It was very gratifying to see a Sangheili serving them for a change. Even more gratifyingly, whenever Tol's group struggled with the basic Sangheili language, their Teacher put on the most amusingly irritiated face. Education so late into an Unggoy's lifetime was not optimal to say the least. However, a Major going against Gris' back would be a surefire way of landing oneself into cowdung.
So, he taught. The Soldate Complex had never been more alive. It hasn't felt like four weeks have passed in the slightest.
Yet, Teacher had never given his name to those under his tuition. No house, no identifier, just Teacher. Be that as it may, getting a Major in a room of Unggoy for more than thirty minutes was accomplishment enough.
Tol didn't know how Gris did it, but the powers that be felt that it was necessary for his fellow Unggoy to get an education. This was history!
Did they think this was actually a good, sound idea that benefited the military, and the lives which served her? Or was it yet another experiment designed to make it so everyone could be as miserable as them? Tol didn't know, and Tol didn't care. He felt content.
A small step, but a huge one relative to the Unggoy.
Unggoy...
He didn't feel like a bodysnatcher of some alien's skin anymore.
Every day, his human side was slowly fading away. He'd never think or act like an Unggoy, but something deep inside him started to like the idea of being the unassuming 'little guy'. So did all Unggoy have an innate inferiority complex? Shuddering, he banished the thought. He had more pressing , mapping this liminal hellscape of a facility in his mind. He just couldn't. He had already forgotten how he reached this classroom!
Around them was an interim education facility designed to educate the races of the Covenant with what was expected to serve the theocracy.
As expected for a breeding colony, it was very utilitarian and drab, matching the equally dour culture of the Prophets. No substance, no soul. The walls were lined with a material similar to concrete and every corridor they peered into was virtually indistinguishable from the other. Do not let the glittery lights of High Charity fool you; their grand display of power and class could not be extended toward its outward colonies. Culture was not the priority when the circulation ofw supplies were spread thin enough as it is.
Even now, the sound of the fluorescent-like lights bled into the classroom and wriggled its way into Tol's brain.
"In addressing the Patriach in this manner, it shows your respect toward his House and him as a contributor. However, as it is in most circumstances, this term is contextual..."
In the background was a voice. It was droning, tired, and utterly fed up. The amount of enthusiasm Tol's classmates projected sunk under Teacher's skin like a vampire. Probably thinking how much better if his time was spent elsewhere not teaching walking bags of flesh that would be thrown into battle without a thought of care.
Despite Teacher's clear lack of interest, Tol did garner much needed information about how Covenant systems and societies interacted.
Never would he ever have imagined the intricate tightrope of relationships between the races of the Covenant to be this wobbly. It was a matter of when, not if, a civil war were to erupt considering how differently each of the races conducted themselves. No wonder the events of the second game happened the way it did...
A rudimentary understanding at best, for sure... but it gives Tol something to work with. It would be a long time before any of them would be up to scratch with even a squad of Sangheili Minors, but this gave him a fighting chance of at least forming links between people who otherwise never gave them a second glance.
He fidgeted his pen in irritation. There Teacher goes again - that sneer of contempt when one of his slower classmates dares to expand his knowledge. He was already intaking an impressive amount of information in a month for an Unggoy.
For an Unggoy. Tol sighs, wondering if people will look down on his kind for all eternity.
As Teacher's temper simmers into a muted contempt, the grizzled teacher breathed a sigh. His fingers tapper on the desk, bringing out his pad to flick exhaustively through the slides. The atmosphere couldn't be less awkward. His group looked anxiously at each other in anticipation for a beating that never came. Somehow, disappointing a higher-up felt worse than being punished like they usually do. The implicit expectation that they can do better, but do not, was such a shitty feeling. And Tol couldn't help but deepen his frown at that.
"No, Wakin, the Sangheili male does NOT have to be 'in love' with their bonded. It can purely be political - which is why, should you ever be in the command of a Sangheili, never speak of homely matters. That is, if you don't want to be ridiculed by the officer first. Above all else, keep to yourself. They have enough going on as is than to entertain you with answers about their personal life."
