Twin Blades

Twin Blades



Chapter the Seventh: Clashes



Time setting: Halo 3, before the level “Crow’s Nest;” under the presumption there was some brief down time during that level



Rtas ‘Vadum—having now rejected the honorary Covenant suffix to his name—felt his back press into something that felt a lot like a coathanger. The janitor’s closet in the Crow’s Nest base was dark and dusty, smelled of cleaning solution, and was a far better place for a Grunt than a Sangheili SpecOps commander.



Then the Arbiter ran his mandibles over ‘Vadum’s and Rtas suddenly had trouble keeping his thoughts in order. Nice boys from Iruiru didn’t make out in janitor’s closets…so what in the Forerunners’ holy names was he doing here?



Rtas ‘Vadum’s old job description went far beyond insane. Sangheili SpecOps personnel did orbital drops, riding little metal pods from starships into the atmosphere of hostile alien planets, where, upon landing, hordes of angry aliens usually did their best to plug them full of lead from primitive projectile weaponry – barbaric, but no less lethal for it—oh, and had he mentioned the zombie death spores? And as their Commander, ‘Vadum had believed that his position wasn’t at a desk safely behind the lines. He belonged at the vanguard of the assault.



His new job description, as the Chief of the Sangheili Military (and de facto war leader of the Separatists, second only to the Arbiter) was not an improvement.



When your professional life comprised that kind of madness, ‘Vadum believed it only made sense to seek a quiet, stable, relaxing sort of private life. He had experienced only three intimate relationships in his life, two of them long-term, the other a sorely regretted mistake, and until now the best of these had been with Subcommander Kusovai. He and Kusovai had understood one another, complimented one another. ‘Vadum’s life as Kusovai’s bondmate had been a comfortable, reassuring experience—what was wrong with that? It wasn’t as though he didn’t get enough unpredictable chaos at work. Thrills were overrated.



And then Kusovai had died in battle and left him devastated and vulnerable to the attentions of someone who was entirely the wrong sort of person for SpecOps Commander ‘Vadum. But after the Brutes had slaughtered most of the Elite High Councilors and the Prophets had declared war against the Sangheili, the situation started looking somewhat different.



Rtas had heard rumours that the Arbiter had been killed. He remembered how sick he’d felt about putting off the Arbiter’s advances, how the one thought running through his head was that he’d squandered his chance and lost it forever. Now he knew that no matter how badly he was going to feel when their affair reached its inevitable end, he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t make the most of every moment.



Which is how he’d ended up in a janitor’s closet on the planet Earth, missing half his armour.



The Arbiter laughed quietly as he nuzzled ‘Vadum’s earbud. “Reminds me of cadet training.”



‘Vadum stared at him.



His partner grinned. “Didn’t you do this in cadet training?”



Rtas’ mandibles—and stumps—worked helplessly as he struggled to form words. He finally choked out, “Mating’s not allowed! For cadets.” The young Arbiter had gone to the War College in Tnoknsig, not Iruiru where ‘Vadum had attended schooling, but that rule was in effect everywhere. Sangheili who were not initiated warriors did not have the privileges afforded to legal adults, one of which was sanctioned permission to mate.



The Arbiter continued to look smug. “Which is why you do it in a closet. Or an engine room. Or, if all the officers are busy enough elsewhere, in the Commandant’s office.”



‘Vadum’s jaws couldn’t drop any lower. “In the…Commandant’s…?” His voice was a squeal.



The Arbiter had to be making that up just to get a rise out of him.



“Now I see why they branded you a heretic,” Rtas said with a grin, poking the Arbiter in the ribs.



“Are you telling me,” the Arbiter whispered, “that you seriously waited until you graduated before you started mating?”



“Well,” ‘Vadum said defensively (it was hard to form a coherent sentence when the Arbiter’s hands were skirting lower and lower on his body), “I’d made out with people while I was at the Academy…”



He wasn’t a prude, was he? Cadets weren’t supposed to be having any sexual contact at all. He knew the Commandant would have been displeased to find out that Rtas had spent half his senior survival exercise enjoying heavy petting with his consort, Anno ‘Ahpamee, in his tent. He and ‘Ahpamee had been close for almost three years at that point, and finally, finally they had enough uninterrupted private time that they could explore one another thoroughly instead of just arranging a lot of “accidental” brushings against each other in the showers….



