Chapter 10: Injuries and Large Space Stations
En Route to Citadel
March 7 2186
Mission to rally Council
Shepard P.O.V
"Come on," Shepard implored. "We just need to use some medi-gel."
"I would prefer that you not," The Arbiter said once again.
"Why" Shepard demanded a little too harshly.
"My injuries are minor at worst and need not be attended to," he said irritably, "I am far more resilient to damage than you know."
Jane Shepard wanted to believe that, but she also wanted to believe there was more to it than that. She knew when people were lying through their teeth or withholding certain details, and the Arbiter was no exception, even if his teeth were lined in mandibles and not jaws. Shepard had tended to many wounds before, everything ranging from minor cuts and bruises and bleeds to some potentially lethal and life-threatening injuries and blows. She was no doctor by any means, but after learning so much from hands-on experience and some from Doctor Karin Chakwas, she was more than capable of keeping injured soldiers of all kinds alive long enough to get them to a true doctor who could heal them. Shepard missed the good doctor greatly. She was full of wisdom. Maybe if she was here, she could talk some sense into the Arbiter.
So here was Commander Shepard, still in-armor, still in the shuttle bay, arguing away with her newest squad member, and probably her most stubborn one to date, even more so than any other member.
"Look, just take some medi-gel," Shepard continued, "what can it hurt?"
"A lot of things," he retorted.
Shepard's face shifted into another glare, and the Arbiter met her gaze with his eyes. There was a tense moment before the Arbiter spoke, but he did not remove his eyes from hers.
"Forgive me, but understand that I have been some rather profound changes in my lifetime. I am not use to accepting medical help nor have I ever wanted it. It is a matter of personal honor and pride. All Sangheili that are warriors are filled with pride and confidence."
Shepard perked her head up. Although it was not her intended goal, she had just unwittingly heard a lot about the Arbiter, enough for her to piece together more about him, or at least enough to explain some of his behaviors. She was glad that she had caught his species, Sangheili. The name seemed to mean something significant. She had to know now.
"Does your species name translate to something," Shepard inquired.
For a moment, the Arbiter regarded her question without any sort of response, but Shepard guessed that he was probably determining whether he wanted to answer the question. The question might have also thrown him off guard, due to the abruptness and not having to do with their quarrel about his injuries. Finally, after a considerable pause, he chose to answer.
"No it does not," he began, "at least not in our language. It was a name for our species, but you humans would call us "Elites" due to our prowess in battle, but a few human minds decided to use a language called Latin to give us the name Macto Cognatus."
"And what does that mean," Shepard asked.
"The humans of our galaxy said it meant I glorify my kin," the Arbiter replied, "and it was met with universal approval from our warriors."
Shepard nodded in understanding. So the Arbiter was essentially like a Japanese ninja or samurai. She should have seen that one. It showed in his fighting style. Close-quarters fighting and hand-to-hand combat were the marks of an honor-bound warriors most of the time, although she noticed that he seemed to be unbiased when it came to using weapons. He certainly displayed the traits of a no-nonsense, disciplined, cool, and controlled leader. And if the Latin name was any indication, all warriors cared for each other probably as family and brothers rather than being simply comrades. She knew that feeling, what that was like. Her squad was family, even the more disagreeable characters.
"Well," Shepard said, "I may not be your leader, but you're part of my team now, and I make it my business to make sure that all of my square are at one-hundred percent."
"And I sincerely appreciate the kindness," the Arbiter commented, "but I am merely saying that perhaps your concern is best saved for someone who has greater need of it. My injuries may appear unpleasant, but I will recover. If I must, I can apply this medi-gel to the injuries, but I do not believe this to be a necessary course."
Shepard nodded her head in approval. While she wasn't convinced that his injuries weren't bad, she was impressed with the display of selflessness that he showed, although she had a feeling that mentality might be limited to combatants and warriors, but she couldn't judge him really based on that. Shepard didn't really know enough. She would keep watch over him. His injuries were her concern whether he cared for her attention or not, and although she hadn't said it, she had this sense that she could trust the Arbiter.
"Then let's talk about something else," Shepard said, "I know that some else is bothering you."
"Not literally," he answered, "but yes, I have many questions."
"Well, fire away," the commander spoke. "I'm not exactly an encyclopedia of knowledge, but I can tell you a lot."
"Those large artifacts, what are they?"
