Duels of Honour: Giving the Lie

Chapter the Second: Assumptions


After a day of formal meetings with the Human leaders, Admiral Rtas ‘Vadum found himself in a reasonably well-appointed guest room on the Human base. The Humans had tried their best, but they were used to catering to their own species. The chairs were the wrong shape for Sangheili—Rtas kept bumping his knees into the chairs’ legs. There was a device that kept beverages chilled, which was a distasteful thought to a species that liked its drinks better warmed. The smell of Human pervaded even here. Rtas could have borne it all if only he had the Arbiter’s company.

Now he lay alone in a king-size bed—the only size adequate for a Sangheili—and thought about Usze ‘Taham and his exotic cloak.

Rtas had never been particularly fond of the former Blademaster, despite his respect for ‘Taham’s formidable fighting skills. Usze had not been a particularly friendly person. He did his job with unshaken reliability and consummate skill, but he was distant and self-absorbed, surrendering all but occasional glimpses of his personality in favour of presenting the image of the Ascetic Order’s Ideal Warrior. And he modeled that perfection with all the arrogance the role could give him, looking down his nose at everyone who could not live up to his own unforgiving standards.

But the Ascetics had sided with the renegade ‘Jar Wattin, whereas Usze had given his loyalty to the Arbiter in a move that had surprised almost everyone.

Whatever had caused Usze to split from the Ascetic Order, there had been consequences. Usze had been maimed in his escape from the fleet, and his position here on Earth was born out of necessity as much as merit—Earth was one of the few places where the Ascetics’ assassins could not reach him. It was his good fortune he’d had some talent at the job.

Rtas frowned to himself. He was not entirely certain what had happened during Usze’s escape, but he did know that one of the major players was Usze’s fellow Ambassador, N’tho ‘Sraom.

‘Sraom and ‘Taham couldn’t be more different, except perhaps in their level of raw ability. ‘Sraom had been one of Rtas’ SpecOps warriors before he’d been marooned on Earth with Usze. ‘Sraom had been enthusiastic, devoted, friendly…

…perhaps a little too friendly. ‘Sraom was a slut even by SpecOps standards.

But Rtas was more interested in combat performance than by his warriors’ personal tastes, as long as they kept their private lives private. The innovative thinking that he prized in a SpecOps warrior generated, by necessity, a squad of unorthodox eccentrics.

‘Sraom had really pushed the limits though when he had blundered into an unwitting affair with Subcommander Rycl ‘Otsed, who’d been the consort of one of ‘Jar Wattin’s sympathizers, Shipmaster Epse ‘Gamul. Rtas had suspected that this was how N’tho had gotten mixed up in Usze’s misfortune after the Halo mission had finished…

…though now that he thought of it, hadn’t N’tho once mentioned to him that he and Usze had come to some sort of understanding during their tenure as the Arbiter’s Honour Guards during the final Halo mission?

Impossible Rtas had seen the animosity between N’tho and Usze as they’d both written communications to him, complaining about the other’s performance. Usze had described N’tho as “undisciplined,” by which he meant “obnoxious, unreliable, and an embarrassment,” whereas N’tho had essentially described Usze’s interpersonal skills as somewhere between “abysmal” and “nonexistent.”

How N’tho and Usze had managed to coexist on Earth without killing one another was a mystery to Rtas. He suspected most of the credit belonged to N’tho’s friend and mentor, Piro ‘Kipaz. But he supposed he was about to find out for himself.

In fact, there were quite a few things he had to find out, including what Usze was doing wearing a purple Fleet Master’s cloak…the same sort of cloak the Arbiter had worn when he had been the Supreme Commander of the Fleet of Particular Justice.

And Usze and N’tho had been the Arbiter’s Honour Guards during the final battle for the Halos.

What had happened between Usze and the Arbiter on Earth to tempt Usze’s fealty away from the Ascetic Order?

Rtas quivered, refusing to indulge in groundless speculation as he shoved an image from his mind…

…an image of the Arbiter tangled together with Usze ‘Taham, each wearing only their helmets, locked in union under a single-sunned sky.

