- Sergeant Murph
- |
- Noble Legendary Member
The Sangheili turned his emotionless gaze to Anderson, who still looked bewilderingly at him. It was he who took the first step forward.
"You're an odd one, aren't you?" Anderson asked him. The Elite made no answer, just kept staring. "Don't play dumb with me," Anderson warned. "You speak English, don't you?"
No reply.
"Look," he pressed. "We won't ask for trouble unless you offer. We're only here for information, and I think we both know that you can give it to us." He looked at the Elite with sincerity in his eyes, but this one had seen it all before. He knew how kindness and gentility ended-- in blood. Why is he just standing there? Thought Anderson. He should be at our throats by now.
Not a sound came from the Sangheili's mouth. It seemed that interrogation without physical force was not an option.
"Enough of this!" yelled the ignorant Marine that had been eager to kill the Elite in the first place. "We're getting nowhere, sir. We need to make him squeal for answers, not ask him nicely!"
Before Anderson could respond the Marine leapt forward with the naïve assumption that the rest of his squad was following closely behind. The Elite's eyes quickly averted toward the human advancing toward him, his fist wound up to deliver a blow to his face.
Without a split-second's thought, the Elite's own hand darted at lightning speed to catch hold of the fist. Several Marines gasped. The attacking human's face went suddenly grave.
Then the Elite struck.
***
I didn't realize my fingers were curled around the human's neck until I heard a sudden angry, demanding voice from behind me.
"Let him go or I'll bury you on this beach," it whispered in my ear. Chilling metal fell upon the back of my neck; undoubtedly a human weapon. Somehow, without seeing him, I knew this was the human that had seen me amidst the rubble, then spoke out to me. There was something about him that wasn't right. Something all too familiar to me, but I couldn't place him.
The human in my grasp sputtered moaned. He looked deathly pale, and a twinkling light was fading from his eyes.
"Let him go!" the human demanded again, thrusting the barrel of his weapon farther into my neck. I gritted my teeth, hatred taking form inside of me. My firm hold on his throat only tightened. I didn't see the consequences; all I saw was an enemy's life resting on my will-- a life that I was willing to take out of vengeance. If I applied full force, I could certainly crush his small wind pipe and leave him to his misery. Yes, I'd do that. I was going to kill this pathetic human.
Wasn't I?
His nearly blank eyes were still pleading for life. He'd stopped squirming. He'd left me to make my own decision. I could let him live to slaughter more of my kind or take his life for my own personal gain.
Was I really going to become all that I hated?
With a sigh, I let my arm fall limp, and he tumbled away, his breaths exhaling in short shrieks, and his eyes cast somewhere distant.
I expected the weapon to be drawn away from my neck, but it remained, and so did the human, standing guard behind me like I was an unstable beast that could break free and wreak havoc at any given moment.
Perhaps I'd given myself that reputation.
"Now that that's over with," the human addressed me, "I think it's time to get down to business."
I snorted in reply.
"Anderson, we're not getting anything out of him, even at gunpoint," a younger looking human told him. "We have to try a different approach."
"Do you have a better idea, Burns?" the human named Anderson asked sweetly but with a hint of annoyance.
"Bring him back to the base," Burns answered flatly. "We may be able to use him for something beyond information."
I stared at him, bewildered. What was he getting at? What did I have to offer other than information?
"So that he can throttle us in our sleep?" Anderson retorted. "He's a menace, Burns. He's a killer. I don't trust him."
A killer.
Was that what I was? Was I a mindless murder with the intent to see death, with the taste of blood on my mouth? It suddenly came to me that I'd almost killed that human-- the fact that I'd almost taken a life was now evident, and I felt something chilling pass through me.
"He's alone, Sergeant," Burns said, looking at me with pity in his eyes. "He's nothing on his own. Can't you see that?"
Anderson fell silent. I had a feeling that the two forgot that their entire squadron was watching in awe, and I was at the mercy of Anderson's weapon.
"You don't have to trust him," Burns went on, his soft blue eyes still on me. "But you have to trust me."
"I trust you," Anderson said hesitantly, and, to my astonishment, he withdrew the gun from my neck. He stepped around me, his shoulder lightly brushing against mine, and stood beside Burns. Suddenly, I didn't want to run anymore. It wasn't because I was comfortable, it was because I knew that wherever I went I'd be tracked down. They wanted to use me for their own purposes, and they were incredibly persistent beings.
Oddly, they didn't match the description of the humans the Prophets had raved about. Instead of being killed on sight, they'd spared me, and given me a chance to run if it was my desire.
My thoughts were cut short by a whining sound, distant but becoming louder with each passing moment. It seemed that only I knew this terrible sound by heart. It was like the echoing screech of a hawk, plummeting down to earth.
It was a Fuel Rod.
It was going to kill us all.
End Transmission