"Those are artifacts that once belonged to the Protheans, an ancient space-faring conquering race that ruled pretty much all of the galaxy for thousands of years. This was about fifty-thousand years ago."
"And what became of the Protheans," he asked.
"What's happening to use now: the Reapers. Every 50,00 years, the Reapers come to destroy all organic and synthetic life. They do it because they believe that conflict between species is inevitable and that the only way to stop this supposed future is to destroy all life."
The Arbiter lowered his head in thought, and Shepard still marvelled at how he still towered over her. Although most of the Normandy's ceilings were greater than the Arbiter's height, it was not by much. Standing at full height, the Arbiter probably would have very little space.
The silence was many things, but then a thought suddenly came to mind.
"You said that you faced galactic extinction before," she said, "back on Mars. What were you talking about?"
"Our galaxy was plagued by a parasitic organism known as the flood. Similarly to your Reapers, the Flood forcibly feed off of sentient life, transforming them into abominations. Their quest to consume all life in the galaxy has persisted even through dormancy."
"So you've dealt with this sort of thing before," Shepard asked, almost excitedly.
"Yes," he answered simply, "but the Sangheili were not alone. The humans were also our allies."
"What are they like, the humans where you come from," she said, crossing her arms, but still remaining attentive.
"The humans here and the humans there are similar in most ways." the Arbiter explained, "The same mentality, the same fight, just on a larger scale and with more useless allies. Humanity in our galaxy did not spend much time talking. They did more things in action. It garnered the respect and even admiration from many of the Sangheili. Here, all I see are afraid politicians that are still trying to hold on to their last vestiges of stability before being forced to look at the reality of the Reaper threat,"
"For the record," Shepard said, "I agree with you. Most people don't understand the Reapers like we do. They don't know because they're not always on the frontlines. I don't fault them for it. Politicians aren't meant to be fighting. They're meant to be leading their people into times of nonviolence and peace. Things that shake them like the Reapers are what scare them. It's frustrating to deal with, but that's why all the Citadel species have armies and navies."
The Arbiter responded with a grunt of approval. It was brief, but it showed a sign of applause, even if not in the best of ways, but Shepard prefered this to the lying and deceit that she often had to deal with.
It was beyond easy to find someone who pretended to understand or to approve or to sympathise when in reality they cared little for the person. Shepard didn't care for those people, but she couldn't really find it in herself to disavow them or to berate them. Some people simply believed in what they did, and she could respect that, even if she didn't agree personally. Call it misplaced righteousness or naivety, but given the chance, she would probably save everyone that she could, even if they were evil. Shepard considered herself the closest thing to a mortal angel as possible. Although she was a soldier and it was her duty to shoot and kill, fighting on the battlefield and fighting one-on-one were two different things.
These thoughts made her turn to the Illusive Man. She had let out an emotion that she shouldn't have, and the Arbiter didn't really help matters. It was one of the few times she got angry out in the field. She couldn't say that she liked the man one bit, but she couldn't say that she truly hated him. He was a misled man with misguided hatred and misguided beliefs. He was a xenophobic human.
Shepard shouldn't have been threatening him. She should have been asking for his help, because like it or not, he was just as much a victim of the Reapers as they all were. He simply thought that his actions could control the Reapers, but the Reapers were far too intelligent for any being to truly understand and control. Not even the Protheans fully understood the Reapers. The Illusive Man was mad with power, and Shepard, albeit begrudgingly, would do everything she could to convince the misled man to turn away from his path.
It was one thing to say that to herself, but most of her squad didn't share her sentimentality, and from the Arbiter's reaction, he didn't like the Illusive Man at all and wanted him dead, but Shepard knew that for the Arbiter, an unknown to this galaxy, to take an immediate hatred towards the Illusive Man, he had to have experienced someone or something else of that experience.
She had to ask.
"Back on Mars," Shepard began, "when you spoke to the Illusive Man, what was all that about?"
"It was a simple matter," he said calmly, "that human is clearly set on his ways. His obsession, his arrogance, his lust for power, it is all clear as the black space that surrounds us."
"So what," Shepard argued, "lots of people are greed and arrogant and obsessed. Doesn't mean they need to die."
"You do not understand, Shepard," he shook his head, "The Illusive Man is not concerned about humanity or concerned about anyone's well-being. His personal goals override all things. If allowed, he would cause damage that may not be irreversible. He is a threat to the innocent civilians across this galaxy. His kind do not negotiate. His kind do not see reason. They see only what they want to see, and that is why you should see him dead. It is not just for the safety of yourself, but for the galaxy."
