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Author Topic: Precious Cargo - Chapter 4 - Thanks for the Memory  (Read 1881 times)

Offline jokerman

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Precious Cargo - Chapter 4 - Thanks for the Memory
« on: November 18, 2009, 06:45:12 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 4 - Thanks for the Memory


The sense of smell has a very powerful role in human memories.  The smell of a wonderfully perfumed flower can transport a person far away and long ago.  It can give a deep emotional feeling with the slightest whiff of the scantest scent.  The right smell can make someone salivate profusely or deliver the immediate urge to violently eject their gastro-intestinal contents as soon as physically possible.

The scent of the food and the ember smell of the glowing red stone gave the Spartan a peaceful feeling.  He had eaten a variation of this dish before and did not realize how much he had missed it.  With so much of his time spent in violence, he cherished the rare moments of peace he had. 

The scent and taste took him back to a place a long time ago, far behind enemy lines.  His mind wandered as he created dinner conversation in the Elite tradition.  Only using small talk, philosophical discussion, never directly confronting, always neutral.  He had learned many things over the years to help him survive.  Infiltration was an art, knowledge the key.  The Spartan had been stuck on that moldy moon for so long, eating whatever he could.  Now he was enjoying something he had thought might have become impossible.  He closed his eyes took another bite and savored the delicacy.  Swallowing, he inhaled and smelled the air.  The Spartan found himself transported back to where he had learned…

Suddenly, the Spartan opened his eyes wide and thought, ‘The incense… the taste of the food... no…’.

“Your uncle gave you this food?” he said cautiously.

“Yes”, said the Elite.  “Is it to your liking?”

“As a matter of fact, it is the best that I have ever eaten”, said the Spartan feeling his face flush.

“You have had this dish before, Spartan?” the Elite continued, again slightly turning his head in the near direction of his guest.

“Yes.  I had forgotten how much I enjoyed it.  It is a very rare dish, isn’t it?”

“Indeed.”

“The moon where you found me, you didn’t come for me did you?” the Spartan asked slowly.

“A direct question?” the Elite said with a slight warning tone.

“Merely… an observation”, the Spartan countered.

“Humph…”, the Elite said turning back to his meal.  After completing another bite, he looked up to the view of the stars and said, “Then I have an observation, Spartan.  You are not using your translation device and you know much of our ways.  That was unexpected.”

“An indirect question”, the Spartan said smiling.  “Yes, my translation device was damaged years ago in an explosion on…  Well, where doesn’t matter.  I remember the first Covenant word that I learned.  The word for ‘go’ or ‘move’.  On my world, it sounds like the word for an annoying small skin growth caused by a virus and also a liquid made in the process of beverage fermentation.  That was the first word that I heard when my translation device failed.” 

The Spartan imitated the sound, which the Elite heard as ‘Move, Move, Move’.  But to the Spartan, he still heard, ‘Wort, Wort, Wort’. 

“It took some time but I believe I have grasped the rudiments of the language.  I am glad that my words are not too difficult to receive”, the Spartan continued.

The Elite dropped his head and laughed to himself.  “You have learned the art of our language, Spartan.  Many of our terms and phrases have multiple meanings.  You could have used many terms for ‘word’ but the one that you chose also means ‘gift’.  Well done.”

The Elite looked up again and said, “Very well, I did not come to the moon for you.”

“You were there for ‘The Hunt’.  This was to be your ‘Last Meal’”, the Spartan said quickly.

“More ‘observations’, Spartan?”

Direct questions during a meal or special occasions are considered a type of confrontation to the Elites.  Many an argument has risen out of questioning another at the wrong time.  In a warrior society, this could mean a fight or a war between houses.  But questions were allowed for planning battles between allies.

“I am here now, on this ship with you.  If this is a situation that I must prepare, then I must know.”

The Elite took a deep breath.  “Yes, Spartan.  It does concern you… now.  Spartan, do you know the meaning behind, ‘The Hunt’?”

“Not exactly.  I know it’s a final hunt before a battle that may be your last but that’s all.”