…meanwhile, at another war college, the Arbiter was having sex in the Commandant’s office. And the Arbiter was chuckling at him right now. Yes. He was a prude.



He felt his hackles rise, defensively. “I didn’t tell you what I did on the night I graduated from the War College. My consort and I went out to the hot springs that night and made love in the light of the moons, the first time for both of us…it was a very special time.” He looked at the Arbiter and his smile faded away.



The Arbiter looked…sad somehow. The other Sangheili stepped closer and laid his head on ‘Vadum’s shoulder. Rtas hesitated, but this didn’t seem to be a prank; when Rtas put his arms around him, the Arbiter cuddled close. ‘Vadum felt suddenly guilty when he realized his bragging might have hurt his consort.



“I slept with someone on my graduation night too,” the Arbiter said quietly. “Actually a few someones. I don’t remember any of their names now. I do know…I do know one of them, I didn’t even like him all that much, but he was there and willing and I thought why not…” He swallowed, hard. “And there was someone else, a loyal and loving cadet a year younger than me…and I broke his heart that night.”



“Everybody’s got to be something,” ‘Vadum whispered softly. “You’re a heartbreaker.”



“And you’re very perceptive, which makes me wonder, why are you in this closet with me?”



‘Vadum didn’t know what to say: that he was addicted, that he’d never forgive himself if either of them died without getting together, or that he’d somehow along the way started to have unplanned feelings for the Sangheili who’d finally made him feel alive again after his bondmate died? He didn’t want to say anything flippant and he was afraid to say the word “love,” because if he did, the Arbiter was going to bolt and never come back. He knew his consort’s Rule #1—no long term relationships—and had come to accept that he was going to have to deal with the inevitable outcome if he wanted to ever have any intimate time with the Arbiter at all.



“Where’s your first lover now?” the Arbiter asked suddenly.



“Jealous?” ‘Vadum teased.



“Curious.”



“Dead.” That made…what, three dead ex-lovers now? ‘Vadum sighed and tried not to think about it. “We broke up first,” he offered, trying to let the Arbiter know that his situation then hadn’t been as bad as his recent one with Subcommander Kusovai. But he didn’t want to be a downer. “Distract me,” he offered, urging the Arbiter’s hands back to his chest—then he found himself reeling when the Arbiter practically ripped the jumpsuit off him.



“We’re not going to have sex in this closet, are we?” ‘Vadum asked abruptly while he could still think straight.



“Why not?” the Arbiter replied with a grin.



Rtas spluttered. “I don’t want my first time with you to be in a closet. I want to do it properly.”



“In case you haven’t noticed, this base is swarming with Humans and, just like Grunts, Humans get in everywhere. Meanwhile, the Brutes are trying to kill us, the rest of the Covenant hates us, the Humans aren’t entirely convinced we’re on their side now, and sometimes there’s Sentinels flying around.” He didn’t even mention the Flood. “Where are we going to find a quiet room and a few uninterrupted hours?”



Rtas felt a sudden pressure again. On one hand, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he did not want to die without having his chance with the Arbiter. On the other hand, he knew the Arbiter wasn’t the sticking-around type and if both of them did their dying later rather than sooner, ‘Vadum didn’t want to squander the time he did have on quickies in closets.



And then there was a knocking on the door.



Rtas and the Arbiter stared at each other, wide-eyed. The Arbiter immediately knelt down, hiding behind a jumble of garbage cans. Rtas was still frozen in shock like a rookie under fire for the first time. The Arbiter reached up and pulled his consort down beside him.



A Human opened the door, threw something into the room, turned out the light and closed the door again.



“We almost got caught,” Rtas hissed. “Do you think the Humans are going to respect us at all if they find the ambassadors of an alien civilization rutting like animals in their closets?”



The Arbiter peered at ‘Vadum. In the dim light he could see…a banana peel hanging off his consort’s snout.



