In the Morning Light
Leah woke up in the arms of the galaxy's only living, breathing Forerunner and that, to her, was one of the best experiences of her life. He was still asleep, lying on his side with his arms around her, holding her tightly with his head only centimetres from her own. Leah herself could feel the warmth of not only him, but of the heat of the desert outside. The pair had not even needed blankets on the old mattress, as the night had been warm enough, warmer even after the pair had worked up a sweat.
He was human in a lot of respects, which made his physical differences all the more noticeable. The lack of a nose for one, where only two small slitted nostrils were located. His lack of hair, save for the patches of white fuzz on his chest. The short black spines protruding from his scalp, only about a dozen of them, but odd to say the least. Oddly endearing, even.
Leah squirmed out of his grasp and rolled over to face him. The inside of the room was fairly dim, and streaks of sunlight shot through the narrow gaps between the boards that covered the windows. Under the collective weight of both of them, the bed groaned and creaked, as if on the verge of breaking apart. Even so, it had somehow kept it together, despite their many movements last night. Leah had been relieved to see that her and Accord's bodies had been very compatible, despite their obvious differences.
Accord stirred, and his eyes opened slowly, his gaze meeting with hers.
"Good morning," she said. She felt as if nothing in the world could bring her down.
"It doesn't feel like it." Accord put a hand to her face, gently trailing it down her cheek.
"I know what you mean. We didn't exactly get too much sleep last night." Leah put a hand to his chest, running her fingers across the thin white fuzz there. It seemed an oddity, given that he had no hair anywhere else. Nonetheless, it was an oddity she found she liked. "I'll say, I've dreamed about this kind of thing. About what a normal life might be like."
"This is hardly normal," Accord commented.
"But it's at least some kind of normality," Leah replied. "I mean, I don't think I've felt the way I do about you or anybody else, ever. Just how long have we known each other?"
"Hmmm." Accord thought about it briefly. "Three days. I have known people who were married after less. Arranged ones, usually. Often done for political reasons."
"You Forerunners did that kind of thing?"
"We did all sorts of things, other than build massive structures capable of withstanding thousands of years of inactivity." Accord's eyes seemed to brighten, as if thinking about his former life over one-hundred thousand years ago had helped his mood. He was already in a very good one, having woken up next to a wonderful woman, but to tell her of things he had seen and done all those years ago? To at least ensure some of the truth about his people was remembered in this time seemed worthwhile. "You saw my family. I was one of seven children, and that's a below average amount for a married couple to have."
"Below average?" Leah had sometimes wondered what it would be like to have children, to have a family, even married. Such thoughts had only become more frequent in recent years. But to have seven children, it was almost unheard of these days. Not many people had more than two, and larger families often only cropped up on the more isolated planets.
"You seem surprised."
"I just think that's a lot of kids." Leah met his eyes again, and she continued tracing lazy circles upon his muscled chest. "I mean, just one would do me just fine." There was a pause then, as the pair watched each other, neither feeling the need to say anything more. It was enough for them to simply be close, and Leah felt that desire within her stirring once again. She wondered if it would ever go away now, having had her first proper taste of love. Of being loved, even. It seemed unlikely, not that she minded. For now, it was just her and Accord, and she could be content with that. All the problems they faced felt so distant.
With this in mind, she hitched a leg over his own before climbing atop him. He uttered a surprised, but satisfied, grunt as she straddled his thighs and ran her hands hungrily down his chest. She would be sure to make the most of whatever time they had together, ONI and Carson and all those other problems be damned.
Jak'Talva woke up with a start that morning, with a bottle of human liquor clutched in one clawed hand. Thankfully he had had the sense to put the lid back on after helping himself the night before, as otherwise he might have woken up in a puddle of foul-smelling bourbon. The stuff did not agree with his non-human physiology too well, yet nonetheless it had served its purpose, numbing his senses and sending him into a doze. Like all good booze should, Jak'Talva thought.
He only woke up with a start because he became aware of the Sangheili looming over him, the disdain evident on the alien's face, as he had come to expect from Davam 'Ktham.
"What do you want?" Jak'Talva sat up and rubbed his eyes, before he placed the bottle of bourbon on the small table near the couch. Sunlight filtered through the gaps on the boarded windows, and he could see dust floating through the rays of light.
"We must take stock," Davam said.
"Take stock? Of what?"
"Our weapons." With that, Davam turned and walked over to the bar area, where he had laid out their guns across a series of tables there. Jak'Talva should have guessed that the Sangheili, out of all of them, would be the one up at the crack of dawn with guns and violence on his mind.
"What for? So we can work out exactly how screwed we are?" Jak'Talva climbed off of the couch, rubbing the back of his aching neck with one hand before he shambled over to where Davam was standing. He looked down at the handful of rifles, grenades and numerous spare magazines. Then there was the large metal case they had found stuffed in the back of the Warthog, property of Colonel Carson and something that the Skirmisher recognized. It was a piece of merchandise he had sold the man a few months prior, an old but reliable form of portable heavy machine gun.
