Chapter Text
All Sam could hear was the screaming of his comrades. He woke face down in the sand, beside the burning debris of his team’s lifeboat. Medkits and ammunition laid scattered around him. The taste of iron welled in his mouth while lead bullets split through the air above him, countered by a barrage of blamite needles and scorching plasma. He groaned and pulled his head up, his sight hazy.
Through the chaos he watched a comrade pull the pin of a grenade and hurl it across the battlefield. Sam took in desperate gasps for air as he dragged himself towards the Marine. The man was shouting, piling every last round of his rifle into the offenders. Sam’s vision tunneled as he drew closer.
For a second, he witnessed the Marine focus his attention on something else; all he could make out was a rush of blue. Before Sam could react, an energy sword had been plunged deep into the Marine’s chest, protruding through his back. The creature wielding the blade ripped the Marine off his weapon and threw him aside. An Elite.
Sam drew the knife from his belt and hurled himself at the alien, ramming the blade into its side. It let out a pained yelp and came crashing to the ground, Sam along with it. He straddled the Elite and wrestled with it for a moment.
“Bunting, behind you!” A soldier cried.
Jumping to his feet, Sam whipped his head around to catch sight of a second Elite. It smashed the butt of its carbine into Sam’s upper jaw as he stood, knocking him back down. Blood suddenly surged from his mouth and down his chin as the Elite raised its weapon and prepared to fire.
Just then, the Marine who’d warned him rushed onto the scene, firing at the alien. The attack took down its shields and left small bursts of cackling energy dancing on its armor as it ran for cover.
“Come on man, get up!” The Marine shouted.
Before Sam could scramble back to his feet, a plasma grenade had latched onto the uniform of his comrade, igniting in a flash.
***
The soldier opened his eyes. A sharp ringing pierced his ears, but besides that, all was eerily silent. He sat up, groaning and tugging off his helmet. He ran his fingers through his hair and held his aching head, a persistent drumming in his skull overwhelming him with dizziness. Dry, pasty blood coated his face and stained his armor. He leaned forward and spat out one of his front teeth. Where was he?
Sam rose to his feet and took in his surroundings. He stood in what looked to be some kind of oasis, with strikingly red sand and rocky, jagged cliffs garnishing the empty land, forming a strange horseshoe-like crater. The empty landscape stretched as far as the eye could see, with no indications that the area was inhabited. An intense heat bore down on Sam. The atmosphere was a soft shade of pink which faded into a pale yellow as it met the horizon. Sam’s gaze settled on a giant planet adorning the sky; this empty place was clearly a moon.
Scanning the battlefield, the bodies of his comrades laid scattered across the scene, the metallic-brown armor of their UNSC uniforms distinct against the warm hues of the sand. Some had needles of pink crystal adorning their lifeless forms. Some were detailed with horrid burns of plasma. Some had slashes from blades that burnt so hot they left the wounds cauterized. There was one body so mangled he couldn’t possibly determine the Marine’s identity: the one that’d taken the grenade for him.
Sam felt a pang in his chest. A sense of dread struck him as he swayed through the horrific display, checking the bodies for any signs of life.
It was pointless. The Covenant had annihilated them.
It was when he focused his attention back to the lifeboat that he’d noticed the blue armor of an Elite, nestled in the shade provided by the debris. Its form was motionless, but Sam tugged an assault rifle from the bloodied hands of a fallen soldier and aimed it towards the enemy. He kept it poised as he cautiously approached. As he drew closer, he observed the knife wedged in its side— the same Elite he’d taken down in the battle. The alien sat slumped over with its hands besmeared in purple. From what Sam could tell, it wasn’t breathing.
“So they left ya’, huh?” Sam commented. His words carried little pity for the beast.
He lowered his weapon. If anything, he’d at least get his blade back. He crouched next to the Elite and grabbed the handle. As he ripped it out, the reptile sprang to life with a sharp cry, making Sam jump. He scrambled backwards, pointing his rifle. The Elite hissed something in an unfamiliar language and clutched its side.
Sam watched the Elite writhe for a moment. His finger rested on the trigger of his gun, ever-so-slightly squeezing it; the sight felt like watching a suffering animal. Should he kill the alien to put it out of its misery, showing it mercy and ending its slow battle with death? Or should he kill it because it was Covenant scum, slaughtering it like it had slaughtered his friends? Like hell he would. There was nothing more that he wanted than to see this creature dead, but he knew the Elite was his only chance of getting off this damn moon.
Sam eyed the Elite’s energy sword. He picked up the handle and ignited the blade. The Elite glared back at him, wide eyed. The Marine lunged forward in an attempt to use the sword to cauterize the wound.
