Chapter 23 Meeting an Old Friend
The Master Chief was looking at a planet that, had he seen it 10 years prior, he would have attempted to hit with strategic nuclear strikes. A few thousand of them, in fact.
The planet Sanghelios stared back at him through the viewscreen of the sangheili vessel, The Hopeful Messenger. It was like many other garden worlds the Chief had visited, with multiple continents and biomes ranging from frigid tundra to arid deserts. The micro-prowler was currently resting within the alien ship's hangar, covered in an alien tarp. The Arbiter had graciously agreed with the Chief's request that the journey be kept secret. Thus, they had to remove any external sign of their presence.
There were 2 fleets within the sangheili's home star system. They belonged to the Swords of Sanghelios and the Storm Covenant, respectively. Neither of them were firing upon each other. Any battle this close to the planet would result in at least some shots hitting the surface, damaging the sacred ground. A fleet battle was therefore out of the question, as was any kind of orbital bombardment. The sangheili civil war was strictly ground-based on the race's homeworld.
The fleets hung in space roughly half-way between the planet and its closest moon. If either side violated the naval ceasefire, all their opponent would have to do was move to a closer orbit around Sanghelios, thus forcing all fire to stop. Only a few vessels were permitted to land on the planet without being fired upon while still on approach. The Hopeful Messenger was not one of them.
A sangheili approached the Spartans within the observation room. He wore ornate scarlet armor, marking him as a 'zealot', roughly the equivalent of a mid-ranking commissioned officer. "Hail, Spartans," he said, pressing his right fist to his chest in a salute. The Chief returned the gesture, still feeling uncomfortable with it. The alien continued, "We must load your vessel within one of our transports if we are to keep it concealed. I ask you to accompany me to the hangar." The Chief nodded and moved to follow him. The rest of Blue Team followed close behind.
The Spartans boarded the micro-prowler. A minute later, the human ship was loaded into the cargo bay of a sangheili transport. From this point until landing, the Spartans would be in the dark. They would be taken to the surface and loaded into a ground transport which would transport them to a secure location. The shipmaster had not offered them access to the transport's external camera system, for obvious reasons. The human warriors took the opportunity to once again inspect their equipment.
All of their armor had taken damage back on Meridian. Linda was the best off, with little in the way of damage other than a few scrapes on her chest plate from where the ODST lookalike had kicked her. Kelly's had several marks from the bizarre drones' rifle-analogues. Fred had a large dent across his front midsection from where the Warden Eternal had struck him. The Chief's damage was more noticeable, at least to him: there was a crack on the right side of his visor. A transparent film had been applied to seal the breach, but there was no fixing the super strong material; it would have to be replaced. Naturally, they did not have the means to do that. The mark served as a continuous reminder of what he had lost on Meridian...of what had been taken from him.
Blue Team also lacked the means to replace their armaments. Fred's DMR, Linda's sniper rifle, and Kelly's shotgun had all been lost or destroyed on Meridian. They were forced to use the standard issue assault rifles and sidearms that they had recovered from the Argent Moon. The only upside was that Fred had managed to keep hold of his energy blade.
The Chief felt the transport take off. They were on their way. He tried to suppress the feeling unease.
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Linda looked at her broken rifle. Nornfang. It had been her constant companion for over 3 decades of continuous war. It had seen her through countless battles. It had saved her life on countless occasions. The Spartan sniper had customized it as she went. Everything from the chamber to the scope had been modified and re-modified as she strove to perfect her personal weapon. It was her prize possession, its importance to her surpassed only be her family and her duty.
Now Nornfang was dead.
It was bent at a significant angle by the blow of the Spartan IV back in the Forerunner complex. The barrel was irreparably damaged, as were numerous other parts of the weapon. Some of it could be salvaged, but so much would have to be replaced that it would effectively be a completely different weapon. Nornfang was gone.
Just like Dr. Halsey.
Linda sighed and replaced the ruined sniper rifle in the crate serving as her personal locker. She moved back into the main compartment of the micro-prowler. She removed the assault rifle from her back and inspected it for the umpteenth time. She bit back a grimace of disgust. This weapon was far too inaccurate for her skillset.
The transport touched down on the alien planet. The Spartans felt the micro-prowler being loaded into the ground transport. Some time later, they were informed to disembark. They emerged to find themselves within a sangheili stronghold.
