Chapter 12

Alba – Nehru Street Gym, ten hours after slip-space rupture.

Alba sat beside a pile of discarded wrappers, wolfing down processed meat and bread. The Human portions were tiny, she had already gone through a dozen of the packaged food rations, and she still wasn’t satisfied. It didn’t hold a candle to eating fresh meat straight off the bone, but at least the only thing that they had slain in order to obtain this meal were the glass machines.

The Imp had removed his helmet so that he could eat, giving her a look at her unlikely companion’s face for the first time. She had seen Humans before, she had faced many in battle, and they weren’t always easy to tell apart. Some of them had beards like a male Jiralhanae, while others were bald, and still more had darker or lighter complexions than their fellows. Unlike in Jiralhanae culture, their grooming seemed to have no ritual purpose, it might be purely decorative. This one had short hair, skin on the lighter side, and dark eyes with white sclera. Their people lacked snouts, and instead had sloping noses that jutted from their faces. They had no tusks, and their jaws were small, with dull teeth that weren’t suited to biting. Despite his alien appearance, it was somehow more familiar than the split mandibles of the Sangheili, or the gas-sucking orifices of the Unggoy.

She watched as he chewed on one of the sandwiches laboriously, his mouth too small to swallow it in one go. He glanced up at her, noticing that she was watching. He was a very quiet creature, he had scarcely spoken at all during their time together, and he was curt when he answered her questions. Even so, she didn’t get the impression that he resented her. Their people were enemies, it was only due to circumstance that they were cooperating, but he had not made any attempts to betray her. It might be a different story once he reached his destination, she had no real idea of where he was actually leading her, but they had a shared goal in wanting to get as far away from the Covenant lines as possible.

Besides, it was a refreshing change from having overly eager males or blabbering Unggoy chatting in her ear all day. She relished the peace and quiet.

The Imp tossed her another packet, and she caught it, turning it over in her hands. He watched as she opened it up, a sweet smell rising to her nose. Inside were small, dark cakes filled with some kind of white sludge, and she picked one out of the molded tray that it was resting in. It was chewy, and the filling spilled out into her mouth when she bit down on it, surprising her with its sweetness. These were not simple military rations, the Humans ate these for pleasure.

Her companion drank from small, round containers filled with liquid that smelled too syrupy for her taste, but there was plenty of fresh water in transparent bottles. Water was water, no matter what planet you were on, and she had no concerns about the alien food making her sick. Humans were omnivorous mammals just like the Jiralhanae, whatever they could eat, she probably could too.

Her appreciation for him had only grown since their first encounter by the plaza. He was as tough as a Mgalekgolo, as stubborn as a Chieftain, and he fought with the fervor of a Sangheili Zealot. He ignored his injuries, completely focused on battle, and he wasted no time outside of it. If her fellow Jiralhanae were as reliable and as single-minded in their tasks, then this war would have been over long ago. The Imps lived up to their devilish namesake.