FSE

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My job is all about trouble.

Making trouble, preventing trouble, giving an enemy trouble before they can cause me trouble.

On a day there's no trouble, something's wrong. That means I haven't been working hard enough. But today is a normal day. There's trouble aplenty.

First thing's first though. Where's my security access?

I click the comms and speak into the mic in my left sleeve-cuff. “Hey, Crash. You alive back there?"

“I am working as quickly as I can, captain. The security protocols are robust." Crash is a good partner in crime. Precise, meticulous, ruthless and loyal. Those last two traits are particularly useful to me.

“I ain't getting any younger, buddy."

We're a two-man ferret team. Investigators with teeth. We slip into a hole, find the rats and fix the problem. That might involve a rescue. More often than not, in order to make some trouble, it involves a murder.

Today the job requires a rescue. A sangheili princess went and got herself captured by insurrectionists and they're going to pawn her off to the highest bidder. Why? Because she's important.

Important because she's a daughter of Vadam, in the same bloodline as our very own Thel 'Vadam, also known as the Arbiter. The only split-lip with an ounce of consideration for his galactic neighbours. Without the Arbiter there would be no human-sangheili cease-fire. And believe me when I say there are a lot of sangheili who didn't want a cease-fire in the first place.

So an important member of his bloodline will be pawned off to the Covenant loyalist sangheili as leverage. A sneaky tactic, dishonourable by squid-face standards. We humans must be having a bad influence on them.

But I couldn't care less about the Arbiter's family affairs. What I'm after is dear Miss 'Vadam's knowledge. She's a witness, you see. A witness to a new big player in our little 'verse. A big player that ONI has no up to date intel on, and that makes us nervous.

“Captain, you now have security access. I am tracking the objective." Crash has already thought three steps ahead of me and has acquired security camera live-streams for me. He cross references the objective as well as hostile forces with locations on my tac-map, then places relevant markers on my augmented-reality display.

The objective marker is one-hundred meters straight ahead.

I grab the girl and save the Arbiter the bother of dealing with blackmail, thus preserving our little cease-fire, and the girl leads me to the new galactic bad-guys which my bosses at ONI are very interested in de-atomising.

Two birds, one stone.

“Thanks, Crash. I'm moving now."

Excellent value for the taxpayer, don't you think?

(Captain Karen Vex, Ferret-Division Operator, Office of Naval Intelligence, UNSC)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

// New Tyne Orbital Dock, Venezia, Qab System.

// 2554 [UNSC Calendar]

Karen closed the last few threads of the suppressor on the muzzle of her gun before catching the weapon in a proper grip. Just then, her false security credentials were accepted and the door opened.

Both hands steadying her M6H2 pistol, the operator slid inside, following the sights of her weapon.

The woman looked out of place sneaking through an insurrectionist owned orbital platform. She looked like she could have done anything with her life. She was certainly smart enough to be a teacher, or a lawyer, or a doctor even. She looked like she could have been a model of any calibre either, with an athletic, leggy figure.

But there Captain Karen Vex was, gun in hand and infiltrating a hostile installation. Her jet black hair was tied into a no-fuss ponytail and her slanted dark brown eyes were hidden behind a pair of tinted shooting glasses displaying a HUD in her field of view. She had petite Asian features, and didn't look at all capable of knocking a grown man on his ass.

Yet when a figure crossed her path, Karen jumped him like a ninja.

The insurrectionist was wearing paramilitary gear, body armour with a tactical harness and an old MA5B assault rifle carried casually by his side. And despite his bulk, the man didn't stand a chance.

Karen lowered her gun and ran into him, smashing the innie into the nearest wall, kicking his rifle to the ground and stomping him in the back of the knees. As he went down she caught him, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind. With barely any effort she grabbed him by the back of the head and with a levering action closed his windpipe against her forearm.

Her budget in mind she didn't waste the bullet, instead twisting hard until the man's neck popped and he went limp.

The station corridors were narrow and straight, so concealing the body became tricky. The operator opted for burn-through tactics on this one. The key to completing this mission was speed, so she disregarded the corpse and scraped up the assault rifle, sliding it over her shoulder. The mag-lock holster on the back of her body armour latched on to the weapon and she was moving again with her pistol in hand without missing a stride.

The woman looked civilian, clad in a pair of tailored brown cargo pants with flat-soled thigh-high boots buckled over her shins and a jacket with body armour inserts.

Her utility bag was like a tactical purse, the strap slung over one shoulder and adorned with little pouches for pistol magazines and concussion grenades. The bag itself rested on her right hip, concealing a pistol holster and various other gadgets and tid-bits she had use for in the field, such as a tablet for hacking and a bayonet for slashing.

Keeping an eye on the various augmented-reality markers bobbing around on her HUD, Karen pulled her weapon in against her chest and took cover around the corner of an intersection. Two enemy markers strolled up and she could hear the armoured boots on the deck as the two patrolling insurrectionists drew nearer down the path she had to go.

Keeping the muzzle of the weapon level she waited patiently.

Finally the chatting insurrectionists moved into view, looking the other way and oblivious to the ONI operator standing right beside them.

Karen lifted her gun-sights to her good eye and fired one shot. The suppressor made a whisper of the gunshot and the nearest innie jerked hard to one side before collapsing. The other turned in shock, but Karen had already adjusted her aim and fired another shot.

Hitting the remaining insurrectionist in the head like the first, he went down and Karen stepped over the bodies.