The transport had deposited them into the courtyard of some kind of fortress. There were several buildings, mostly composed of stone and wood, although there were some more modern constructions here and there. The fortifications and checkpoints, for example, had been fully modernized. Plasma cannons and deployable energy barricades lined the wall to the entire complex. Linda could see a large population center, a city really, just beyond the walls. She surmised that they were within the heart of the Arbiter's new nation. The capital itself.
She idly reflected that this would be the perfect place to deposit a tactical nuclear warhead.
Linda banished those thoughts, careful not to shake her head or give any other external sign of her inner conflict. The Arbiter was an ally now. The humans and the sangheili may never be friends, but they could at least be peaceful with each other. She was not about to do anything that could lead to a needless war.
The main building was tall, roughly 10 floors, each of which had its own downward sloping roof-like extension. The top-most floor had a railing surrounding the edges, suggesting it was meant for observation. Curiously, each of the roof-life surfaces curved upward at the corners. The building materials were largely carved stone and hard wood. Linda wondered what tactical purpose such design could possibly serve.
The dominant color was, naturally, burgundy, with various other shades of red mixed in. Also present were white upon the sides and black on the roof-like portions. Green was also present in the form of numerous plants spread around the complex. The Spartan thought she could see the edge of a garden on the far side, just past the rear of the main building.
The Spartans were led into the main structure without fanfare. No diplomats or high ranking officers were outside to greet them. Excellent. The Arbiter had taken the secrecy seriously. Linda resisted the urge to run to the building and thus minimize the time spent outside. They needed to avoid as many eyes as possible. The zealot took the lead, the lower ranking warriors taking position to the Spartans' sides and rear.
The rest of Blue Team was not as successful at hiding their unease as Linda was. It might be invisible to an outsider, but to Linda their posture and movements clearly showed that they were on edge. Apparently, the sangheili were better at reading humans than she thought, because their guide seemed to notice her siblings' discomfort despite their armor and polarized visors. Or maybe he just made an educated guess.
"Fear not, Spartans. We are within the Arbiter's inner keep. There are neither eyes nor ears here which are not loyal to him," he said. "I pray you realize the honor he bestows upon you with such an audience."
"We recognize it and appreciate it. We are...indebted to him," the Master Chief replied. He wasn't quite able to keep the hesitance out of his voice. Hopefully the guide wouldn't notice that.
The lower levels were strictly utilitarian in decoration. Hard stone and metals dominated, with multiple fortified positions at natural choke points. Linda was impressed. Taking this location would be obscenely bloody. Once they had ascended stairs to the upper levels, the aesthetic changed entirely.
It was strangely...peaceful. Gentle beige and various light colors dominated the halls and what rooms they could see. Linda had expected more burgundy or even some kind of blue. Houseplants were spread liberally throughout the halls. The walls were largely thin, almost transparent, paper. She could see sunlight coming through some of them. Most of the other surfaces were wooden rather than any more sturdy materials.
This was not the type of setting that any of Blue Team was accustomed to. Particularly not where the sangheili were involved. The closest they had ever come to this were military outposts, or perhaps the massive, 30 km wide space station Unyielding Heirophant. This, though, felt like something entirely different.
This felt like the kind of home someone would have in peacetime. It was a civilian place. This was a side of alien society Linda had never visited, nor even really given much thought to.
The guide led them to a massive, solid double door. There were 4 guards standing to either side, each of whom was armed with plasma rifles and energy swords. They were even taller than the average sangheili, probably approaching 2.5 meters. Their armor was the thickest Linda had ever seen. She would bet that they had the strongest energy shields, as well.
"Only the de—only your leader may enter," the guide said. Linda knew that he had almost said 'demon', the name that the Covenant had given the Master Chief during the War. Linda felt a bit of pride that their efforts had made such a lasting impact. Perhaps the presence of Spartans would act as a more effective deterrent than she had expected.
The guide continued, "I must ask that you continue alone from here. You must your weapons here," he gestured at a table just before the doors. "Your clan-mates may guard them."
This was not part of the plan. The Spartans needed the Arbiter's help, but she had no intention of allowing her leader to enter the heart of the sangheili stronghold alone, never mind unarmed. Linda had no intention of losing another member of her family on this mission.
