Twin Blades

Twin Blades



Chapter the Ninth: Ever Up We Seek



Time Setting: during and after the final level of “Halo 3”





As the Master Chief and the Arbiter charged down the snow-covered mountain towards the ziggurat, the Arbiter squeezed his hand tightly around the hilt of the sword he carried.



It wasn’t his own.



Before leaving on this desperate mission—before departing Rtas ‘Vadum’s stateroom—he’d done a dishonest thing. He had swapped his blade for ‘Vadum’s while the SpecOps commander was in the shower. It was the same weapon that Rtas had loaned him on the mining platform, the same one he’d given back the day before their fateful dinner.



Was it so wrong to want something of his lover to carry with him?



Was it wrong to, if he were to die, want something of ‘Vadum there with him at the last?



And was it wrong to want to leave something of himself behind for Rtas in case he never made it back?



Before he could assure himself that he’d done an acceptable thing, the Flood were upon him, and his thoughts became focused on doing his best to make sure that first, the universe would be safe, and second, that he would live long enough to see it.



*



Shipmaster Rtas ‘Vadum stood alone in his stateroom on the Shadow of Intent, arms wrapped around himself, head bowed.



Moments ago, Forward Unto Dawn—or more accurately, part of it—had fallen from orbit and plunged into the ocean. Human rescue crews were on site now, looking for survivors.



Before him, a single candle burned on a small altar.



“Please,” he whispered. “Bring him home to me.”



They’d only had one night. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. ‘Vadum would sacrifice anything in his power for just one more.



The Sangheili had always venerated the Forerunners; their initial conflict with the San ‘Shyuum had been over whether or not it was appropriate to experiment with Forerunner technology. Though they had eventually declared an alliance, it was well known the San ‘Shyuum had been the dominant party in the negotiations due to the technological advances they had gleaned from their experiments, and so the Covenant had continued delving into the mysteries of Forerunner tech ever since. But the old Sangheili ways had been a spiritual communion with Those Who Had Gone Before, and that included one’s own ancestors and elders as well as the Forerunners. Even under the auspices of the Covenant, the old Sangheili ways had not faded out entirely. The Prophets had been willing to overlook the Old Ways if they were practiced quietly and in private. There were many in the Sangheili armed forces who still kept shrines and amulets dedicated to Those Who Had Gone Before.



And now, with the Prophets’ Great Journey a proven lie, the SpecOps commander had returned to the altar of his ancestors, now certain that paradise was something to be found only in the hereafter. Rather than seek a shortcut to that reward, he was called upon to first do his duty to his people and enjoy the delights that this temporary existence had to offer.



Rtas 'Vadum fell to his knees and prayed to Those Who Had Gone Before that they would watch over the Arbiter and bring him home—the same prayer he had made countless times since the assault on the Ark, which had ended with the Arbiter and the Master Chief heading off in a Pelican to the control room of some new Halo. He wished he could have gone with them, but he did not know where they had gone. All he could do was take his Elites and accompany the human survivors of the Ark assault back to Earth, all the while praying not to be swatted out of existence by the Halos, or emerge from Slipspace only to find all other life destroyed.



The fact that he was still alive and breathing suggested that his Arbiter had done well.



But ‘Vadum was all too well aware of the fact that victory sometimes demanded the ultimate sacrifice.



His comm link sat silently on his desk. He’d asked the Humans to contact him when they knew anything about…well, he’d asked after the Master Chief and his AI as well, as a matter of good form, but it was the Arbiter who really concerned him. ‘Vadum found himself listening for the telltale crackle of an incoming transmission, while all the while dreading to hear it.



The position of Arbiter was a suicidal one. He wasn’t coming back.



And then there was a knock on the door.



‘Vadum’s hide went cold. How bad could it be, that they’d sent someone in person instead of using the comm link?



Feeling dizzy and sick, ‘Vadum rose to his feet, crossed his room, and opened the door.



Standing on the other side of the portal was a battered, bloody, dirty, exhausted, bruised, and still breathing Arbiter.



