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Apparently Uzumri had made their journey painfully long; every place she ghosted into, restless warriors were gathering what little energy possible and making tasks previously considered simple ridiculously slow. Whether or not discipline should be imposed, she would ponder.
By a random twist of fate, chill drafts labored to tangle her in surmised mass. Unconsciously aware, she felt the slowly receding, yet still wicked looking wound, wary of the fact that such drafts caused it to make her feel uncomfortable. At her side, 424 Gallant Claw terminated his previous flight path, content to hover. Much to her dismay, he was a uniform; and very vexatious residence.

"I am detecting elevated chemical levels in your body, Reclaimer. I suggest you seek medical attention." His voice alone made her wish she would gather the desire enough to blow him out the nearest airlock, instead she dismissed him with an offhand wave. She did not have time for idle banter, or even time to treat her body of it's ailments, there were duty rosters to distribute, obviously if she did not complete that task, she would find an immobile, unprepared fleet very entertaining indeed.
Roughly as entertaining as the nearly cauterized flesh of her abdomen, she theorized.
She handed off yet another data pad to Mulock, a passing Intejii, noted his half-dead stare; and scanned others. Mulock's gaze was mirrored in various degrees.

Inevitably her stride carried her into a barracks. Covered from wall to wall with games, sleeping quarters or sparring Hunter/Jackal combinations, it did indeed look lively. Were it not for the commotion in the corner she could have thought it festive.
Two massive, muscle-bound Hunters were exploiting a shapely looking Jackal. They were not bond- brothers, however they did seem to be good friends. She had seen enough of those to recognize the threat such relationships possessed. She would not allow them to destroy her painstakingly careful organizations.

"Surrender to me your weapon." The larger snapped in bass tones.
"My Lord Yaztaruka, I mean no offense, I shall perform mine kata elsewhere." This voice was female.

Yaztaruka's companion giggled in an all too disgusting fashion. "We care not. Give us your weapon or we break your arm, elder one." So, the Jackal was their senior by some years. Therefore it knew not to strike either for fear of punishment. Which was why neither was bleeding to death. Shade smiled as she heard bones cracking. She imagined that it was a human spine, before maneuvering to get a better view.

Yaztaruka had a grip on the she-Quizal's forearm. Blood dribbled between his fingers. Though she could tell the Quizal was in pain, the creature did not express that trait with anything other than a near inaudible whimper.

"Listen now, either!" Shade snarled. "Pray the Quizal does not demand restitution, for I shall seize from your hearts!" All motion stopped; games were claimed by gravity as the room's occupants snapped to attention. All save Yaztaruka and his companion. She strode between them. Truly, she cared not for internal politics, she did know, however, that she needed every warrior in peak condition if her army was to function correctly. She would therefore provide for them, and see to their well being. Yaztaruka, she sensed, knew this only partially. What he saw was a frail little girl. How wrong he would be.

Perhaps it was on instinct bred into bone; perhaps it was because of the slight rush of wind, but as the meaty arm swept toward her body a slight snap of her fingers caused it to collide with a wall of rapidly accelerating particles.

Gasping in horror, Yaztaruka tried in vain to douse the inferno sleeping atop his smoldering hide. It had begun in ambush, and only now, ended in silent scream. His eyes displayed underhanded venom, his nostrils flaring to detect his slightly grayed arm.

"Daughter of Covenant," Yaztaruka held her by the throat now, allowing her the barest shred of air. "You have caused us to travel thousands upon thousands of units, only to be stranded here, over a hundred years from where our location should rest! The Doomharrow have existed for aeons and with you at our lead we have accomplished nothing in light of defeating our mainstream brethren! Do you have anything to say?
No! Do you know why we followed you! Fear! But now I show all how weak you truly are without your personal guards and living façade! You have burned the wrong warrior!"

Having some difficulty speaking passed the clotted blood in her throat, she managed to gurgle, eyes universally spaced. Onlookers tasted in her fear; drank of endless perspiration. "Let me go. Please." She muttered this as best she could under the strain Yaztaruka's meaty paw provided, fully aware that she was physically unable to escape her captor. His strength could overcome hers even had infinite number multiplied it.

