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Author Topic: Precious Cargo - Chapter 3 - Guess Who's Coming to Dinner  (Read 1914 times)

Offline jokerman

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Precious Cargo - Chapter 3 - Guess Who's Coming to Dinner
« on: November 17, 2009, 05:16:45 PM »
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The following story is copyrighted material and all rights belong solely to the author.  Any reproduction or republication of any or all of this publication without the explicit and expressed written consent from the author is strictly forbidden.
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Chapter 3 - Guess Who's Coming to Dinner


As the Spartan stepped off of the Phantom and onto the deck of the large Covenant Assault Carrier, the formation of Elite crew eyed him sternly.  There were whispers of the word he had grown to hate.  The translation matrix of is armor’s system never could give him any hints of what it meant.  He only heard it as it was phonetically pronounced, ‘Shy-Gheer-Maag’.  He resented it not only because he didn’t know the meaning but also because of the look of sheer unadulterated terror that it generated in the eyes of a young one of their species when it heard the phrase.  It was a look that he would never forget.

“Report”, the silver armored Elite demanded to his First.

“All is ready, Shipmaster.  What are your orders?”

“Prepare to jump to the coordinates I gave you”, the Elite said as he continued walking.  “I will join you on the bridge after our meal.”

“Meal?” the First began and looked at the Spartan.  Then he quickly looked back to his captain and said, “Yes, Shipmaster” and nodded to the other Elites as they quickly walked to their duties.

“Shipmaster, huh”, the Spartan said.  “Nice.”

“This is the Shadow of Intent, Spartan.  Make no mistake, this ship is the best of our fleet.”

“The Covenant must be desperate to put you I command of their best ship.”

With that, the Elite stopped and looked at the Spartan, “I did not say in the ‘Covenant’ fleet”.  Not waiting for a response, the Shipmaster turned and began walking again.  The Spartan paused momentarily to consider the Elite’s words and then followed into the elevator that rose to the top of the ship.

The elevator opened directly into Elite’s quarters.  The Spartan saw the large circular cabin filled with things he had come accustomed to seeing in the Elite’s colonies during the war.  No chairs were in the single room.  The Elite did not really use chairs as it was thought of as a sign of either position or weakness.  Because of this, only high-ranking officials and the old and infirm used chairs regularly.  Single habitat instead of being subdivided into rooms was also the norm.  As was the absence of clutter, knick-knacks, pictures, or anything that was not absolutely necessary.  A large deep red glowing stone was partially emerged from the floor in the middle of the room.  There were stacks of pillow like cushions in various places in no particular pattern used for sleeping.  The Elite’s did not usually sleep in the same place each dormant cycle.  They prided themselves with not becoming too complacent and habitual.  From less than a meter from the floor and up all around, the cabin had transparent windowed walls that grew to eventually become the clear domed ceiling.  The almost 100 meter diameter room could give the Elite the ability to view or plan a battle from his quarters with ease.  It was the privilege of being the Shipmaster of an Assault Carrier that was over 5 kilometers long.

The Elite walked to the far side of the room toward a large cobalt blue glass pot that sat on a stand erected from the floor.  He removed his helmet and placed it on a shelf nearby.  The Elite’s long neck stretched up and he turned it as if relieved to be rid of the helmet’s burden.  The Spartan had seen several Elites without armor but their form always amazed him.  The Elite stood almost three meters tall but his neck seemed to make it much more.  Relaxing from his stretch, he turned to his guest and said, “I was not aware that you could eat through your helmet, Spartan.”

The Spartan reached up and unlatched his helmet with a slight hesitation.  He knew that Elites were very serious about their tradition.  He knew that the Elites would never share a meal with an enemy.  He knew that his invitation was a solemn event, almost religious.  But the thought of exposing his head to his former mortal enemy gave him a slight pause.  

As he removed his helmet, the Spartan smelled the heavily scented air.  The scent reminded him of something but he couldn’t quite remember what.  He looked down and noticed another shelf near the Elite’s helmet.  He carefully placed his helmet down, adjusting it to face the same direction as the Elite’s.  ‘The weapons and armor of Brothers-in-Arms only confront the enemy and never each other’, the Spartan remembered hearing what seemed a lifetime ago.  The Elite looked at him and laughed.  “I had almost forgotten how ugly you humans were.”  The Spartan smiled and said in perfect Covenant dialect, “Look who’s talking.”

