Twin Blades

Twin Blades



Chapter the Fifth: Wraiths



Time Setting: beginning of Halo 2 level “Uprising”, going through to the end of level “The Great Journey”





After laying eyes on the Gravemind, the Arbiter felt that he was finally beginning to grasp the depths of ‘Vadumee’s hatred of the Flood. The thing was unspeakably repulsive, brilliantly cunning, and worst of all it was right. Perhaps the nobler thing to do was to let the rings fire, wiping out both the Flood and all its food, but the Arbiter was not yet ready to condemn his people to destruction. The victory of the rings would be a Pyrrhic victory indeed. Right now, the Arbiter was still able to believe in the possibility of a triumph that would see the Flood and the Brutes destroyed, and the Sangheili still standing.



He would even tolerate the presence of the Demon to wrest that victory from the jaws of defeat—from the spectre of total annihiliation. His own vengeance was a paltry thing next to the death of a universe.



But when the Gravemind teleported him, the Arbiter found his own reason to fight on.



Just when he thought the worst had happened—every time up until now when he thought the worst was over—something more took place and sent him reeling again. Losing his rank. The Mark of Shame. The Brutes. The Prophets’ betrayal. The truth about the rings. The Gravemind. And now…



The Sangheili High Councillors had been slaughered by the Jiralhanae. The ground before him was scattered with the dead bodies of Elites of all ranks. The Arbiter felt his blood grow cold, and suddenly the wrongs that had been done to him faded into insignificance. The Prophets had declared genocide upon his entire species. And they were winning.



He felt a sudden sickening kinship with the hated humans.



Pressing onward, the Arbiter gathered up the scattered Elites he came across and united them into a fighting unit. He encountered all types—Zealots, Minors, a former Honour Guard now dressed in regular combat armour, even a surviving Councillor, whose ornate headdress did not seem to hinder him as he slashed Brutes apart with an energy sword that was most definitely not just ceremonial.



But there was someone he did not encounter, and the Arbiter was beginning to get a horrible suspicion that Rtas ‘Vadumee had been killed already.



He knew Rtas. The second he heard about the atrocity committed against the Council, Rtas would be there, plasma rifle blazing, and the Brutes…



The Arbiter didn’t even want to think about it. He didn’t want Rtas to die before he could properly apologize. He didn’t want Rtas to die, period. The Arbiter was the one with the death sentence, not ‘Vadumee.



Lost in these thoughts, the Arbiter exited the structure well in advance of his impromptu army. Up ahead, a Wraith rumbled towards him. Its weaponry swivelled in his direction…



Condemnation! The driver had sighted him. The Arbiter took one a wary step backwards, then another. He was out of grenades and he doubted that his shotgun, no matter how powerful it was at close range, could do much against a Wraith…



The hatch on top opened and when he saw the face of the driver, he could have cried.



Rtas.



Alive and uninjured and here to help him.



“By the Rings…Arbiter,” Rtas said. He looked stunned…amazed…relieved… and then he snapped out of it, back to business. “The Councillors, are they…”



“Murdered,” the Arbiter whispered, “by the Brutes.” It was as though the words might not have been true until he spoke them aloud; now he realized just how many good Sangheili had died.



‘Vadumee’s righteous fury was clear to see. “Vile disloyal beasts. The Prophets were fools to trust them.”



The Arbiter wanted to tell him a lot more about the Prophets, but now was not the time. A pair of Phantoms passed low overhead, and the Arbiter recognized the second craft.



Tartarus.



Tartarus was up to no good…because he had the Icon, and if he used it, the Halo would fire and cut a swath of devastation through the stars.



The Arbiter turned to Rtas. “I must get inside.”



Rtas nodded. “Then mount up, Arbiter. I know a way to break those doors.”



The Arbiter tried not to read an unintended double entendre into ‘Vadumee’s order as the SpecOps commander jumped out of the tank. “We have to catch up to Tartarus. Quickly.”



Rtas began sprinting towards another vehicle. The Arbiter lunged to grab him by the shoulder.