‘Vadum stepped out into the hall and wrapped his arms around the Arbiter, not giving a damn who saw. He held his friend gently, so gently so as not to put pressure on his wounds, but close. He could not believe the Ancestors had delivered his Arbiter back to him.



“Did we win?” ‘Vadum murmured.



“We finished the fight,” the Arbiter replied.



Rtas released him, reluctantly, and took a step back. There was a hollow expression in the Arbiter’s eyes.



“The Chief didn’t make it,” the bloodied Elite said softly, sadly. “The Spartan and his AI were in the rear of Forward Unto Dawn. They didn’t make it through the slipspace portal.”



“Do you think the rear of the cruiser is still intact somewhere?”



The Arbiter shrugged. “The Humans are out searching for beacons, but…”



‘Vadum could read the unspoken words on his face. It was possible, but extremely unlikely, that the Master Chief was still alive.



Rtas ‘Vadum didn’t particularly like the Master Chief, although he respected the human’s skills and professionalism—but he knew all too well how it felt to lose a battle brother.



“I’m sorry about your…comrade,” Vadumee said.



The Arbiter took his arm, wordlessly, and entered the stateroom. He closed the door behind them and stepped towards ‘Vadum again, laying his head on the SpecOps Commander’s chest.



*



In the very rare private moments the Arbiter had experienced during the last hellish campaign on the Halo, he had imagined returning to ‘Vadum in a blaze of glory, victorious, sweeping the SpecOps Commander off his feet and into his bed and mating with him all night and into the next morning. He tried not to dwell on the image too long, not because it was deliciously distracting (though it was) but because he knew damned well that his time was up, his moment had arrived, and he was going to die one way or another—the best he could do was save the universe so that Rtas…so that life could go on without him.



And in that last desperate run to Forward Unto Dawn, with the Master Chief driving like a man possessed and the Arbiter blasting away like a fiend at the Flood, bound and determined not to die at the hands of one of those shambling bastards now, he’d almost dared to hope that they might actually make it…



Then they had somehow, and he’d gone to the front of the ship to double check the navigation coordinates and give the Master Chief some private time with his beloved Cortana. Such a small decision; yet it was the reason he was here now in ‘Vadum’s arms.



He managed to draw some small consolation in the knowledge that wherever Cortana and the Chief were—alive or dead—at least they were together again at last.



There was something else nagging at the edges of his thoughts, but before he could focus on it, he felt ‘Vadum’s strong arms tugging him towards the private head in the corner of the stateroom.



He tried to ask what ‘Vadum thought he was doing, but all that came out of his mouth was “Wha…?”



“You’re on the verge of shock,” 'Vadum said grimly, as he hooked his hands under the Arbiter’s helmet and slid it off his head. It felt good—really good, actually, to feel the weight of the helmet lift, and the clever way that ‘Vadum’s hands eased it off his head without tugging or poking him with it. “You’re filthy, and you need a shower,” Rtas continued as he set to work on the rest of the Arbiter’s armour. “After that you’re going to lie down and let me dress these wounds, and then, if you’re in good enough condition, you’re going to have a nice long sleep.”



Conquering heroes in their consort’s cabins did not have nice long sleeps. Conquering heroes were supposed to give Rtas ‘Vadum the most mindblowing sex of his life. But right now the Arbiter felt exhausted enough to sleep for a thousand years. He didn’t even have strength to argue as ‘Vadum neatly stacked his armour, turned on the shower, adjusted it, and peeled off his jumpsuit with surprising speed. “In you go,” Rtas said, in a tone of voice that brooked no argument, as he began stripping his own armour.



The Arbiter took a step backwards—by the Ancestors, that warm spray was glorious—and stared at the sight of ‘Vadum tossing his own jumpsuit into a corner.



Rtas read the question in his expression and answered before he had a chance to ask. “If you think I’m leaving you alone, even for a second, then you’re very much mistaken.”



