EliteCommander

Halo: Aegis Team

The initial exchange of fire between Aviza’s team and the defenders in front of them did leave some casualties on the side of the rebels. One of the Brutes that attempted to flank was taken down by Aviza, and there were a few Humans among the rebels who took hits that would, at the very least, incapacitate them. In a neutral exchange of gunfire, Aviza’s team had the firm edge, as most of them were shielded. They could recover after a few seconds of sitting in cover, while the rebels could be taken down by a single shot. Though, the Brutes were more resilient. As long as their powered armor was not destroyed, their shields could regenerate.

The rebels had not yet taken heavy casualties, yet they were still quick to begin retreating. They started to fall back from their fortifications in the middle and instead took cover behind the crates on the far side of the room. Even more strangely, the Brutes were willing to retreat. After the loss of just one of their own, they were falling back to the far side of the room as well, chieftain included. Despite the shouting they had heard as they arrived and the fact that he wielded a gravity hammer, he was not charging in nor taking risks. He just kept to cover and made sure his shields did not fall.

Shih, meanwhile, spoke to Aviza directly. ”I’m monitoring your vitals now. You might have a concussion, but your armor is already administering treatment. Just try not to take any more hits.”

---

Vael ‘Virisusai

Between the grenades and a magazine of fuel rods, the two mounted machine guns certainly stopped returning fire, along with all of the other Humans defending their position. Although, between the smoke and bursts of fuel rod explosions, it was also difficult to see how many had been killed in the blasts.

Despite the gap in return fire, Tasuma still moved towards cover behind the nearest pillar. The shield on its arm was nigh impenetrable to anything the rebels could throw at it, but the rest of its armor was not quite as durable. Small arms would bounce off of the plating, but the heavy machine guns were another matter. Its armor was dented and damaged in some places, and pierced in a few. Thick, orange blood dripped from a few holes, though the Mgalekgolo as a whole did not yet seem meaningfully affected.

On the upper walkway, Ryker would not find himself uncontested. Being that it was such an obvious path for any attackers to take, the rebels had prepared to defend it. It was a long, straight walkway with almost nothing in terms of cover, and on the far end was another set of barricades the rebels had deployed, at least three defenders, and a third mounted heavy machine gun. Ryker might have approached with active camouflage but the rebels were alert and only had a narrow path they were tasked with watching. The gunner still noticed the distinctive shimmer in the air surrounding Ryker and opened fire immediately, along with the other two beside her with their assault rifles. Perhaps their only mistake was opening fire too early, while Ryker was still close enough to the ramp to not be fully committed to the position.

Vael had spent the break of the fight behind cover, allowing his shields to recharge. Though, as explosives rained down upon the enemy position, he shouted through their comms. ”Do not be indiscriminate with explosives! If any of those crates contain explosives themselves, you may kill us as well as them.” Vael ordered. He peered out of cover to try and get a look at the enemy, though the smoke was already thick in the air by that point. It obscured what his eyes could see, though his motion tracker still showed plenty of movement ahead of them. ”The smoke shall be our ally. These Humans will fall easily if we close the distance. Grikgar, help Spartan Ryker claim the high ground, everyone else…”

As Vael spoke, two objects flew out of the smoke towards them, one after another. Frag grenades, which would certainly land nearby. At that point, Vael easily understood what the Humans’ plan had been. The defenders could have held close to try and deny them the support struts they had been using as cover, but normal Humans performed poorly against Spartan and Sangheili alike in close quarters. Instead, they had taken positions nearer to the far side of the room, taking advantage of long sight lines and heavy guns to suppress them into cover, at which point they would have used grenades to either kill them, or flush them out into machine gun fire. But, the quick actions of Vael’s allies had foiled that plan. Now, if their heavy guns were even still in one piece, the air was too thick with smoke to return fire effectively. The incoming grenades were little more than a signal for Vael to push forward.