He laughed, turning his head, bringing his first closer to his body. "Do you see, friends? Do you see your monarch's inability? A foolish child's infirmity?"

"I am followed," Shade hissed, blood resembling water coating Yaztaruka's gauntlet. "Because deep inside, are sewn loyalty's seeds!" Faster than most could even process thought her teeth were upon his exposed throat. Shade felt him pull away, likely more on instinct than anything else, his grip on her body relented. Hers did not. Shocking which she normally considered grave inconvenience birthed once again, and this time she considered it rightful punishment. Guided into the Hunter's massive armor by rules of conduction, it proceeded to cook him as if he was placed within an oven. Lighting burst o'er his form.

Shade found herself on deck, peachy organic fluids gushing down her chin. She spat out chewy meat and performed an about-face. Her contradiction had merely been in defense; and in her mind; a defense mounted with justice. Infirmity was for poorly bred peasants.

Left and right Hunters charged, spines glinting in nefarious design. Nine versus one; she'd never considered those good odds. But she knew she possessed a single advantage. Her first target closed much too rapidly for her enjoyment. Darting away, ensuring she did not do so with as much speed as she could have, whispering asseveration. "Attasu Havthos Calten!" One of his razor-sharp spinal blades dropped free and dissected his entrails.

Quizal sprinted away, some being trampled by their Hunter companions. She repeated her previous phrase, gesturing with wild stirrings. The Hunter's spinal blade cut itself apart, pinning seven bulky warriors to the walls in various painful places, genitals being the vast majority. Flames inched along their skins, slowly roasting them alive.
"Taste my fury!" Shade roared at her final enemy in challenge.

"Physical combat, girl. You are no match for me." She stood frozen, exposing her throat. Their distance was equal, formed by a center point marked by bloody skin. He charged, playing death incarnate. Shade did not move, did not loose breath's rhythm. Their screenplay would end soon. She supposed that on the off chance she did manage to kill this Hunter, she would be too dead to realize it. His bulk crew closer...

Closer still. She could hear his feet pounding the grates below them...

Thud.

Thud; Thud.


Stinging pain nibbled across her arm. Shade heard her clothing rip free. Once again, they faced off. The Hunter wore a dark expression, his smirk nothing less than sadistic. "You have the human form, surely they find your curves to perfection... and with that perfection, is your frailty." Unwilling to answer, to grant satisfaction under his remark, she crossed her arms o'er her chest, and waited.

"Death becomes you, bitch Queen." Yaztaruka took two steps, effectively closing her route of escape.

She waited.

Waited,

Waited.


They charged as one, unanimous and unstoppable. Faster than even she expected, the first Hunter's shield warped into her ribs. She heard something snap, wanted to scream in agony, wanted to do many things. Yaztaruka's brutish paw snatched her up. "Scream." He cooed, squeezing.

Scream she did, feeling bone grind against bone. Her body would not heal an unclean break such as that. Something inside popped with a sickening sputter. Instantly, slight-diaphanous gowns whipped into being, a black royalty. They whirled and twisted with lives plenty.

"So she is clothed again... soon your freakish nature shall not even give you dignity enough for that!" Yaztaruka's companion laughed. The Hunter dropped his prized plaything, his arm delivering its solid blow to her back. Disallowed grace enough to fall, Shade felt her spine fracture. Without warning, both Hunters began to flail about.

The many ribbons woven into her new clothing were at their throats, tangling windpipes, gouging at exposed eyes. Paper-thin cuts appeared. Shade watched in amusement, when unknown to both Hunters; a shining blue blur cut Yaztaruka's leg off at the knee from behind, a movement beginning low, gradually ascending. Faster than normal human eyes, and her blurry ones could see; the blade altered course and clove his head off with impossible precision. Clogged with blood, still capable of smell, her nose detected a Jackal's scent. Female... acrid burning flesh... plasma screaming inside it... She sensed no more.
Tras'Lok holstered his blade, and knelt. Grim eyes searched. Her pupils had lost focus. Shade was not breathing. Was she dead? Softly, he stroked her hair, brushing several loose strands out of her mouth.