Flashing her eyes to one side she brought up a semi-transparent tactical map of the station. She was on the right deck, just a few corridors away from her objective. Swiping away the map she leaned around a corner and made sure her approach to the brig was clear.

A small smirk quirked her lips as she spotted movement. An insurrectionist guard stood by the door, his assault rifle harmlessly locked across his back as his hands busied themselves lighting a cigarette.

The small white stick hung between his pursed lips as his bulky gloved fingers fiddled with the lighter. After several attempts at sparking a light, he sighed and tore open the velcro straps around his wrists and ditched the gloves. Able to get a better grip on his lighter now, the insurrectionist guard sparked a steady flame with which to light his cigarette.

But his relieved grin faded when a voice interrupted him.

“That's a disgusting habit, y'know."

His eyes flashed up and widened at the sight of a pistol suppressor levelled on his face. A second later it all went black.

Karen edged sideways and slotted the pistol into its holster as the guard fell dead. She found the grip for her pilfered MA5B and tugged it to her front, pulling the charging lever and checking the ammo readout reported '60' rounds in the magazine. She did a quick count of the enemy markers in her field of view, then kicked the door controls.

The door slid aside and the operator unleashed hell.

Before she even had a solid visual layout of the room inside, Karen stepped over the threshold with her finger on the trigger and the assault rifle let out a guttural 'braaaapp!' The ammo counter dropped to '45' rounds as three innies dropped to the deck.

The brig was a long room lined with cells along the right hand side. On the far end was another exit, sealed for the moment, and to her left where she dropped the first three insurrectionists seemed to be a security centre setup. The brig seemed to be doubling up as a command centre of some kind. There were screens showing camera views of the various cargo holds and docking bays around the orbital station.

Karen sidestepped putting her back to a wall and fired as she strafed. Two more insurrectionists dropped, fumbling for guns still in their holsters and the woman ditched her assault rifle. Her pistol cleared the holster just as one of the innies who'd hit the deck came up on one knee and levelled an assault rifle.

Karen was just a split second quicker, firing from the hip and catching the man in the chest. Armour-piercing rounds punched through his chest plate and toppled him backwards, the MA5B going off and spraying the ceiling with a hail of bullets.

Just then the opposite door opened and the guards stationed on the far end of the brig rushed in. they were too slow to assess the situation though, eyes still adjusting as Karen rushed them.

She put one round through the nearest guard's chest and grabbed him with an arm around his neck. Whirling around she kept the hostile raised like a shield between her and the next innie as she shot the next man in the thigh, then worked her way upwards putting bullets through the abdomen, throat, then finally the head. The man flipped backwards and crashed to the deck with a clatter of useless armour.

The third and final guard to rush in fired blindly, but Karen had already moved. She ducked sideways into the shooter's blind corner and let the hail of rounds stitch up the insurrectionist she'd held as a meat-shield moments before. The man twitched and shuddered before falling dead to friendly fire.

That made the shooter hesitate. It was just a second of indecision, but it gave Karen the window she needed. Pressing the advantage, she raised her pistol into a typical centre-axis-relock stance – keeping her body bladed to the threat, elbows at ninety-degrees and the gun canted ever so slightly to present the iron sights to her good eye. She peeped the corner and let loose two shots, a pair of clean taps to the innie's face before she dipped out again in case of a dying return salvo.

There was none, just a 'crump' of an armoured body falling to the metal deck.

Five seconds of silence passed as Karen lowered her pistol slightly and did a check of her surrounds. She glanced around a little quicker than she would on the practice range, assisted by threat markers on her HUD to assess whether she was clear or not.

“Captain," came Crash's sobering voice, calm and devoid of emotion. “A silent alarm has been raised. However, I have control over doors in the area and have isolated you from the rest of the station. Insurrectionist re-enforcements will be hard pressed to reach you."

“What would I do without you, Crash?" Karen replied appreciatively.

“Die. Most likely; die."

Karen didn't react to the boldly grim statement. Crash's sense of humour was an acquired taste that Karen was ashamed to say she hadn't quite acquired yet. She had however learned to take his comments in stride.

Pacing back along the brig, Karen inspected each cell. All of the doors hung open to reveal empty cubicles inside, bar one. Walking over to the closed cell, she keyed in her falsified security credentials and opened the locks. The heavy steel door opened like the hatch of a vault, swinging slowly with a groan of the over-loaded hinges.

With a metal clang the door opened all the way inward to reveal the dim cell inside. The insurrectionists had killed interior lighting, starving their prisoner of light and sound. Complete sensory isolation would drive a human mad. Though for a sangheili it was meditation.

The alien was seated on the single bunk in the shadows. The featureless silhouette in the murk lifted its head, then planting its feet rose from the bunk with a groan of the metal supports being relieved. The sangheili stood at least three feet taller than Karen was, and she wasn't exactly a short lady. Nor did she scare easily, but the operator still kept her pistol ready and took a few steps back as the sangheili approached the cell door.

She flexed her fingers around the grip of the M6H2 and kept her wide footing for stability. It was like prepping herself to catch a charging bull.

But the sangheili didn't charge. Instead, she stepped out of the cell and into the light, blinking confoundedly as her eyes adjusted to the mess Karen had left in the brig.