”Attack!” Vael shouted, sprinting forward out of the range of the grenades and into the smoke. He had his plasma rifle in-hand and ready, though in such close quarters, it was his secondary weapon. As soon as he saw a Human silhouette in front of him, pushing himself up to his feet amid damaged and broken crates, Vael activated his energy sword and diagonally bisected the rebel’s torso in one swift motion. The smoke around him now glowed blue, illuminated by the plasma. Bullets cut through the air towards him, though they were far from accurate, and his shields could stand up much longer to small arms than mounted machine guns. Vael flicked off his sword to hide its glow and moved swiftly, using pulsing bursts of orange light through the smoke from the rebels’ muzzle flash to hone in on their positions.

The Cradle

Vreta joined the Humans at the table for their breakfast. He was silent at first while he prodded quizzically at the meal Kalax had prepared. He took in its scent again in order to take stock of its ingredients and make sure he knew everything he would be eating. There were no two spacefaring species with perfectly compatible digestive systems, but digestive implants or specially-designed enzyme supplements could bridge those gaps and allow one to handle a wider variety of foods. Vreta’s enhancements were equipped to produce enzymes to aid in digesting nearly anything edible, but it still never hurt to double-check.

“I can’t say I’ve experienced something quite like that before, even in all my time. Looking it up now, I’m seeing that Sthrirad is none other than the Tindrels’ rather unique symbiote. I should have recognized the name. Though, if I had, I might not have partaken.” Vreta said with a shrug. “It was a fun evening, though. I do somewhat regret cutting it short for us all. I was just doing what I thought was best for our well-being.”

The Cradle

Vreta glanced at 595 and shrugged. “I don’t know; I don’t have access to your account. The fine’s amount would be auto-calculated based your income, total assets, and extenuating circumstances surrounding the event. The fact that you were not arrested might imply that your victim did something to instigate as well.”

Vreta too was keen to get up and walked straight to the kitchen for a glass of water. He raised up his snout and sniffed the air above the dish that Kalex had prepared to identify the ingredients within. “Fish, grains, eggs, and what is that scent…ah, my search says you call it ‘butter’. Definitely a Human dish. Where did you order the ingredients from? I imagine that, by this point, you have found the best option for authentic Human cuisine, Ambassador.”

Soon enough, Vreta’s other guests joined them in the main room. He looked back over his shoulder and nodded in greeting to them. “Good morning Freyr, Masgard. I hope my guest rooms were comfortable to your standards. It seems Kalax has taken the liberty of cooking for us. I don’t know what it is, but I am happy to try your cuisine.”

After a moment, Vreta gave another look to 595 beside him. “My shower is down that hall if you need it. Though for myself, I usually just bask in the pool outside. It can be heated like a hot tub, and the filtration system easily handles all contaminates. I find it a relaxing start to the day.”

The Cradle

Vreta sat up on the couch, briefly taking a moment to stretch out the arm 595 had been lying on all night. He watched her scrounge around and put on the clothes she found, though unlike most Human observers, her lack of clothing hardly even registered with Vreta. She could walk through Threria naked and most Rothians would scarcely notice.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Vreta remarked, and honestly, in this case. He did not have any of the anxiety she seemed to be showing, if he was placing that emotion correctly. At the very least, she had been in a hurry to get up for some reason. “That was more of a fun night than I had been expecting, I will admit. I’m looking through the recordings now. You did end up getting in a bit of trouble. I think you might have incurred some fines at the club.” He chuckled. “I think we got through the night without any major trouble, though. I don’t think any of us left after we came to my apartment, so there shouldn't be any more, uh, repercussions.”

The Cradle

When Vreta lost his focus, it also became easier for him to lose his sense of time. He had been dancing at first with the Agent, then…others. He found himself gravitating towards Tindrel especially, and he did not question why. He simply did what he felt he should and let his impulses drive him, at least for a time. When he saw the “fight”, if it could be called that, which Agent 595 ended up in, it was enough to at least partially pull Vreta back into reality. There was a part of him in the back of his mind that, strangely, felt like he understood why she was doing what she was doing, despite the fact that he had not seen the events leading up to it.

