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Chapter 1 - Pilot

Three hours of steady, silent traversing of the cosmos had begot the regiment with level of boredom that Specialist EvansIII-095 remarked, "Is like the waiting room outside of hell."

The endless chasm, with its various clusters of stars and nebula, had provided some spectacle of wander when they emerged from slip space travel into it. They had been designated by Central to investigate another Elite base that had been observed to attempt to activate the ring. Evans, part of the Spartan Third Class, accompanied the Spartan-II team Stigma, after being one of the surviving members of team Epsilon. Having been released from rehabilitation only a few months ago, Evans was set on assuring that the disaster which occurred previously would not occur with his team and demanded to accompany them.

"All right Spartans, you're descending at Eight-hundred meters per second: you will be arriving at in five minutes. Be ready, boys!"

"Any word on the Covenant's approach?" Staff Sergeant Harwegh asked coolly, "I expect that Defense has heard nothing about the fleet yet."

"Not yet. Resources say they will be attacking in a few days. Remember your mission, deactivate the ring and capture any evidence about the Covenant's activities if you can. We got word the Compound has around fifty Elites; but no jackals or grunts, not a problem for you boys, right?"

"That'll be a cake walk! A'ight, Central," Sergeant Harwegh replied and shuffled his shoulders, "Haha, a hundred Elites. As if we're intimidated by such a small number!"

MichaelIII-146, two Spartans down, thought not distinguishable in his white armor except by his voice, shrugged his shoulders. "Yanno, I want to see what those religious shits were doing that needed blowing Markus up to be a necessity."

"Wars are a lot like moms," Evans began with a wise tone. "You can't win them, they're usually one sided, but eeeverybody deals with their attitude afterwards!"

"What would you or any of us know about how a mom acts?" Michael laughed at Evans from across the hull, "Let's ask Ashley, she is the only thing on this ship without testosterone."

"Oh boys, I wouldn't count on that." Ashley replied with a cocky laugh from behind her visor, "The power of the womb is _nothing_to be thought of lightly."

Their descent was a carefully calculated trajectory to a secure landing space one-hundred meters from the target in a thick, frozen coppice located halfway down the knoll. Above them was the great spectrum of circumzenithal arcs and clusters of frozen debris in the outer regions of the ring. Abandoned temples lined the horizon and southern slope, and for what it seemed, the structures went untouched for decades, cast in ice. Admittedly, it was a beautiful site if the paramount dangers of the Installation were to be ignored. Great crescents of multihued mauve illumination amplified by a swirling eddy of vermillion gases in the distance made the nebula an extraordinary shell to incase the Installation.

Spartan-II Markus-B406 had been the one whom discovered the Ring's location in the Rtva system before a missile launched by a covenant ship atomized him. Markus had intercepted a transmission that evidence of ring activity was detected, and with the Human race abhorred, it was mandatory it be shut down. There was also word that a Heretic clan had recently attempted a purging of the complex, and the USNC was provoked to investigate the facility; based off the Ring's structure, the Index Chamber was under a frozen ocean, only accessible from underground.

"All right boys, nearing your drop. We want you in and out as quick as you can; but do not expect an easy ride, those tunnels can go on for miles. We'll alert you of the drop when you have the item."

"Yes, central. A'ight men, let's get up!" Harwegh chanted gaily as he stood by the Drop Hatch while the other Spartans readied them-selves for the jump. The first of the Spartans to stand was Evans, who sat near the front of the ship up right, gently nodding his head to a song.

The song was hard to describe with its archaic structure, but Evans was told to call it New-age Ambience. The music of choice was decorated with sporadic musical elements and long ethereal drones that reminded him of vortices of rutilant light and waves of azure, when he let his imagination run aloft, as was quotidian for him.

"All right boys, get ready!" Called their Commander over the hum of the ship, and he gestured towards the door and Evans snapped his head up from his daydream.

Harwegh peeled back the hatch and exposed his men to the icy tundra instantly and the men all leapt out, one after the other into the great, white abyss. The group landed knee deep in the snow, their armor locking gel preventing an instantaneous breaking of their legs from the almost fifty-foot drop. Sergeant Harwegh immediately led his men into the wilderness at the base of the temple, in which the blizzard sent in an immediate chill to the bone. The ship disappeared into the snow as they trudged past petrified trees, and Harwegh halted them as they approached the edge of a glacial cornice. They looked to the dark, circular stoned edifice two miles from their location, rising from the snow, and looked to have seventy-meter tall walls, with a span of nearly twice that size on a secondary hill. There were no identifiable roads, nor any sign that The Covenant had visited recently and more so, there were no signs of any life.