Deie Vadam was the spitting image of the sangheili princess pictured in the dossier ONI had forwarded to Karen. Tall and powerful, but curvy and trim. The towering alien sported a pair of piercing pink eyes and a plume of flowing blood-red locks that flowed a little past her shoulders. Her hips were wide and curved inwards to a narrow waist that then expanded out over her sleek ribs where her large breasts were pushed up, together and out by her lingerie, making them seem lager than they should have been going by the proportions on the rest of her body.

All of her 'assets' were on show with very little left to the imagination of the viewer. She wasn't dressed anything like what Karen imagined a sangheili princess would. A more apt description of her attire followed the lines of 'hooker on duty.' Even more bizarre, she seemed to be dressed in the style of a 'human' hooker on duty.

Her breasts were only covered by a fleecy black bra that was as ornate as it was sexy. A seemingly pointless red shawl was wrapped around her neck like a tactical shemagh, with the ends dangling over the backs of her shoulders like a cloak. A short red checked plait skirt hung from the waistband riding low over her hips, showing off as much as her belly as possible, even revealing the top of her stringy black panties.

The skirt itself, if it could be called that, only fell to just above the mid-thigh so that each movement made the bottom hem ride up high enough to offer a teasing glimpse of where her panties hid a delicious, moist alien treasure trove of pleasure. She wore a set of ankle boots tailored to the sangheili hoof-like feet, and wore semi-transparent black tights held up just over the knees.

The ends of her shawl were frayed, there were a few ladders in her tights and the fact her blouse was missing entirely gave Karen the impression she'd given her captors a run for their money. Either that or she was supposed to look this way. Being a sangheili though, Karen's money was on the former.

“Deie Vadam?" Karen asked.

The sangheili woman seemed confused for a moment. There was no way she could have heard the gunfire inside her cell, so she must have been expecting an armed escort to her ultimate fate when the door opened. Instead she was greeted to the sight of dead insurrectionists and this stand-off-ish woman.

“I am Deie Vadam, yes," she finally said with a graceful nod.

Every aspect of her was precise and graceful. Karen had faced her fair share of male sangheili warriors and always found their gait to be lumbering and unwieldy, like that of a bovine or an overweight horse. But not Deie. She was fluid. Every step, every movement was a liquid-like ripple or an airy drift.

When Deie said nothing more, Karen nodded. “I'm Captain Karen Vex," she introduced, despite not being asked. “Office of Naval Intelligence. I'm here to retrieve you."

“Retrieve me for who, human?" Deie put to her bluntly.

Karen flipped a stray strand of hair from her miffed expression. “Believe it or not, I'm to bring you home to Sanghelios. It's to preserve the cease-fire between humans and sangheili your keep elder, Thel Vadam put in place."

That seemed to take the alien woman by surprise. “A Human-Covenant cease-fire? I have been gone for a long time."

“Clearly, as there's no Covenant anymore. At least, if there is, sangheili aren't exactly members anymore."

Deie seemed pensieve as Karen backed up and checked their exit. She cast a glance to the brig's security console and browsed through the camera views between there and the hangar. There was at least two hundred metres of space station between them and the pelican drop ship crawling with insurrectionists.

“We can talk later," Karen put to her, moving to the brig's exit and waving the sangheili to follow. “Right now we have to focus on getting out of here."

Agreeing, Deie stooped as she followed and scraped up a fallen assault rifle. “Agreed."

As she went to move however, Karen stopped her and snatched the rifle from her hand. “Ah-ah-ah. You're the objective, remember?" holstering her sidearm and butting the MA5B to her shoulder. “So shut up and stay behind me… princess."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Contact is danger close," the insurrectionist told his buddy as he led the way forward. “Be sure to stay sharp-…"

He barely got the words out when Karen came careening out a blind corner.

With the recovered MA5B in her hands she jammed the barrel into the lead innie's face then pressed on, cracking his head into the wall with enough force to leave a bloody smear. Then sweeping forward she deflected the second insurrectionist's rifle with the handguard of her own. The rifle went off, blistering a portion of the ground beside them with rounds until Karen convinced the man's finger off the trigger with an elbow to the nose.

His head snapped back and she jabbed the barrel into his neck, pinning him as she pulled the trigger.

A dead man's click brought a relieved smile to the innie's face as he was saved by an empty magazine. The smile didn't last long though as Karen kicked him between the legs.

The man went down, sliding to the deck as she kept the MA5B's spiked choke dug in the man's flesh. Keeping him immobilised with the weapon, she canted the assault rifle, tugged out the empty mag and slapped a fresh one in place. The cocking lever was racked with a smooth motion and she fired one handed, putting a short burst down through the insurrectionist's body, killing him instantly.

Switching to semi-automatic she wheeled about and dead checked the first she'd stomped into the ground before waving Deie to join her. The sangheili moved quickly with her human bodyguard as they made the final run towards the hangar.

Just before the entrance however Karen stopped her and they took cover, as if stacking up for a breach. Propping her rifle against the wall, Karen dug into her bag and produced a tablet with what looked like a short black wire sticking out the top.

Accessing the fibre-optic camera controls, she snaked the tiny camera through the open door and observed the hangar beyond without presenting herself as a target.

The space was cavernous, the roof was a jungle of vine-like cranes and conduits. Fuel cells were stacked to one wall, while the main floor was littered with crates, dollies, equipment and various transports sitting in docking cradles.