In any case, there was enough lucidity in Vreta’s mind that he did not lose focus on what he felt he needed to do. By the time he and some of the others had approached the Agent, she had released her grip on the clubgoer, but Vreta still felt strongly that he needed to prevent it from happening again. “This is…getting to be too much. We shouldn’t stay here like this. My…my apartment. On the upper level of the city; let’s go there. Stay out of trouble…”

---

Vreta was awoken by a beam of light shining in onto his eyes early in the morning from one of the windows. Though, before he even opened his eyes, he was already receiving reports on his body’s current state from his neural implant. It was alerting him to seek water soon, as he was becoming dehydrated, and it was currently releasing a treatment into his brain to suppress a headache. He felt that he was laying on the couch in his living room, though more importantly, he was not laying there alone. In his arms, nestled between him and the cushions was a naked Human woman. His memories of how he came to be in this position were not returning to him immediately, but he did not feel that it would take many guesses to come to the right answer. It was uncommon of him to choose a partner that was non-Rothian, but it was not something that was entirely new to him, either. However, when he finally opened his eyes to see the person he was holding in his claws, he found that it was none other than Agent 595. That was…more unusual.

Vreta did not immediately get up. Instead, he laid his head back and started skipping through parts of his recording of the night’s events to jog his own memory. He started with the last point he remembered, then skipped ahead to start filling in the gaps. The more he remembered, the more…interesting the story became, and he expected he would be telling it soon enough.

The Cradle

Vreta had to admit the strangeness of the situation. Or at least, part of him recognized it. His mind was torn between his normal rationality and…something else entirely. He found himself easily losing focus and simply acting on impulse. Though, he did not feel that he had entirely lost control. He just no longer felt the need to observe certain inhibitions.

Vreta did not react immediately to 595’s hand on his snout. Even had he been completely lucid, he might not have known how to respond right away. Though, in this case, it was laughter that he replied with after a few seconds. “This is your dancing? Well, I guess I should join in instead of just standing around.”

For a while, Vreta made no effort to fight the impulses of his clouded mind and instead simply allowed him to dance with the agent and Freyr in whatever ways came to mind. Vreta was someone who had practiced dance in a more professional setting at one point in his life, during his more artistic phase. Although, that experience was five centuries in the past. He had, of course, had cause to dance recreationally in the intervening years, his instinct still wanted to call back on that practice he had drilled into himself so long ago. There was a certain grace and fluidity to his movements, but they still came at a fast, almost chaotic pace to match the temp of the music filling the air. The crowded dance floor meant that he was starved for much of the space he needed. He was not uncoordinated, but there were a few times that unexpected movements in the crowd caused him to bump his considerable weight into strangers, friends, or both.

Overall, the one Vreta danced the most closely with was Agent 595. At first it had been to pull her attention away from Freyr, but that motivation faded the more he allowed himself to become lost in the moment. He made the most use of the limited space he had by dancing around and between 595 and Freyr, depending on who his partner was at the time. Eventually, his motions brought him back to the Agent, whose hand he took in his own as he pulled her closer to him. He moved himself to her side, whipping his tail around behind her. The “correct” response was to entwine her tail with his own, but for a Human, that was obviously not an option even if she had known. For the most part, he just ended up slapping her with his tail, then wrapping it around her waist.

The Cradle

Vreta tilted his head slightly at Masgard. “Again, that is not the sort of response I would have expected from you. I am beginning to think there is a side to your people that I have not seen before. Or, at least, have not seen much of.” He remarked. However, they did not have much time to talk before the group moved out onto the dance floor.

It did not take long before the effects of the inhalant became apparent. Everything just felt…more. More intense, more visceral. He could feel the rhythmic thumping of the music that seemed to pulse along with his own heartbeat. Some scents in particular, even filtered as they were through his olfactory implants, became more distinct. Most strikingly, once he confirmed that his eyes were not deceiving him, he realized he could see certain scents from Tindrel in the crowd. At least, that was how he interpreted what his eyesight was telling him. The overload of sensory information among the flashing lights, pulsing music, and constant movement of the crowd was overwhelming, to say the least.

