart. But, as always, there was a problem. Shanxi was also in the eyes of another species, and, much to the dismay of early settlers, already partially colonized by the Kig-Yar. The Kig-Yar base was impossible to find underneath the thick jungles, hidden from radar by covenant jamming tech. It was some time before the settlers bumped into their neighbors on another continent, and when they did, the situation escalated quickly.

Raids were happening at an increasing rate, and now it was evident the Kig-Yar were playing hardball. The first events were merely exploration and boldness. But now weapons had recently been involved in the last incident. The settlers had formed a militia in response and were now on edge. Anything could set them off and spark a conflict they didn't want or could win. So, the UNSC stepped in before things got ugly, and as usual, ONI was playing behind both party's backs.

Ironically it was the Kig-Yar that contacted somebody first, asking to hold negotiations on neutral ground. The settlers were eager, but cautious. The UNSC sent a small detachment of marines and ONI sent him, a translator. He was well versed in various Covenant languages, but his strong points were being able to speak them. There was a difference between deciphering a language and speaking it. And as of late it seemed the UNSC needed a lot of translators. Decart shut down his holopad and put it back in the small black bag he carried with him. Chances are he'd be arriving soon. May as well get some shuteye for a bit. No doubt it was going to be a long day.

The first thing Decart could feel after the bay doors of the Pelican opened was hot, humid weather. The morning rays of sunlight broke through the various leaves of jungle foliage around a clearing the Pelican had landed in. A small convoy of warthogs were waiting for him, and in a few minutes, things had quickly been explained. All his job to do was speak between the two leaders, and translate for both when necessary. And with that he was granted a pistol for a sidearm and shoved into the back of a troop hog with a bunch of other marines, before the pelican left and the convoy started moving.

They left the clearing and began traveling through the jungle foliage shortly after. The morning sun disappeared under the ancient trees and the humidity went up by about 10 to 15 degrees. Decart couldn't help noticing one of the marines in the troop section with him was toting a rocket launcher. He piped up over the roar of the convoy's engines.

"What's with the heavy ordinance soldier?"

The marine patted the launcher on his lap.

"Specific rules about the meeting. We couldn't bring air support, only a small convoy. But those skinny bastards didn't say anything about weapons. If we see any aircraft of theirs we shoot them down!"

Decart rubbed his chin, shrugging.

"Sounds like we're off to a great start. Restrictions before we've even met. Not a good sign."

The marine smiled, patting the launcher on his lap again.

"Don't worry sir, they so much as blink in the wrong way and we'll blast em. They don't have to be flying for us to use these launchers on them!"

Decart smiled back.

"I'll keep that in mind. Just tell me when to plug my ears and duck!"

"Can do sir!"

The trip was rather slow, with the warthogs having to maneuver around trees in their way, and cross small streams and rivers. It was already the middle of the day and they were still a few hours off from their destination. To pass the time Decart talked with the other marines in the back with him and read more notes on his holopad.

He learned that apparently on the last attack most of the Kig-Yar were using human weapons. Nobody was killed, but several were wounded and the raid was aggressive, resulting in the loss a construction vehicle by being stolen, and various supplies along with food and building materials. Definitely had the mark of Kig-Yar handiwork. They were well known for pirating before joining the Covenant, and joining up didn't seem to stop their love of it. What they would use construction materials for, he wouldn't know.

But that wasn't the issue. If somebody didn't step in now, things were going to get ugly. Not much was known on their leader, in fact, there were no confirmed reports of his or her appearance. That made Decart nervous. This seemed like something shady. They were going in with restrictions, and little intel. The fact that they were restricted to two troop hogs and one with a mounted gun to it didn't help either. But ONI wasn't paying him to think or care. He was just supposed to translate, apparently.

Decart looked over his shoulder as he heard a distant rumbling, and spotted the second transport warthog breaking away, taking its own path through the thick jungle. He turned to the marine with the launcher from earlier.

"Where are they headed?"

"We're not going in without some backup sir. They'll come running if we need them."

"Scouting?"

"You could say that sir."

Decart leaned his head back. At least the UNSC shared his concerns. Maybe they weren't in so much trouble as he thought.

It was past noon when they finally slowed, coming to a halt in the jungle. They killed the engines, sitting in the jungle. A murmur quickly spread through the hog as the occupants looked forwards to the scene that presented itself. A large portion of the jungle had been scoured away, burnt to ash in a perfect circle. The ground was blackened and charred, without a single shred of plant life remaining.