Dropping his head, mandibles carefully grasping her ear, shaking. This drew slight response. A putrid cough which expelled colorless blood; he swiped it away, his eyes meeting those of his sworn Lady. Her cruel emerald facets seemed to burn with passion, even facing death. The silver flakes within them drifted casual hopelessness. Where words did not form, gaze was more than enough compensation.

I know you. But I don't remember you. Speak. Victory... Lower-caste Creature... Mine?

"My Lady," He could not swallow the knot his throat harbored. "Yes."

He watched her sigh one final time, in resignation. Her eyes drifted shut.


"My Lord, Tras'Lok! We must re-locate the Lady to Uzumri's Medical Chambers!" He glanced toward his newest friend, his Jackal companion. Shade's body exploded with newfound motion.

"No!" It was as primal a snarl as any he'd ever heard. "No medical lights, no machines, no prodding instruments!" She was sooner going to kill herself! Tras'Lok allowed her to drift into his arms, her rage slipping away, gradually ceasing to exist as she lost the little strength she had left.
"Mistress Urien, warn Weilan of events passing. Within my quarters, I shall await." He watched his friend bolt off, and, cradling the Lady so that nothing could harm her, he began his trek, ignoring the vacant gazes which; seemed glued to him; or more appropriately, what he was carrying.


RCE: Uzumri - Tras'Lok's Quarters
En-route to HALO Installation

Shade snapped her eyes open, struggling to sit up. A clawed hand pressed her down much too easily. Clawed hands... the same hands, which had left her body broken, dying! "Lay your flesh not, upon purity's form!" She felt her own voice, heard it. Weak volume, yet commanding, strong. Unquestionably confident...
"My Lady, I pray for thee," Tras'Lok pleaded. "Speak much more should you wish suicide. Wounds you have sustained, wounds that should have felled any Torra." His calm voice, she could tell, dripped with easy concern.

"I will not be herded, I will not be commanded by you, wretch." She proclaimed with finality. Truly fatigue was well upon her; she knew this. Still, she felt undeniable pain. Her body required setting. "Speak." Though Shade knew of his obvious, perhaps unintentional half-treachery, he could still be useful; unlike many others, his path of wrongs was easily redeemed.

"I have managed various repairs in the traditional Torra ways, applied dressings in my people's custom. I have not truly touched your body, Excellency."

So, her guardian was useful after all. He possessed greater sense than many; she was forced to admit such. For minutes on end, she felt her bones, closed in meditation. Feeling, caressing her inner self for disrepair. Abruptly, she ended it. With a brutal twist, she snapped each of her broken ribs back into place. Her body would do the rest. The pain alone made her wish she would fall, die then and there. She still had work to do, however. Succumbing was not an option.
Almost second-handedly she felt little, reluctant taps on her throat. She investigated, perplexed, realizing only then that she had not screamed. She noted having bitten her lip to prevent that, bitten so hard it had bled. Without energy, she dropped into sleep. Internal bleeding wasn't on her mind just yet.

When Shade awoke, Tras'Lok sat patiently, awaiting instruction. She gave none, and continued watching the rise and fall of her own chest as she breathed. Dead skin had peeled off and been recycled by maintenance machines, she concluded. Her abdomen looked now, as it had before she'd taken what memory recalled as a depleted uranium round. When performing addition, one included various wounds inflicted by once loyal warriors... it was testament enough to her resistance that she had survived.
Hold time's moment. Shade paused. Her resistance in truthful light, was nothing. While she had been weakened, nearly broken, her Doomharrow could simply have disposed of her. This idea was unsettling.

"Arms Master." She called. "Why was I not killed where my body laid?"

Tras'Lok allowed his multi-jawed head to rise. She took several moments to blink before she realized her mistake.

"It is best," He flashed what sounded an old warrior's adage. "When disallowing your enemy any good ideas."


Shade took long breaths, remembering...


Summer among her people was always festive. Birds swooped, dived and strafed for treats as children played with impossible enthusiasm. Shining rays beating down upon them, they continued their innocent games. Paru-Lae's Kick Disk, Hand-Rackets, Hover Sliding and several others she did not know. Quickly Shade diverted her attention. If she stopped listening to Master Scholar Mekan Laxamee' she would be whipped again.