The Elite began to turn and then quickly turned back.  “You have green eyes”, he said with a hint of surprise.

“Yes”, the Spartan said.

“Is this common in your race?” the Elite asked.

“No.  It is not as uncommon as it is for the Elites but green eyes are also rare for humans”, the Spartan explained.

The Elite looked intently at the Spartan’s eyes.  He then turned his head and stopped.  Using only his eyes, the Elite looked back to the Spartan.  “Hmm”, the Elite said as he turned to the large blue vessel.

The pot was covered with a matching glass lid that the Elite removed and gingerly put aside.  Taking a light colored ladle and bowl from the stand that held the pot, the Elite muttered something and then dipped the ladle and stirred.  He then poured a few scoops from the large vessel into the bowl.  The chunky contents plopped into the dish but the Elite was careful not to spill a drop.  He then easily hung the ladle and handed the bowl to the Spartan with both hands, bowing slightly as he did.  The Spartan accepted the bowl with both hands, also bowing slightly, as was the custom of the Elites’.  Filling his own bowl, the Elite walked to the glass wall and stared out.

“The war has been difficult for both our races”, the Elite began.  The Spartan joined him at the window, on the Elite’s right side and faced the same direction.  “War always is”, the Spartan agreed.  “Indeed”, the Elite responded.  

The Elite then turned his head slightly toward the Spartan but did not face him.  “The food is not poisoned, Spartan”, he said.  “I’m certain that it is not, Shipmaster”, the Spartan said also slightly turning his head toward the Elite without facing him.  “You honor me by sharing a meal with me and I would not insult you by satisfying my hunger before you.”  The Elite turned back to the window and laughed, “You are familiar with our ways, Spartan”, and began to eat.

The food was room temperature, which was slightly warmer than what humans would consider ‘room temperature’.  It was like a stew of light colored meats in a red broth.  The texture was very much like seafood.  It was not cooked with heat but was marinated in an acidic broth that cooked it and gave it a tangy flavor.  The dish reminded him of something he once had before his first mission.  Something called, ‘ceviche’.  It was very similar since the meats were seafood of a sort.  He had eaten this meal before when behind enemy lines and knew of the Elite’s use of the creatures that lived in their home world’s oceans.  It was as close as you could get to seafood on the Elite home world.

“This was a present from one of my uncles”, the Elite said.  “He hunts the oceans of my world.  It is considered an honor to sustain the warrior caste.”

“It is similar for humans”, the Spartan said.  “Those that support our troops are considered heroes in their own right.  We would never be able to do all of it on our own.”

“Has it always been so, Spartan?”

“Yes, I believe it has.  Thousands of years ago, a human named Sun Tzu said that to win any battle, you must have five things.  One is the ‘way’ or ‘philosophy’.  All of your army must have the same purpose and direction or there is chaos, dissention in the troops.  Two is the ‘heavens’ or the ‘weather’.  You must know and be prepared if the battle is to be in rain, heat, snow, or even in space.  The third is the ‘land’ or ‘ground’.  You must know if the battle to be fought on ice, mountains, a canyon, an island.  Four is the leader.  The leader must be brave, intelligent, strict enough to control the troops, and must trust and care for the troops.  Five is the ‘method’ or ‘discipline’.  This is the organization, system of support, and supplies.  He said that an army without all of these will never be victorious.”

The Elite ate some more of the meal, chewing carefully on his good side and reflected on the Spartan’s words.  He then said, “Our races are much alike, Spartan.  Our philosophers are very similar.  We believe in much of the same things.  We had a direction, a purpose but we were deceived by the ones we called ‘prophets’.”

The Spartan said, “Sun Tzu also said that all warfare was based upon deception.”

With that, the Elite lowered his head.  “Yes”, he replied lowly.


« Last Edit: November 18, 2009, 06:47:29 PM by jokerman »

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