The marines began dismounting, while the driver of the passenger hog started up the engine again. Decart followed suit, clambering out of the back of the hog, striding towards the only other normally clothed person around. He held his hand out in range to the man, a decently well-built man, accustomed to hard labor. Although he looked like a regular worker, Decart knew otherwise.

"You must be Cain, Dr. Cain Lethbridge, right? I'm Decart."

The man shook his hand.

"Good to meet you Decart. You were just flown in a few hours ago?"

"You bet."

"Did you get any briefing on what was going on here?"

"I'm just a translator. I'll tell their leader what you're saying, and vice versa."

The man nodded, before scratching the back of his head nervously.

"To be honest with you, all this business has got me on edge. How do we know we aren't walking into a trap? We start calling for help to anybody that would listen, and a week later, this bunch calls us, seeking a truce. It's too convenient."

Decart smiled.

"You read my mind Dr. Cain. But, I'm afraid I'm not being paid to think about that."

Cain laughed nervously.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm not getting paid for this at all. Hell, I'm not even anyone important. I'm just the head of the research staff. I got promoted after we landed when our captain had a stroke."

Decart patted him on the back.

"Considering you got the chain of command for the colony ships, and managed to put together a small community in about a year's time, you've done pretty damn well if you want my opinion Dr. Cain. Hell, we'll do this thing, and get a decent truce set up between the Kig-Yar. It'll be something to tell your kids about. You wait and see, the Kig-Yar have been good before, and are open to working together. I'm confident this'll turn out well."

Cain looked skeptical.

"You think so?"

Decart shrugged, adjusting his glasses.

"If not, that's what the marines with the rocket launchers are for."

Cain smiled, and was about to say something when a marine shouted.

"We've got contact! Look alive people, let's get moving!"

The transport hog pushed through the bush into the clearing, coming to a stop to provide a barrier for troops, while the chain gun hog stayed behind in the dense jungle, keeping its gun pointed at the clearing. A marine approached Decart and Cain, carrying two vests.

"I'm going to have to ask you gentlemen to put these on, for protection, you understand?"

Decart nodded, as did Cain, removing their coats and strapping the vests on. The marine waited patiently as Cain fiddled with straps.

"Now, the plan is if everything goes south, we've got clear lines of sight on the Jackals in the clearing. But you'll be standing in the way. You can either try to run to the side back to the troop hog for cover, or hit the deck. Both aren't very good options, but it's the best we can do. You should be below the path of our fire if you hit the deck, but that might not stop the Jackals from going after you."

Decart adjusted his glasses, watching Cain who appeared very tense.

"Dr. Cain, I take it you have a sidearm?"

The man nodded.

"Okay then, here's the ground rules. Hand off the gun unless bullets start flying. But even then, wait for my signal."

"What signal would that be?"

"I pull out my gun and start shooting."

"I thought we'd try to clear the area."

"We will, but we need to cover ourselves if we can. If things go south, I'll cover you while you move. Just don't shoot me in the back okay?"

The two shook hands, while the marine watched.

"Good luck out there you two. Ready to start this thing?"

The two nodded in unison.

Decart had done many negotiations like this one over the past few years, and was almost at home in the situation. Some had gone bad, and others had paid off well. As far as this one was concerned, it had started out reasonably. The leader of the Kig-Yar had approached, with a small escort of armed warriors, all sporting heavy armour and using miscellaneous UNSC weapons. The fact that they approached so openly with them worried Decart. They had either stolen them from elsewhere or worse, were bold enough to kill men and women for them. That probably didn't sit well with the marines positioned behind him.

Dr. Cain opened up with the introductions, and he spoke to the leader, who came to be known as Reth. The talks were simple, with Cain primarily asking why they felt the need to attack the colonists, to which Reth replied with what Decart was expecting. They wanted this world, and already had a claim. But Dr. Cain was smart, and when questions arose about the recent theft of digging equipment, the spindly alien dodged the questions.

Decart watched the yellow eyes of their leader as questions were dodged, and noted the quivering of his spines. They were hiding something, that was for sure. Dr. Cain picked up on it too, and asked more insistently, but Decart backed him down. Their primary goal right now was to establish a truce, no more, no less. They could work out other issues later. Things got back on track, as Reth and Cain discussed a truce, but Reth continued to bring up equipment. The Kig-Yar wanted a ceasefire in exchange for equipment, weapons and tools.

Dr. Cain wanted to know what they would be used for, whether or not they would simply turn on the colonists once they got what they needed. It was here things began to get ugly, slowly spiraling downhill, as the two began arguing. Decart was out of the situation suddenly, finding himself in the midst of an argument as two species began yelling at each other in their own languages.