Implicitness was never a Sangheili strong suit. The honour they so often don demanded that should be approached simply, irregardless of situation. Self-destructiveness was a trait to be admired, not scorned. So unwavering in their belief that the gods will welcome those who bear this faux honour that they willingly drag others into the dirt along with them.
Regardless of their status, why did the Sangheili feel the need to be such a pissbaby about everything, at any given time? Surely it must be embarrassing on some level to act like an entitled child!
Breathe. Breathe, Marcus. In, out. Tollia refocused. He wasn't exempt from being an emotional brat either.
His teacher didn't deserve his intrigue, his pity. His energy could be better spent elsewhere, like preparing the rest on how to form plans on the fly with each other during Combat training.
Yet there was a nagging feeling at the back of his mind that he shouldn't let bygones be bygones. Maybe he can make the Teacher like the class better - at the very least, don't hate their living guts being even near them.
But what can he do? A Sangheili ain't gonna change his attitude to an entire race based on one interaction. Soon, his back started to slouch, and his eyes began to shut. It was another cloudy day at Soldate, and nothing could be changed about it.
Right?
----------------------------------------
In a single file, the exhausted Unggoy younglings stepped out the Artificial Combat Training Facility. The fact that they made it this close to beating the kig'yar was already an achievement in of itself. Still, no cigar for Batch 12.
Gris thought it was impressive regardless.
For now though, it was dejected looks all around. Some tears and scowls here and there, but they shouldn't beat themselves too hard about it. Their newly started training course only began two mega-units ago. He was already enthused that it made them three-quarters as good as the real deal.
He watched from his ivory office as the star of the show finally made it out, sporting some nasty bruises on his right.
His bad leg flared and made him fall from the top floor of a hardlight building. On occasion, he had to be reminded of how well the Unggoy body is built for taking a beating. Gris was this close to calling in every medical Huragok stationed on the Complex. The world would be a lesser place if Tollia was gone.
Tollia certainly didn't feel that way. There he was again, wearing his signature dour look. Though it was good to be self-critical sometimes, Gris thinks that Tol should take it easy more often. It is absolutely no easy feat defeating combatants possessing nearly two times more battle experience than them.
And Gris suspects that their attitude is linked to a certain limping Unggoy.
It was regrettable that the Field Masters stationed on the Complex motioned to use the Unggoy as 'warm up' for resident kig'yar combatants on leave, but it couldn't be helped. He made sure that the rounds had stopped before the Unggoy could get seriously injured.
And speaking of... the kig'yar had just started to make their way out of the facility as well. Far less organised than Tol's group, they murmured and squawked amongst each other as they slowly made their way to the mess. The Unggoy certainly gave them a fight, judging by the amount of blue bruises they received on their person. Apparently, so much so the Unggoy earned themselves stares of ire.
It was one thing for kig'yar to come out sore after a hardlight session with lesser opponents, it was another thing entirely when the Unggoy worked up a response. It would come as to no surprise that Tollia was the instigator.
He seemed to flex his two middle claws and pointed them in the air as he kept the outward claws closed. It was apparently doubly effective to hold both arms up at the same time.
It must have meant something offensive, as Pimya soon followed in partaking in this strange gesture, and lifted up both fingers in kind. The result was a hivemind of Unggoy holding two middle claws up in the air, and staring down the departing kig'yar in contempt.
For a while, Gris pondered the cultural implications of this.
----------------------------------------
"Tol, something wrong again?"
Marcus diverted his eyes.
"It's nothing."
"You really bad at lying, y'know?"
"Yea, I know."
"Then talk to me!"
Pimya looked down at him in earnest, hands clamoured on the edges his bunk bed. Finally looking up, Tol opened his mouth to speak before looking back down at his hands again, gripping them tightly.
"It's just... everything. Everything about the Complex."
"Yea, Teacher is a big meanie."