"We're going to go below," Harwegh. "I know for a fact they are going to be hiding underneath."

"Keep your eyes open Stigma; this Covenant compound could house hundreds."

Sergeant Harwegh moved up with his DMR under his arm, and led his men down the knoll, towards the great structure. As they descended the snowy knoll to the base of the great facility, they passed through another forest of tombstones so old that the names inscribed were barely visible. Evans turned down the music a few notches as he took his Battle Rifle under his arm and carefully walked along the graves, inspecting them: it was confusing to see a species have so much unnecessary interest in their dead kin.

"Seems someone visited this area recently; tracks lead through here." Evans relayed, "I'll check it out."

He followed the hoof like footprints around the ground, and around several headstones. They ended abruptly at the base of a modest tomb stone with various glyphs inscribed, though they seemed to have been hammered away. He saw dozens of others, some stones were broken in half, and others he noted had the names carved out from the stone, making it impossible to read who it was.

Evans kneeled down to inspect the site and saw that the prints stopped at the grave, with no signs of the individual leaving. He knew instantly that this was a game, and he reviewed the previous footprints, assuming the individual had walked back over their tracks. Seems someone did not want to be tracked, he noted. The Spartan stood promptly and turned to look over his shoulder at the lengthy white terrain, I wonder--what compelled them to hide in that building? Uggh--damn, my head is hurting again. Evans sighed as he felt a pressure building up behind his eyes and on his forehead, and he cussed under his breath as it became bothersome.

"What did you find, Evans?" Sergeant Harwegh interrupted Evans's thinking, "Report."

"Nothing, Sir." Evans lied about the explanation, feeling a tingling sense of apprehension. Something led him to believe they would encounter the Elites very soon, but he said nothing, considering it just his adrenaline.

"This is the largest graveyard I've ever seen." Alex remarked under his breath, "These tombstones are huge. I thought they buried their dead on their own planet."

"There are hundreds here. Probably thousands underneath too, just like the large cities of Old Earth," Michael commented. "Any idea why half of these things are covered in bars?"

"The Sangheili had a medieval superstition that the dead can come back to life." Miranda replied as she pulled her leg from out of the snow, her eyes scanning to the right. "They probably chose this place to ensure that the dead could never be reanimated."

"Haha, wonderful, so they believe in zombies _and_salvation! That old zombie Director would have had a field day with these guys." Michael laughed aloud about it, "Idiots, taking shelter in this place."

"Not a half bad idea if you ask me," Evans replied with a laugh. "Fighting the undead in a blizzard would be one hell of a--"

"Sir!" Private Ashley called out in alarm as she had taken her eyes off a gravestone, and saw in the distance the smoky vista of a group of obscured Sangheili approaching. She ducked behind a rock, "Sir, we have a group of Elites approaching me, directly ahead."

"How many do you see?" Harwegh began, "And keep your voice down, the Elites have good ears."

She looked over the stone, counting quickly, "A little more than six of them. Permission to engage."

"Do not engage. Evans, Alex, secure Ashley." Sergeant Harwegh calmly ordered, turning to his left, glaring out into the snow, activating his Thermal vision. He looked out into the field, seeing only Ashley's heat register in his vision. Harwegh asked her if she is certain that what she had seen was not just an illusion, given the velocity of the whiteout they were in, it could have caused her to hallucinate something.

"They're right by me-- roughly two meters." Ashley whispered as she glanced over her shoulder, seeing the three figures now had multiplied into ten. She placed her finger onto the trigger and waited for Evans and Alex to cover her, "Ready when you are, boys."

"I'll give the signal," Evans calmly replied as he moved briskly through the crunching snow, "Just don't blow your load before I say to. You women can't hold it in, ever.

Evans and Alex crouched down, enabling their Active Camo and circled to the right side of Ashley and ducked behind the thin wall of petrified, ebony tree trunks. Evans held his rifle upwards, taking in a slow breath and held it, looking for the beings: at first he was blinded by the storm, seeing only the thin, veil like movements of the snow. The vaporous beings stopped moving in place suddenly and Evans whispered into the comms' device, "Hang on--they might not know we're here, yet. If we fire, it could signal the compound."