Dr. Cain stood tall, facing Reth, and in a flash, things ignited. Reth shoved Dr. Cain, to which the man responded with the worst possible action Decart could think of. Dr. Cain's hand reached down to his belt, to the pistol, and in less than a second, things sped out of control. A beam of purple energy appeared for less than a fraction of a second, passing cleanly through Dr. Cain's head and out the back, splashing blood over Decart's face.

He could vaguely hear the marines scream something before another purple lance of energy cut into the jungle. Reth's eyes fell onto Decart's as he signaled to his escort. They advanced on Decart, activating their signature energy gauntlets in the process. Decart held his hands up in the air, knowing that a sniper probably had his sights on him. The escort moved in front of him, blocking him from the hail of gunfire that was now coming his way from the surviving marines.

Piercing screams filled the air as more shots from the snipers rang out, and suddenly, the scream of Banshee's could be heard. Plasma bolts rained down past the clearing into the jungle, and in kind the woosh of rockets could be heard in response. The pistol was pulled from Decart's belt as he was forcibly pushed over to the other side of the clearing with Reth. He didn't get a chance to see much after that, as one of the heavily armoured troopers bashed him in the back of his head with the butt of a gun. He dropped to the jungle floor unconscious.

Cold. Weariness like he'd walked a thousand miles. The world was spinning into place, as he felt the throbbing in the back of his head. Sounds became more noticeable, the hum of something, like a small insect in his ears. And then he opened his eyes, to dim light, in a confined space. Purple walls. Purple ceiling. A box. He looked downward, to a shimmering energy barrier. A cell. He closed his eyes again, wishing the cold on the back of his skull to go. The throbbing. The hum of the barrier. He passed out in sleep again.

Voices stirred him into motion, as he opened his eyes, wearily looking up to the alien figure of a Kig-Yar, standing over him, holding something in its talon like fingers. A blast of deep cold washed over him, as he was hosed down with ice cold water, the force of it sliding him across the cell floor into the wall. Decart raised his hands as he screamed out from the shock of the water, until it finally subsided, dying down to a trickle from the hose, leaving him shivering in the corner, watching as the Kig-Yar raised the hose up and stuffed it into a compartment in the ceiling, which closed promptly. Without a word he stepped back, and in his place came the familiar form of Reth, clad in heavy armour, leering down over him.

The Kig-Yar bent down on his haunches, his deep yellow eyes piercing Decart's. He spoke in his own tongue, Decart's foggy mind struggling to piece together what he was saying.

"...........will work for us. We will give you tasks, and you will translate for us, or you will die. Simple."

Decart muttered incoherently as a response.

Reth stood up, exiting the cell, activating the barrier.

"Work will start in two days."

Reth left Decart alone, shivering in a corner of his cell.

One full day passed by while Decart rested in an uneasy state. Whoever had smashed the back of his head was strong. He was tired and in a constant state of hunger. He didn't even know how long he had been out for. And on the second day, work arrived as Reth promised.

He was cuffed in energy gauntlets around his arms and feet and hauled out of his cell, while a trio of Unggoy hauled into Decart's cell what looked like a terminal. When all the work and setup was complete, his cuffs were removed, and he was thrown back into his cell. Reth stood on the other side of the force field.

"You work you get food. Your job will be to translate reports that come into this terminal, and then send them to the others in this base."

Reth left Decart alone with the terminal.

For the better part of an hour, Decart tried using the terminal, trying to figure out how to use it. To his most unpleasant surprise, he found the terminal was in Sangheili language, rather than Kig-Yar. He wasn't so sharp in their language department. He had learned a good portion of how to speak it, but was short when it came to actually translating their glyphs. His frustrations grew ever more as he continued hitting dead ends on the holographic display, until eventually he slammed his fists on the console, turning to the barrier.

"GOD DAMMIT! THEY GIVE ME A TERMINAL I CAN'T READ! WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS!?"

He banged his head against the barrier, thinking, remembering the glyphs that led to red around the edges of the hologram, dead ends. He took off his glasses, sighing deeply, before returning to the terminal. His hands danced on the controls, as he remembered which glyphs led to dead ends. He successfully got past two blue glyphs before the terminal flashed red again. He lashed out, kicking the terminal.

"SON OF A BITCH!"

He backed up against the opposite wall of the cell, removing his shoe and throwing it at the terminal.

"AAAAAAH FUCK!"

He paced back and forth in his cell, when a voice cut through his fuming. He did a double take at the source and the words being spoken.

"Try turning the glyphs. Different rotations mean different things. Connect them together to form words."