"It's not just that... it's the way he talks to us. We can't even hold a conversation with him without him shutting us down. That face's sour 'nough to spoil milk. And what he teaches... it couldn't be more useless. What use is the proper Sangheili customs of greeting when you have a gun shoved down your face. He couldn't give less of a shit about us."
"You wanna give up?"
"Well it's not that. Okay, maybe it is."
"You teach me never to give up-"
"Well that context was kinda different since it was about 'finishing' off an Elite at the training ground. No, it's nothing like that. It is something more implicit."
"Implicit?"
"Sorry, not as straightforward as pointing a rifle at the enemy. How would you even begin changing decades worth of attitudes and propaganda?"
"Think Teacher is smarter than you give credit for. People more than the words taught to them. Maybe same with the old guy."
"Obviously. But not every Sangheili will be like Gris. We barely know him. Might get stabbed through the chest with his blade, or worse, be forced to work the fields for four more units."
"Stop it, Tollia. Always worst case scenario. Can't do this, can't do that."
"Pim-"
"No, Tol, listen. It doesn't work like that. And you know it. You are just scared, but you know it is right thing to do." Pimya jumped down the bunkbed and went in for a hug, much to Tol's shock. "But I am scared too. We can be scared together."
Too shocked for words to even search for, Tol held his arms in the air for a while before surrendering, wrapping them around Pim's back.
"I... I don't know what to do, Pim," he says quietly. "Do I complain to Gris? No... we got lucky enough as is. Gris is too busy to teach us, and... Teacher could have been much worse. Don't want a Jiralhanae anywhere near me."
"Maybe it not that. It's not us. We haven't done no wrong. We... maybe we don't understand them enough. Like a wall, there something in the way! We can talk like how you talk to..."
"Are we talking about the same person? Mr. Sourface?"
"No, you know I am not talking 'bout that. You just have not tried talking to him yet. The person inside the Sangheili."
"What the... what does that even mean?"
"I mean what I mean."
Tollia coils back from Pim's embrace, slamming the back of his head against his mattress and drawling out a long sigh.
"Pim, hate to break it to ya, but I am not suicidal."
"Do you even know whether he is meanie? In terms of body. All he does is give me weird look. Yucky, yes. But not that bad!"
"I'd have to be crazy to talk back to a superior's face. I'd dead within the unit."
"It is not crazy enough if it is you, Tol. You won't fail. Have more faith!"
"But I will."
"How do you know?"
"Because..."
A dead silence stretches between them for a while.
"Because...?" enunciates Pimya.
----------------------------------------
"Excuse me, Teacher."
An orange sun glistened through the tainted windows of the office. The only sound which disturbed the silence in the air was Tol's methane regulator. Light and raspy. On Teacher's desk were personal affects ranging in age and size. Medallions dotted the space immaculately, orderly. The very image of the organised Sangheili warrior on full display.
Yet the high-pitched intrusion didn't seem to phase Teacher in the slightest. Until...
"Teach-"
"Tollia, I am aware that you are in my office. I am also aware that such an act of non-professionalism will be a surefire way of getting oneself's rations cut in half. You don't want to be parted with your food-tit, do you?"
Rebuttal.
Tollia flushed, half in embarrassment from forgetting proper protocol of arranging for meetings, again... and half from getting shut down without any real conversation. Always the crude and shallow jab at his race. Normally, cheap shots like that also meant he didn't take it too seriously. But this has been ALL his interactions with this person so far - one-sided and so overwhelmingly negative. If they continued on like this, his batch won't escape their first combat deployment alive. His hands gripped into a ball.
"With respect, I only want to talk to you about the quality of education the Unggoy are receiving. For most of us, it isn't working."
"Why should it matter to you how well you understand the content? The onus is on you to put in the work."
Rebuttal.
"You... you can't expect us to put in the work when we barely understand the foundations of what you are teaching. We didn't grow up knowing all of this. It's not like Go-, like the Forerunners themselves put all of this knowledge into our heads."