Evans moved from around the trunk, sprinted towards the location, and crouched down behind a stone. He enabled his Thermo vision and looked to the location by Ashley, but something caught him off guard; he counted the present bodies, seeing only three. "Alex, how many do you see?"

"Seven." Alex replied, "Why?"

Evans shook his head, "Damn Thermal is acting up, all right, ready your marks. I have Ashley's nine; Alex, get the three."

They readied them-selves, taking only a moment to site the heads of the Elites, and Evans whispered, "Three--two--one--fire."

Evans and Alex fired at the heads, and before even a second could pass, they unloaded another round into the other bodies. The tempest had drowned out the noises, which was apropos for their sub-rosa approach.

Evans narrowed his eyes as he saw bodies drop down, and one continued advancing, unfazed by the shots. Ashley arose from behind the Tombstone, and fired through the snow directly into the torso of the obscured creature. The shadow backed away and dissolved into the storm, and Ashley rushed forwards along with the rest of the team catching up behind them. She paused when she saw no traces of blood on the ground, confident that she had hit the Elite in his torso. The other bodies were gone as well, and Evans looked over the snow for footprints, or any disturbance in the terrain, looking to Michael in confusion.

"Phantasos, report, what happened?" Central demanded.

"Nothing Central," Harwegh held up his hand to the others, suggesting they lower their voices.

"What in the hell--you saw them drop, right?" Alex began.

"Guess the Anti-Zombie protocol was out of date." Evans humored as he stood between Michael and Ashley. Their commander approached and he crossed his arms, as usual Harwegh was moody about Evans's joke, but ignored it this time, as it had made him smile.

Ashley huffed with annoyance, "There is no way they vanished. We saw them drop!"

"Or maybe you saw nothing at all. This storm will play tricks on your eyes. I don't think Central will like knowing our Spartans were shooting at ghosts." Harwegh began smoothly, "Did any of you actually identify a rank, or did you just see a mirage?"

"Forgive me sir, but that is impossible!" Evans began in a serious tone, "We saw them, and we shot them. Hell," Evans gestured toward the ground, "We hit them, but there is no blood!"

"Then they must have run off to warn the others," Harwegh replied smoothly, "Or maybe they WERE zombies, and are going back to their zombie queen. Oooooooh--"

? ? ?

The halls echoed a noisome rambling that had, since dawn, not ceased or diminished in their hourly velocity. Ranging from the ill conceived notions of grandeur from the genocide of their own species, to reiterating a mantra of destruction for the San 'Shyuum whom Eyth 'Kha placed solely all the blame upon. It was easy to ascertain how his contrived sense of valor, spawned from a churning pool of fear and anger would inspire the others.

"Only the truest warriors, the finest of the Sangheili shall prevail beyond the law of natural selection! The covenant religion is a virus, a germ perpetuated by the poisoned slaves of our fallen species! Take their religion to the absolute fundamentals, and it ensures the cultivated destruction of our brothers!"

The incessant cries of war and valor had not seemed to end this day, as was quotidian, Eyth 'Kha began the daily speech around the high afternoon. Suspicion had arisen as to whether or not he wrote the speeches, they bore a certain resemblance to a once great tyrant that Eyth 'Kha admired. Ze'ev could hear the reciprocity of Eyth 'Kha's spiel, as the men in unison called out his name, the former Commander twitched his mandible in disdain.

"There is not a joy to be had in this: you dream as a fool, in fear and in pain." Ze'ev whispered quietly in the aphotic chasm that held him. He opened his weary eyes, lifting his tired head up and looked to the dark ceiling, "The virus of this world is the expired dream you cling to."

He breathed softly as he arose from his knees; the agonizing tension in his shoulders had subsided into a droning tremor of pain. The binds that held his wrists back gave a low creak as he shifted, attempting to contract his shoulders, but to no avail. The Sangheili looked across to the wall he had come so familiar with, able to recall its smooth stone visage clearer than daylight. Nostalgia and loneliness had become even more intimately acquainted with him than warmth or comfort; after two weeks of being restrained, he had since conceded to his depression.

The world around him felt foreign, the properties associated with places, and his ken had since been mutated. Whatever memories he bore to the place he resided in were replaced by the cruel reality of his constant torture and abuse; or the nightmares that occasionally webbed his brain in endless torment. At nights he would break down into sobs of rage, he would dare not raise his voice above that of a whisper and alarm the loyal sentries outside of his room. However, far oft than not, Ze'ev found an uncontrollable anguish and regret that would consume him at his cultivated failures at the hands of Eyth 'Kha.