“Nishum! Ey!” The Elite objected, grabbing Sam’s wrist with one clawed hand. It kept the other tightly wrapped around its side.
“I’m savin’ you, dammit!” Sam snapped.
The tussle enveloped them in red clouds of sandy dust. Even at the alien’s weakest, Sam still struggled to contend with the strength of a Sangheili. If the creature were in any better shape it likely would’ve broken Sam’s wrist just by squeezing it.
“Quit fightin’! I’m not lettin’ you die!”
With his free hand, the Marine managed to peel back the Elite’s grip on its wound, using the weight of his body to press the sword flat onto it. A nasty sizzle filled the air as the searing blade burnt into its skin. The Elite dug its claws into Sam’s arm, flaring its mandibles and letting out a long, guttural roar.
Sam disarmed the sword. The Elite loosened its grasp and promptly fell unconscious, falling to its side with a thump.
“You better pray I didn’t hit your liver or somethin’,” Sam spat, catching his breath. “If you even have a liver, hell if I know.”
Whether it had keeled over from the pain or the blood loss was uncertain. Sam wiped the sweat off his brow. His head was pounding and his gum ached, red-ish marks embellishing his arms where the alien had gripped him with such power.
He took a moment to examine the beast, never having seen one up close. The armor was nothing unique; it was a simple, vibrant blue identical to the majority of the others he’d encountered. Simply a Minor, an ordinary foot-soldier. Its bodysuit had been singed into its tough skin where the sword’s blade met its wound. It had thin mandibles and a warmer, ashy-gray complexion that bordered on brown, with narrow eyes and nasty teeth. Sam couldn’t gauge how tall the reptile was, but it was undoubtedly much larger than him.
“You are one freaky lizard.”
Sam himself wasn’t anything more special than the Elite was. His full name was Samuel Bunting, and he was a low-ranking UNSC Marine, hailing from the countryside of Earth. He had short, auburn-brown hair that was often ruffled from his helmet and pale peach skin, standing at about six feet in stature, though that seemed like nothing in comparison to the ginormous creature before him. The tooth he’d lost in the earlier battle had left an awkward gap in his smile.
Sam holstered his assault rifle and hooked the energy sword onto his belt. A part of him was nervous that he’d move the wrong way and ignite it by accident, sending the blade straight through his leg. Picking up his helmet, he dusted it off and placed it back on his head. Through the green tactical visor he surveyed his surroundings again. In the near distance appeared to be a cavity in one of the cliffs.
Within and around the tattered remains of the escape pod, he managed to uncover some supplies. Unappetizing MRE’s, water, medkits, more guns, a thermal blanket, and some rope. The rope was what he needed; he’d come back for the rest later. The task at hand was to deal with his newfound hostage.
Sam’s gaze turned back to the Elite. He wrapped his arms around it and let out a hearty groan as he attempted to lift the beast. Certainly no Spartan, he was only able to lift it a few inches off the ground before dropping its limp form back down to the sand. He wasn’t sure if it was just the armor, but this thing was damn heavy.
“Maybe a diet wouldn’t hurt. Not sayin’ you’re fat, but you could really stand to lose a few fuckin’ pounds!” Sam hissed, exasperated.
This was a nightmare— he’d have to drag the damn thing. Part of Sam wished the plasma grenade had clung to him rather than his comrade. He sighed as he wrapped the rope around the Elite and got to heaving.
***
By the time he’d managed to get the alien to the cave, it was already dusk. The air nipped at Sam’s skin as the desert got chillier. The cave itself was tall and narrow, not digging deep enough into the cliffs for it to be considered a proper tunnel, but was just large enough for the two of them. There was a trail leading up to its entrance where he’d dragged the poor Elite through the sand for the entirety of the struggle there. He propped it up against the rocky wall and properly secured the rope around the Elite’s wrists.
“If you’re dead, I’ll be real upset.” Sam said, pulling off the Elite’s helmet. He searched around its bumpy neck for a pulse, but was unsure of where to put his fingers. Albeit barely, he was able to determine that it was still breathing.
Although he felt it foolish to leave his prisoner unattended, Sam was able to make another round to the crash site, bringing what supplies he’d salvaged from the lifeboat back to their newfound shelter; by the time he’d returned it was already nightfall. Some sort of insects hissed in the background, echoing throughout the landscape. Sam slunk down across from the Elite, letting out a weary breath of exhaustion.
The gravity of his situation began to sink in as he tucked his legs to his chest and rested his head on his knees. After a moment, he found himself rocking slightly as quiet tears began to drip onto the visor of his helmet. He tried to think of anything but his comrades, but the sight of their desecrated bodies had stained his conscience. So focused on survival, he hadn’t realized how terrified he was. He’d really die here, wouldn’t he?