"Do you know what Surrender is, child?" He always asked her questions like this one. Straightforward and utterly boring, akin to his lessons on hieroglyphics or cultures. Regardless of whether or not she approved of him, she would obey. She knew her place, and he was a superior being.
"I truthfully answer thee, I know not Surrender, Master Scholar Laxamee'." Shade responded. It was textbook material in content, but it would suffice. She would give him no more attention than what was demanded of her. Once she would have given him her all, but her mind was elsewhere.

"That response will do, child." His voice sounded understanding, however she highly doubted that big creatures actually had any understanding of things they found utterly useless. Her for example- since no one really knew why a child attended honored academies, instead of the usual Education centers. Master Scholar Laxamee' expressed an incredulous facial posture when he saw her eyes snapping covert glances outside. His carefully voiced lesson stalled. "I do not wish you punished, child. Listen to me, or I will break your arm."

Break her arm? But that would take forever to heal! And Yalan would indeed be very angry with him! Smiling she kept watching the big blue sly, imagining what real wind might feel like. Torra, like Scholar Master Laxamee', were sparring. Quizal, which she had never seen up close other than in those few pictures she was permitted to glance upon, were stalking each other. Without warning a muscled hand gripped her arm, squeezing. "Ouch!" Bones began to strain. "Cease thy activity, Master Scholar!" She cried, tears welling in her eyes. He began to twist. "Answer my question with full cooperation, child. Then I may consider your plea."

"Yes, Master Scholar Laxamee'!" Keenly aware of what he would very well do to her, she slid her eyes level with his own, cringing at what she saw there. No emotions or intentions, only big black holes in his sharply finned head.

"Why did you refrain from listening to me?" He was right in asking, Shade thought. It had been happening for one standard unit now. She had been allowed to see what a window was, and marveled at the new, unexplored world she saw.

"I had been dreaming, Master Scholar." She took a breath, feeling him ease his unshakable grip. "About what wind feels akin, animals and wolfish fur manes, moonlight..." His hand relinquished her arm, which now throbbed considerably. She was used to throbbing, however, and did not mind.

"Would you listen even if such circumstances were taken away?" He asked. Briefly, she considered his idea. He was a goodly creature, and had his heart placed rightly. He was quick to anger when having to repeat himself- just as she was. She would have listened, but these lessons were simply much too boring! Nothing happened. She could not have any direct influence on what she was taught. Therefore, she found them to be simple regurgitation.

"I believe that I would not, Master Scholar Laxamee'."
He nodded, seemingly with his entire life planned out. "Do you know what grass is, child?"

Grass? She had never heard that word before. "No Scholar Master Laxamee," Shade said, realizing she was curious. Maybe he would teach her something new if she asked. "May a lower being request that Lord Master Scholar Laxamee' shows her?" It was best to be polite when asking things of your better, she knew. Even when you lacked enjoyment in their company, she had learned that long ago.

The Torra laughed. "Yes, child. Yes, we will go somewhere you have never seen before."
They were going outside! Her hopes and dreams took flight. It was bad to get one's hopes up, however. She needed to be sure.

"It is truth, that we are going outside Master Scholar?" Her eyes and voice were a touch too excited, but she let that pass.

"Yes child, we are going outside. Find your quarters, substitute your garments and assemble here. Go now."

Outside! They were going outside! She would see wolves, feel wind, not just air parting, but wind, blowing in her face, tossing her hair around. Spider'ly silk upon feathered breeze. She reached her quarters in no time passed, she felt. She had been getting faster, sharper than she had been three days ago, when she had at last been released from her first two years of life. Green liquid. Little pokes, and curious scientists. She could count her heartbeat for it's every pump, feel her blood rush-about her in its vein-river. Hear an insect flutter his mighty wings a half mile away. It felt good, and even better when she slid around the corner closest to her door, entering her barren quarters.

