Hello everyone. P.M. Wolf here, formerly Comrade Wolf. This is a short story, set about the same time as Halo 2. I don't want to give too much away, but i hope you you like it. Reviews are always welcome.

Chapter 1

There were days that Kurr absolutely hated his life, and this was one of them. It had all started a cycle ago. Kurr was once been one of dozens of Unggoy who served under Spec Ops Commander Zardok Zulfar, a strong and capable Sangheili. Now he was one of the last.

This could all be blamed on that damn Demon, that human monster in the green armor, who had slaughtered countless Covenant, destroyed a scared ring, and escaped unscathed. That very Demon who had assassinated the Prophet of Mercy, beat the hierarch to death with the butt of a pistol.

It was all his fault. He probably did not even realize the extent of what he had done. He had not just killed a Prophet after all, which in and of itself was an almost unspeakable crime. That Demon had forsaken the Sangheili.

Kurr had done what he could to stay out of the affairs of the Sangheili and Jiralhanae, the constant bickering between the two dominating species. Lacking any form of power, politically or physically, every Unggoy learned early to keep his head low, lest it be removed at the shoulders. Ironic how the one time he didn't follow this practice may indeed be his last.

Zulfar and his team were fighting the good fight on Kali, a planet marked as one of humanity's satellites. For some strange reason, the hierarchs were reluctant to simply glass the damn world, so he and his men were charged with eradicating the humans.

Zulfar was infuriated. The small planet Earth had at last been marked as the home planet of the wretched humans. That is where he wanted to be, on the front lines, fighting in the name of the Covenant, but he accepted his orders from the hierarchs bitterly. Unfortunately, that seemingly simple order was much more difficult to carry out than any would have guessed. The humans, for their second-rate technology and inferior numbers, proved to have a great amount of fight in them. They engaged the Covenant forces in a series of swift and brilliant raids. From out of jungles, they would crawl, in the line of sight just long enough to attack. Then back into the shadows, safe from retaliation. It was enough to reduce the Covenant to their knees.

One day, one like all the others: long, boring, nerve racking; there came a strange order over the radio, a direct broadcast from High Charity. The High Prophet of Truth was speaking. He used words like heresy and corruption. He spoke of how the Sangheili had betrayed the sacred ideals, that their demise was the will of the Forerunners. And Kurr remembered wondering what he could mean. The Sangheili had been the guardians of the Covenant for as long as any could remember, it was their truce with the Prophets that allowed the great society to be formed. Surely, the Prophet of Truth was mistaken in his belief that the Sangheili had betrayed the Covenant's ideas. Then came the fighting. It was unclear who shot first: the Sangheili or the Jiralhanea. Each was engaged in a desperate bid to slay the other.

Kurr could have kept his head down, as he always did. It would have been easy. When he spied Commander Zulfar, surrounded by three of the Jiralhanea and about to be killed, he could have simply turned his back, closed his eyes, and covered his ears. Instead, he lifted his Needler and fired at one of the furred leviathans. And he did damage. As much damage as a mosquito does to a giant. The Jiralhanea he had shot turned to the Unggoy, amused at the vain attack.

The Jiralhanea were stupid creatures. Their attention was quickly diverted from the dieing Sangheili to the cowering Unggoy. This proved their fatal error. With some new breathe of life; Commander Zulfar reached his energy sword. He slew two of the enemies quickly, drove the blade through their backsides and spun to lop off their head with graceful swipes. The third turned just in time to see the weapon thrust through his gut.

All across the base, the battle continued, the sounds of war was deafening. That day, the Sangheili fought well, but the Jiralhanea were too numerous. In the end, Commander Zulfar was forced to flee.

This brought Kurr to his current situation, following Commander Zulfar through the hot steamy jungles of the planet Kali, the pits of the Unggoy's stomach roaring with hunger and his feet ached.

"Why did you save me?" asked the commander. He was carrying a female Sangheili warrior over his shoulder, but he didn't seem bothered by the added weight.

"Excuse sir?" asked Kurr humbly. All Unggoy were forced to wear breathing masks, so his voice was more than slightly muffled and distorted.

"Those Jiralhanea had me dead to rights, why did you risk your life to save me?"

"You did same for me, sir," Kurr said, embarrassed. "I've served under you a long time, sir. A few cycles ago, humans had captured other Unggoy and me. We'd have been executed if you hadn't freed us, sir. No other commander would have done that. Other commander would have let us die."

"Yes," the Sangheili remarked with a bitter chuckle. "Most count you as nothing more than cannon fodder, a disgusting practice of the Covenant to waste so many lives."

Another time, before this, such a remark would have marked the speaker as a heretic. It was still Kurr's duty to shoot heretics. He looked down at Needler he clutched.

"What should we do sir?" the Unggoy asked.

"Well, the Jiralhanea will send out search parties to take out any survivors. I think avoiding said parties is a good idea."

"Yes sir."

"What is your name?"

"Kurr, sir."

Commander Zulfar gave an examining stare. "You don't have to call me sir. I do not think my rank applies anymore. We're all traders now."