The Arbiter was too stunned to move, so ‘Vadum gripped him gently by the shoulders and guided him backwards far enough to join him in the shower. He pressed the button to activate the force field that would keep cleaning fluid off the floor of his cabin, and then he picked up a bar of soap and with no further words, started to wash the Arbiter’s back. Something in the back of the Arbiter’s mind remembered his long-ago action plan to get Rtas to mate with him, and how it had involved showers and washing…funny how things came full circle sometimes.



The Arbiter’s head was still reeling but not too much for him to realize that ‘Vadum was right. He submitted to ‘Vadum’s attentions—it felt unspeakably good, even when soap caught in his wounds and stung. He barely moved his aching body, just letting ‘Vadum guide him where he needed to go. He had a certain natural reaction to the fact that ‘Vadum was washing him absolutely everywhere, but it didn’t last long, and while ordinarily the very idea was mortifying (he had never had that problem before), he was both too tired to worry about it for long and relieved that ‘Vadum had made it clear that he wasn’t expecting anything romantic tonight.



No, that wasn’t correct. ‘Vadum wasn’t expecting any mating tonight—he’d as much as ordered the Arbiter to submit to his ministrations and then go to sleep. Romance, on the other hand—what else did you call having someone who thought enough of you to care for in this way, someone whom you trusted enough to let them do it? What else did you call a partnership where the two of you together were something better than the both of you alone?



This whole…liason…had started because ‘Vadum had been vulnerable to the Arbiter’s charms since he was lonely and hurting and needing someone to put him back together. Why, now, was ‘Vadum the one putting him back together?



The Arbiter had a terrible, horrible feeling that he had not so much revoked his Rule #1 (no long term relationships, and make that clear at the beginning) so much as he had had it pulled right out from under him by a stubborn, authoritative, clever and dangerously handsome SpecOps Commander who was bound and determined to have his own way.



Apparently he was satisfactorily clean, because ‘Vadum gave himself a quick swipe with the soap and rinse, then turned off the water and opened the forcefield. The two Sangheili shook themselves off; then ‘Vadum wrapped a towel around himself and turned his attention to toweling off his consort thoroughly. All the while, nothing was spoken and the Arbiter began to find himself wondering what Rtas was thinking. Those enigmatic green eyes did not look at him; instead they examined his hide for wounds.



‘Vadum guided him to the bed, helped him ease his aching body down into its softness and then walked to a cabinet on the far side of the room, discarding his towel as he went. He retrieved a box and sat on the side of the bed, opening the lid. “Roll over,” he said at last, and the Arbiter found himself obeying instantly, too tired to even play-fight in the process.



The healing jellies stung, and the salves made his skin prickle with their weird heat as they worked their way into his muscles. There was one large wound on his shoulder that Rtas had to stitch shut, and the Arbiter couldn’t help but cry out as the automatic staples pierced his hide and drew the ragged edges of the wound together. ‘Vadum poked him to roll over again and repeated the process on his front. Finally, the SpecOps commander shut the lid of his treatment kit and nodded. “That should hold you together.”



The Arbiter rolled over again, wincing as his wounds stretched, moving to the far side of the bed. He realized that he’d left some blood on ‘Vadum’s immaculately clean sheets. He looked up at ‘Vadum, still sitting motionless on the side of the bed, and dropped his gaze to the spot beside him…too tired to speak the words.



‘Vadum hesitated a moment and then got into the bed, pulling the covers over the both of them, and then folding the Arbiter into his arms.



The Arbiter nuzzled up to his consort like a hatchling, infinitely grateful for the forces that had spared him and brought him home. But he was frightened as well, of something he could not name. All he knew as he clung to Rtas was that his future was still uncertain.



Then the black blanket of sleep fell across his eyes and for a time, he felt nothing.



*



‘Rtas Vadum woke up early and lay still for a long time with the Arbiter sleeping in his arms. He watched the ceiling, letting thoughts chase each other through his mind.