“I know you’re angry,” the Arbiter said quietly. “But this is not the time. Tartarus and the Prophets are working together and they are gambling with the fate of everything…if we lose this fight, the whole universe will pay.”



‘Vadumee nodded, all business because he had to be, but a low moan of discontent escaped between his mandibles.



The Arbiter took a deep breath and carefully eased his arms around Rtas’ upper body. The white-armoured Sangheili tucked his head and leaned into the hug.



The whole world was going to hell around them. They didn’t even have enough time for a proper hug, let alone the discussion they needed to have or the tryst they both craved.



But for now, they had each other, and with that, they could do anything.



*



‘Vadumee certainly knew how to make an entrance. The SpecOps Commander had directed the Arbiter’s Wraith to a docked Scarab. Now ‘Vadumee’s voice crackled over his radio, comfortingly familiar. “That cruiser is controlled by Brutes. I’ll remain here; make sure no reinforcements get in behind you. Then I’m going to take the cruiser back.” That was Rtas all the way—always watching his back, always ready to speak his own mind and take his own initiative, and always complimenting him perfectly, like the two blades of an energy sword. Strange how only a few days ago he’d not even considered Rtas a friend, let alone a consort.



Consort. That word sounded so…permanent. Consorts were people who were attached to you, not just anonymously passing through your bed. Consort was almost as unthinkable as bondmate. The Arbiter didn’t have consorts; he had subordinates with benefits.



He sighed. In his former life as the Supreme Commander, he had had subordinates with benefits.



On the other hand, perhaps as the Arbiter he could have a consort, at least for a little while.



Or rather, he could have one if he defeated the Brutes, recovered the Sacred Icon, and saved the universe.





*



Rtas ‘Vadumee stood on the bridge of the Covenant flagship cruiser Punishment and Retribution and folded his arms.



The Grunts had dragged the corpses away, but the floor and walls of the bridge were still splattered with Jiralhanae blood. Rtas felt no guilt for that. He had hated the Brutes from the beginning, and was willing to admit that killing them brought him great satisfaction.



But the death of the High Councillors was too high a price to pay for his pleasure. Certainly Truth’s mad gamble with the fate of all things living made the joy of slaying Brutes not worth its cost.



The day’s events had been dizzying. The Councillors had come here to watch the consecration of the Sacred Icon that would herald the start of the Great Journey. Rtas had not quite been able to believe that this was really, truly happening…that the path to salvation was about to open in front of him, within a matter of hours. He had felt a rush of unbelievable excitement, but it had been soured by worry and longing, because if he was about to walk into paradise, he wanted to do so with the Arbiter at his side.



And then one disaster after another piled over them in a tumult, sweeping away all thoughts of a future beyond the next hour, the next minute, the next second, and changing his focus from salvation to simple survival.



They had done it—they had survived, and so had their species, and so had the universe.



But he was alone again.



He tried to contact the Arbiter, again and again, and just when he began to worry that the Arbiter might have made the supreme sacrifice to defeat Tartarus, he got a reply.



“Where are you?” ‘Vadumee demanded, sounding angrier than he wanted to because of the intensity of his relief.



“On my way to Earth,” said the familiar voice of the Arbiter, “with, ah, Commander Keyes and her Humans.”



“Earth?” ‘Vadumee demanded in disbelief.



“Think about it,” the Arbiter urged. “The Prophets have betrayed us, made war on our kind with the Jiralhanae as their weapons. The Hunters are confused, the Unggoy scattered in terror. We cannot stand against the entire Covenant alone. We need allies, Rtas. I’m going to get us some.”



Rtas nodded, then remembered the Arbiter could not see him. “Agreed. Then I shall speak to Admiral Xytan ‘Jar Wattinree, organize our brothers to fight for our continued survival…and then I shall come to Earth as well.”



“You do not need to…”



“You cannot stop me,” ‘Vadumee persisted. He had to get back to the Arbiter and settle things between them before the war swept them apart permanently. He could not live with himself otherwise.