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.
"Tread carefully, young one. The Covenant does not take kindly to those willing to go against protocol."
Rebuttal.
"Protocol? What protocol? One which says you have to be an asshole?"
"Young one-"
"You are just so FRUSTRATING."
"TOLLIA."
Marcus stopped in his tracks. The outburst almost knocked the Unggoy on his ass. For the first time, Teacher expressed an emotion other than flat apathy. Tol honestly considered that an achievement.
"People are coming."
Wait. "What-..."
That's when he heard them. Those big, gracious steps which would make any Unggoy's skin crawl and straighten their posture. Footsteps anyone could tell from a mile away...
Quickly making himself scarce, he stands by the doorway as if he was just about to leave.
On cue, the door opened; an imposing figure walks in, flanked either side by two Sangheili Majors walking in with gaits that matched their egos.
"Special Operations Officer Koring, in the flesh!"
"Gentlemen."
"And... hmm. What's this one doing here?"
Tol quickly realised that the Sangheili was using both hands to gesture at all of him, and promptly motioned the standard superior officer greeting. "Good day, sir."
"How would someone like you come to know of Officer Koring?"
"I... I am under his tutelage, sir."
"Tutelage! Big word. I never would have guessed that Master also taught the Sangheili language..."
Pause. "Master?"
"Oh, he didn't tell you?"
Striding forth, he knicked a medallion of Koring's desk, and regarded it with apparent interest. Teacher Koring didn't say a word.
"Once upon a time, he was the premier House trainer, able to shape any Sangheili youth into strapping fighters worthy of the House name. Your credentials don't carry much weight outside Sanghelios, do they?" said Ostaga airily. Koring could only stare as he tosses the medallion back on his desk. "If you hadn't noticed yet, he's a rightful old cunt who got what he deserved."
"Heh. Cunt is the right word for him."
"Indeed. And it seems that karma has finally caught up to my Master."
"You leave Tollia out of this," Koring finally said.
"No, I have a bone to pick as well-"
"I appreciate the enthusiasm, but aren't you getting a little carried away, youngling?"
"What?"
"Do I have to spell it out? I, the superior, wasn't asking for your input," said Ostaga, before redirecting his attention at his Master, "and the fact you are teaching an Unggoy batch says enough. By the Gods, 'the miracle of Batch 12'! Ha ha! They would not survive more than thirty units in the battlefield, and you know it."
The smirk on Tollia's face wore off slowly, and his mouth closed. Of course, how could he forget? He's a mere Unggoy.
"Now make haste. It's high time Master and I had a heart to heart."
Yet, something compelled him to stay in Koring's office. This old man was not what he seemed.
However, one Unggoy's word is not enough to sway the mind of a Sangheili. Tollia left the room, neither Sangheili's eyes following him as he departed.
----------------------------------------
"Well? Going to say something?"
...
"That's it? That's all, after all these years?"
"I have better things to tend to than entertain you, Ostaga."
The standing Sangheili bellowed in laughter, the two behind him cracking a smile.
"Such unprofessionalism from someone as long-lived as yourself. You could have learnt a thing or two from me." Ostaga's arms stretch wide and encompassed the entire room. "It took me a while to find you, you know. I scraped our records for any mention of you in House Vadum. Then, I looked through the records in High Charity. It took until page nine that any mention of you even existed. Synthensi? Synthesi, the Unggoy production planet? I couldn't believe my eyes. You could have grown old, lived comfortably; the famous blood of Koring could have bred the next generation of warriors!
"Yet, you are here. By the Prophets, you have fallen."
"What do you want me to say?" Koring finally replied. "To say that I was wrong, and you were right? Why are in my office seeking my approval as if I were your House patriarch?" said Koring. "You have the ego of a child."
"Are you seriously taking the moral high ground? I ascended further then you ever did in the Covenant. From day one, you disobeyed the will of the Gods."
"Do not mistake strength with your ability to navigate military politics. The amount of carelessness you handled House Retkom is apparent."
