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The transport ship rumbles as it pulls out of slipspace, and Tucker’s stomach ties itself in knots. He hasn’t been this nervous since he shipped off to basic training. (“No, listen, there’s a mistake, I’m a noncombatant! Dr. Cloitus. I’m a medic or whatever.”) Even then, he kinda knew what was coming. Basically. Today—walking onto a planet embroiled in civil war, looking for a guy he’s never spoken to—he really doesn’t.
Junior stirs beside him, making sleepy noises. Tucker grips the armrests, a series of clunks and rumbles indicating they’ve reached the docking port over the planet. Automated announcements read over the PA system. Tucker’s able to pick up some of the words, but it’s fast and a little crackly. The message repeats in the higher pitched tones Tucker recognizes as Unggoy, and then, finally, in English: Please remain seated until the ship has come to a complete stop. Thank you for flying Galactic Blue.
“Come on, buddy.” Tucker nudges his son, needlessly, as Junior’s awake now and ready to bounce out of his seat. He doesn’t seem nervous at all. Must be easy to be a kid.
Tucker’s the only human on the transport, and most of the passengers tower a good foot over his head. Most are armored, in bold, deep colors, so Tucker doesn’t feel too out of place in his aqua suit. Junior wears his own, in similar colors. Probably not very traditional, but when you’re raising an alien kid sometimes you gotta improvise. Amazing what you can get shipped to you on SpaceBay though!
He keeps Junior’s hand held firmly in his as they move off into the space port. Everything gleams silver and blue and there’s a lot of open glass letting the sunlight into the circular atrium. The crowds move thick and fast along the curved walkways spiraling down to the shuttles, so many aliens all heavily armored, it’s a military port as well as civilian—well, then again, there might not be much difference here. Tucker feels jumpy—he’s not used to being so short compared to everybody else. Not that he’s that tall to begin with. For a little kid it must be even worse. Wouldn’t take more than a bump from a stranger to get them separated. Tucker ducks down to grab Junior—”Hey bud, you want a better view?”—and swings him up onto his shoulders, where Junior waves his little arms and honks with delight. They get some stares. Tucker doesn’t care. Long as his kid’s happy, and safe.
Customs are no sweat really. Tucker travels light. Just the armor on his back and a few peanut butter chocolate protein bars for the trip. And some juice boxes for Junior. They walks through a domed scanner, the officer eyeballs the swordhilt on his hip but when Tucker hands it over and it won’t activate in the dude’s hand, it’s handed back to him and they’re ushered on their way. There’s a treaty now and all, but no shit they’re gonna side-eye any human walking up with weapons, especially with the whole civil war thing. Anybody hassles him about the key, though, he’ll tell them how he got it. Who Junior is. Hopefully that’ll be enough.
Sanghelios is gorgeous, sky hazy-bright from the light of three suns blazing through the long striated clouds, gleaming on the water in the distance. The terrain is sand and stone, lots of reds and browns, but interspersed with clumps of green near the water and around the city. Tucker thinks it’s beautiful, anyway, watching through the window as they descend through the atmosphere down the long cable of the space elevator. Though after living in a box canyon for years, hell, anything’s probably gonna look beautiful. Technically he’s AWOL right now, but he’s pretty sure nobody actually checks. Anyway like hell he was going to some rat hole with Caboose when he got a COM from his kid saying he was okay, but I don’t know where I am, can you come pick me up dad?
They touch down at last at Vadam Harbor, at the edge of the city. Across the sprawl of streets and buildings, against the peachy-orange sky rises a massive, multi-peaked mountain, snowy white at the peak, thick with alien trees along the slopes, and some kind of building set into the lower stretch. Tucker takes his helmet off briefly after they touch down, shaking out his locs and drinking in the fresh air. It’s humid and smells faintly salty. Dusty brown streets sprawl out in a sunburst from the foot of the mountain, lined with buildings resembling mushrooms, Tucker thinks, big round structures on thick cylindrical stalks.