They’d had one sweet night together. He was almost certain they’d have another tonight—the Arbiter had been through a battle like no other Sangheili he’d ever heard of, and the natural reaction, though delayed, was bound to be explosive when it arrived.



Part of him couldn’t wait for it.



But another part of him knew that there was no future for the two of them, because he’d gotten into this relationship knowing what the Arbiter was like. And even though he’d come to love him, he knew that loving someone did not equal changing them. The Arbiter was what he was, and Rtas had chosen to accept that fact and mate with him anyway.



Now the time was rapidly coming to pay the price for his decision. Rtas wondered if he could break it off with any measure of grace tomorrow, or whether he’d end up down on his knees, begging the Arbiter to stay just one more night, to mate with him one more time…



‘Vadum squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t let himself fall apart, embarrass the Fleet or betray his own honour. He couldn’t let the relationship drag on until it self-destructed and left the two of them hating each other. He knew he’d be devastated to hear the Arbiter breaking up with him, and after that he wouldn’t be able to think straight; he had to be the one to end it first. He had to somehow salvage their friendship, because he was going to need it in the coming months when the two of them led their people in rebuilding their culture and their political system and their religious faith…



…but by the Ancestors, he loved the Arbiter with an unholy fervor that tore his heart apart.



He had perhaps a day or two to think of the words to give this relationship closure.



He wasn’t sure how long he lay there, composing sentences and then discarding them, when his comm link chimed and he answered. Lord Hood was on the line.



*



By the time Rtas disconnected, the Arbiter was shaking himself awake. “What was that about?” the Arbiter asked. His body was still sore, and he felt as though he’d been asleep only for seconds, though the clock on the wall indicated that he’d slept almost an entire day.



“The humans are holding a memorial service for those they lost in the war,” ‘Vadum answered. “They asked us if we wanted to send an envoy.”



“We should.”



Rtas pressed his left mandibles together. “I think you should go alone.”



“Alone?” The word was suddenly terrifying.



“The humans are mourning their dead. We caused many of those casualties. Some of them will still be angry at us, and rightly so. And I know many of our young warriors require little provocation to attack. I would not jeopardize our new alliance by appearing in force and risking an unfortunate misunderstanding.” He angled his head. “The Master Chief was your battle brother. You should go.”



The Arbiter did not want to ask the question, but knew that he had to face his future. “And what do I have to come back to?”



‘Vadum pushed the blankets aside and got up out of the bed. “That armour that you wear is based on a tradition older than the Covenant. Didn’t you read your history at War College?” Rtas retrieved his jumpsuit and began to dress. “Before the Arbiter, we had Dervishes—warrior-kings. You are the heir of that tradition, which is one that most Sangheili are likely to accept in the aftermath of the Prophet’s betrayal. And until we can get back to Sanghelios and sort out a new system of government, I think that makes you our planetary leader.” ‘Vadum narrowed his eyes, as if he wondered what the hell kind of question that was. “You have a very big job to come back to.”



“No,” the Arbiter said, “I mean…” He got up from the bed, put his hand on ‘Vadum’s shoulder. “I mean…” He couldn’t form the words, found himself making a jibe instead. “I mean once I get back, how long are you going to keep following me around everywhere?”



‘Vadum folded his arms across his chest and said tightly, “How long do you want me to keep following you around?”



The Arbiter had a sudden flashback to the Heretic gas mining platform, when his gaze had first fallen on the diagram of the station and he had realized he could spook out ‘Refumee by cutting the cable. Every once in a while there were moments like these, moments where the entire battle hung on a single accomplishment, a single decision… There was no greater terror than the seconds between realizing what needed to be done and actually accomplishing it. Those were the seconds where you wondered if you had what it took, where you dared not think about the price of failure.



The Arbiter realized he had reached another of those moments now, and he had to speak fast or be lost.



“Forever?” he said, his voice shaky. He gathered all his nerve for one last battle. “Forever would be good.”



‘Vadum’s arms relaxed, though his green, green eyes were peering at him with a guarded expression. “What are you saying?” he asked, still distrustful and uncertain.



