Someone leaned forward from the tier above and behind him to tap his shoulder. “So what are we going to do for a High Council now we’ve kicked out the San’Shyuum, Jul? An assembly of kaidons? We don’t even have a global capital to meet in. The keeps wil argue about that until I grow a damn beak.”
It was Forze, another shipmaster without a ship. “Do we even need a council?” Jul asked. “Al we need to worry about is holding an army and a fleet together. We can manage that.”
“Of course we need a council. The only reason we didn’t have one was because the San’Shyuum told us what to do, the—”
He was interrupted by a growing rumble of murmurs as the doors on the lower level opened. Jul looked down from his second-tier seat to see Levu usher in the Arbiter, Thel ‘Vadam.
I wonder if he’s missing his pet humans. Why does he think any of them are worth sparing?
‘Vadam wasn’t quite as tal as Jul had imagined. Somehow Jul had expected someone iconic, unreal, as befitted a fleet commander, but ‘Vadam simply held himself as if he were much bigger. He seemed to have slipped automatical y into the role of pul ing Sanghelios together whether it wanted him to or not.
“Brothers, it’s time to listen to what Thel ‘Vadam has to say to us,” Levu said. “So let’s be gracious while he speaks.”
“Has the human Admiral given you permission to talk to us, then?” someone jeered. “How generous of him.”
The Arbiter ignored the jibe, looking around the chamber as if he was settling on a target, but Levu brought his fist down on the balustrade with a crack. “Courtesy, brothers. Hear the Arbiter out. He has the floor.”
‘Vadam took a few circling, slow strides, picking his moment. “Arbiter is a title I would prefer to forget,” he said. “I’m simply a kaidon again. As such, I’ve come to appeal for unity. I know there are … misgivings about my recent cooperation with humankind, and strong opinions on both sides.
But this is not the time for another civil war. We have to rediscover what unites us. And we have to repair the fabric that the San’Shyuum have left in tatters. We must learn to be an independent people again for the first time in mil ennia.”
It was hard to object to any of that. ‘Vadam was talking like a politician, bland and conciliatory, switching back and forth between the formal language of authority and a comradely, I’m-one-of-you informality. Jul waited. He was itching to make his chal enge, but he also wanted to see if the elders from the larger, more powerful keeps would reveal their positions first.
A voice drifted down from one of the upper tiers. “Now, Kaidon ‘Vadam, tel us something we don’t know.”
“We think we’ve lost the gods, but we haven’t,” ‘Vadam said. “We’ve lost ourselves. Mil ions of our finest, our young males, have been kil ed— not fighting humans, but in the Great Schism. Are we insane? Our bloodlines have been weakened and our ships have been lost in a civil war, al because we were deceived into loyalty to the San’Shyuum. Brothers, we must consolidate what we have, whether flesh and blood or machine, before we can decide on a common purpose. But it wil be our purpose. Not another empire’s.”
“Perhaps our purpose is just to survive without being exploited by false prophets,” Levu said.
The Arbiter made sense. There had been a time when the San’Shyuum had made sense, too. Jul wondered if he could actual y speak up now, but the words formed and suddenly he could hear his own voice fil ing the chamber.
“What do you plan to do about the humans?” he asked. “Gods or no gods, they’l return to their colonies and rebuild them, and they won’t forget what we did to them and how much they loathe us.”
“We’l consider that if and when it happens.”
“Instead of finishing them off before they regain strength?” There. It was out in the open now. “We should regroup now, while their guard’s down, and exterminate the threat once and for al . Unless you’re too fond of them as pets, that is.”
The chamber was horribly silent now. Jul could suddenly hear the slow shuffling of boots as elders squirmed. He expected Thel ‘Vadam to round on him, but the Arbiter just snapped his jaws together a couple of times in amusement as if there was something he should have told Jul but chose not to.
“The humans say that a fool does the same thing twice and expects things to turn out differently.” ‘Vadam lowered his voice. “It might have escaped your notice that we never managed to defeat them, and we’re in worse shape now than we were a year ago.” Then his expression changed, as if he was steeling himself to break bad news. “We’ve stopped fighting. We need to stop because we can’t rebuild without stability.
Therefore I plan to reach a peace agreement with the humans, to formalize what has already taken place. Both sides have final y run out of blood to shed, brother.”
“But you can’t do deals with humans. Have you forgotten already?” Jul was appal ed. Not pressing home Sangheili superiority was one thing, but wil ingly giving in? That was close to treason. “They’re liars and thieves. Al of them.”
‘Vadam walked over to the balustrade that separated the floor of the chamber from the first tier of seats to look up at Jul. It wasn’t a threatening gesture. It seemed more like curiosity to see what this upstart, this young elder of a smal keep, looked like at closer quarters.
“There are honorable humans,” ‘Vadam said, resting his hands on the balustrade. “I’ve fought alongside them. None of us would be alive now if there weren’t. But I plan to agree to a treaty, not because I have any fondness for humans but because I love Sanghelios.” He pushed away from the balustrade and walked back into the center of the chamber, suddenly the charismatic leader again, the hero of the fleet. “The law is clear. If anyone disagrees, you have a remedy. You may attempt to assassinate me. That is your legal right.”
Jul sat there for some minutes after the address ended. The rest of the elders filed out and he found himself staring at the empty chamber floor with just Forze behind him. He could hear him fidgeting with his holster.
“I think we’re going to live to regret that,” Forze said.
We? Jul had felt like the lone voice of reason. “Chal enging him? He seemed amused.”
“No. We’l regret letting the humans off the hook.”
“So … are you with me, then?”
As soon as Jul said it, he realized he wasn’t even sure what with me meant. He just knew that whatever dismissive things he’d said about his enemy, humans were not al the same, Thel ‘Vadam’s honorable pets were the exception, and the rest would go back to doing what they’d always done as soon as they recovered their breath. Jul had to galvanize the Sangheili into stopping humankind while they stil could.
“Yes, I’m with you,” said Forze. “What now?”
Jul got up and wondered how he would explain this to Raia.
“I’l think of something,” he said.
THREAT ANALYSIS WING, BRAVO-6, SYDNEY: JANUARY 26, 2553.
Mal Geffen had never liked corridors, especialy dimly lit ones.