"The destruction of the Covenant virus is one of the greatest transformations that have taken place! The battles in which we are engaged signified are dedication to the eradication of their mutant social plague! We shall regain our health, and honor our father's blood only be eliminating the San 'Shyuum!"

A returning fervor of anger and madness attended to the dedicated ears of his brothers, and Ze'ev, formerly known as their commander, scoffed quietly under his breath at the mere mention of honor, or pride in their sacrifice to the cause.

"There is no balm in death, just the embittered life you sculpted at your feet, all of it for nothing. Like dew drops on lotus leaves--your dreams will vanish."

They sacrificed one form of servitude for another: from worshipping the Covenant to abiding by Eyth 'Kha's cruel dictatorship, Ze'ev felt despondent at his brother's lack of spirit. More than anything--it was the insanity of the now assumed Commander Eyth 'Kha that left him more fearful for his brother's lives, than his own. He could not, had he begged whatever gods that might exist, have a catharsis of the visions that tormented him when he slept. If he could for only one night beget him-self with but a dreamless night, far from the empty eyes and rictus of that dead soul--he would thank the stars for that one gift. Above him he heard movement that portent they were going to begin their afternoon spar, a ritual he had installed, and he knew that soon Eyth 'Kha would come for him again.

As he predicted, Eyth 'Kha and three others began to into his sepulcher. Light bled from the meager torch that accompanied Eyth 'Kha's hand. As light filled the room, Ze'ev's ebony body came into view, and he noted him-self that his flesh was horribly unwashed, and he yearned to bathe. Dried blood and saliva had coated most of his mandibles and there were the few abrasions on his chest and abdomen that he wished to clean as well. Ze'ev was in nothing but a darkly coloured mantle provided to him from an unknown source outside of his door, for which he was thankful. As Eyth 'Kha loomed over him, Ze'ev turned his bright eyes to the male, locking contact with his pale red eyes in the most intently critical, and watchful stare. He had fought him off before with a kick to the abdomen fresh after a meal which caused Eyth 'Kha to vomit and he prepared him-self by rising up. Since then Ze'ev's legs had been chained back, and he was rendered helpless to the beatings.

Today Eyth 'Kha wore a suit that did not belong to him, Ze'ev noted, for he was not an Ossoona. It had eluded him as to where Eyth 'Kha had accumulated such a large set of armor; he presumed that it must have been stolen from the men, or more deviously, stripped of their fallen brothers from the battle field. He felt disgusted at the notion of it.

"Close the door, lock it, now." He ordered with a fling of his hand, his voice raspy, but loud. He adjusted his gaze around the room to look for any alterations, finding it the way he had left it.

"Yes sir," one of the men grunted quietly, promptly sealing off the room.

They remained silent for many minutes in a tense, almost competitive state to see who would concede to speak first.

Yes--turn your faces away in shame, brothers. Ze'ev thought angrily to him-self as he looked over them, you will stifle under the weight of this guilt.

Eyth 'Kha stood upright and glanced over his shoulder at his brother, continuing his counter-stare into Ze'ev's blue eyes. He remarked he hated looking at his brother, whose flesh bore the somatic mutation of an abominable birth, and he had always hated the darker skin of his brother. More than anything he hated Ze'ev's eyes; they were piercingly sharp, intently focused on his every action and step.

"Did you enjoy your time meditating?" His mandibles quivered slightly as he breathed out a hot breath that turned to vapor at his lips, speaking with a tone of acid.

He lifted his head up and stood high, standing taller than Eyth 'Kha by three heads, and spoke with a deep, but tender voice. "On a journey ill; my dream goes wandering over withered fields."

Eyth 'Kha groaned in detestation at his grandiose manner of speaking, hating the way Ze'ev thought he was better than all of them even after being stripped of his rank! It incurred more ire than reasonably so, but for Eyth 'Kha, anything could be considered an attack on his pride. He set the torch aside to illuminate Ze'ev's partially clad frame; Ze'ev returned the stare, seeing exhaustion and somnolence plaguing the face that loomed above. The room remained silent for a whole minute, but to the men in the back, the tension that had accumulated so rapidly made it seem like hours of silent anticipation.