He leaned against the barrier in his cell, looking across. In the cell on the other side, sat a lone Sangheili. He couldn't make out much for details, as his barrier was fuzzy, and supposedly theirs was too, or he believed, what sounded to him like a she. He spoke against the barrier in his cell.

"Hey! Who's in there? What are you doing in there?"

He got silence in response. Shifting his attention back to the terminal, he began doing what the voice in the other cell had said. And sure enough, things began to make sense to him. He already began to recognize symbols now that he twisted and joined certain glyphs together. Soon enough he was passing through various layers of encryption, and was beginning to understand what some of the unfamiliar ones meant. He spoke with some care, trying to choose his words as he remembered the sounds in Sangheilian.

"Thank you. Thank you very much!"

Only silence greeted him, but he continued on, beginning to decipher the data. Through his work he found a database of the Kig-Yar alphabet, and began translating. He smiled as he began to make his way further down a string of glyphs, writing them in Kig-Yar. He would have his god damn food, at the very least.

Over the course of the next month, Decart worked frantically through reports, to the clearly shown delight of Reth and the other Kig-Yar who accompanied him. Reports slowly got longer and more complex, but Decart pieced them together, translating them in full. And then, suddenly, the reports changed. He'd get a new order, like translating Unggoy into Kig-Yar.

Again, in a repeating cycle, he'd attempt to figure out what spoken words matched with symbols, and was met with frustration at more dead ends and lockdowns. And then, sure enough, came the quiet, whispered words of the prisoner across from him, regarding help and clues on the language.

And so he continued work on the next language, and the next language, over and over, while his temper grew short from being in confinement so long. Outbursts of frustration became more frequent, more violent. But, so did the talk from the prisoner in the cell across from him. She, and he was sure that it was most definitely a she by now, began to respond in turn with his frustration, giving encouragement and more in depth explanations, all in that quiet, hushed tone of voice.

Reth's visits became less frequent, as more reports were fed to the terminal instead. And, one day, nothing showed up. His terminal remained blank. He grew anxious, worried, and paced back and forth across his cell, as frustration rose from inactivity. He resorted to shouting, asking for anyone, banging the terminal. Anything to get something happening. But nothing ever came. He rested his head against the barrier, tired from all the energy spent for nothing. He slid down against the wall of energy, sliding to his knees, when the now familiar soft voice of the Sangheili in the cell rang out.

"It looks like your work is done."

Decart looked across to the blurred figure.

"How do you know?"

He was met with silence again. He banged his head against the barrier.

"Please talk. Please don't do this to me. DON'T YOU LET ME SIT HERE LIKE THIS! YOU SAY ONE SENTENCE AND STAY QUIET FOR WEEKS!"

Decart turned to the terminal, watching it sit, inactive. Rage flowed through his veins, as he found himself rushing towards the terminal, slamming his body into the heavy device, again and again, until it started to rock. He pushed with all his might, knocking the thing over on its side. He started punching the controls, ignoring the blood spattering from his knuckles, as he tore into the machine, ripping into the circuitry and pulling it apart. He started raving incoherently as he tore things out and stomped and kicked, when from nowhere a shot rang out.

Decart turned, seeing the figure of Reth on the other side of the door. Advancing towards the barrier, with bloodied hands raised, Reth lowered the barrier, pointing a carbine at him.

"Take one step out of your cell and I will kill you, here and now!"

Decart stood there, murderously, waiting for what Reth would do.

"Your work is done. Normally I would execute you here and now, but for your services rendered in assisting us with making a translation program, I will grant you one day. I will be back tomorrow. Enjoy your night."

The barrier slid back up, leaving Decart standing there, amongst the ruins of the terminal in his cell. A strange mood crept over him, a coldness as he replayed the words in his head. He was going to be executed. Tomorrow. After all the work he did. And he wasn't even going to be set free.

He fell to his knees, broken. He was suddenly aware of everything in his cell. The cold floor. The cold, metal walls. The broken terminal pieces scattered all about. His dirty, worn clothes which suddenly smelled awful to him. The cracked lenses in his glasses. And this was it. This was all he got. Sobs overtook him as he sat in the middle of the cell.

Decart sat there, sobbing softly for hours, rocking himself on the spot. When the prisoner spoke.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have helped you. They would have kept you alive longer if you couldn't do it right away. They would have beaten you, or worse. But you would have been alive."

Decart looked up from hanging his head, to the blurred figure in the cell across from him. He wiped the tears from his eyes and glasses, sniffling before speaking.

"How do you know that?"

The prisoner responded, for the very first time.