The Arbiter started snickering, Rtas scowled, shook off the peel and zipped his jumpsuit back up, and the mood in the closet was well and truly ruined.



*



Fighting on Earth alongside Humans had proven very educational for the Arbiter. One of the first things the Arbiter learned was that Humans were a species of sexually deviant perverts.



On the flight from Delta Halo to Earth, he had overheard a group of ODSTs talking. He could not understand the gist of what they were saying, so he turned to Sergeant Johnson and innocently inquired as to what the word “blowjob” meant.



The black man almost swallowed his cigar, and nearby humans broke into riotous laughter. Finally one of the Marines calmed down enough to explain.



The Arbiter had been shocked and disgusted. He couldn’t imagine any Elite ever doing anything like that. The very thought of his genitals anywhere near the hundred razor fangs found in a Sangheili’s mouth gave him the shivers.



It took him the better part of a day before he was able to make himself think about it from a Human point of view. They had only one moving jaw and their teeth were nowhere near as sharp. Their species was probably able to accomplish the act with far less danger. He wasn’t sure he’d trust a Sangheili to it though—not even one with half his mandibles missing.



That realization spawned far more intriguing thoughts. If one was careful, and kept his mandibles still and slid his tongue out the bottom of his face, through the gap between the mandibles and the throat hole, and his partner was to put himself within reach of the tongue…now that had the potential to be interesting. And it was one thing that absolutely none of his former lovers had ever tried with him before.



He wondered if he could talk Rtas into being adventurous.



The Arbiter sighed, wondering if he could talk Rtas into anything beyond making out and groping through their jumpsuits. Just when he thought he’d finally won a victory in admitting the SpecOps commander to admit that he was sexually interested in him, he found himself trying to deal with this—the fact that Rtas was so damned straight-laced that he wouldn’t even consider sex in a closet.



Or in a Warthog.



Or on Miranda Keyes’ desk.



Or in any of the other hundred and one odd, semi-public, uncomfortable places where he and ‘Vadum had been able to grab a few uninterrupted moments.



Now Rtas and Fil Storamee were aboard a Watchtower shuttlecraft on their way back to Shadow of Intent, and the Arbiter still hadn't gotten any.



Forerunners damn it! He was so damn horny that even the Humans were starting to look good, but if he as so much as made a suggestive comment and Rtas heard about it, he could forget ever getting lucky with the one person he really wanted.



War was hell. In so very, very many different ways.



*



Back on the second Halo, Rtas ‘Vadum had succeeded in leading a team of Elites to capture a carrier from the Brutes. The first thing he had done after that was head to Earth. He felt that he needed to support the Arbiter in forging an alliance with the Humans.



What he ended up finding was the Arbiter working with none other than the thrice-damned Demon.



‘Vadum wasn’t sure what he felt about that. He disliked humans at the best of times; the fact that the Demon was now apparently the Arbiter’s battle brother had him seething with jealousy. Why was he stuck dealing with stupid details like the organization of the breakaway Sangheili military when he ought to be fighting at his consort’s side? He sincerely hoped that Admiral Xytan ‘Jar Wattin could hold the Sangheili armed forces together, because he, Rtas ‘Vadum, was going to get his priorities straight and make sure that his SpecOps forces gave the Arbiter the support he needed.



Now, Rtas paced around the bridge of the Shadow of Intent, wishing he was back on Earth with the Arbiter. He wished he’d stayed longer, but the Flood needed burning, lest they break out of High Charity’s quarantine and infect the galaxy…and he didn’t dare wait around for the Arbiter to…



He was doing it again. It was just like when he’d first suspected the Arbiter was sexually interested in him; instead of doing something about it, he’d hidden in his quarters, made the Arbiter pursue him, then freaked out when the Arbiter got a little too aggressive a little too quickly for his tastes.



Now the Arbiter was doing his best to mate with him, and all he was doing was complain about how this place was too uncomfortable or that place was too exposed and putting his consort off every time. Sooner or later the Arbiter was going to get frustrated and find someone else—or one or the both of them would get killed by Brutes or Flood or disgruntled Humans or get barbecued along with the rest of the universe if a Halo ring fired.