"It does not make you sound intelligent when you speak in poems, you naïve insect! Why can you not just speak normally, hmm? It would make things much less hostile!

Ze'ev turned his eyes away, the bright blue orbs carefully looking over the wall and glancing over at Eyth 'Kha, only for a moment. He nodded, and calmly retorted, "If you talk sense to a fool, then he calls you foolish. I have little hope, and no desire in your reciprocity." Ze'ev insouciantly replied.

"I am your commander; you will NOT deign to speak to me in such a way!"

Eyth 'Kha reared his fist back and slug the hand hard across the face of Ze'ev with a loud slap, sending some blood and saliva immediately from his maw. Ze'ev had momentarily prepared for the impact, tensing up his body and shut his eyes, not allowing his face to be slung to the side. Despite all that had befallen, his vigilance and resolve still remained legendary in the eyes of those who saw his abuse.

"Still refusing to give in?" Eyth 'Kha rolled his eyes with a scoff, "Your resolve is worthless in a place like this! How can you even bother attesting me, when you're chained to a wall! And yet--you still think you're better than me!"

Ze'ev again took a moment to calculate his reply, studying his face, his tense and shaking shoulders and the shaky way he breathed. He knew most of it was for the show of things, to impress or delight the brothers behind him, to keep them in constant reminder who was the more powerful of the two.

"The one thing that I will admit to is--my voice will never cause the catalyst of headaches you impetuously create."

Ze'ev's remark was met with but only the shortest breath, a sound that had been muffled as quickly as it began. Eyth 'Kha said nothing to him and growled deeply in embarrassment, and delivered a chain of punches to Ze'ev's abdomen. He slammed his fist with as much intensity as he could muster, each shoulder revolving forwards and backwards, and he grunted with spit from each exhalation and impetus of his fist. Ze'ev sharply held his breath and gasped out every few hits, planting his feet down hard, and tensed up his large legs to secure his footing. He then turned his eyes to meet Eyth 'Kha's, staring down at him, as if he dared him to try even harder to hurt him.

"God dammit, you are so fucking arrogant!" Eyth 'Kha shouted, digging his claws into Ze'ev's face, slamming his skull into the metal wall as hard as he could multiple times, with Ze'ev wincing and shutting his eyes a wave of pain consumed his brain.

"Hrrrrarghh!" Eyth 'Kha almost shouted as he slammed his fist into the black cheek as hard as he could, and to his satisfaction blood, saliva drizzled from the mouth. His fingers felt raw and his adrenaline soared, his heart being rapidly while he felt a swelling of pride at, once again, demonstrating his superiority to Ze'ev. He backed away and cleaned off his hands with a rag and then tossed it to the floor, taking in a deep breath and relaxing his nerves, as he recalled what he had come down there to do. He quickly walked back and grabbed Ze'ev by his face again, digging his claws into the skin hard, making his arm shake whilst he spoke.

"You are such an overconfident excess of flesh." Eyth 'Kha muttered maddeningly fierce, drawing the dark blue blood from the ebony skin. He saw it touch his fingers and retracted them instantly, spitting down at the Sangheili and grasped a rag from his pocket, cleaning off the armor quickly. He felt unclean every time he came to abuse Ze'ev, and the dirty work was more than enjoyable, but he hated touching the Sangheili's skin. Ze'ev panted quietly and calmed his breath, feeling a coolness of liquid slowly slide down the sides of his head.

"I came down here to tell you--that the time has come for your termination." Eyth 'Kha began casually, "The Covenant is on their way! A good, strong fleet is dawning on us--they should be here in a day, or less. They're fully armed, ready to annihilate us, even destroy the compound; quite brave, considering it is Forerunner architecture. I decided that, as a means of raising the spirits of my men, and doing you a favor--I would have you eviscerated. You can do it your-self, if you want to."

Ze'ev raised his head up and forced him-self onto his feet, groaning and pulling on his arms, clenching his hands. However Eyth 'Kha did not permit him to stand just yet. Ze'ev huffed and growled lowly, and he remarked under his breath how disgusting it was to touch Ze'ev. Being met with the stone faced vigilance that enraged him, he slammed the head back into the wall once more; Ze'ev grunted in displeasure as the back of his head throbbed, and his mandibles quivered from the sting or Eyth 'Kha's claws digging into his cheekbones and scalp.