"Because they've done it to everyone else in this place. They know not pity, or remorse. That's why, once a long time ago, they were in these cells."

Decart squinted at the blurred figure in the other cell.

"They're not colonists then?"

"If that's what they told you, no, they're not. They're convicts."

Decart was now lost, setting aside his current position completely, entranced by the voice in the other cell.

"But, why a planet like this? They love warm, jungle environments."

"Psychological reasons. They know what's up above, but were never allowed freedom. Instead they were trapped down here, in the cold of metal and stone, and the dim light. It broke them."

Decart spoke, dragging himself closer to his own barrier.

"So, who does that make you?"

"I...... I was......am, an Engineer. I was called to this station just before the Schism. This place was old, and needed updated facilities, and more importantly, weapons. I was tasked with repurposing the outdated weapons and equipment as best I could. Then the Schism happened. In the chaos Reth got free, and freed all the others."

"So, you've been in that cell ever since?"

"Mostly."

"Why have they kept you around for so long?"

"In the beginning they tried to use me to set things up. I refused. I destroyed all their crucial equipment instead."

"Punishment then?"

"I.....yes."

Silence filled the cells as the prisoner didn't reply. Decart lightly banged his hurting, now wrapped up hands against the barrier.

"Hey! Don't leave me! Please don't stop speaking!"

He frantically tapped his hands against the barrier, rising to his feet. He continued frantically tapping, when all of a sudden the barrier vanished, leaving Decart leaning against nothing. He fell out of his cell, to the floor beyond. For a moment he was dazed, stunned that he was out of his cell. The voice of the prisoner rang out again.

"You speak very good Sangheilian, for a human. You can either wait for death here, or take your chances and try to escape."

Decart was up on his feet, but instead ran over to the cell across from him.

"You're not coming? I-I-I can't fight! I'm just a translator!"

"That doesn't change the fact that you'd have better chances out there than waiting in here."

Decart leaned against the barrier of the other cell, squinting to make out the Sangheili inside.

"If you can lower my barrier, you can do yours right? If you can't I'll help you! Just tell me what to do!"

"No. I'm staying here."

"Why!? Help me and we could both make it out of here!"

"I can't."

"I'LL BE COMMITTING SUICIDE IF I GO ALONE!"

"My people believe dying in battle is an honorable death, over waiting for it to come onto your doorstep."

"MY PEOPLE DON'T!"

"Then there is nothing more to say."

Decart placed his hand against the barrier.

"Please."

Silence filled the cell block as he waited.

"If you won't come with me, then I'm not leaving. But, can you at least do a dead man a favor?"

"What would you have me do?"

"Can I see you?"

Again, silence filled the cell block, as Decart waited, his hand placed hopelessly against the barrier. The figure inside stirred, and suddenly, the barrier began dissipating.

The barrier disappeared completely, revealing the tall, slender figure of a Sangheili woman, wearing a jumpsuit and ragtag bits of material wrapped all around her. Deep orange eyes met Decart's from the various materials wrapped around her head. She stepped back, her hands clasped tightly together. Decart adjusted his broken glasses with one hand, noticing his other hand was still held up to where the barrier once was.

He held his hand out, as if the barrier was still up. He watched with hushed breath as the Sangheili slowly, and very carefully, extended a hand to him, with quivering fingers, pressed her hand against his. She held it against his for a second, before recoiling, clasping her hands tightly together. She spoke from beneath the various rags wrapped around her head.

"You have seen me. Now go."

Decart stood outside the barrier, watching the strange sight before him. He had felt the hand of her, and knew instantly. He moved his foot forward slowly forwards, and watched as her eyes lifted in fear, as he trespassed closer to her. She reached for a bundle of cables hanging from the wall near her.

"Don't come any closer! I'll activate the barrier if you do!"

Decart stepped back, raising his hands up in the air slowly.

"I don't want to hurt you. I want to know, why are you afraid?"

She wrung her hands together tightly, retreating back into a corner of her cell.

"I can't. I don't want to talk about it. Not with you."

Decart stood on the threshold of her cell, watching as she huddled in a corner.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I can't fight those Kig-Yar, how could I fight you?"

"You might not fight me."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I ca.."

Both of them turned as they heard high pitched barks and growls as Unggoy were coming closer to the doors of the cell blocks. It was feeding time.

Decart turned back to his cell, to find the barrier of his was back up. He turned back in panic to the Sangheili in the cell.

"I'm sorry, I can only lower one at a time."

He looked around frantically for somewhere, when he decided he only had one option. He stepped into the cell with the Sangheili, who gasped, shrinking down low in the corner. He rooted around in the panel of wires, looking for the right ones. He turned to the Sangheili.