"That's not true," Shepard rebutted, "he can change. Anyone can change."
"You naivety is noble and admirable," he said, "even if somewhat misplaced."
Shepard gave him a look of exasperation. This conversation was like a loop, never ending. She wouldn't change her ways of thinking, and he wouldn't change his ways of thinking, at least not at this time. She respected such, as everyone was entitled to what they wished to believe, even if she didn't share those those beliefs.
"I'm not giving up yet," she proclaimed. "I didn't get this far by killing everyone that didn't like me."
"Perhaps not, but it is clear he is the enemy. He will not change. It is evident, and you know this."
Shepard bit her lips. She didn't want to lose hope for him. For all of his abominable creations and ideals, he was still human. Making the Illusive Man her enemy wasn't the solution, but he wasn't giving her much choice in the matter. Maybe she should do something else.
"I need to contact Admiral Hackett," she said abruptly, turning to leave.
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Arbiter P.O.V.
The Arbiter watched Shepard go, his eyes tracking her until she was out of sight. Once he was certain that she was out of eyesight, he began to assess his injuries. His armor reported nothing outstanding that would impede his ability to continue in combat, but he was injured enough to warrant some degree of concern. He had lost a bit of blood, but he didn't really want Shepard's help healing. He would heal quickly. The pain he was feeling now was minor in comparison to what he had experienced before. He quickly pushed that thought out of his head before he began to think too much on the past.
Deciding to look around the ship more, Thel took to walking down the halls, noticing every aspect of each room that he could make out. He was careful to make sure that he had ample space between his head and the ceiling. This ship was not built to accommodate his height, but this was a human vessel, so he would not expect it to be so. He was mindful of not disturbing any of the crew while at work. They stopped to notice him and feel awe, fear, curiosity, or admiration. That was for a moment before they would resume their duties. Judging from the reactions, Thel could easily notice that perhaps these humans had spent a considerable amount of time with other races, that or they trusted Shepard's judgement enough. Either way, it was satisfying that he was not the subject of prejudice.
It was then he found himself in a strange somewhat-oval-shaped room. At the very center of the room. there lie a star map, three-dimensional and all the nebulas, systems, clusters, and systems clearly labelled and easily accessible. As Thel stepped closer, he was somewhat surprised to see the exact same shape of what the humans liked to call the Milky Way Galaxy. Taking it at face value, he could see the same exact shape, but apart from general shape, nothing looked like the galaxy he was use to. None of the planets looked the same. None of the systems looked the same. None of the stars aligned the same way. Nothing was right to him. It was all jumbled and misleading to him. He would have to spend more time here studying the map. Thel always did make sure that as Supreme Commander, he had a thorough and detailed understanding of star maps. These were very critical to coordinating resources and fighting the enemy.
As he was quick to examine the star map, he turned to notice what appeard to be a human female working at one of the consoles. Her skin tone was slightly darker than that of the others, actually more so than the others working in the room. She tapped away at fast rate, completely focused on her work. As he regarded her, she turned around, and jumped back at the sight of him, the sight of him being very frightening.
"Calm down, human," Thel said, "Commander Shepard knows of me."
"Of that's I've no doubt," she said rather timidly, still clearly intimidated by him, "I'm sorry to have reacted that way. It's just that I've never seen your species before."
"No one in this galaxy has ever seen a Sangheili, and those who have are dead," he said bluntly.
"Right," she trailed off, "well, I'm Specialist Samantha Traynor at your service."
"Sangheili Arbiter Thel 'Vadam," he said, wondering why he saw fit to reveal his name now. It was not something that he desired to be secret, yet it did not feel right for it to be known now, but it was too late regardless.
"Arbiter," she repeated, "is that a rank of high regard in your society."
"It really depends on who you ask," Thel said, "I think nothing of it. I find no satisfaction in commanding legions from a ship or inside a fortress. I would prefer to be fighting with who I lead."
"I'm sure the commander and you will get along just fine," she commented, looking him up and down and them back to his armored head.
He merely grunted a sound of acknowledgement, not bothering to answer to the rather ridiculous statement before turning to finish his exploration of the bridge. He and Shepard has clear differences, and while they shared similar qualities as leaders and warriors, he strongly disagreed with her sense of right and wrong in the way that it interfered with the reality of what had to be done.
