In Victory, Weakness

In the aftermath of a successful Kru'desh ambush, Stray must decide the fate of the UNSC survivors.
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The UNSC convoy never saw it coming. One instant the transports and their escorts cruised easily through space; the next, Covenant ships flashed out of Slipspace and scorched the convoy with a blistering firestorm before the startled escorts could so much as come about to face the ambush. The UNSC ships writhed beneath the barrage, scorched hulls coming to pieces in a cold vacuum.
The convoy was startled but contingencies were in place. A second escort force flashed from a microjump into attack positions above the Covenant ships. A textbook counter-ambush, straight from UNSC naval doctrine.
Unfortunately for the convoy, the Covenant commander was familiar with UNSC navy doctrine.
Squat corvettes and squadrons of attack fighters darted out and up from beneath the cover of the larger cruisers. Lances of pre-targeted plasma leaped up at the newcomers with uncommon accuracy. The UNSC ships let off a hasty barrage of missiles and MAC rounds before scattering into evasive action. Some of the corvettes faltered, hulls pierced by glancing blows. The other ships raced on with dogged determination, splitting the UNSC formation apart and picking its ships off one after the other.
The battle was over in minutes. The Covenant strike force hung victorious over the remains of a convoy twice its size. Gravity wells held the ruined ships in place while dropships and boarding craft descended on the metal carcasses like vultures.
A handful of survivors sped away from the battlespace. The larger UNSC frigates slowed to buy a single transport time to warm up its slipspace drive.
Standing in the center of the lead Covenant cruiser, the commander of the Kru’desh legion watched the desperate escape attempt on a holographic monitor. The Sangheili around him shouted with victory as the boarding parties reported one victorious skirmish after another. As the lone human on the bridge, the rogue Spartan known as Stray folded his arms over his battered armor and let a hiss of air out between his teeth.
“Another glorious victory.” Motes of light convalesced into a shimmering haze beside the battle display. To the Sangheili eyes, they appeared to be a wall of dancing flames—the form of their holy Oracle, the messenger of the gods who brought them victory. On the spectrum detected by human eyes, Stray could just make out the “Oracle”’s true form. Diana—renegade AI and Stray’s partner in treason—smiled out at him from within the flames.
“Nice shooting.” Stray watched the engagement statistics roll over the image of the still-fleeing ships. “You’ve gotten real good at coordinating the fire grid.”
“Oh, don’t sell yourself short.” The pale woman within the flames clasped her hands together and gave a wolfish smile. “It was a good plan. Especially anticipating their backup force.”
Relief Stray hadn’t realized he was reaching for welled up inside his chest. He’d expected some impish rebuke. Another painful lesson. Instead Diana was pleased at how things turned out. He fought the relief back and reminded himself that he didn’t care. He wasn’t supposed to care. Not anymore.
“Those ships are still within range.” Standing beside Stray, the disgraced warrior called Ro’nin twitched a finger at the battle display. “One good barrage should finish them off before they get away.”
“The battle is over.” Across from Ro’nin, Tuka ‘Refum shook his head. The younger warrior worked his mandibles, clearly uncomfortable with the notion of blasting fleeing ships. “There’s no harm in letting the stragglers go. Let them tell of our victory—”
A cold stare from Ro’nin silenced him.
Stray opened his mouth to cut between them, but he noticed Diana’s avatar staring at him. More importantly, he felt her watching him from every camera on the bridge. Watching, waiting, and judging, like she always did.
Corpses drifted in the space beyond his ship, hundreds of crew dead aboard vessels blown apart on his command. His plan, his ships, his orders. His power. Now he had the power to destroy those ships or let them go. And all the while Diana stood beside him to take stock and reassess his worth.
Well? she murmured noiselessly. Perhaps she reached his mind through his neural link. Perhaps they knew each other too well to even need words. The bridge and its alien warriors shrunk away around them. It was just the Spartan, the AI, and the lives they held between them. Give the order.
Waste of time. He looked out beyond the carnage he’d wrought. That they’d wrought together. They’re just cockroaches.
So stamp them out like cockroaches. Her eyes cut through him and his pretenses of power and command. Or don’t. It’s your call.
One way or the other wouldn’t matter. The battle was won, the convoy decimated. The Covenant warriors were too flush with victory to take notice of a small act of charity. The only thing at stake was how he stood in Diana’s estimation.
All or nothing. In a flash of weakness he wanted to ask her opinion. What should I do? But she wouldn’t answer. She never told him the right way. No one ever did. Not Diana, not Gavin, not Cassandra…
His eyes flashed, fists clenching beneath his relaxed posture. He’d learned Diana’s lessons well. He couldn’t fail her, not when she’d raised him up from nothing and given him this power of life and death. What could he do if she abandoned him?
Weakness betrayed power. He could not beg advice. He could not be weak.
The bridge lurched back into focus. Stray raised a finger and pointed at the ships on the display. “All batteries target those ships. Burn them out of the stars.”
He caught Tuka’s eye. “They’ve forgotten who the real power is out here. The Covenant loses a few battles and suddenly they think it’s weak. We need to remind them who really owns the frontier.”
Stray returned his gaze to the battle display. Plasma torpedoes streaked towards the UNSC ships. “If it was us trying to get away, they’d blast us away without a second thought and joke about it afterwards. Never forget that.”
The young warrior looked away. “Yes, sir.”
Stray tightened the iron grip around his heart and kept his eyes locked on the plasma torpedoes and their doomed targets. He fought back the urge to glance at Diana in search of her approval. He’d passed another test. Proved himself worthy of her.
Hadn’t he?
Category:The Weekly