"How is it my fault that they refused to comply? Their young charged at us with swords. They signed their death warrants long ago."
"And you had PLASMA RIFLES. They were fleeing, starved, hungry, and at your mercy. You should have known and accounted for it. Yet, you - you and your ego fell back to the one thing that justifies everything the Covenant does. 'The will of the Prophets'."
"Heresy."
"They are messengers of the Gods, yes. Yet, they are not exempt from flaws. They are mortal, like you and I. I taught you better than that. The people of Retkom House did not need to die. It was simply more convenient."
"Do you dare question the credibility of the Prophets?"
"If you stopped to think, just once. The Prophets would not care of their fates after the mission. Just that they were an example to the Covenant populace."
"I accounted for every variable in that mission, and I succeeded in completing every objective."
"You succeeded in elevating yourself. The lives of the living mean nothing to you because you never once cared about anything other than yourself. 'Who would care if they died?' And therein lies your sin.
"You hide under the veneer of self-righteousness and achievement to prove your worth to the world, to make yourself feel better. Instead your projection of superiority and usefulness to the regime is as fragile as your ego. Your 'faith' is a husk as empty as the vastness of space, and you have disguised the blackness which oozed from every crevice of your soul as your dedication to the Gods. I wish I had failed you on the Day of Selection because you became everything I hated."
The smile on Ostaga's mandibles faded slowly, and his fingers twitched. His eyes became darker.
It rested on the hilt of his sword. It wasn't before long he brandished his sword - it flickered to life, the humming of its light muting any sound which came from outside the room.
In a flash, the tension was sliced through by a grey blur which bursted through the door.
"Teacher, the fieldmasters requested that the meeting be moved to commence shortly."
The silence was deafening. Marcus cursed at himself for even thinking of such a stupid idea. But what the Unggoy prayed would happen, did. Ostaga lost his resolve.
"For the record, youngling, I was merely demonstrating the improvements of the Sangheili sword since he stepped down." He turned. "One day, when you die, and I am at the gates of the Forerunners, I will be the one who closes the gates on you."
The Sangheili stayed the blade and swiftly exited the room, his entourage soon following. The door slam which followed left Marcus stunned. Did he just...?
Koring opened his desk under his table and reached for something inside. It was shaped like a cigar, yet designed with more elegance than the average human-made ones. Accompanying it was something which looked near identical to a lighter, which lit. The burning left yellow coloured mists which trailed softly in the sunlight.
Sensing his curiosity, Koring obliges. "The leaves in this were native to my side of Sanghelios. Finding these after the Sangheili uplift was a near impossible ask. But my House always found a way."
To his credit, Marcus didn't even know such recreational items existed in Sangheili culture. He could only stare at it dumbly. Koring must have sensed his confusion, and proceeded to pull another 'cigar' out from his desk.
"Would you like to try?"
"I... would, sir," said Tollia sincerely. "But I can't breathe normal air."
"There is a latch behind respirator of your mask. It is hidden, but you should feel a small bump. Press it down tightly."
"How did you..."
"I know more about the Unggoy than you think."
Cautiously doing as he was told, a button really did open a small hole in his mask. It was surreal seeing that green-tinted smoke drifting in an air outside their feeding facility.
"It's temporary, but you will be able to breathe in the air surrounding you, along with your ammonia."
Well, he already got this far. He held the cigar into the opening, and sucked its fumes in. He was expecting to cough, like he would when he first inhaled a cigarette, but what he smelled and tasted was almost... refreshing. For a moment, he forgot about the chemistry of it and simply basked in the bliss.
They meditated in peaceful silence for a while.
"Why did you do it?"
"Do what?"
"The act. There was no 'Complex order' passed down. If they had half the mind to check they would have known by now. At best you would be killed on the spot, at worst, slaughter all of your batch. All I have treated you like so far is cowdung. Why take the risk?"
"Because veterans shouldn't be treated like that."