However, the Master Chief simply nodded. A green light winked on the inside of Linda's visor. He was ordering them to go along with this. Linda nearly ground her teeth in frustration, but an order was an order. She watched as the Chief removed his assault rifle and his pistol. He removed the magazines and worked back the slides, making sure to show the guards the empty chambers. He also drew his combat knife and placed it alongside the other weapons. The guide nodded at one of the guards, who opened one of the double doors far enough for the Chief to move through. He did so. The guard shut the door, removing the Master Chief from sight.
Now they had to wait.
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Whatever I was expecting, it certainly wasn't this, the Master Chief thought.
He wasn't sure what he expected the Arbiter to choose for their meeting place. A throne room. A briefing chamber. A training ground. Some deep, dark sub-basement where the clandestine meeting would be most likely to go unnoticed. Anything but what he found in reality.
It was a garden.
Trees and smaller flora filled the room. Streams of clear water ran alongside paths of cobblestones. Shafts of sunlight streamed in from windows placed high up the walls, just below the ceiling. Off to the far side was a large floor of sand, combed into patterned lines and dotted with stones. The Chief was alone in the room.
Aside from the Arbiter.
The Arbiter, also known as Kaidon, also known as Thel 'Vadam, regarded the Chief with a steady expression. His head was serpent-like, as was normal for his kind. His 4 mandibles, arranged horizontally two on either side where a human's jaw would be, were pulled tight. The Chief was unsure exactly what that signified. The scales that covered the Arbiter's body were a dark gray. His eyes were yellow with vertical, reptilian slits instead of pupils. Like most sangheili, he was approximately 2.4 meters in height, with a slightly hunched back and digitigrade legs.
More noticeable was the Arbiter's clothing. And it was clothing, not armor. It resembled a kimono from the ancient Japanese cultures. They were brown and tan, with only a thin strip of gold around the collar marking his high status. His hoofs were without any covering, needing none. The Master Chief approached the Arbiter. The two saluted each other. The Arbiter's fist featured two long fingers with an opposable digit on either side. The 2 warriors finished the salute.
There was a brief silence. Neither seemed sure what to say.
The Arbiter broke the silence first. "It has been...some time, Spartan."
The Chief was unsure how to reply. "Yes. It has."
The Arbiter tilted his head slightly. "It is customary to at least reveal your face upon meeting another within his own keep." There didn't seem to be any chastisement in his voice. Rather, there seemed to be...curiosity?
Under any other circumstance, the Master Chief would have refused. For his entire life he had hidden his face. To reveal it, and expose his head to attack, went against decades of habit. However, he was dependent upon the Arbiter's hospitality. His assistance would be crucial to the success of his mission.
The Master Chief reached up, and removed his helmet. There was a hiss as the pressure equalized. John blinked in the sunlight.
The Arbiter studied him intently for several moments. To John's knowledge, this was the first time the sangheili had ever seen his face. Then, the Arbiter's upper mandibles spread in what the Chief recognized was a grin. "Rather anticlimactic, I must confess," he said, chuckling. John did his best to smile. It was rather difficult. He didn't exactly have a lot of practice at it. His host gestured behind him, saying, "Come. Let us discuss whatever need has driven you to arrange this meeting."
The pair walked toward a small patch of empty grass. A sheet had been laid over the ground with a short table placed above it, with cushions on opposing sides. The Arbiter sat on one side, John on the other. The Spartan placed his helmet on the ground next to him within easy reach.
A sangheili servant entered, carrying a tray. A pot and 2 small wooden cups were upon it. The servant bowed in respect to each of them, placing both cups on the table and pouring a steaming clear liquid into them. The servant before bowing once more and left. The Arbiter picked up his cup. John picked up his own, staring at it doubtfully.
"Fear not. It is merely water," his host assured him. "I would have given you one of customary drinks, but I was unsure what would be appealing to your palate." John nodded in acceptance. The Arbiter raised his cup in salute. "To alliance, and to the future."
"To alliance, and to the future," John said, raising his cup in agreement. They both drank.
"Now," the Arbiter said, putting down his empty cup, "tell me what great crisis has driven you to seek my aid, of all the people throughout the stars."
Apparently, nothing more needed to be said. John wondered if the Arbiter found ceremony as distasteful as he did or if the head of state was simply accommodating him. Maybe he had to endure so much tedious diplomatic procedure that this was a chance at relief.