Choosing his words carefully, the Elite said, “In ‘The Hunt’, you choose prey that can and will fight you to the death.  You meet them on their own ground, on their own terms, and if necessary, you fight to the death.”

The Spartan began to slowly look at the Elite as he hung on every word.  The movement caught the Elite’s eye and the Spartan quickly checked himself and looked forward again.

The Elite continued, “If you win the battle, you do not kill your prey or mortally wound it but merely stop it from killing you.  In the end, you allow the prey to live and continue on its way, unharmed.  For it is not the prey that you wished to confront that day; it is Death itself.”

“‘The Hunt’ is to face Death and tell it that you will be coming for it soon.  And the next time you meet, you will not submit and will fight it with every fiber of your being.  It is a hunt for Death itself, to challenge it.  The prey is not killed to tell Death that it will not win that day because you will not let it.  And you will do anything you must, to not let it win over you the next time you meet.”

“You were there for the swamp creature”, the Spartan said.

“You have met it?” the Elite said with a hint of surprise.

“Once or twice.  It reminded me of someone I once knew.  I couldn’t bring myself to kill it.”

“They are very territorial, it is unusual that it let you live.”

“It didn’t ‘let’ me”, the Spartan said with emphasis.  “But you didn’t find the creature.  You found me instead.  I was your prey.”

“Yes”, said the Elite.  “When I realized you were on the moon, I felt that it was providence that had brought me here.  For this was not originally my destination.  I could not have thought of better prey.  And although I wanted to kill you, I stayed my hand.  Death could not win this day.  You were fortunate, Spartan”, the Elite said with a slight air of arrogance.

“You were lucky that I wanted to save ammo”, the Spartan said smiling.

After a moment, the Spartan continued more seriously, “But I could feel that your intentions were different.  You have never hesitated before.  I could tell that you weren’t facing me.  And in a way, I wasn’t facing you, either.  Maybe my encounters with the swamp creature had an effect on me.  Or maybe it was just the fact that I was on that moon for so long.  All I knew was that no matter how the battle ended, I would’ve won.  Even in defeat, I would have been released from my Gulag on that soggy moon and gained my final freedom.  But that wasn’t the only reason I didn’t fire my weapon.  I could feel it wasn’t your time.  Not then, not that way.  It was like, for that one time you weren’t my enemy.  That in reality, I wasn’t fighting you.  I was in a battle with myself.”

“Then you know ‘The Hunt’.  We have faced Death and warned it of our coming.  I will now continue with my mission.  A mission that you are welcome to join.”  Then the Elite turned slightly, not facing the Spartan and said, “If you are willing.”

The Spartan smelled the air again.  His mortal enemy was asking for his help.  Looking into the bowl of the Elite’s ‘Last Meal’ he realized that it would probably also be his own.  He knew how difficult it must’ve been for the Elite after what they had been through.  Even though they were enemies, the Spartan always had a great respect for this Elite in the past.  And now, this Elite saved him from his isolation, invited him into his home as a friend, and shared a solemn meal with a former mortal enemy.

“How can I refuse such a generous offer?  I can think of no one else that I would want by my side”, the Spartan said.

“Good”, replied the Elite.  “There is much to come.  A great battle is near.  We lack only one thing.  We must go to an Ancestral Ring and procure information.  Then we will confront Death and we will be victorious.  We will be victorious because we must.  For if we are not, all will be lost.”

The Spartan looked down into his almost empty bowl and saw a vague reflection of himself.  He tried to think of how many times he had faced Death.  He looked at palm of his left hand.  He made a fist and thought to himself, ‘Once more…’.

As a Slip Stream portal began to open to their left, the Spartan took his bowl in his right hand and said, “My people have a tradition called a ‘toast’.  It is a remembrance of those close to you, an acknowledgement of their victories, an honor to them, their deeds, and their memories.  It is to honor that which is happening now and a call of things to come.” 

Holding up the bowl, the Spartan continued, “To your uncle, for the finest meal I have ever eaten.  To the host that honors me with this great and priceless gift.  And to Death, may he tremble at our coming.”

To this, the Elite looked directly at the Spartan.


« Last Edit: October 31, 2016, 05:58:47 PM by jokerman »

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