"Our enemies will be searching for us," Davam said.
"And what about the Spartan? And the big guy?" By 'big guy', he was referring to the Forerunner.
"They are resting," Davam replied. He did not look up as he disassembled one of the rifles, seemingly well aware of how this human gun operated, which was unusual for a Sangheili.
"Resting? What, they can sleep in but I can't?" Jak'Talva snorted in derision. "What is it with you Sangheili bossing everyone else around?"
Davam did not reply. Instead, he laid out the several major parts of the rifle on the table before him, and with a dry rag he began to wipe clean each of them in turn.
"How about we wake them up?" Jak'Talva suggested. "Bring them down here, so they can at least help out?"
"I am sure they will be out soon," Davam said. "I do not wish to disturb them. They are…preoccupied."
"Preoccupied?" Jak'Talva could hardly believe what he was hearing.
"You must understand what is at stake here." Davam turned his head to him, pausing in his cleaning of the gun parts. The look in his eyes was a serious one, and Jak'Talva narrowed his own eyes in return.
"What would that be?"
"A Forerunner. A living, breathing Forerunner. We cannot simply allow him to be killed. We must do everything in our power to protect him from those who would wish to use him and his knowledge for their own dishonourable purposes." Davam was glaring at the Skirmisher now, in a way that made the latter feel somewhat uncomfortable.
"Hey, I'm a wanted man as much as you are." Jak'Talva would not admit it, but he did see a point in the Sangheili's words. A valid one at that, the idea that the Forerunner needed to be protected, and that letting him fall into custody of Carson or ONI or even the Covenant would be disastrous. One of fate's chosen, as his father would have said, since his father had been one for believing in that kind of thing. Jak'Talva liked to think that he controlled his own destiny, yet he had so far found himself very much doubting that in recent days. It was as if some kind of higher power was messing with him for the fun of it. "Exactly what do you owe the Forerunner? Really, they're the reason the war with the humans started, all because of the things they left behind."
"I am doing it, because it is the right thing to do," Davam replied. "If you do not wish to be here, you are free to leave. I won't stop you."
Jak'Talva had considered running away, like he had often done in the past. Usually when he accumulated too much heat in one star system he left it in a hurry, and he had done just this several times over. He was a wanted criminal in some territories, both human and Kig-Yar, and he had even angered the governments on a few Sangheili planets as well. Arms dealing might have made him money, as did the other enterprises he engaged in, but it always got him in trouble. No matter how careful he was, eventually he would get found out and he would need to leave in a hurry.
"I must ask you, Jak'Talva," Davam said, looking to him with a curious gaze. "Just what have you done in your life that you can be proud of? Have you done anything for anyone else, other than yourself?"
The questions caught the Skirmisher off-guard, although normally when someone questioned his selfish nature he just laughed it off. Before he could reply, he heard footsteps on the stairs behind, and both Leah and Accord came down them, both fully dressed. The Forerunner looked as serious as usual, although in comparison Leah had an added spring in her step, and her mood had lightened up considerably since he had last seen her. Jak'Talva immediately thought that they made for an odd couple.
"Another fine morning," Jak'Talva commented, as the pair descended the stairs and entered the room. "Hopefully the good night's sleep gave you some ideas as to how we should proceed? Since right now, I've got no idea what we should do next. You lost the codes to my ship, after all."
Leah frowned at him, apparently irritated by the immediate dose of his attitude he had provided first thing in the morning.
"We need to take stock…" She began, but Davam interrupted her.
"I am in the process of going through our armaments," the Sangheili stated. "We have three designated marksman rifles, two battle rifles, several grenades and numerous magazines for all the aforementioned firearms. There is one other thing, which was in the Warthog." He walked over to the large metal case at the end of the table. With both hands, he undid the latches, popping open the case, the top half falling onto the table with a dull clunk. Inside was a large three-barrelled machine gun, a smaller version of what one would often find fitted on the back of a UNSC military Warthog. It lacked the shield that such models carried, exposing the operator more so than the military versions. There was a bipod hanging from the end of the weapon, and the ammunition came in a number of large boxes that held about one-hundred rounds each. Jak'Talva knew all of this because he had been the one to sell the weapon to Carson in the first place. He had simply never expected to end up using it himself.
"I've seen these before," Leah said, stepping up to the table to survey the large machine gun. "It's a lot more portable than the ones they put on the Warthog. Something I could probably fire from the hip." She paused for a moment, thinking about this. "Of course, you're unlikely to hit anything firing from the hip."
"It's a defensive weapon," Jak'Talva said. "I guess if you needed to hold off a superior force, then it would be perfect for the job. Until the enemy works out where you are and throws a few grenades your way." Leah was watching him carefully, in a way he had not seen her do so before. "What is it? Do I have something on my chin?"
"Are you going to help us?" She spoke the question in a much more serious voice. Jak'Talva was not entirely sure what she meant.