She pulled her acolyte's robe off, and scrutinized it. Simple blue stenciled with silver-black dragons, which coiled up its length. Respectable of what little she had, Shade folded her robe rather neatly and placed it in her dark corner, where she slept. Bothering to evade furniture was useless; she had none. A floor, roof and four walls, was all that others said she needed. Shade did not argue.

Picking wrinkled peasant's clothing off her floor, she donned tightly fitting wilderness clothing. It did not restrict her movement, and for this she was glad. When she met Scholar Master Laxamee', he held an appealing violet robe. It was one of the most richly feeling garments she had ever seen!
He placed it over her body, and pulled the hood up, covering her face. "No matter what happens," He said. "You must never reveal your body when in sight of those outside, do you understand?"

All others did. The concept itself was strange, but he was taking her outside when others never dreamed of doing what he was doing now. "I understand, Master Scholar Laxamee'."
He nodded. "I will speak. Make no sound, and only follow within my shadow."
"Yes Master Scholar Laxamee'."

She was having difficulty seeing regardless, and was glad for his most recent direction. "When you are kicked, do not squeal. Crouch and cower."

Why would anyone want to kick her? Warriors refrained their urges to harm their own... that was what Master Scholar Laxamee' had said...

"You'll see." He spoke this when he'd obviously sensed her confusion.

They passed many, and she was used to that. Daily traffic was common here. She concentrated on following his shadow, and stopped when he stopped. Muffled dialogue was exchanged. Shade knew she could have heart it if she had been listening. Giddy with excitement, she waited.

"Ha, as usual the Grunt is shaking with fear!" A voice she regarded as booming laughed. A hard kick placed her aside her teacher's heel. At first, she couldn't feel any pain. Slowly, then in greater volume it bit her. Shade bit her trembling lip, climbing back afoot. She shut her senses, and kept walking. Disgusting smells vanished, replaced by sweet smells, warmth. Chirping birds...

Her mind burst its barriers asunder. The hood drifted free. Her raven hair, silken and free now that the hood had caught her hair pins.

He looked concerned. "Are you well, child?"
Overwhelmed by the morning's brightness, she shielded her eyes. "It hurts, Master Scholar!"
He placed his left hand on her shoulder. Strangely, although she had been taught that this form of contact was for weaker races, weaker species... she wanted it. Loved his calm air, loved the reassurance he provided her. "Open your eyes, child. Trust me."
"Why? It hurts my eyes, it's too bright!" She whimpered honestly.
"Trust my voice, little one. Open your eyes." He eased her hands downward with his own.

Obediently, she did as bid. Her jaw dropped. The plant was beautiful! Mixed blue, pink and white combinations stared back into her eyes, daring her touch, her smell! If she could just pluck one pedal...
Laxamee' seized her hand. "No, child. Some things you cannot have. Not yet."
"I am curious why, Master Scholar."
"Some things will hurt you-- hold a moment, why do you ask every question? It is my turn."

Her answer attained, she nodded.

"Your age, child. Tell me."
"I am told that my age is Five devil years."
He looked down with slightly sorrowful gaze, as if he wanted to tell her something. He seemed well, and she did not pursue the subject, since his next words sounded cheerful enough.

"Well, I know something you can have, knowledge."
"Please Master Scholar, no more languages lessons, you had said that you would show me grass, and allow me gander animals, and feel wind's dance!"

He frowned. "Very well, child. What do you wish to learn?"
That question was easy enough. Shade recalled a very broad topic she enjoyed over everything else, and was overjoyed when she learned anything of it. "War! Fighting!"

Her teacher smiled. "As you wish." He drew forth a flame-red reptilian creature from within his sleeve. It's eyes blazed white-hot malevolence, being as green as her own were. The creature's black slit pupils gazed with utmost precision, catching every last detail. "Meet Beyrgrand."

What this creature was, she knew not. But she took an instant liking to it. On lost levels, the creature in itself felt familiar. "What is this reptile race called?" She asked. Shade felt that she needed to know what this being was. Just as much as she needed to be here, where she was. Outside...

"This being is called a Dragon. In Torra culture, he symbolizes luck, power and leadership." Beyrgrand hopped free of his captor's arms and lunged into her own. The weight was enough in terms of knocking her down, and she laughed because of that. Beyrgrand's tiny, many-toothed jaws opened wide and a snake-tongue flicked free, licking her face. She laughed again. He was so... prophets forbid her; (Yalan would tear her heart free) cute.