Squatted among the hangar's clutter was a single battle-scarred DC77 'Pelican' dropship. The sides had been splashed and gouged by energy beams, and if there were once UNSC markings painted on the armour they had either faded or had been scrubbed away by enemy fire a long time ago. There were electrical panels on the skin hanging open. The engine nacelle facing them was mostly opened up revealing the pristine, albeit exposed innards of the engine. Additional plating and patches were slapped on in places and auxiliary links and electrical conduits running across the exterior of the ship seemed to be duct-taped in place.

As a final little added touch, the pelican's apparent name, 'Bogof,' was slapped across the side of the nose in silver paint with more enthusiasm than skill.

The mere thought that they might be escaping on that pelican had Deie's stomach flipping nervously. And sangheili didn't get nervous, so that was a testament to the pelican's appearance.

“That is our escape vehicle?"

Karen nodded. “Of course. Why, what's wrong with it?"

Deie huffed. “Where do I even begin?"

The state of their escape vehicle didn't seem to bother Karen in the slightest. What concerned her more were the innies coming out of the woodwork. A single squad of insurrectionists materialised from between the hangar equipment and cargo containers, forming a semi-circular firing line around their entrance to the hangar.

“You guys hear those shots?" one innie called.

Another nodded. “The bitch is right outside. Stand fast, people!"

Element of surprise clearly gone, Karen sourly withdrew the fibre-optic camera and tucked her electronic gear away.

“Now what?" Deie demanded.

Karen flashed a smirk, drawing two grenades from her pack. She pulled the pins then released the spoons with a sly wink. She tossed both devices and snatched up her MA5B.

Two thumps were followed by screams and errant gouts of wild gunfire. The streams of inaccurate fire sent forth by the twitches of dead trigger fingers didn't deter Karen. Be it bravely or boldly, she stepped through the doorway with her own assault rifle shouldered, shooting as she went.

Two bursts were squeezed off to the right before she quickly pivoted like a scanning turret to her left and nailed another innie with a sustained burst.

Working her way right again she raked the last of her magazine through the legs of three dazed innies running for cover. She dropped the MA5B, drew her pistol and nailed two of them in the head before they even hit the ground. The third slid to a halt behind a cargo crate and tried to right himself, bring his assault rifle to bear on the woman.

Running a wide flanking manoeuvre, she dropped to one knee, slid around the shipping container's far side and put a round clean through the back of the insurrectionist's head.

It was over faster than an attempted terrorist attack on a Texan gun show. About a dozen innies lay scattered across the hangar. The only two figure standing were Karen and Deie as she came out from where she had remained in cover.

Leading her charge under the high tail of the pelican drop ship, Karen banged a fist on the armour twice. “Crash, it's clear. Open up!"

“Affirmative, captain," was the soft, calm reply.

The hatch eased open with a creak and a rubbery tentacle came slithering out inquisitively.

Deie gasped at the sight, recognising this rare and magnificent creature in an instant. “A huragok!"

Karen huffed and shoved her way past the sangheili and the alien biological-supercomputer as she ran up the ramp and into the hold. “Tell the 'verse I have an engineer, why don't you? Crash, are we ready to go?"

By the time Sometimes Crashes had recovered from the captain breezing past, she was in the cockpit already. The huragok's clumsy body inflated a little as it attained some additional buoyancy. Tentacles hanging slack beneath, the silver collar wrapped around the slender armadillo-like neck glowed. A vocal translation interpreted by the various complex gestures of its tentacles followed.

“All systems are prepared, captain," 'Crash' confirmed before it's head turned and the huragok's beady eyes considered Deie for a second. “Welcome aboard, Deie Vadam. I am Sometimes Crashes. Captain Vex refers to me affectionately as 'Crash.' "

Deie could see why. As the huragok floated towards the cockpit, it suddenly lost lighter-than-air buoyancy and crashed into the deck. It sheepishly picked itself up though and continued unfazed. Deie followed up the ramp, which raised and shut behind her. The station's lights were dimmed from view, replaced by the crimson light strips lining the interior of the pelican drop ship.

Her visual spectrum better accustomed to the soft purple lighting of Covenant designed ships, Deie felt her way along a wall towards the cockpit where the more natural white lights of the hangar spilled through the canopy. Framed in the doorway between the two areas, Deie watched as Karen moved her hands across the pilot's console with choreographed ease. She was strapped in already, and Sometimes Crashes was securing itself in the customised co-pilot seat behind her.

The ship's four engines wound up with a kick that vibrated through Deie's feet, making her gasp with surprise and grip a handle fixed above her head. The ships she was accustomed to were smooth, quiet and comfortable. She was entirely unprepared for the noise and unusual motions the human dropship made.

Humans certainly made their vehicles as crude as they were themselves.

Balancing on a pillar of white hot flame, the pelican rotated until the nose was facing the exterior hangar door. There was no way the station was going to open for them. Unless…

“Arm howler," Karen ordered and Sometimes Crashes responded with a flick of a tentacle over his console.

Weapons armed and Karen thumbed the fire controls. A single rocket streaked off the missile racks under the right wing and impacted with the door. The effect was instant. One second the hangar door was engulfed in flame, the next a rush of air sucked the explosion out into space. Water iced in the air as the bay explosively decompressed, pulling everything not tied down out the warped hole where the hangar door had once been.

Then in a flash they were staring out into space. The curvature of Venezia hung far below them, with nothing but vast space sprawled out high above them.

“We can never come here again," Sometimes Crashes informed helpfully.

Karen snickered. “Add it to the list."

She slammed the throttle forward and they gunned it out of the hangar.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

// UNSC Prowler, Goodbye Gravity, Qab System.