Sam lifted his head and glanced at the Elite. Seeing the creature slumped over almost made him feel bad. Was it cruel to have taken him hostage? After all, he was alone on this moon too, even if he was a Covenant monster.
The truth was, the Elite he’d captured was just as terrified as he was. It had little bravery; it had not embraced its death with honor. In fact, it was horrified watching as its squad depart without it, leaving it to die. It’d been bested by a human of all creatures.
Though he didn’t think it’d help much through his armor, Sam wiped his eyes and got up to drape the thermal blanket around the Elite. Just then, the Elite’s eyes shot open. With a throaty snarl, it hurled itself towards Sam, its teethy mandibles splayed in threat. Ungracefully, it fell forward with a thud and let out a whimper of pain, cursing in its Sangheili language.
“Hey, chill out!” Sam exclaimed, grabbing his rifle and scooting back as far as he could.
“Nishum… nishum…” The Elite spat.
“Look, I don’t know what you’re sayin’,” Sam said. “But if you do that again I’m shootin’ you, ya’ hear me?!”
The Elite only groaned in response. It laid on the cave’s rough floor with its eyes squeezed shut, taking in pained, heaving breaths.
“It hurts, don’t it?”
“Fuck you!” The Elite barked in response.
Sam was taken aback by the sudden burst of English. He almost laughed. Damn did he wish he knew how to say fuck you back in Sangheili.
“Well, fuck you too.”
Stricken with an overwhelming agony, the Elite laid there a few moments, gathering its strength. Eventually, it pulled itself up and sat against the wall.
“So, uh… you speak English?”
The Elite had no further comments, merely sitting there, glaring furiously at the Marine. The wound in its side made every move torment.
“Guess not.” Sam couldn’t tell if the Elite’s vocabulary consisted only of curses, or if it was simply being difficult. It was then that Sam noticed the Elite’s peculiar eyes. They were dichromatic; the inner half of each was blue, and the outer half of each was yellow.
“You got some funny eyes, never seen that before.” Sam commented. The Elite spoke again in its native tongue. Sam could only assume it’d said something along the lines of I have no clue what you’re saying.
“Look, let’s start over. I’m Samuel.”
The Elite merely stared back at him. Sam sighed and pointed to himself.
“Samuel Bunting. Sam. Saaaam.”
“Samuel Bunt-ing.” The Elite repeated, almost with a tone of disgust.
The Marine smiled, surprised it’d caught on so quickly. He’d almost forgotten he was speaking to an intelligent being, not a mindless, barbaric animal. Sam pointed to the Elite, awaiting its response; the Elite only huffed and looked away.
“Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be.” Sam retorted. “Fine. I’ll call you splitlip in the meantime.”
The Elite seemed to recognize that word, as it leaned forward and spat at Sam without hesitation.
“Hey! Okay! Damn…” He gestured towards it with his rifle. “Don’t forget who’s holdin’ the gun.”
After a few moments of careful consideration, the Elite scoffed and turned its gaze back to Sam.
“Khyta ‘Chukaree.”
“Is that your name?”
“Khyta.”
“Alright, you’re Khyta. That’s a start.”
Khyta added something else in Sangheili. The Marine was growing tired of the language barrier. This would definitely become an issue if he wanted to learn anything from the alien. Sam sighed and took off his helmet. Khyta grunted at the sight of his ruffled hair.
“What?” Sam questioned. The Elite only tilted his head in response.
The Elite had never seen a living human so closely. Seeing Sam without the helmet intrigued him. He narrowed his eyes and looked the Marine up and down, his gaze scrutinizing every aspect of his form. This scrawny thing had nearly taken his life? And then he had the audacity to dishonor him further by saving him? And now, he held him captive? It was outrageous. Had Khyta not been bound— and terribly injured— he would have butchered the human then and there.
Sam found it incredibly difficult to read Khyta’s expression, the ugly jaws and cat-like eyes nothing akin to his own face.
“Trust me, I think you’re weird lookin’ too.” He spoke.
Khyta only shifted in response, groaning as he settled back down. It seemed foolish to let his guard down so easily around his captor, but between the suddenly frigid temperatures and the stinging of his wound, he didn’t seem to care much. Khyta was already dead, just as stuck on this moon as the human was.
“You’re hurtin’, huh?”
The Elite let out a soft trill of sadness and shut his eyes. It was hard for Sam to imagine that just a few hours earlier, he’d watched Khyta plunge his sword deep into the chest of his comrade. Now, here he laid on the cavern floor, defeated.
“Yeah, me too.”