HALO: Evocatus

Chapter 10

"I can't believe it," said 'Revulee. "Surely, the universe must have tipped on its axis and dropped us into hell."

"It's all confirmed," said 'Tokabee from the Phantom's cockpit. "Hundreds of reports of Brute ships attacking our own. Too many reports to count from inside High Charity."

Kusan's hands shook as he tried to nibble his ration bar. He begged that Faie was alright, prayed for her safety. Oh gods, would praying even help? If the Prophets had lied about the Flood, and had betrayed the Sangheili so readily, could he even believe their sermons?

If only he could get to a cruiser. Surely the Elites were winning the space battle. Yes, think of that. Rescue Faie, get onto a ship, any ship, and spend the next few weeks relaxing and reading like how he did in Appetency's–

Appetency.

Prophet.

Could he have betrayed them too? No, no possible way. What could he have done?

Kusan choked.

What could he have done?

On a Sangheili-controlled ship, surrounded by furious Elites. Shipmaster 'Kusamai would cut through the doors, boiling with rage, eyes fixated on the poor, gentle creature. The old Prophet wouldn't stand a chance.

"OW!" snapped Jaz Zap. "Unggoy, careful!"

The Skirmisher had shedded his plum-colored breastplate and left pauldron, which lay at his feet. His undersuit had been peeled back, revealing his damaged shoulder. The wound itself looked gnarly, albeit thin: charred muscle and skin with pale bone showing at the deepest spot, slightly purple with dried T'vaoan blood.

Klaflam labored over him, open medkit on the floor, carefully cutting away the burnt and twisted bits. He sprayed the exposed flesh with antibacterial aerosol that foamed up, then deflated and congealed into a sticky matrix, pulling shut the gash in the process.

Klaflam furrowed his brow. "You want help, quiet! Sangheili don't know how mend, 'specially Jackals."

Jazzy growled and averted his gaze, and allowed the Grunt to continue. Klaflam sutured shut the wound with a flesh-knitter, then covered the entire thing with a rubbery bandage that automatically conformed to the Skirmisher's shoulder and flattened itself to it.

"Feel better?"

Jazzy moved his shoulder in a circle, then, satisfied, pulled back on his undersuit sleeves. "Not perfect," he said. "My aim will be shaky for weeks." and then, begrudgingly, "Thanks, Unggoy."

The Phantom shuddered. 'Revulee braced himself. The other seated Elites exchanged worried glances.

"Debris," said 'Tokabee. "Fields of it everywhere."

Kusan looked out the viewscreen. He really did not like that they were flying towards the space battle. High Charity sat like a disembodied heart, floating amid the violent swarms: it appeared as though the immense city were the nucleus of some leviathan, violent, stormy cell. From this far out, Kusan could see fighters flitting between hulking ships: purple gnats assaulting the backs of great beasts.

"The carrier Ordained with Infatuation finally responded to our hail," said 'Tokabee. "Patching it through to you."

"Phantoms, identify yourselves," said a voice over 'Revulee's radio.

"Captain Cysan 'Revulee, of the Pious Justiciar's Seventh Ranger Division. We have several wounded on board and wish to dock."

"Negative Ranger, that is not possible. Our hangar is half crowded with wreckage and the remaining spaces are reserved for civilian evacuation shuttles."