"Which one!?"

She nearly screamed out, covering her mandibles with one hand, pointing to a loose disconnected wire. Decart joined it with the other one he found, and watched as it sparked, raising the barrier up for her cell. He heard the doors slide apart as the bickering Unggoy wandered in. He looked to the Sangheili in the corner. Unggoy weren't the brightest, but they could figure out when two people were in a cell together. But with the blur of the doors, they might not distinguish two people. He looked over to the Sangheili.

"I'm really sorry about this."

He moved towards her, scrunching up his figure as close to her as possible. She recoiled violently, keeping a hand pressed tight against her mandibles. Decart, hoping against hope, pressed his hand to hers to help keep her quiet. The fear in her eyes as he breached her space was almost overpowering to him. He had never seen such fear before, especially from a Sangheili. But, he had seen fear like it in people before. Fear for your life. The kind of fear that came from knowing you would never again be safe, the sanctity of everything about yourself having been broken and violated.

The two stayed motionless as the Unggoy jabbered and went about their business, dumping the food in Decart's drop box, and then turning to the Sangheili's cell. The thumping of fruits and various other things could be heard as they slid down into the drop box, and the Unggoy slid the box closed, grumbling to its companion as they wandered out of the cell block. Decart looked over to the Sangheili, speaking quietly to her after he heard the doors slide shut.

"I'm going to take my hand away now. Please don't scream."

He watched with anticipation as he pulled his hand away slowly, watching her eyes dart back and forth nervously. As he pulled his hand away, she let hers slide down onto her lap, as she breathed heavily, watching him. Decart slid away from her slowly, backing away to the corner of the cell, resting against the barrier.

The Sangheili watched him, before wringing her hands together tightly.

"You stepped inside my cell! And....you....you didn't do anything!"

Decart stayed resting against the barrier.

"Why would I? I already told you, I didn't want to harm you."

"But why else would you be so interested in seeing me!?"

He watched her orange eyes dart about frantically, before focusing back to him.

"Because, I needed help, and you wouldn't go with me. Going out there is suicide for me. Staying put means I get executed. If I pick either, I want to see the only other person who's been down here with me this whole time."

"You've already seen me! Isn't that enough?"

"No. Because now I want to talk to you. You're worse off than I am. And, I'll be honest, since I don't have anything to lose, you look very nice, for someone who's been cooped up in here for so long."

The Sangheili brought both of her hands to clasp her mandibles, eyes widening in shock. Decart leaned forward.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

She shook her head back and forth before removing her hands.

"You're the first person I've ever talked to in....since I was put in here. And then you step in here and......."

Her voice trailed off as she clasped her mandibles shut again, closing her eyes tight. Decart stood up, staying against the barrier. He spoke quietly as the Sangheili huddled in the corner.

"I'll go now, if you want."

Decart moved over to the bundle of wires hanging from the ceiling, working to disconnect the two that kept the barrier up in the cell. As he fiddled with the bundle, adjusting his glasses, the Sangheili looked up, and in an instant, was up on her feet. She launched herself on to Decart, crashing onto the floor over top of him. Decart raised his arms up to his face, shielding it. She pried his arms apart, sliding the cloth away that covered her face, leaning down and kissing him. Decart pushed against her, but found it useless as she bared down on him. She pulled away, and Decart, with shaking hands re-adjusted his glasses.

"Whoa whoa whoa, slow down here! If you want me to stay, I'll stay!"

The Sangheili was stripping rags from her hands and arms, revealing her very pale grey skin, and began roaming over Decart's clothes.

"Your hand, when you touched me. You didn't want to hurt me. It felt good. I want you to make me feel alive again!"

Decart only managed to stagger out partial words when she leaned down, and pressed her mandibles to his lips again, ripping his shirt open in the process. Decart looked into her orange eyes, now with a hint of animalistic, predatory instinct behind them, and feared he had yet again stumbled into something he didn't want to be a part of.

But, as the Sangheili began removing more of the raggedy bits of material from herself, leaving only her tattered jumpsuit, which revealed her rather skinny, but curvaceous frame, a small switch was flicked in his head. One which quickly ignited a small fire as she slid the zipper of her jumpsuit down from the base of her long slender neck, all the way down to just below her navel.

Decart was thrown off, but the Sangheili apparently didn't want to wait, and grabbed his wrists, dragging his hands up to her chest, and sliding them past her jumpsuit. She shuddered visibly, her mandibles going slack as Decart's hands gently gripped her breasts, tilting her head back. Her hands left his wrists, but Decart didn't need her encouragement anymore. He squeezed her breasts gently, almost massaging them, before he slid his hands downwards, opening up more of her now loosened suit. The sight that greeted him fully explained why this Sangheili was the way she was.