"Haven't I been doing just that?" He asked in return. "I mean, I've almost been killed running with you three. On more than one occasion. You really think I want to run away? I would have done it by now. I'm not stupid." He shook his head. The thought had indeed crossed his mind more than once, but he had rapidly dismissed it each time. "I'm not going to run."
"I can really believe that." Leah did not sound convinced. Jak'Talva huffed, feeling his frustration boil over. Sure, he would be the first to admit that he looked after himself, yet in these recent days he had done much more 'helping' than he normally would have. All because he had been dragged into the entire mess, a criminal on his way to torture and prison, only to be thrown into the utter chaos that was Thrace and its assortment of opposing factions. He did not need others judging him, and he certainly did not need Leah judging him, as she was practically the cause for his predicament.
"Maybe Carson will take you back." Accord was the one to say this, and it struck a nerve within the Skirmisher that caused the thick plumage on his head to stand up straight. A threatening gesture, the meaning of which was easily discerned by other species. "You did sell him weapons, did you not?"
"I have always looked after myself," Jak'Talva said, trying to keep his exasperation from seeping into his voice. He was only marginally successful. "There is nothing wrong with that, and if you did what I did for a living you would know that in some cases, it is the only way to do business. You don't have much time for friends when you deal in arms, because most of the people you meet are either rivals trying to muscle in on your business, or undercover law enforcement officers who would have me thrown in prison. You people are too quick to judge…"
"I think you've chosen to stay with us because you actually care," Leah interrupted. "And you know what else I think? That you're too proud to admit it. You're helping us out because you want to, and because it might put some meaning to your life. You want to know how I know this?"
For the first time in a long while, Jak'Talva had nothing to say. The Spartan spoke genuinely, from the heart, and he could hear it in her voice.
"Because it's why I'm here," Leah continued. "Because it's the right thing to do, and it'll probably make for the first time in my life where I've done something without being ordered to do it. The first time I've done something that actually made a genuine difference, outside of the war. And even most of that was just senseless killing." She took a few seconds to catch her breath before going on. "I believe you're the same. I'm no real good judge of character, I missed out on getting those social skills like I missed out on a normal childhood. Still, I think you're just too full of yourself to admit why you continue to tag along, despite all the danger and the near-death experiences." She smiled then, an unusual move from the Spartan. It was apparent that her mood had greatly improved since the day before, and Jak'Talva suspected that the Forerunner had something to do with it.
"I've been running most of my life." Jak'Talva sat himself down on the couch that had served as a bed the night before. He certainly did not like to admit it, but Leah was mostly right. In a way, he had denied it, why he chose to run with her and the Forerunner even when the opportunity to leave had presented itself. He did not have anywhere else to go, that was true, yet the Spartan was also correct in much of what she said.
The Skirmisher relaxed his plumage and ran a hand through it, ruffling it like a human would their hair.
"I ran away from home," he said. "I ran away from the war." He leaned back on the couch, looking up at the other three. None of them said anything, they simply allowed him to continue talking. It was about time Jak'Talva did just that. "I finished my training. I was conscripted, you see. Like most males of my species, we get put through the rigours of combat training and are sent to the frontlines right away. You would be surprised how few of us are left now. The population of male T'vaon's has dropped significantly since the war." He did a downwards motions with one hand to emphasise this point. "I read the reports from the battlefields. I learned what the war was doing to people. So I ran." He had not told this to anyone before, not that he had ever really given himself an opportunity to. He had no real friends, and he never spoke of his personal life to anyone involved in his 'business'. "I deserted, only days before I was scheduled to be shipped to a combat zone. I can never go back home, because I would likely be castrated for that kind of crime." He noticed Leah cock an eyebrow upon hearing this, and Jak'Talva offered a chuckle. "Not a punishment you humans do to each other very often, is it?"
She shook her head.
"I guess it makes for one way to dissuade men from deserting," Leah said.
"Now I'm here, and my successful arms dealing business appears to have run its course." The Skirmisher sighed. His life had taken a sharp downwards turn lately, and he mostly had himself to blame. "I might say that I became complacent, here on Thrace. The money was good, and I made a life for myself over the last six months or so. Staying here for so long is probably what got me caught."
"ONI had been tracking you all over the frontier," Leah explained. Jak'Talva let out a laugh. He might have been flattered, had he been in a better mood. "You were selling guns to insurrectionists. That sort of thing gets you noticed."
"I was selling the weapons these independent worlds need to defend themselves," Jak'Talva countered. "Surely even you can see that?"
"Perhaps." Leah crossed her arms over her chest. "What is it you plan to do now? Because if you're going to help us, you'll need to pull your weight."
"Like I said, I've been running from place-to-place. I think, maybe for once, I'll stop running." Jak'Talva stood up then, feeling as if he had taken a significant weight off of his mind. It was a start, and it did not make the thought of imminent death easier to take. Still, if their enemies came knocking, and they likely would, he was going to meet them head on.
