Title: Restless
Genre: General
Rating: K
Summery:Post Halo 2. The Arbiter's first night on Cairo
Restless. That was how he felt. Agitated. That too.
The Arbiter paced the small room, the room that he was given to sleep in. It contained the bare essentials of a human's sleeping quarters. It was cramped, for his Sangheili build. The ceiling was high, but he had no doubt that if he were to lie down on the bed, not only would his feet go off the end, but would also be resting against the wall. The room was as long as he was tall. He had to bear in mind that this room was designed with humans in mind, on a station that was designed to kill his kind in their ships. He couldn't walk out the room; he had no doubt. The two guards who were 'discreetly' placed outside of his door would keep him in. He wasn't a prisoner, really. But he was still un-trusted. And those guards were also there for his protection.
He walked up to one wall, and then the other, and then repeated. He was wide-awake, despite it being late, even by his standards. He had come to Earth, along with the rest of the Elites, and the Grunts and Hunters. But only he had come aboard this station, the Cairo, with Keyes and Cortana. He sighed. He was restless, wide-awake, agitated and bored. Not a good combination with him. Ever since his youth, the only way to help was to do something, anything that gave him an adrenaline rush. He wondered if he could ask the guards if he could go out to at least go to the toilet. This room was hardly en suite.
His mind started to wonder. He wondered if his mother and sister were ok. His Father had died several years before the humans had been discovered, assassinated by heretics, heretics who were proven right in the end. His sister was still only what the humans called a teenager. He wondered if she had finally passed her education. He knew that the Elites being kicked out of the Covenant hadn't affected his home planet, because the construct, Cortana, had told him that Truth hadn't been able to get the message out of High Charity. This did present the problem on how to rally his people to the humans cause. He would think about that when asked to.
The Sangheili paced the room, again. He hated these feelings. He wanted to go to a blissful sleep. If there was only one thing that he could compliment the humans on, it would have to be that they could make such soft beds. The Marines could complain all they wanted, they were the softest he had ever seen.
Again, he paced the room. The bed could be the most comfortable in the universe; it wouldn't help him sleep. Perhaps he should ask the guards if he could go to the toilet. It gave him something to do, and he did need to go.
Five minutes later, he was pacing again, but feeling refreshed. One of the guards was gone, getting him something to do. More pacing. The door opened and the guard put several items on the table in the corner of the room. After the Marine left, he walked up to the table. There were three things: a plate with a couple of round slabs of meat inside a pair of buns. Human food. Smelt nice though. There was also an art pad and a pencil. Primitive, yes, but also more satisfying. He took a bite out of the strange food. Tasted like roasted Kliesov, a rarity, even on his home planet. Judging from the way the guard hadn't thought twice about giving him this food, this was rather common to humans.
He picked up the art pad and pencil and started sketching. At first, he simply sketched runes and symbols, those he had seen routinely when he was with the Covenant. Then he started to sketch people he knew, starting with his father, mother and sister. Half-Jaw was next. Then the humans he had come to know: Keyes, Johnson, that female Demon, even though all the Demons looked the same, just different sets of scratches and dents in their armour. Last, he drew Earth. He looked through the detailed sketches. Perhaps, when the war was over, he should become an artist.
Briefly, he wondered the fate of The Demon; the Master Chief. He had been on board the Forerunner ship when it was destroyed, left to crash down on Earth. He had to be dead, hadn't he. The female, Linda, she had disagreed, saying something about how 'luck' would save him... again.
He wanted to meet The Demon, properly. The brief meeting when Gavemind had bought them together wasn't ideal circumstances to meet someone, not that he would have been very formal anyway, since he'd still considered him an enemy. It was strange. He listened to The Demon's comrades, and talked about him like he wasn't anything special, that he was just human. Who could the one person that the whole Convenant feared, be nothing more than a human? When he'd asked, Johnson had grunted and mentioned circumstances.
He stood up, and sat down again. A pointless excersise, but he was bored again. He shut his eyes, thinking. Maybe, he when the morning came, he would write to his mother, his sister, find out how they were doing. He hadn't seen them since his graduation from the acadamy, and his duty had prevented him the chance to contact them.
Yes, a letter home. perhaps that was motivation enough to sleep, just so tomorrow came quicker.