Whatever the reason, John was glad to get down to business. He had a mission to complete. He put down his cup as well. This was the most difficult part, or at least the most risky. Neither he nor any of the other Spartans had been able to come up with a plausible fiction that would enable them to complete their mission without touching off a new war. Lying was simply far too risky here, meaning they would have to tell the truth. He knew that the Arbiter had seen the threat of the Halos. His alien counterpart had even helped destroy both an under-construction Halo and the manufacturing facility that produced them. John could only hope that the Arbiter could see the threat that the new Forerunner superweapons posed to them all.
"Do you remember the Halos?" John asked. The Arbiter froze. John continued, "Don't worry, this isn't about them. It is about another type of Forerunner threat." The Spartan rallied himself, pushing through his own hesitance. "We call them Guardians."
The Arbiter's mandibles flared apart. The Spartan got the distinct impression that his host knew exactly what he was talking about. Had Dr. Halsey chosen the name 'guardian' because that was, in fact, what the Forerunners had named them? It would certainly fit with the long-dead civilization's rather grandiose naming conventions. "Had I known less about you, I would hope you spoke in jest," the Arbiter said in a solemn tone. John thought he could detect a bit of anxiety beneath it. "What has occurred? Have any of them started to wake?"
"Several," John answered simply. The Arbiter sat back in shock. The Spartan decided now was the time to inform his host of the true nature of his visit. "Someone or something is sending out signals that are activating the Guardians one by one. We believe that the next one to be activated is buried somewhere beneath Sanghelios. My team and I want to find it and stop that from happening, as well as find out where this signal is coming from and travel there to stop it. We would like your...permission to do so."
For several minutes, the Arbiter simply regarded John in silence. The trickling sound of the streams flowing around them was the only sound other than the pair's breathing. He couldn't be sure, but John thought he could detect anxiety and revelation in the Arbiter's posture and face. Once again, John wished he had some kind of diplomatic training. He and Linda had gone over this extensively, but neither of them were really prepared for this.
Eventually, the Arbiter seemed to return to the present. He looked John dead in the eyes. "This could explain a great deal. Does the Storm Covenant know of these events? Are they tied to them in any way?"
The events on Conrad's Point came back to the Chief. A ball of dark matter settled into his gut. The Storm Covenant had been looking for a Guardian. If they gained control of it it could turn the balance of the entire war. The other races of the galaxy might never be able to stop the religious fanatic at all. The entire galaxy would be at the mercy of a theocracy that had extermination of the human race, and any who did not adhere to its faith, as part of its mandated theology.
How had the Master Chief not considered this? The events that had sent this entire chain of events in motion had happened mere months before, but they felt like a lifetime ago. He simply hadn't thought of the Storm's connection to the Guardians since prior to Meridian. He internally scolded himself for his oversight. The events on the doomed colony must have thrown him more than he thought. The Chief forced himself back to the present.
"'Mdama himself was present for one Guardian's activation, although we don't believe that he was responsible for it," the Chief responded. "It is entirely possible that he is seeking control of the one here."
The Arbiter sighed an settled back on his cushion. He looked older and more wearied than the Spartan had ever seen him. In that moment, John thought he could see the burden of the Arbiter's self-imposed responsibilities weighing down on him.
It only lasted a moment, though. The Arbiter rallied himself and once again appeared as strong and vital as John had ever seen him. "The behavior of the Storm Covenant has been...erratic, of late. Jul 'Mdama has been a shell of his former self ever since the Didact abandoned him, but now his forces are acting with utter illogic. They are abandoning crucial positions, reinforcing their presence in areas that have no strategic value. We have nearly achieved victory over them, yet their messages amongst themselves speak overwhelmingly of a coming triumph over the Swords of Sanghelios. I believe that 'Mdama intends to awaken the Guardian of Sanghelios and attempt to harness it to his own purpose."
This all but confirmed John's fears. Finding the source of the Guardians' activation and stopping them once and for all had become even more important than before, if that was possible.
"I agree to aid you in your quest," the Arbiter said at last, to the Spartan's immense relief. "Know that I only do this because of need and the high regard in which I hold you. Were any other to ask this, even any other Spartan, I would refuse." He clapped his hands, summoning the servant from before. "Summon the loremaster. We will have need of his expertise," he ordered. The servant bowed once again and departed. It seemed that the Guardians were a part of sangheili mythology. It made sense, considering how much of their technology had been reverse engineered from Forerunner tech.