His journey led him to down a small hallway before finding himself at what he could easily distinguish as the main cockpit. From there he watched from his place as the single pilot sitting in the very center chair worked away at the holographic controls, occasionally shifting to look at some other reading or console. Thel remained silent as the pilot worked away.
Then a voice broke the silence.
"Jeff, there is an observer behind you," a somewhat unusual female voice spoke.
"Better not be Shepard," a male voice said, the tone sounding sarcastic.
"No, Shepard is currently conversing with Admiral Hackett."
"Kaidan," he said.
"Major Alenko is currently in the armory."
"Liara," he spoke again.
"It is the most recent addition to Shepard's ground squad."
"Lieutenant Vega," he guessed.
Thel growled softly. He was not sure if this pilot was purposefully avoiding referring to him or if he really was that oblivious to who was on the ship.
"Jeff it is-"
"I know who it is, EDI," he said before finally turning around.
The chair swivelled around, and the human displayed a bit of shock, but not really in the fearful sense.
"Shit man, and I thought that Krogans were big and scary, but you might just give them a run for their money," he stated.
"I do not know what a Krogan is," Thel replied.
"Shepard wasn't kidding when she said you weren't from this galaxy," he laughed, "but you might be fake being dumb about not knowing."
"Not likely, as you have never seen my species ever before," the Arbiter disputed.
"Just the same, cool to meet you. I'm called Joker. I'd shake your hand, but I'm really fit to be moving around."
Thel tilted his head. "Why is that?"
"Vrolik syndrome. Makes my bone prone to break more easily than everyone else, hence why I'm piloting the Normandy."
Thel nodded his head in understanding. He could admire anyone that would serve in the military despite possessing an ailment. They might have to work harder than the normal ones, but in a way, that made them stronger than many others they served with.
"I see," the Arbiter said, "and your moniker, Joker, where does that come from?"
"Prying right into my life, eh. Well, you're not from around, so I guess you get off. From my earlier days in Alliance pilot training. Nobody thought I could do anything because of my problem, and I proved them wrong, graduated top of my class. Never smiled much that in those days, but I earned where I am now. Now, I'm the Normandy's heart and spirit,"
"Technically, Jeff, I fill that role as you are the pilot of this vessel."
"And that's EDI, the ships artificial intelligence. Hope you don't mind," Joker added.
"Not at all. Artificial intelligences are quite common from where I am from,"
"Can't imagine what that's like."
The Arbiter, setting aside the small talk, could sense truth to those words of the pilot's story. He filed Joker away as someone he could trust, even if a sarcastic attitude came with the package, but maybe he could find something amusing in his humor and sarcasm. It was definitely different from all of the seriousness of the battlefield. He could see why Shepard might have him along.
"Might I ask where it is that we travel towards," the Arbiter inquired.
"The Citadel," Shepard said from behind.
They turned to see the commander, now out of her armor and dressed in a standard alliance outfit that most of the human crew wore.
"This Citadel," Thel began, "is the seat of all the races in the galaxy,"
"In a sense," Shepard explained, but all species retain their own separate governments. The Citadel Council acts as way for each species to coordinate their armies and navies and to make decisions that affect the galaxyas a whole. Stick around, the Citadel's quite a site."
"And that sight is coming up in three, two, one," Joker concluded, the slight shift telling Tehl that they were back in normal space.
Thel, for a moment could not see in front of him, but the the image came crystal-clear as the human saying went. It was a five-arm station each army connected to s central hub or center. It was a relatively simple design, although Halo had a more simple design.
"Impressive, right," Joker asked.
They responded as bluntly as he possibly could.
"No."
"No," Shepard inquired.
"This station is nothing compared to what I have seen before," the Arbiter stated.
"Can't wait to hear what's more exciting than this 50 kilometer beauty," Joker said.
"Perhaps a 10,000 kilometer station," Thel said plainly
The response that came forced him to stifle a laugh.
"10,000 KILOMETERS!?"
And done for now. Sorry about the short chapter, but lots of stuff is going on now in life. As always, REVIEW! They're the reasons I keep this story going. Tell me the goods and the bads. Thanks to everyone whose supports this story.
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Hope you enjoyed reading. Next chapter, the Arbiter takes a trip to the Citadel and explorers!