She did not care what happened. She was glad for this experience. Glad that she had met Beyrgrand. But she had missed an important detail in her mirth. When was she going to learn more of Fighting and war?
"Master Scholar Laxamee', you said I would learn more about-
"Yes child, I know." He acknowledged. "We shall play a game."

"What kind of game?" Not many games were fun...

"A war game." He snapped his fingers, causing Beyrgrand's rapid departure.
The only kind of game she knew. The only kind of game she liked to play. Shade was good at those; she always won. That was why none of the other acolytes wanted to play with her when their PT hours arrived. "You'll play a war game with me?" She arose, tingling with new thrills. "What game?"


He seemed as if he was pondering, but it struck her that he was merely drawing breath in enough, preparing for her inevitable barrage of questions, requests at repetition of rules. "It is called Hunt and Destroy. You and Beyrgrand will be playing. Your objective is simple. Race to the lake, and catch a fish. You will know what a fish is, when you see one, worry not.
Once you have caught your fish, return with that fish, here. Your fish must be living for you to win. You will have your head start, however, should I catch you-

"Which shall not happen, Master Scholar." Shade added.

-You must suffer my lessons with full attention. If I do not catch you, you may keep Beyrgrand." He concluded.

"When do we begin, Master Scholar?"

Her teacher remained stone still. Her eyes widening by each second, she pivoted off heel, spun and ran. As fast as the Dragon was, she remained two inches behind every step of the way. He swept his lithe tail in an arc, and seemed to pause for her, ravenous eyes shining. She watched him wheel around a nearby tree, shrieking for his victory, sailing for his soul on soil.

"You shall never better my spirit, prey!" He wasn't going to win that easily. She refused it! Nimble as ever, she felt her blood scream. Her muscles tensed, her heart pounded in her ears. She wanted his speed, hungered for his agility, his freedom. "I am no foe defeated," She told him, aware that such was truth. "I am foe invincible! And woe unto mine enemy!"
Beyrgrand roared, countering with a series of quick gyrations in purpose of throwing her off track. Shade would not have that. She felt her arm, moved it with precision granted by flawless hand-eye coordination; felt her fingers flex, could sense what little strength she had as her hand closed around his tail-


With a flash she was back again. Her weakness had cost her that race, many years ago. It had nearly cost her life, most recently. Shade knew weakness once again. Tras'Lok dared to point it out as if it was free commodity!

"I shall spurn your lecture, Arms Master!" She expressed raw anger, simple, uncorrupt. In moments, that anger had disappeared. Mood swings were usually without from her forte. Lately, however, anything could happen. "Speak truth, Arms Master; Our ETA toward this Halo; tell me."

"We should arrive within ten minutes, perhaps subtracting or adding three. Surely you cannot think I allow your passage there, seeing your present state?"

What... did he honestly believe he could command her after so many rebukes?
Such was Torra nature...

"I shall deign forgiveness, Arms Master- for your impulsive words. You are my protector, after all."
"Forgiveness granted, my Lady? I thank you." He muttered; sounding slightly astonished. "My heart shows gladness that you are yet alive, this is all."

She was not the only one showing weakness! This new threat she would not allow passed. Her own weakness was repairable. That of others, especially concerning Tras'Lok's recent defeat at a mere Human's hands, Shade was unsure. It would be eliminated. Channeling her energies, feeling both replenished, and yet weak, it was resolved that it merely gathered itself to shove her Lieutenant into the far wall. She was content with this. "You will show no sympathy to me, Tras." Voicing her thoughts calmly, evenly. Shade tasted warning beneath her words. "Mine nearly killed me. Should you show yours again, I will kill you. Now, do your duty. I shall remain here. Prepare a Dropship and ensure the Fleet's combat readiness. Make haste!"

He was definitely carrying a sagging posture, however it corrected once orders had been given. Generally, she had learned to interpret this as good. Again, she laid her head down and rested. The dream she received troubled her greatly.

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