No, it was time to start acting like a Sangheili warrior and take control of the situation.



‘Vadum activated his comm link.



A rough voice came over the line. “Stores…and Mess, Maintenance, and Accommodations. How can I help you?”



Rtas couldn’t help a smile. Fil Storamee, the surly Chief Quartermaster of the former Fleet of Particular Justice, had survived the Jiralhanae betrayal. What she’d been doing on Delta Halo he didn’t know, but he guessed that the Quartermaster—responsible for all the “stuff” that an army needed, including vehicles—had simply borrowed a Banshee and slipped down to the Halo to check out the alleged start of the Great Journey for herself. On his way to take back the Shadow of Intent from the Brutes, he’d encountered Storamee standing on a pile of dead Jiralhanae, brandishing a chieftain’s gravity hammer, asking the skies if they had any more where those came from.



Storamee was ill-mannered and bad-tempered and certifiably insane, but Rtas had been glad to have her with him. Despite her faults, she was unshakably reliable …and she’d developed a disturbing proficiency with that hammer. Now she was a jack-of-all-trades, handling a multitude of tasks aboard Shadow of Intent. The Shadow’s mess was pretty awful—she oversaw the staff, but didn’t give them any tips; on the other hand, at least she didn’t try to cook herself—but other than that, he was glad to have her.



“This is the Shipmaster speaking,” he replied, and tried to think of how to phrase his request.



Before he could voice it, she interrupted him. “Hey, on a scale of one to ten, with one being “not that disgusting” and ten being “extremely disgusting,” how gross is fillet-of-Brute for dinner?”



Rtas rolled his eyes at the tasteless joke—at least he hoped to the Ancestors that she was joking. With Fil you never knew. “Eleven for “unspeakably disgusting.” And would you pay attention? I need you to do me a favour.”



“A favour, eh?” He could hear the edge in her voice. “Like a war related favour? That’s called an order.”



“No, not an order. An…ah…personal favour.”



“Oooooohkay. Yeah, I’ll do it. But you’ll owe me.”



‘Vadum felt suddenly embarrassed. He knew he was never going to hear the end of this. The Arbiter had better appreciate his sacrifice, he thought as he said, “I need you to do up my stateroom for me.”



“What, like make your bed? Do I look like a Grunt?”



“No, I mean do it up nicely. Fire-bowls, incense, clean sheets, the whole works. Do it up like…” His throat closed off. “Do it up like it’s breeding season,” he choked.



Fil’s evil chuckle came over the comm.



“Storamee, you’re the only one who could possibly scrounge up something halfway nice on this ill-equipped, battle-battered ship. Please. I swear I’ll do whatever you ask if you can accomplish this.”



“Oh yeah, I can do this,” she replied. “But you are going to owe me big time.”



“Agreed.”



She clicked off without another word. ‘Vadum was left staring at the comm, wondering if she’d be able to do a decent job, and worrying about what in the name of the Ancestors she could possibly want from him in return.



Now all he needed was an excuse to take the Shadow of Intent to Earth.



“Shipmaster!” cried SpecOps Major ‘Otsed from his position at the helm. “Picket reports a Flood vessel has broken free of the quarantine and is initiating a Slipspace maneuver!”



‘Vadum looked at the computers predicting the ship’s trajectory. Earth. He might have known.



Rtas winced, wondering when he was going to stop making ill-advised wishes.



*



The second the Shadow of Intent entered Earth orbit, ‘Vadum commed the Arbiter. “Arbiter. I’m bringing the Shadow to pick you up.” He set his mandibles. The thought of all those Flood—squirming tentacles, waving ciliae, deadly spores—near his Arbiter made his skin go cold and prickly.



“I cannot leave! The Flood must be contained.” The Arbiter’s voice sounded concerned, as if he thought Rtas was losing it.



But it wasn’t Rtas who wasn’t thinking straight. ‘Vadum knew damned well what the Parasite could do. To hell with the Humans; ‘Vadum had Sangheili to protect.