Deie learned the hard way that even though it looked unassuming, the pelican was a very capable little ship – as proved by the hard turns and full-burn rolls that kept them off the scopes of point-defence guns.

Karen didn't lay off the throttle until they were well beyond the Venezia orbital docks' defences and orbiting the moon. Once in a stable drift, using the lunar gravity for a leisurely slingshot, they were dragged around the dark side to where a larger ship waited.

The prowler was as unassuming as the pelican they rode in on. The stealth surfaces were blank and unmarked. There were no running lights to give away its position and even when Deie glanced at the scopes on Karen's instrument panel she saw that as far as the sensors were concerned there was nothing there.

Yet there she was, the Goodbye Gravity, her hangar doors opening invitingly for them to enter. And enter they did, sliding nose first through the pressure field keeping the air trapped inside and settling into a docking cradle. The hangar sealed and the pelican lowered to the deck by way of the hydraulic docking cradle with a low, gratifying hiss. Lights flashed on as they disembarked and Deie took a moment to look around.

Goodbye Gravity was not a very large ship, and as such she imagined many of the decks and compartments served as multiple venues rather than having areas dedicated to singular purposes. An example of this was the cluttered hangar. There was only space for the single pelican cramping the space among cargo boxes and various other equipment she could not discern a purpose for.

The hangar doubled up as a gym and armoury as well. Her eyes followed Karen as she dropped off her sidearm and bag on a rack next to an ammunition loading bench. Just off the scant armoury was a modest training area where weights fashioned from various pieces of machinery sat alongside a sparring mat and a punch bag that dangled from a chain connected to an overhead walkway.

“You may as well make yourself comfortable," Karen said as she pulled off her jacket. She was wearing a green cropped vest underneath, ending just above her bottom ribs to unveil her toned mid-riff. “You'll be aboard a few weeks."

Deie huffed. “Surely Sanghelios is not so far away. We are practically on the borders of what used to be Covenant space."

Her hands on her hips, Karen faced the sangheili with her usual bossy officer's posture. Especially in that revealing top she found it useful to keep her many of the male underlings she often worked with in line. “We're not going to Sangheilios."

“Of course. Typical honorless humans. You didn't rescue me as a favour to the sangheili. You rescued me for leverage."

“I rescued you for information," Karen corrected tersely. She held her posture and got the feeling that Deie's eyes were lingering on the bare parts of her pale skin. She had no scars, none that were visible anyway. That alone was impressive for a woman of her profession. And since scars were sign of own blood spilt and thus dishonour in sangheili culture, Karen could tell she was impressing Deie just a little.

Deie's eyes flitted up from the valley between the human's breast revealed by the low cut of the vest. “Information? What information could I possibly have for you?"

“Information on where you've been these past few years," Karen clarified, sauntering closer to the alien woman. “In the Covenant you held a seat in the head office of requisitions and accounts. But during the schism you vanished. Word has it one of the Covenant big-shots who made off with a massive chunk of the Covenant war-machine took you captive.

“Then recently you escaped one set of captors only to run into another set. The jackals you ran to thinking they were Covenant scouts turned out to be pirates making do after the schism. They then sold you to the insurrectionists, who were trying to make a buck on Covenant Loyalist cells who intended to ransom you back to Thel Vadam in return for annulment of the sangheili-human cease-fire."

“You seem to have a sharp grasp of the more recent events in my life."

“Pretty much. What I don't know anything about are your original captors. The ones that made off with the entirety of a Covenant battle fleet. What happened during the schism? Who grabbed you and held you captive since? What have you been doing?"

“What makes you think I was held prisoner this whole time?"

Karen shrugged casually. “Because I have a rumour and nothing much else to on. A whisper among the stars talking about 'The Matchmaker' and his fleet. That name ring a bell to you?"

Deie was quiet, but it was painfully obvious by the way she averted her gaze that 'The Mathmaker' meant something significant to her.

“If you know this Matchmaker you need to tell me," Karen demanded.

“Why the interest in this san'shyuum?" the sangheili asked in a hushed tone.

“Well I didn't say anything about the Matchmaker being a prophet." Karen looked proud of herself for a moment, but when Deie's expression didn't change her eyes darkened a little. “He has a Covenant battlefleet at his fingertips. That means trouble for humanity. And trouble for humanity makes me nervous. Help me out here, Deie."

“I cannot help you, human," Deie said, walking past the human and halting at the edge of the sparring mat. “There is nothing you can do. The Matchmaker's power is absolute. His operatives are spread far and wide across the galaxy. You cannot hope to defeat him."

“You obviously don't know how stubborn the captain is," Sometimes Crashes absently flung into the conversation.

“I am pretty stubborn," Karen confirmed proudly as Crash went back to his work on the pelican. “C'mon, princess. The Matchmaker held you prisoner for a long time. If sangheili pride is anything like I've read about that must piss you off just a little."

When Deie said nothing, merely staring into the punching bag like she was boiling up to punch the thing off its chain, Karen added, “Well if pride isn't in the equation, then what about your honour?"

“What do you know about honour, human?" Deie shot over her shoulder.

Karen walked up and stepped onto the sparring mat in front of the sangheili.

“A thing or two, actually," she said in a matter-of-factly tone. “Tell you what. I'll spar you for the information I need. If I win you answer my questions. But if you win, my word of honour, I'll return you to Sangheilios and you'll never hear me ask you about the Matchmaker ever again."