As her jumpsuit was pushed aside, revealing her pale grey skin, Decart could make out scars, everywhere. Cuts, lashes, even burns. It was now like almost a horror show to him, as he slid his hands lower, along her slender frame, very gently passing over her scars, as if they would hurt her if he wasn't careful. She was enjoying it very clearly, as her mandibles were slack and she seemed to be somewhere else now, occasionally moaning when he traced along the curves of her midsection.

Every scar told a story, and as much as he was suddenly enjoying roaming his hands over her soft exposed skin, a sadness filled him. He continued roaming lower down her stomach, tracing a finger around her navel, as she placed a hand on his chest for support. His heart jumped at the contact with her slightly rougher skin, which caused him to now trace both hands down her generous hips, under her suit. He pulled himself up, pressing his lips to her navel, gently traveling upwards with small kisses across her skin, while sliding his hands under her suit down her soft hips, trailing down to her ass.

She moaned as he traveled higher on her chest, while traveling lower with his hands, gently gripping her ass under the tight confines of her suit. She began leaning back, and Decart traveled with her as they made the transition. The new angle allowed Decart to travel higher now that she was on the bottom, and he carefully played with her nipples, pinching them with his teeth. Her arms traveled up, clasping his back now, as he leaned in close, traveling further up to her slender neck with his kisses.

She raised her long legs up, further letting the zipper of her suit slide down, while momentarily playing with the belt around Decart's pants, until she had everything un-done. She wrapped her lissome legs around Decart, while sliding her hands under his shirt, down his back, to his hips. She breathed heavily as Decart continued to lick or kiss her, holding him tight.

She pulled his hips closer to her, and felt his erection press against her moist lips. Her mandibles went wide as she urged him inside her, letting out a long moan as Decart slipped inside her. Decart began rocking his hips slowly and gently, as she began working in tune with his movements, using her powerful legs to help him thrust harder. The two built up a rhythm, with Decart clasping his lips to her mandibles as the two both moaned in pleasure.

Both were breathing heavily now, their time spent in the cells having weakened their bodies, but they both continued on. The Sangheili rocked her hips with Decart's keeping him pinned with her legs wrapped around him. Decart pushed himself up, grasping her hips tighter with each thrust, watching her slim body bounce with each one. The Sangheili dug her nails into his back and squeezed him tighter with her legs as he sped up. She was gasping and moaning with each thrust, as was Decart who was nearing his end. She felt it too and rocked her hips harder in response, until Decart reached his peak, bucking his hips with hers as they both cried out in joy.

Decart and the Sangheili both slid into a slow calm from their climax, coming down from their peak. The Sangheili held him close, and was the first to speak after her breathing returned to normal.

"Thank you! Thank you so much! You don't know how long I've been here like this."

Decart didn't get a chance to say anything as she kissed him again, moving once more so that she was now on top of him. She broke the kiss, removing his glasses in the process.

"But I'm not done yet. I want more."

The Sangheili stood up briefly, now stepping completely out of her jumpsuit, fully revealing the extent of what she had suffered in her time as a captive here. Just about everywhere Decart looked, he could make out scars. Her shoulders, her arms, her legs. The Kig-Yar, or more likely, Reth, had not taken her refusal and sabotage lightly. It was no wonder she was afraid of people. Even now, she showed signs of hesitation, now that she was calm. But her high had not worn off yet. And no doubt, it would rise again shortly.

She bent down to her knees at Decart's feet, pulling off his pants entirely now. She moved closer, pressing a hand against his chest, as she lowered her head down to his member, grasping it gently with one hand. Her mandibles spread to accommodate him, and Decart pulled himself back instinctively.

"Whoa! The teeth! Watch the tee......."

Decart moaned and leaned back as she gently placed her mandibles around his member, pulling her head back slowly, the points of her various sharper teeth rubbing against him in such a manner that felt strange to him, but arousing at the same time. In one simple movement she slid along his member until she reached the end, exciting him back to a full erection once more.

With things jumpstarted again, she clambered overtop of Decart, grabbing his member with one hand, lining things up, before she took his shaft completely, all the way down. Both moaned from the action, and as she rested against his hips, she leaned in closer, placing her arms over his shoulders, bringing her gentle, smooth face to rest against Decart's.