Vreta had not expected such a drastic effect so quickly on himself. He could only imagine the influence on the smaller Humans he was accompanying. That thought did have him finally focus his attention back on his companions. By that point, Freyr was bound up close in Agent 595’s arms, receiving a steady stream kisses to her neck. All of it was simply a surprise after surprise for Vreta. Humans did have a reputation for peculiar aversions to some core instincts, but that was not what Vreta was seeing now, as long as he was interpreting the displays of affection correctly.

His first reaction was to be happy that Freyr could still enjoy herself despite all that was happening for her professionally, yet…there was something that was prodding at the back of Vreta’s mind. A memory, something Freyr had said to him that very night, was sticking out to him. He was reminded of their conversation during dinner, talking about their families and partners. Vreta stopped where he was on the dance floor, struggling to focus and remember. Freyr was happily married, as she said. That meant something to Humans. They were culturally monogamous. It was not a practice that Vreta understood very well, but even addled as his mind was, he still remembered that it was something important to them. If she was being affected by this drug even more strongly than he was, then she might not have wanted this in her right mind. Vreta, despite his overwhelmed senses, could still think clearly…enough. He could be of some help.

When Vreta approached, he soon found Freyr’s hand firmly on his chest. He still had his neural implant assisting him with deciphering her facial expressions, but even his implant was not entirely determinant about what it was seeing from Freyr’s expression. It did seem that she might have been more overwhelmed by it all than he was. For a moment, he took a hold of Freyr’s hand in his own, smiled, and squeezed her hand gently. Though, he released her after a few seconds and instead placed one hand on Agent 595’s shoulder to grab her attention. “Do you…still want to dance, Agent?”

The Cradle

Evidently, the friend that Ambassador Verengoning was keen on them meeting was another Human diplomat: a woman who seemed far classier than the entire rest of the club combined. She was just as friendly and welcoming as he was, no doubt as her job required. Vreta did realize that his career made him more paranoid than most, but it was hard for him to trust the authenticity of those who were paid to make friends. Still, it was not as if he was going to be swayed from his duty by a night of drinking, dancing, and sampling strange inhalants. Perhaps the Sthrirad might have been more of a concern than the other aspects of the club, but Vreta always had his toxin filters on standby if he needed them. He felt safe enough to indulge.

Vreta headed down the lift just behind Freyr and 595, leaving the ambassador to speak with his superior. He resisted the tempation to do a search on the effects of the inhalant, as he figured he might enjoy the night more if it was a surprise. He chuckled to himself for a few moments before speaking up loudly enough to be heard by them over the noise of the crowd. “Is this how most Humans like to enjoy their evenings? I will admit, this is not what I expected after my time on Outremer. Though, perhaps that is just because no one wanted to invite me to the fun parties.”

The Cradle

With as unique as the atmosphere of the club was, Vreta did feel less of a pressure on him compared to the restaurant, or official meetings. Certainly, he was professional enough to still keep up his guard with respect to matters the Rahn’Masser would find important, but it was something of a relief to not feel the need to keep up an externally professional attitude. At least from all he understood about Humans, that would not be the expectation here.

Grinning, Vreta took a drink from the server and gave Freyr a light pat on her back. “Don’t worry. Like I’ve said, I’ve lived many lives before, and not all of them were that of a business executive or professional diplomat. I think it will be nice to…let loose for a night, especially with all that’s been happening.”

Tilting back his head, Vreta quickly downed the full volume of the drink he had taken, which, granted, was not as difficult of a task for his biology. He continued to follow Kalax along with the rest of the group to meet this friend of his. Although, he had no notions of who this friend might be. He still could not even be sure if the ambassador was as “informed” on the reality of the situation as the likes of 595 or Masgard. Personally, Vreta leaned towards the ambassador being out-of-the-loop. Rothian surveillance on their homeworld was all-encompassing, and the sophistication of their decrypting tools meant that no message could be guaranteed to be truly safe. At least not forever. In all likelihood, he was operating without all of the information.