*

The next evening

Usze ‘Taham had excused himself from dinner in order to greet the Arbiter and N’tho ‘Sraom when their Phantom touched down. Now he stood alone on the tarmac, once again in his closed-face assault helmet, waiting. There was a chill in the air, and Usze missed the warmth of the doarmir-fur cloak.

He’d gone to put it on that morning, as usual, waiting for the soft caress of fur over the back of his neck to conjure up an image of Nitro pressed against him, purring softly. Instead, the feel of the cloak had brought to mind new, unpleasant images. Images of Nitro in intimate situations with some unknown Fleet Master. Had Nitro enjoyed it? Would it be better, or worse, if he hadn’t?

Usze had shivered and torn the cloak off his neck.

The last thing he needed, while Nitro was halfway around the planet with a ship full of other Sangheili for company, was to have thoughts like these in his head. They would ruin his concentration utterly, and he needed to have his wits about him while he prepared for the Arbiter’s arrival on base. He had left the cloak on his bunk; out of sight, out of mind.

Almost out of mind.

The Phantom’s door opened, tearing Usze from his thoughts. In the gloom beyond the portal, a shape moved, and then N’tho ‘Sraom stepped forward into the light. He hesitated in the doorway of the Phantom, scenting the wind, and Usze felt his breath catch in his throat.

Nitro had always been a well-muscled and powerful warrior, but his strength had been camouflaged by his demeanor. He had once had a habit of stooping, always making sure his own head was lower than those of his compatriots, a physical sign of submission to those who did not carry Marks of Punishment. That same Mark had regularly been interpreted as a license to abuse its bearer, and as a result, Usze had a terrible suspicion that Nitro had been underfed and overworked for far too long.

The final battle of the Halos, the defeat of Epse Gamul and Nitro’s subsequent posting to Earth had changed him.

‘Sraom was a Sangheili of authority on this planet, and his bearing now reflected it. He stood tall and proud in his pearl-white Ambassador’s armour, a lord in his own keep. Human food might be strange to Sangheili tastes, but it was nutritious and Nitro got his fair share. Now Nitro had filled out, the gauntness in his frame gone, his skin gleaming instead of dull, his movements bursting with energy, his muscles powerful and sleek. Usze looked down at himself ruefully and noted that where Nitro now looked strong and well-nourished, Usze himself was beginning to carry excess fat.

Usze felt a spear stab at his heart. He was plump and crippled and old before his time—what good would he be to the grandson of a Kaidon who, liberated from his grandfather’s curse, was finally coming into his own? What would happen when N’tho realized the full extent of the potential that had lain dormant within him? He watched Nitro breathe in the air like a Kaidon perusing his domain and he wondered, what did ‘Sraom see in him now that his glory had passed?

And then the Arbiter stepped out to join N’tho in the doorway.

What a pair they made…the Arbiter in his prime, N’tho still young but already an Ambassador, already well on his way to becoming a match for the Arbiter…

What had Rtas said?

Usze was wearing a Fleet Master’s Cloak.

It had been a gift from Nitro, which begged the question, where the hell had a shamed Minor Domo gotten something like that?

Usze gritted his mandibles, because Nitro’s long list of lovers was not news to him, and he could have gotten it from any Fleet Master. The Covenant had had several battle fleets, so there were multiple candidates, and…

But staring on the tarmac looking up at N’tho and the Arbiter, side by side, Usze felt he already knew both Nitro’s past, and his future.

*

N’tho’s mandibles split into a grin as the wind finally brought him the scent he’d been waiting for.

He turned his head and there, standing on the tarmac, was Usze.

Nitro had spent the past two days Behaving Himself, and it hadn’t been easy. Acting Ambassadorial, or Ambassadorish or whatever the proper word was, wasn’t much fun at all. N’tho had been very excited to show the Arbiter and the crew of the Phantom all the great stuff he’d learned about during his past six months on Earth, but apparently, showing enthusiasm wasn’t a proper trait for an Ambassador. Ambassadors were supposed to be all formal and precise and self-controlled, and so N’tho had bit down on his teeth, spoken calmly and slowly, and hoped that his long black cloak had hidden the occasional quiver or fidget that he couldn’t quite control. He had no idea how Usze did it day after day, but he had been bound and determined to do his best, to make his mate proud of him.

His mate.