Now it was Koring's turn to be dumbfounded, judging by the frown which adorned his features. Yet in that scrunched look was a sense of genuine softness, like something had awaken inside of him that hasn't been awake for a long while.
"Your medallions on the table. Insignias of the Prophets etched on. Says you served..."
Tollia savoured the sight of Koring smiling, albeit softly. "You have a good eye, young one. And a good student for reading ahead so far."
"Well, I have to. I don't want me or anyone else in my batch getting hurt."
"That is an honourable goal."
"Then why have you taught us so poorly? We need to learn about strategies of attack, methods in improvisation, proper use technique of our equipment. Instead, we are learning how to kowtow to hypothetical commanding officers of the future."
"I understand your frustration. But humour me, Tollia: do you truly think that any ground Major would ever relinquish critical decision-making to an Unggoy?"
For the first time in a while, Tollia didn't know what to say in response.
"Do you know why no Unggoy had ever been given the power to command their own ground units in modern times?"
"Modern times? You have seen an Unggoy in power before?"
"When I joined the Covenant, there were several. They were nowhere near the individual level of a Sangheili warrior still, but in numbers? They were a force more powerful than even the best Sangheili warriors."
"What happened?"
"The Unggoy Rebellion."
...
Tollia put out the light in his cigar. "You were there."
"It was far more difficult a flame to extinguish than the Covenant would lead you to believe," Koring explains. "What they lacked in firepower, they made up for in selfless camaraderie. It was an utter disaster, a point of weakness – one where they sent their very best soldiers to quell it. It was why in awarding the warriors who sacrificed the most for holding back the Unggoy onslaught, they did not extend the same hand to the Unggoy who remained in the Covenant.
"They fear such a cataclysmic event ever happening again. Tell me, what would you, a powerful dictator, do when a whole species staged an uprising which nearly cost them your whole empire?"
"I would never put them in a powerful enough position to do such a thing ever again."
They looked at each other solemnly, as the weight of the situation started to dawn and crash upon Marcus. The game was rigged from the start.
"Because the people you are under command with don't view you as valuable assets. It was due to the deliberate cloaking of information after the Rebellion that the majority of younger Sangheili discriminate so easily," Koring said. "This false information worked as a double-edged sword. It further strengthened the resolve of the Covenant people, yet undermined what could have been a truly valuable asset in our military.
"Modern Majors see you only as objects to initiate a combat encounter and weaken the enemy just enough so that their more valuable soldiers can finish the job. It is why appealing to your superior officers is so important. To know how and when to avoid their ire."
"You could have made that clearer. You could have said this from the start."
"Then the Unggoy wouldn't have taken this class seriously, wouldn't stay their hand, and would have done something rash. It never ends well."
"I wouldn't do any of that, and you know it!"
"But would your fellow batch members?"
"I..."
"Since day one, I noticed something different in you. You are wiser beyond your age. But your batchmates? They could have assumed that every commanding officer would be like me."
"That's a very big assumption to make."
"You know better than anyone else that it is how the military machine works. It is not something any one individual can repair. Realistically, it will take the Forerunners appearing before our very eyes before any of the young Sangheili to change their minds on the matter. The Unggoy were bred as cannon fodder, and as far as they are concerned, it will remain that way."
"So, what, I just let my future CO walk all over me, hope and pray to God that I stayed out of their eye just enough to avoid being sent in on a suicide run?"
"Not necessarily. There are options-"
"What options? Because that's what it's sounding like to me. So you are saying I should just give up then, huh?"
"Tollia."
"Don't you dare 'Tollia' me, you are part of the problem!"
"Please calm down."
"Calm down?! How else did you expect me to react to this shit?! May as well have told us to go kill ourselves! You are fucking disgusting!"
Streams of tears rolled freely down his cheek now. He choked under his own mask as he struggled to control himself, his hands shielding his eyes.
"Tollia, wait-"
The door swung open violently, leaving Koring stunned as he cupped his face tightly with his four claws. This boy was not going to survive a day on the battlefield.