Ultimately, Vreta put aside the thoughts of espionage and conspiracy. He did, quite genuinely, want to enjoy himself tonight, even if that meant putting aside rivalries. As they headed down the ramp, Vreta tilted his head towards 595. “I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but the art of motion is one I might be familiar with.”

The Cradle

Vreta did accept the compliment without argument, though he was still not sure he would rate himself as a hero. His actions certainly had helped the Humans around him, but he acted more out of their mutual interest in self-preservation. Of course, he would not say that openly. The perception of heroics was a useful one.

Freyr’s last question made it obvious to she had been talking to in her mind, though Vreta found it particularly curious that she had she had said “we” had been invited to a club. Briefly, he wondered if the ambassador or the agent had some other plan in mind, or if they had simply been drinking even more than himself and Freyr. Either way, the idea was just too intriguing for him to pass up; he simply had to see where this would lead. “Well, there’s an invitation I didn’t expect to receive. A club is certainly a very different establishment to this one, but I’m still interested. Sure, I’ll join you.” He answered.

Regardless of their new plans, they did not rush the remainder of their dinner. They filled the time with more small talk and discussions about their respective homeworlds, and for Vreta, another drink or two. He could tell that Freyr was a bit farther along in her inebriation than he was, even though he was not having his implants filter the alcohol. It was simply a matter of body mass as to why he felt the effects more slowly, but he could catch up if he wished to.

---

Once their dinner did finally come to an end, Vreta did keep his word and joined the group to this club Kalax apparently frequented. They did not go immediately to the club from the restaurant, as the Humans insisted they needed to change their clothing before going to a new place. As his people did not tend to wear clothes, Vreta found the intricacies of Human customs in regards to their fashion to be entirely foreign, and seemingly arbitrary. The quality of the clothing that Kalax and the agent were wearing seemed to be quite high, so he was not sure what would make the change necessary. In any event, Vreta did not need to wait too long at Kalax’s home for the three of them to be ready to leave.

In contrast to the places they had been so far, the flight to the club took them down a few levels deep into the city. Many parts of the Threria’s lower layers could not see the sky, so many areas made use of a simulated sky on the underside of the layer above. As nightfall had already descended upon the city, they were under a simulated night sky, but still with well-lit streets. Windows of the surrounding buildings could all be sufficiently polarized to block out any and all light from the outside, so they could control interior light levels as they saw fit.

Despite the wealth Vreta had acquired over the years, he was still no stranger to the less than “high-class” parts of the city, and the club was certainly a far cry from the fine dining they had been enjoying less than an hour before. Nothing could be heard from the street outside, but once through the doors, the thumping bass and rhythmic beats of the music dominated the air, even moreso than the crowd in attendance. Although Vreta had never been to this club, specifically, but he knew how they tended to operate. When the lights were up and the hologram projectors disabled, the interior was largely a bland, white room. However, the sophistication of Rothian holography allowed the club coordinators to any illusion they so desired to tailor the atmosphere to the crowd’s liking. Such holograms were convincing to the point that, especially for tourists, one who was not previously aware could go through their entire night without noticing.

Inside, the overall atmosphere of the club was remarkably different from anything Vreta had seen on Rothia, or Outremer, for that matter. Just a quick look around at the club’s patrons showed that they catered to more than just Rothians, as about half of them were of a mix of species, Humans included. The air was comfortable to Vreta, though still quite warm by Human standards. The club’s theme for the night made the whole place seem particularly vintage. The dance floor itself could be shaped and reformed to create platforms and objects, which were then overlaid with holograms to make the whole place seem like it came from a time centuries in the past. Granted, Vreta was not quite sure what culture this place was taking its inspiration from. If it was Rothian, it was from before his time.