"I beg your pardon, but I have one more request," John spoke up. The Arbiter turned to him in disbelief.
"I pray you realize how much I have already given you," he said. He sighed, and motioned for the Spartan to continue.
"My mission is secret, even to the rest of the Spartans. I ask that you tell no one, not even my people, of my purpose here," John said.
The Arbiter simply stared at him, his mandibles contracted once again. John got the impression that he was thoroughly unamused. His host closed his eyes, and sighed once more. "Very well. I suppose it is the least that I owe you." He opened his eyes again. There was a pause as they unfocused. The Arbiter seemed to be gazing at something far away.
"And the least I owe the rest of your kind," he said, quietly.
John was unsure what to make of this. What to say. What could he say? The Arbiter had personally commanded fleets to glass human colonies. Billions had been murdered at his command during his time as a fleetmaster. He had since realized that the san 'shyuum prophets had lied to him, lied to his people, but this was the first time that John had gotten the impression of genuine guilt and remorse from a sangheili for the events of the Human-Covenant War.
The arrival of the so-called 'loremaster' rescued John from having to respond to the Arbiter's comment. The moment was soon forgotten as they planned how to proceed with the essential mission.
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Waiting was a part of life for a sniper. You could be laying still for hours waiting for your target to move into the perfect position for a killshot. Linda had once spent over a day slowly crawling her way into a Covenant position, her body protected from enemy sensors by an insulating camouflage sheet, in order to assassinate a high-ranking san 'shyuum. Her patience was legend, even amongst the Spartan IIs.
This wait, however, was becoming unbearable.
The Master Chief had been inside whatever meeting room he had entered for well over an hour. The rest of Blue Team was still waiting just outside the door. It was all Linda could do not to start pacing the floor. She wanted to make sure her brother was alright.
Blessedly, the double doors opened and the Master Chief walked out. He paused as he looked at Linda. He placed 2 fingers on the exterior of his visor and pulled them across—their signal for a smile. Her anxiety must have shown in her body language.
Linda bit back her annoyance. She could almost feel the Chief smile again in response.
"We have permission to conduct our search," the Chief informed them. That was a relief. They could finally get on with this.
What the Master Chief said next was not as comforting.
"We will be accompanying a group of sangheili academics," he informed them. "They've been searching for signs of pre-Covenant civilization as well as other pieces of their history that have been lost to time. It seems the Arbiter intends to redirect the course of his people's culture as well as their political allegiances. The academics' scouting activities will provide a good cover for our search."
Perfect, Linda thought. We're going to be spending time with the sangheili equivalent of professors and grad students.
As if this whole mission hadn't been tiring enough.
Note: One of the biggest missed opportunities for the entire Halo franchise is the lack of interaction between the Master Chief and the now-friendly sangheili forces. Even back in Halo 3 we never get so much as a single conversation between him and the Arbiter. The Chief is now fighting alongside the race that has been committing genocide against his people for nearly 30 years. How does he feel about this? Does he have difficulty trusting him? How does he feel about the Arbiter specifically? This could easily have been the most interesting part of the entire franchise, yet they do nothing with it. In Halo 5 he never even steps foot on Sanghelios. The sheer number of missed opportunities is mind boggling to me. Needless to say, I'm trying to rectify that here.
Note: The architectural style of the Arbiter's keep is shamelessly ripped off of pictures of feudal Japanese fortresses. I thought this was appropriate considering the Covenant era sangheili culture was basically imperial Japan IN SPACE! Not to mention what glimpses we see of ancient sangheili culture are pretty blatantly based on feudal Japan, most noticeably in Halo Legends.
Note: I hope I did the meeting between the Chief and the Arbiter justice. I wanted to show ole Arby in his role as Chief of State rather than simply as a warrior. He'll be fighting in epic battles later on, don't worry, but I thought it was important to show the multiple sides to his character. How did I do?
Note: I'm considering writing a series of one shots focused on Alpha Nine. I don't have anything concrete yet, but I'm thinking of having them fight threats other than the Storm Covenant. Stuff like Kig-Yar pirates and what Jiralhanae forces are left. Let me know if any of you are interest in seeing that.
Thanks for reading. Love you guys.
Slipspace Anomaly