Moving slowly at first, she began to sway her hips, back and forth, using her powerful extra jointed legs to move her hips in a manner no human woman could, gently rocking back and forth. The two both felt waves of pleasure flood their systems again, as she began to move faster now. Decart's hands found their way onto her hips, helping to work with her movements, making things flow smoother. Decart began bucking his hips and response, and shortly after, the Sangheili began riding Decart, brought back to the same place she had been to earlier, lost in pleasure.

Decart and the Sangheili were both breathing heavily, as she continued to ride him at a faster pace, her hips swaying as she did so, the two's heated breath only causing things to speed up as they held each other closely. Decart's hands made their way up her arched back, which also had its own share of scars. He held on to her shoulders as she rocked, harder and harder, bringing her close to him, so that her chest and his made contact. She gasped every time they rubbed together, and soon enough, the two were at their peak again, climbing higher, and higher, until she locked her mandibles with Decart's lips, practically screaming into him as they both climaxed again.

The night was long for both of them, but eventually, the two had hit their limit. The Sangheili had ended up wrapping her arms and her legs around Decart, falling asleep after their heated sessions finally came to a close. Decart rested his head on one of her pale, scarred arms, falling asleep as quickly as she did, completely oblivious to what awaited him in the morning.

Decart woke up as a stab of pain traveled through his chest, as a Kig-Yar kicked him square in the chest. He scrambled about, looking for his glasses, finding them perched neatly on the fallen terminal of which he rested near. He raised his arms as another blow knocked the wind from his lungs. Reth stood over him, holding a Carbine to his head.

"Get up."

As Decart gasped for air Reth placed a three fingered hand on his head, pulling his hair, forcing Decart to rise.

"Normally I would have shot you while you slept, but you have done good work. Good work comes with rewards."

Decart wheezed out, still gasping for air.

"You should have given me a better reward and shot me in my sleep then."

Reth bashed Decart across his face with the butt of his carbine.

"Consider whatever I was going to give you revoked, translator. Line up against the far wall."

Decart searched for something he could use, realizing that Reth had the advantage here, keeping him at range. If he tried anything, he'd be dead. But that didn't exclude talking. Sniffling as blood trailed down his nose, Decart turned to Reth.

"Ever hear of ONI?"

Reth raised his carbine at Decart, his quills quivering.

"No. What relevance does it have here?"

"They're the ones that hired me, not the UNSC. They're a bit, well, separate from them."

Reth snarled as the quills on his head turned red.

"And how does that help you?"

Decart smiled.

"Well, it doesn't, not really. But the orders they gave me will help them. And, that Sangheili Engineer in the cell across from me was really helpful in making a virus."

Reth's quills flared as he turned his head to look behind him, coming into contact with a two handed club swing from the Sangheili. She was dressed in her ragtag apparel again, and was quivering as she took her first steps outside of her cell in a very long time. Reth was sent flying against Decart's cell wall, dropping his carbine in the process, to which Decart promptly scooped it up.

Reth attempted to rise, before the Sangheili acted, pressing her foot down against his back. She bent down, speaking so calmly and quietly, for one who was obviously shaken. She was still shaking from being outside her cell.

"Reth, as much as I would love to spend quality time with you, we need to move. So I'm going to use the most painful tricks I know about Kig-Yar anatomy. You'll die, but it'll be slow."

With her pale scarred hands, she grasped one end of his beak, and the other. Reth spoke through clenched teeth.

"Impossible! I broke you!"

The Sangheili started twisting the top of Reth's beak one way, while simultaneously twisting the bottom one another. Decart closed his eyes but heard the horrid sounds coming from Reth as the Sangheili pulled his skull one way and his bottom jaw another, hearing the snap of his bones and the horrid gurgling that followed. The Sangheili stood up, wiping her hands of purple blood. She took the energy gauntlet off of Reth, holding it out to Decart.

"You say you are not a warrior. Every Sangheili knows how to fight to some degree. Swap with me?"

Decart looked away from the twitching body of Reth, passing the Carbine to the Sangheili, while she gave him the energy gauntlet.

"I never did catch your name."

"I did never learn yours either. Let's leave it like that for now. When we get out of this place, then we can share intimate things."

Decart smiled, activating the shield as he strapped it to his wrist.

"Like last night?"

The Sangheili smiled.

"Like last night, yes. That would be nice."

Decart stood on his tip-toes to reach her mouth, kissing her briefly.

"Ready to go then?"

"Yes. It's time we both left this place."

Decart walked ahead with his shield up, the Sangheili crouched behind him. Decart smiled as the Sangheili worked on the keypad to unlock the cell doors of their block.

"I guess diplomacy lost this one."

The Sangheili smiled as she worked.

"Not quite."