He couldn’t believe he missed Usze this badly after only two days. His whole body literally ached. The Phantom’s pilot and copilot were a bonded pair, and to watch them look at each other, and occasionally nuzzle each other, made N’tho’s hearts ache with envy. He’d squinted his eyes and counted down the hours until he was home with Usze again.

Now, with his mate standing only a few meters away, Nitro could not Behave Himself any longer.

He bolted away from the startled Arbiter and barreled across the tarmac to throw his arms around Usze ‘Taham.

N’tho thrust his muzzle under Usze’s chin and took in a deep breath of the familiar, comforting, wonderful scent of his husband. He purred with sheer pleasure; it was so good to be home again.

Another little countdown started in the back of his head, this time marking the minutes until he was able to get Uzi alone…

But then his internal countdown suddenly paused.

Usze wasn’t responding. He was just standing there, stiff, his arms hanging limply at his sides.

Was Uzi mad that Nitro was being affectionate in public? Ruining Uzi’s “regal Ambassador” image? Or spoiling Nitro’s own new respectability?

N’tho released his mate. “Sorry,” he mumbled. He took a step back, and only then realized that Usze was wearing an assault helmet, completely obscuring his face.

Usze had previously worn a pearl-white combat helmet with his Ambassador armour. Damn it, Usze knew that Humans found it upsetting when they couldn’t see the face of the person they were talking to; it was why all the Sangheili on Earth avoided helmets that hid their features. Why was Usze back in his old assault rig again?

N’tho wasn’t sure, but he had a few ideas. Every once in a while, Uzi got a little insecure about his limp and his new role and his abandonment of the Ascetic Order. Usze had grown up in the Order, and Nitro was sure there was a little voice in the back of his head still telling him that a Real Sangheili was cool and controlled and emotionally distant—in short, a faithful adherent to the Ascetic’s Code. Leaving the Order would not be enough to silence a lifetime of listening to that voice.

N’tho knew it, because there was a little voice in the back of his own head telling him that he was a failure and an embarrassment, whose only worth came from his willingness to grovel before his superiors. He had that voice after only a few years of bearing a Mark of Punishment. How much louder was Usze’s after a lifetime as an Ascetic?

So N’tho swallowed down his hurt and tried to assess his mate’s mood through that helmet. Usze’s gaze seemed to be on the Arbiter.

Chagrined, N’tho looked back over his shoulder at the leader of their species. Maybe Usze didn’t approve of public displays of affection in front of the Arbiter. Maybe that was the reason he was suddenly so cold.

The Arbiter was smiling down at the two of them. “You two go ahead,” he said as he stepped out of the Phantom. “I will see you tomorrow morning.” He nodded in the direction of the main terminal, where a welcoming party was on its way to greet him, including Piro and Kya and their two daughters.

‘Sraom let out a breath of relief. Exonerated! He put his arm around Usze’s shoulders.

Usze quivered. N’tho realized it was with cold, not excitement.

“Uzi, you’re frozen. Where’s your cloak?”

Usze said nothing, just stepped closer and placed his muzzle into N’tho’s neck.

Nitro gathered his mate in, holding him, but he was becoming more and more uneasy. Usze’s gesture wasn’t a proper nuzzle; his face wasn’t touching N’tho at all, and he was sniffing over and over, snuffling, as if trying to scent…

N’tho’s blood chilled.

Usze was trying to smell another male’s scent on him.

The realization was like a punch in the gut.

Any indignation N’tho felt over the fact that he hadn’t done anything wrong—that he’d passed his time trembling with eagerness to be back with his mate, with barely a glance for the Phantom’s crew—was overcome by the fact that Usze’s doubts were entirely reasonable, given N’tho’s former reputation as the fleet slut.

He was not the fleet slut any more. He was a different person now; he had started becoming a different person ever since Usze had taken it upon himself to give a damn about N’tho’s welfare. But of course anyone could let lies drip off their mandibles, or with the best of intentions, make promises they couldn’t keep in the end.

Nothing he could say would change Usze’s mind. The only thing he could do was continue to act in a manner befitting the loyal mate he was. Time, not words, would exonerate him.

So Nitro gritted his teeth and let Usze smell him. Let Usze find out for himself that there was no evidence to uncover because nothing inappropriate had happened.