“You… spar… with me?" Deie huffed like Karen had made some ridiculous joke. “I have seen you fight. You rely too much on the element of surprise; catching your enemy unaware in order to win. This cowardly tactic will not work on me."

“I don't need tactics to beat you, princess," Karen said smugly, kicking off her boots and backing into the centre of the sparring mat. The fact the alien woman towered over her didn't phase her in the slightest. “I've got honour. Which is something you clearly don't have."

Growling, Deie took a step forward. She hesitated when her boot sank into the soft sparring mat. “Take that back," she hissed venomously. She clearly didn't like being called honourless, so Karen was pushing the right buttons it seemed.

She pushed again, holding out her arms in the time tempered gesture of 'come at me, bro!'

“C'mon! You think you scare me!? You're too much of a coward to take on the ones who've held you against your will for years!"

“Watch your tongue!"

“Now you're too scaredy to take on one feeble little human?"

Calling her a 'coward' was the last straw and Deie let out a furious roar. Generations of honour bound instinct drove her forward as Deie undid her boot clasps and stepped onto the mat. “After I beat you I'll bend you over my knee and spank you like an insolent child!"

Karen giggled. “Oh, baby, you know exactly what I like," she teased, raising her fists.

They went at it.

Deie pushed in and started throwing punches. Her clenched fists didn't flail wildly like an upset drunk though. She was meticulous and disciplined despite her anger, calling upon her childhood training with the other children in her keep. Her punches cork-screwed up from the hip, like a bullet fired from a gun in both swiftness and accuracy. And the way she leaned into each strike, Karen could tell the sangheili was not pulling her punches.

That was fine. Neither was Karen.

Not wanting to feel exactly how hard Deie could hit, the captain opted for evasion rather than trying to block the larger, more powerful female's strikes. She hopped backa few times and bobbed from side to side, tisting her torso and ducking out of the way of the punches. She kept her forearms raised in case one of Deie's punches connected.

One did and Karen felt her arm go numb. It was a hard-learned lesson to be faster and stay as close to Deie as possible. The less room she had to wind up her punches, the better.

The return volley wasn't as hard, but Karen was quick. She laid a flurry of jabs into Deie's arms at first, interrupting her own punches before she went to work on her stomach. It was like punching a brick wall of pure tensed muscle though. Karen was sure she was hurting her knuckles worse than she was hurting Deie. The human was more likely to wear herself out before she wore Deie down.

She changed tact after the first exploratory punch-up. Ducking under one of Deie's strikes, Karen twisted and slid behind the sangheili. In position, she coiled one leg up to her chest then unloaded a kick into the back of Deie's legs. Immediately after she coiled again and kicked her in the back for good measure, forcing her face down into the sparring mat.

Keeping light on her feet, Karen quickly hopped back and doubled the distance between them in case the alien tried to sweep for the legs.

Deie was distinctly softer than she looked. Most of her muscle seemed to be typical of a normal sangheili female trim physique. Karen couldn't attest to have ever seen a fat sangheili, so she imagined Deie's musculature was on the low end of the sangheili scale of physical prowess. She had to give credit where credit was due though, for a woman who had spent several years in captivity she was in great shape. Not particularly tough or strong, but she was fluid, quick, graceful and well balanced.

Picking herself up, she whirled on the human and surged forward again. She kept Karen on a tight leash, not letting up for a second. The captain was beginning to break a sweat just avoiding being knocked the fuck out by one well-placed punch. Deie wasn't even breathing hard.

The alien suddenly pivoted on one leg and swept one leg up into a round-house kick. Karen could have just as easily ducked and dodged like she had been doing for the past few minutes, but she wasn't going to be able to keep this cat and mouse game up for long. She was going to have to revert to the time tempered human style of fighting.

She was going to have to fight dirty.

Stepping into the kick, she caught the blow as close to Deie's hip as possible to negate as much force from the kick as she could. And she stepped in pretty deep. Practically positioned between Deie's thighs, she caught the woman's taught calf in her chest. Her torso was under the sangheili's skirt and through the thin fabric of her vest and Deie's panties she could feel the warmth of the alien woman's most tender, intimate parts.

It was a little head spinning at first, feeling the lovely warm soft lips of Deie's cunny pressed against her body. Karen let a moment of comfort wash over her and for a second she wanted to stay right there between Deie's legs.

Then remembered there was a fight going on, Karen snapped back to reality.

Grabbing two handfuls of Deie's skirt, Karen yanked the skimpy garment down, trapping the sangheili's long digitigrade legs between the impromptu bind. Taken off-guard, Deie wobbled before Karen twisted, dropped low and kicked her legs out from under her. the sangheili was flung to the deck, ass-over-tit while Karen hopped back out of range again.

This was borderline harassment, Deie could sense that much by the human's smug smile. She was being toyed with, and Deie no longer had the patience for it. Kicking off her skirt entirely, she stood in just her torn hose and underwear now. One hand undid her shawl and threw it aside in case Karen tried to fight dirty again. An eventuality Deie could be sure to happen.

Karen in the meantime stopped bouncing, slightly distracted again. Forcefully tearing Deie's skirt down around her legs had partially taken her panties down with it. But the sangheili didn't seem to notice how the garment hung over her mid-hip, the front pulled down enough to expose a little more of that soft, private flesh in the delta between her legs. Karen suddenly wondered if she was sweating from exertion or for an entirely different reason.