Silence a while, and then…



“I would be most glad to see you.” The Arbiter hesitated. “We need to...work out these circumstances between us.”



‘Vadumee sighed. “Would it were so easy.”



*



The Arbiter shut his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall of the Human vessel. He did not fit their seats, so he sat on the floor. The Marines tried to pretend that they weren’t staring, but he knew they were taking peeks at him. Some of them seemed curious, fascinated, while others were glaring at him with outright hostility, and he could smell the fear coming off one of their number in waves.



He cracked open an eye.



The frightened one jerked reflexively. The gawkers averted their eyes. The angry ones folded their arms, refusing to look away—they were too disciplined to attack, but their body language made it clear that they did not like him. He didn’t particularly like them either, but if the Humans and the Sangheili failed to form an alliance, then the Covenant might well wipe out both species.



He wondered what ‘Vadumee would make of this ship full of Humans.



Thank the Ancestors, ‘Vadumee was alive. He could not wait for Rtas to get to Earth. He had no idea what Earth would be like, but surely it would have somewhere private for him and Rtas to be alone. It might even be somewhat exotic…making love on an alien world, surrounded by strange flora, under a strangely-coloured sky.



He was going to have to tread carefully, though. Rtas clearly needed to be reassured, to be coaxed beyond his boundaries carefully and temptingly. In short, seduction would be the order of the day, and that was going to be a challenge indeed on an alien world where winning ‘Vadumee’s willing cooperation was not going to be as easy as a bowl of shredded meat.



But the Arbiter loved a challenge.



What he needed to do was to get Rtas so aroused that he wouldn’t think. That way ‘Vadumee wouldn’t think twice, wouldn’t think about Kusovai, wouldn’t be able to invent a reason to stop when it was clear that his body wanted the Arbiter as much as the Arbiter wanted him. And the best way to do that would be to catch him in a situation where his armour was already off, so that he wouldn’t freak out again at the thought of losing it.



He didn’t know if Humans had showers. He didn’t know if they even bathed. They looked sort of like short, bald, undernourished Jiralhanae, and everyone knew Brutes never washed themselves.



But even if Humans didn’t clean themselves, Sangheili did, and so all he had to do was catch Rtas at it and offer ever so innocently to wash his back.



He wouldn’t wait for an answer. He’d just start, and leave it to ‘Vadumee to say no. And he knew that ‘Vadumee would not say no. Touching and stroking and massaging…it was bound to get ‘Vadumee aroused, and when that happened, when his shaft emerged from his body…the Arbiter would touch him there, with moist hands, and then…



Sangheili had a special spot, right on the back of the neck where the neck and back joined. One good nip in this place would make the whole body relax. It was theorized that the sweet spot had evolved for mothers, who would routinely hold their hatchlings there—with the infant’s body limp and unresisting, it would not struggle and flail and tear its skin open on its mother’s fangs. It would dangle from her jaws and let her move it to a place of safety.



As the Sangheili developed from beasts into sentients, the sweet spot took on another meaning among adults, as an indicator of power relationships. It was said that in the dawning ages of Sangheili culture, kings would nip their subjects to illustrate their dominance, and teachers would use the bite to show their authority over students.



But with the coming of the Prophets, things changed.



Since the San ‘Shyuum and the Sangheili were enemies before they were allies, a certain degree of tension between the species remained, and the Sangheili were reluctant to show this weakness in front of another species. Biting in public became something very uncivilized, a shameful behaviour, a vestige of barbarism. And so the sweet spot went behind closed doors once a Sangheili grew out of infancy, and in doing so, it became something erotic and exciting.



So the Arbiter had every intention of giving Rtas ‘Vadumee one good sound nip right on that sweet spot, knowing it would send a shockwave through his nervous system and drop him to his knees, placing him in the perfect position for…



“Mount up, Arbiter” indeed.



The Arbiter smiled to himself as the human ship winged its way towards Earth. It was good to have a plan.