"We detected Scarabs near CA110's orbit; in specific, The Reclamation of Dreams was detected. Somehow they found us, but it is irrelevant now. I will enjoy murdering them, every last one of those pathetic, blinded loyalists, and the San 'Shyuum!" Eyth 'Kha laughed with content, "And you'll be down here--chained to a wall, like the filth you were born to be!"

Ze'ev's eyes widened and he stood upright and cautioned fighting the battle alone. "That ship on its own could annihilate this fortress in an instant! You must warn Sesa, and Xytan, and evacuate before they appear!"

"Sesa is not a part of this alliance! That bastard is just an erratic vigilante, who cares nothing for the destruction of the covenant! We will do fine without their help."

Ze'ev growled at him, "You are living on a plane of naivety!"

"Yes, yes, I am fully aware." Eyth 'Kha scoffed with annoyance at his desperate pleas, with a roll of his eyes. "I am more than just mad--I am armed, with a powerful weapon at my disposal, Ze'ev."

"What do you mean, then? What is this weapon you have suddenly come into possession of that could counter their weapons?"

"You'll see in time." Eyth 'Kha scoffed and crossed his arms, "Let them come--and if a few of us need to die before we make an example of them, then so be it! They do not know what I can do them, what I will do to them! The Catalyst will usher in a new era of strength and honor--it will usher in my time to prove to our race just who is meant to lead them!"

"You endanger our brothers for your pathetic emotions!" Ze'ev exclaimed more loudly, and his decorum dissolved into urgency. "This compound could not sustain an insurrection of that caliber! What kind of weapon could you have to even hope to take them on?"

Eyth 'Kha laughed even more and Ze'ev grew maddened by his cockiness, and Eyth 'Kha only amplified it by reminding him that they would be the downfall of the covenant army. "You think we're scared of the USNC or Covenant Navy? Hardly--we have no reason to be afraid of them, not at all."

"You know not what they could do to us!" Ze'ev snapped loudly, suddenly speaking with more aggression and spun around, snapping back once more. "Speak your prayers of revenge, pride and lust: but do not put all of our brothers in danger! That is not how a leader performs! Kill me if you desire even--but do not let them die in vain!"

Eyth 'Kha growled raucously, withdrew his energy sword from his hip with a furious scowl and spit his words. The air grew suddenly dark with tension as Eyth 'Kha's sword emerged; the bright translucent mauve blades hung dangerously close to Ze'ev's abdomen, and he resided to not press Eyth 'Kha further.

"You are the bastard who put is in danger! I should have snapped your spine when I had the god damn chance, Ze'ev! So you shut your god damn mouth before I rip out your throat!"

"Then do it! NOW! Show me how powerful you are!" Ze'ev screamed back at him with such force that his saliva and blood flung from his mouth, and he stretched him-self forward, panting and growling. His eyes were wide with anger and he stared at Eyth 'Kha intently, waiting for him to move.

Eyth 'Kha's breathing was rapid and his body trembled rigidly, he was so shaken that even the sword twitched and oscillated with his nerve-wracked hand. Ze'ev looked down at him and turned his face away, saying nothing more to him, knowing he had pushed his luck far beyond its threshold. Eyth 'Kha turned away from him and departed to the door, in his anger he kept the sword drawn while the other men strayed from his proximity.

"They will be here in some time; the Covenant will likely not strike until they have permission, which means the USNC will enter with foray." Eyth 'Kha spoke over his shoulder, "And if you are lucky enough, I'll permit you to watch their evisceration, Ze'ev. Remember--this is all because of you."

Ze'ev could faintly be heard muttering as Eyth 'Kha walked away, "You are now the monster that you fight, in all your mental nudity."

Eyth 'Kha's eyes widened and he neared him-self to screaming, lunging at Ze'ev and slicing his throat open! However, he subside the pleasure for now, knowing it would benefit him more for Ze'ev to see the carnage that would come, for he delighted in Ze'ev's fear of death.

"You stink, Ze'ev. I'll send one of the men in to wash you down." Eyth 'Kha began, and Ze'ev dreaded that bathing which was soon to come, with frigid water as another form of torture. When they had departed, Ze'ev rested his head back against the wall; the heat of anger and fear in his gut was overwhelming, but more so was his anguish. His brothers would soon be killed, though even if few survived--he knew their lives were thrown to the wind, and he blamed him-self for all that had now culminated.