Deie pushed in again and they went at it once more. But this time the sangheili got a good hold.

She feigned a strike and Karen twitched to get out of the way. Deie had her now. She grabbed the human as she moved and whipped the woman's belt open in one move. As Karen was struggling ot hold her now loose pants up, the belt cracked like a whip. The end bound her ankle and Deie tugged, yanking the human's feet out from under her.

Karen smacked into the mat with a bone-jarring thud.

Deie watched smugly as Karen climbed clumsily to her feet, struggling as she tried to hold up her pants now her belt was missing.

Her moment of glory was short lived however as she suddenly felt her chest was oddly loose. It was a liberating sort of looseness, but a discomfort all the same. When Deie looked down she realised her bra was missing.

Karen smirked, one hand holding up her trousers and teasingly dangling the missing bra on a slender trigger-finger. Karen had grabbed a hold of the garment as she went down, tearing it free so quickly that Deie didn't even notice until now.

The sangheili's breasts sat lower without the offending lingerie. Slightly parted and hanging more naturally, they were suddenly much more perfectly moulded to the rest of her body.

“You're not bad looking for an alien freak," Karen complimented.

“A comment made less flattering by the obvious fact this is the first time you've seen a real woman's body."

Sometimes Crashes seemed to roll its multiple eyes as it drifted casually past. “Mammals," the huragok muttered judgementally as it disappeared through a bulkhead leading up towards the command deck.

Dropping the bra, Karen let her pants go at the same time and kicked them away. Deie dropped the belt in a similar fashion and flexed her neck.

Karen charged first this time, blinded by some frustration. Deie caught the charge by the vest and swung the woman over one shoulder, planting her hard back into the ground.

As she did, Karen's cotton tank top tore like paper, freeing her torso to revela she wasn't wearing a bra underneath. She sometimes felt it was uncomfortable with her tactical gear, and as a result she was now just as topless as the sangheili woman standing over her with what passed as a split-lip smirk.

Deie was clearly picking up on Karen's dirty style. But there were a few dirty tricks of Karen's that the alien woman hadn't picked up on just yet.

Rolling to her feet, Karen kicked as she rose, two lightning strikes that came wide and aimed at the head. Deie only just managed to raise her forearms to block both hits before Karen coiled then drove her heel into Deie's gut. The sangheili gasped for air and doubled over at the same time.

Karen was on her in an instant. She grabbed her around the neck, keeping Deie doubled over then kicked her feet out from under her. The sangheili went down with Karen on top, keeping a knee pinned to Deie's bare chest.

The sangheili immediately reached up and grabbed Karen by the neck. All it would take was one flex of her powerful muscles to lift he human up and throw her like a rag-doll. But Karen unleashed the dirtiest trick in the book to keep Deie pinned.

Her left hand darted down and squeezed one of Deie's large breasts between her fingers. She found the nipple and pinched in what seemed like a futile nipple-cripple; made less furile by her free hand reaching down to grab the front of Deie's panties.

Her fingers instantly sank into the tender flesh through Deie's panties. Though muffled by the soft fabric, Karen could still feel the sticky moisture and burning heat of the intimate flesh underneath.

Deie reacted immediately. There was a soft, unladylike little cry from the sangheili as she jolted as if being electrocuted. She made no immediate attempts to throw Karen aside though. Surprised as she was in a state of sudden arousal, Deie's hands pawed at the sparring mat under her and she set her nails into the leather with a 'scrrritch!'

Flossing her middle finger between Deie's fleshy petals which opened invitingly to her touch, Karen vigorously began rubbing from the dripping entrance of her vagina up to the hard bead of flesh just above, and then back down again.

Deie's hips thrust upward to meet Karen's touch, drawing a smile over the human's face.

“Oh, what's the matter, princess? A little too distracted to throw me off?"

The sangheili growled. At least until Karen's fingers found her opening and boldly pushed in through her panties. A wet patch darkened the soft fabric as Deie's enjoyment was now free flowing and glistening on her inner thigh.

Karen smirked wickedly down at her prey. “You're enjoying yourself like this is your first time being touched like this. What? Never could find a man to touch you this way?"

The hit Deie as deep as all of Karen's previous jibes. Angrily she centred herself just enough to find her target and gave Karen a taste of her own medicine. Reaching out, Deie slipped her hands up through the hose of her silkies and found the tight little human cunny hidden within. She was already wet with a mixture of sweat and slick fluids that betrayed how turned on she was by the fight so far. Deie pressed in, slipping one of her long middle-fingers between the human's slippery outer lips and into the tight, slick inviting tunnel that lay just within.

Karen's mouth opened into a large 'O' and she drew in a sharp breath, feeling the sangheili's long sleek finger probe deeper into her than her own fingers could ever hope to reach. In seconds Deie's digits were sodden and touching places Karen hadn't even known existed until now.

Not it was Karen's turn for being distracted. Deie rolled over, dragging Karen down with her until she was straddling the woman, practically in the 69-position. Her hand remained between the woman's legs along with her head, giving her a better view of what she was doing. Flat on her back, Karen struggled to keep her grip on Deie's intimate parts. Now absent minded by the finger sliding in and out of her with long, romantic strokes, Karen wasn't putting the same kind of thought and skill into rubbing Deie's eager moist flesh.

A pity, Deie admitted to herself with an ounce of shame and regret. She had been enjoying Karen's ministrations, but it was time to show this insolent little girl who was boss.