And he prayed that none of the Phantom’s crew had accidentally brushed against him and left incriminating scent behind.

*

Rtas ‘Vadum looked up and down the hall before typing a sequence of numbers into the keypad on the door to Usze and N’tho’s private quarters. He still couldn’t believe that ‘Taham and ‘Sraom had chosen to share an apartment when there were vacant quarters available.

He also couldn’t quite believe that he was sneaking into that same apartment without the occupants’ knowledge. An Admiral—even a Spec Ops Commander—usually had sufficient authority to get what he wanted by simply asking for it. It had been a long time since he had needed to resort to deception in order to satisfy his curiosity.

And it was really none of his business, was it?

The Arbiter is my bondmate. That makes it my business.

Fill Storm’s Jackal friend Kip could hack anything. Rtas supposed he should inform the Human base commander about the back doors Kip had found in his computer security, but that would lead to awkward questions about why he’d asked the Jackal to hack the system in the first place. Rtas could only hope that the large quantity of Human entertainment discs that he’d given Kip would keep the Jackal’s mouth shut.

Now Rtas pushed on the door tentatively, ready to leap away should it clunk or squeal and draw the attention of Piro or Kya in the apartment across the hall. Instead, the door slid open soundlessly.

Rtas raised his head instinctively, scenting the air. By the Ancestors. Usze and N’tho not only weren’t trying to kill each other, but from the smell in here, they were mating on a regular basis. Their scents, mingled with the pheromones of mating, were strong and distinctive.

The Admiral felt a flush of purple coming to his cheeks. If the Arbiter were here, he was certain his mate would laugh and call him a prude again.

Rtas realized he wasn’t in the mood for such a joke. If the Arbiter were here, Rtas could ask him outright what was going on between him and Usze.

But could he trust the Arbiter’s answer?

He wasn’t certain that he could, and it bothered him.

‘Sraom had apparently bought ‘Taham’s tolerance with his own body as the price. Rtas shook his head; ‘Sraom really was a shameless little slut. And ‘Taham… ‘Taham had been concealing a rather depraved nature behind that façade of Ascetic virtue.

Rtas squinted his eyes. The shadowy shapes in the closet solidified into a series of jumpsuits, tunics, human-style tops and bottoms, and….a shapeless mass draped over a hanger. ‘Vadum reached out his hand and touched soft doarmir fur.

Carefully, Rtas ‘Vadum picked up the cloak and fumbled with it to find the side that went around the neck of the wearer. He ran his finger under the hem, feeling for the rough lump that was a patch of embroidery.

There it was…but in the darkness of the room, he could not read the initials embroidered there. Nor did he want to turn on the lights, for fear someone would notice that the lights had come on while Usze and N’tho were elsewhere.

Cursing himself for a fool, Rtas stepped back out of the room, towards the corridor outside the apartment where he could read the embroidery. He felt like a thief now, taking the cloak out of Usze’s quarters.

But he could not afford to be mistaken.

Only when he was out in the hall, under the corridor lights, clearly able to read the initials of Thel ‘Vadam embroidered on the cloak, did he allow an expression of rage to cross his features.

It took all his self-control to sneak back into the apartment and replace the cloak. For a moment, he hesitated at the side of the bed, wondering what had been so special about Usze ‘Taham.

The man was a cripple, for Forerunners’ sake.

But before he sustained his injury, he had been a Blademaster—an arrogant, egotistical, self-absorbed bastard of a Blademaster, but Rtas knew that the Arbiter had a weakness for skilled soldiers, and there was no denying Usze had been skilled… Had that been enough to attract the Arbiter to this aloof, arrogant, standoffish…

There was an answer right there. Rtas knew better than most how the Arbiter loved the thrill of the chase. Usze had probably led him on a merry chase indeed before he’d ‘d had his way with him.

Rtas tried to remind himself that he’d seen no signs of flirtation between the Arbiter and Usze ‘Taham in their communications prior to this official visit. Perhaps the affair hadn’t continued after the Halo mission. Perhaps it had simply been a one-night stand brought on by battle strain…and, of course, he and the Arbiter hadn’t been bonded mates then…

…but damn it all, the Arbiter had been his!