“I’m saying you’re right that I have a big job in front of me. A job too big for me to do alone. I need someone by my side…you know the Sangheili armed forces are going to be in disarray, and what about the other species, and they need a capable leader to put them back together again and…” He was babbling.



“So you want me to take control of the Covenant military.” Rtas took a step back, and though he was nodding in agreement, his arms were folded across his chest in that defensive posture and his eyes were cold. “Done. Now, you’ll have a ceremony to prepare for, so I suppose I should give you some privacy and…”



The Arbiter was bungling it. Rtas was turning to leave. Terror filled him, because he knew that if ‘Vadum walked out that door, he’d never have anything beyond a working relationship with him and it was not enough, would never be enough, because what deeper hell could there be than to have ‘Vadum right next to him every day and know he’d never be held again the way he was held last night…



He lunged, prayed to the Ancestors that his fingers would not miss ‘Vadum’s arm…



Rtas heard the movement and slowed. The Arbiter’s fingers closed on the SpecOps commander’s arm. As though in slow motion, ‘Vadum’s head turned towards him.



“That’s not what I meant,” the Arbiter whispered. “I meant…”



His foreknees were like jelly. He let them give way and slammed down before ‘Vadum. He looked up, up into his lover’s green eyes. “I meant I need you. Here. With me. I meant that I feel that we can do anything as long as we’re together.” His mandibles quivered as he wondered if he was getting through. Rtas seemed to be towering over him, arms still folded, watching him. “I don’t know if you want me.”



‘Vadum folded his legs carefully and knelt opposite him. “You’d better not be lying to me,” he said, his voice quietly threatening as he cupped the Arbiter’s face between his hands, running his hind thumbs over the Arbiter’s mandibles.



“I think we have both experienced difficult lessons about lying to ourselves,” the Arbiter murmured. “If I told you to stop it, then I must do the same. I…” He summoned his courage, preparing to leap into the abyss. “I love you, Rtas ‘Vadum.”



The SpecOps commander’s green eyes gleamed. “Thank the Ancestors,” he murmured as he put his arms around him and pulled him close.



The Arbiter felt so very secure, even as his physical proximity to his consort caused the expected kind of reaction. He felt at home, he realized as he nuzzled his lover’s neck. And all the hell of the war was worth it for this moment, to be given something he never knew he was missing, to have a lifetime ahead of him with Rtas.



“What about you?” he dared to ask, holding his breath.



‘Vadum released him just enough to look at him head-on. “I knew I loved you before I dragged you to my stateroom. I…I was afraid you’d bolt if I said it.”



The Arbiter sighed. “I probably would have. I was such a fool. I don’t know what you saw in me.”



“I saw you,” ‘Vadum said simply, “and I knew it was enough.” He placed his mandibles below the Arbiter’s and added softly, “Though I’m not sorry to find out now that I get to keep you forever.”



They spent a few moments touching, nuzzling, then licking one another, until the Arbiter suddenly realized that having their tongues tangling together was getting him progressively less in a hurry to let go of his consort.



“How long until that ceremony starts?” the Arbiter asked.



Rtas smiled wickedly. “Long enough if you’d just get started.”



Soon the Arbiter would ride the gravity lift down to Earth and join the ranks of mourning humans. Soon he would honour the memory of the Master Chief, and Cortana, and the High Councilors, and everyone else he knew who had died in this war. Maybe after the memorial he’d confess to stealing ‘Vadum’s sword. Maybe afterwards he’d try to make that forever feeling into something a little more permanent…something with a bonding date set.



But first, a moment of celebration—because he was alive, and wanted, and loved.



The original Sangheili energy swords had been single-bladed weapons. These relics were now seen only in museums, ever since some long-ago Elite had discovered that two of the old-style blades could be combined into a single sword that would cut in both directions. He and ‘Vadum, thought the Arbiter, were like the twin blades of a plasma sword—stronger together than apart. And together was how they would stay.