“You know nothing of my sexual prowess, human," Deie cooed, drawing a squeal from the human as she skilfully brushed a thumb over her tiny clit all while stroking in and out of her tight pussy. “Go on then. Let it go. Come for me, human. Come first and show me exactly how inferior you are."

Karen bit her lip and suppressed an orgasm. She wasn't going to give Deie the satisfaction. “Oh, you are so asking for it now, princess," Karen said with an uncharacteristically uneven voice.

Gone was her cool, determined tone. In its place was a heated, lustrous whisper broken by little moans and pants as Deie worked her alien magic. Karen tried to match up, but was finding it was hard to split her focus between suppressing an orgasm with thoughts about sad puppies and searching for Deie's clit.

So, Karen ran on a hunch and rolled out the big guns. She figured the way sangheili jaws worked they were ghastly kissers. So, in all likelihood Deie had never been eaten out before.

So close to the cusp of screaming out and gushing with all her might, Karen abandoned her efforts and tore aside Deie's panties with animalistic ferocity. Her lips met Deie's labia and she locked her into a passionate kiss.

Completely unprepared for the alien tongue lapping her from clit to opening then back 'down' again, Deie gasped loudly. Her ministrations upon Karen were suddenly interrupted and she lost her stride. Some of the near orgasmic murk clearing, Karen smiled into what she was doing then probed her tongue into Deie's vaginal canal.

Karen had eaten out several women in her lifetime, but she had to admit Deie's musk was uniquely pleasant. And her opening was wide enough, probably to allow for the girth of sangheili males, that Karen didn't get a cramp in her jaw just forcing her tongue inside – a thing she knew many of her partners very much enjoyed.

Deie was no exception, bucking her hips and shuddering in time with Karen's tongue wriggling around inside her vagina, snaking up into the passage then slipping back out to swirl her clit some and finally probe inside again. Karen alternated based on Deie's movements. When the sangheili's breathing grew rapid, Karen eased off. When she moaned, coming out of a pleasured stupor, Karen pressed in and worked every little trick she had.

It was a marathon, not a sprint. And now that Deie's motions were interrupted, time was on Karen's side. She'd have an easier time bringing Deie to orgasm with persistent teasing. Bringing her close to finishing, then letting up, frustrating her a little, then working her closer to that ever sought after finish line again.

That being said, Deie's fingers were still inside her and every time she clenched around the long digit, the captain lost track of which direction was up again.

Karen blindly found one of Deie's breast with one hand – in the blinding lights of pleasure flashing across her vision she couldn't tell which – clinching the erect and hard nipple between her fingers. As she squeezed and massaged she noticed how Deie changed. Her pace became quicker, movements shorter and her breaths shallowed with excitement.

Wrapping her free hand around Deie's waist she timed her movements with her ministrations. She squeezed the nipple again, slipped her tongue into Deie and pulled hard on her body all at the same time. Taken by surprise as jolts of pleasure racked her body, Deie allowed herself to be pulled to the deck and hit the sparring mat flat on her back with a thud. Her fingers, soaked with human desire, slipped from Karen's snatch. The captain felt empty without those long sleek fingers sliding in and out of her, but she kept her focus and kept her lips tight against Deie's leaking cunny.

In one move, rolling like Deie had done before, Karen pinned the sangheili on her back. But Deie didn't struggle. In fact, she allowed it to happen and spread her legs wider to allow Karen better access.

Deie suddenly reached down and ran her fingers through the human's hair, holding her firmly in place. No longer was she fighting to throw Karen off her. Now she was taking steps to keep the woman's tongue inside her.

It was all over shortly after. Karen felt Deie twitch and press her hand onehr head harder, and this time she didn't back up. She slid her tongue out of her vagina and worked up between her labia before swirling the tip over her tongue over Deie's clit.

With her free hand the sangheili raked her fingers through her own hair. “Oh, Gods… Gods, yes! Don't stop. Please don't stop!"

It was unusual to hear a sangheili beg, but also kind of a turn on. But either way, Karen had no intention of stopping.

Deie's soft ass rose off the deck as she shuddered and came, a thin jet of alien girl cum squirting from her opening. It missed Karen's top lip and some streaked across her right cheek, making her flinch. But she kept pressing her tongue to Deie's clitoris, and Deie kept squirting until a sizeable puddle of her sexual gratification pooled on the sparring mat.

Breathing hard, Deie's ass settled in the wetness without a care. One hand rested on the floor beside her face as she gasped for breath. With copious streaks of drool and female arousal dribbling down her chin, Karen sat up, straddling the alien woman as she swallowed and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Eventually coming down from her high, Deie locked her glassy eyes to Karen's gaze. “I've never felt anything so amazing," she whispered at first. Then after a while, catching her breath, the sangheili nodded.

“Well met, Karen Vex. We made an accord. On my honour, I'll tell you everything I know."

Climbing to her feet, Karen held out a hand and helped Deie up as well. It was obvious Deie had some respect for her now, having used her name instead of calling her simply 'human.' Karen smiled at that more than she did at her success at having beaten a sangheili in 'battle.' A sangheili's respect wasn't easily earned. And it was definitely something worth keeping.

“Great." The captain gestured Deie to join her. “We'll talk on the way to the showers."

Nodding, Deie followed, speaking as she did. “The fleet you are looking for. It is called Paradise Flotilla, a fleet of ships recovered from the Covenant during the schism by a san'shyuum called Art Loko…"