“They will be. As soon as you’re aboard, I’m glassing the planet.” He punched a button, hailing the Shipmaster aboard the flagship Punishment and Retribution. Shadow of Intent alone couldn’t glass a whole planet. He’d need a small fleet for that.



“No,” the Arbiter protested. “This is the last world with a human population—we saw to that. If we destroy Earth, do you think the handful of human survivors would ever forgive us? We will lose the only allies we have.”



“And if we do not destroy Earth, if any Flood escape, we may lose our own people. We could lose Sanghelios.”



“Please,” the Arbiter said, “I’m begging you to reconsider. Glass Africa, if you must, but surely the parasite could not have spread to other continents already. Use your weapons like a scalpel to cut out this cancer, not as a cudgel to destroy everything, the healthy with the sick.”



“I’m evacuating you,” ‘Vadum said sternly.



“I will not go until you swear to me that you will not wipe out this planet.”



Forerunners damn him, the Arbiter was stubborn and played dirty. Could he gamble with the survival of all life in the universe? Damn him! It would serve him right to get glassed.



Which was foolish talk and Rtas knew it, because he could never give the attack order knowing the Arbiter was still down there. He had barely survived the experience of killing Kusovai with his own hands. He doubted that he could have done it had Kusovai not been possessed by the Flood and posing an immediate threat to him. He knew beyond question that if he killed the Arbiter, he would not be able to live with himself afterward.



“I swear it,” Rtas ‘Vadum said, defeated.



*



Lord Hood’s outrage was obvious. ‘Vadum tried to remember that the human general had probably not battled the Parasite face-to-face and therefore could not understand the gravity of the situation, but he was fast losing patience. The message given by the Master Chief’s construct made his course of action clear.



‘Vadum leaned back in his seat. “We’ve heard enough. Our fight is through the Portal, with the Brutes and the bastard Truth!” All around, his Elites roared their assent, raising their arms in the traditional gesture of agreement.



Hood signed wearily. “Fine. We’ll remain here...hold out as long as we can.”



‘Vadum quivered with barely repressed frustration. “Did you not hear? Your world is doomed.” He climbed from his chair as if he could force understanding into the humans’ minds by driving it ahead of him. “A Flood army, a Gravemind, has you in its sights! You barely survived a small contamination,” he growled as he stalked towards them.



To his credit, the Human refused to be intimidated. “And you, Ship Master, just glassed half a continent! Maybe the Flood isn’t all I should be worried about.”



‘Vadum’s hackles raised. He’d glassed only the affected area plus a reasonable safety margin—not even all of Kenya, much less half the continent. “One single Flood spore can destroy a species. Were it not for the Arbiter’s council, I would have glassed your entire planet!”



As Commander Miranda Keyes tried to calm Hood, and the Master Chief argued for them to trust the words of Cortana, the Arbiter walked silently to Rtas and put his hand on his shoulder.



‘Vadum tried to calm himself, but it was difficult. Humans were a bunch of idiotic little monkeys, so much like Brute/Grunt hybrids. He didn’t see what the Arbiter thought was so useful about this species.



But they were tenacious. He had to give them that.



Gods, he was so tense and frustrated and worried and pressured and…



…and trying to get alone with the Arbiter somewhere nice was driving him mad with anticipation.



But that was about to end soon enough.



As the Humans made their plans, ‘Vadum leaned over to the Arbiter’s earbud and murmured, “You’re spending the first sleep cycle with me.”



The Arbiter shook his head. “I should go with the Spartan.”



Rtas leaned forward, put his helmet right up against the Arbiter’s and said in his best drill-sergeant voice, “You. Are. Spending. The. First. Sleep. Cycle. With. Me.”



The Arbiter blinked.



“I’ll tell the Master Chief to…”



“You’ll tell the Master Chief to oversee the loading and you’ll be along to help him after the rest hour.”



The Arbiter stared at him, still blinking in confusion.



Rtas ‘Vadum kept the smirk off his face—it would not do to tip his hand too soon—but as he led the Arbiter out of the meeting room and towards his quarters, he could not help but be filled with a wicked satisfaction that drove even thoughts of the Flood away.