He is the only human in sight, as far as he can see. Perched on his shoulders, clinging to his hair with sharp little hands, Junior chatters with delight, pointing, “Suns, Daddy, one two three! Daddy look!” and Tucker almost instinctively tells him it’s rude to point but stops himself because fuck it, Junior’s a kid. He’d have been exactly the same, probably was when he was little. “Daddy look! Daddy they all look like me!”
After all, this is why they came.
By the time they reach Vadam Keep, the fortress built into the foot of the mountain, Tucker’s head’s started to throb and he’s had to put his helmet back on for relief. Armor helps compensate for the extra G, 30% more than Earth and definitely way the fuck more than Sanguinus II where he was stationed at Blood Gulch. They say people who’re born under G or live there for a long time, sometimes you get so you can’t even manage on Earth, which would suck, and Tucker hopes he’s not there yet but it’s been a long time since he was on Earth G. Junior’s never been off Sanguinus II before—well, in the Pelican, but they never even broke orbit so it hardly counts. He’s still small, though, small enough maybe he can get acclimated if they spend some time here. Maybe Tucker can too.
But he’s anxious now, even more than before, as they approach the mountain Keep, a semicircle of stone pillars standing tall before the entrance, purple-black scorch marks marring several of them. Tucker only knows this place from stuff he’s read on Waypoint—Vadam Keep, home to the House of Vadam which the whole state's named for, and the birthplace of someone important to humans and Sangheili alike. This guy’s the reason for the treaty, the reason humanity even survived the war, the reason Tucker can walk on this planet without getting vaporized.
He’s the one they call the Arbiter, Thel ‘Vadam.
And Tucker has no fucking idea what he’s going to say to him. If he’s even here, though he did read that ‘Vadam went home to Sanghelios because of the civil war. Apparently not everybody back home approved of the whole treaty with humans thing.
Tucker doesn’t have a single contact on this planet, doesn’t speak the language very well, doesn’t have a Plan B if this all doesn’t work out. Doesn’t know what he’s gonna tell Junior if it turns out his own people don’t accept him. And it’s occurred to him, well, admittedly not until they were already on the transport out of Sanguinus but it did occur to him, that that whole prophecy thing might just be some bullshit Wyoming made up.
They’re here, though! So he’ll figure it out. He’ll wing it.
Tucker doesn’t know what he was expecting really because Crunchbite never spoke English—fuck, Tucker never even knew his real name, hence Crunchbite—but the alien who greets him at the entrance to the keep is pretty much fluent. Shit, he’s really gotta stop thinking of them as aliens. He doesn’t think of Junior like that, ‘cause Junior’s his kid. And really he’s the alien here. So, Sangheili. The Sangheili who greets him.
“Greet” is a word. More like brandishes a sword that looks a lot like Tucker’s sword-key but without the special markings on the hilt that Tucker’s started to be able to read a little. “You approach the Keep of House Vadam, human.” He—shit, maybe she? Tucker really hasn’t been around Sangheili a lot except for Junior and they still kind of all look the same to him and he doesn’t know how gender works here. Anyway, the Sangheili eyes Junior with a curious head-tilt. “State your business.”
Moment of truth. Tucker takes a deep breath.
“So you guys sent a dude to the Sanguinus system,” he begins. Might as well get right to the point. “Like a year ago and change. Well, an Earth year—anyway, you sent a dude to find a human to have a kid and fulfill this Great Prophecy thing. Well, I’m the guy, and this is the kid. My kid. And now we’re here, so he can like, meet his people and sh—and stuff. And I figured like, your Arbiter might want to meet him. Since we’ve got this treaty and all, and he’s the first Human-Sangheili kid ever born.”
Tucker stops for air.
“I’m Sangheili!” Junior adds cheerfully, waving. He’s gotten so used to saying it, anytime they meet somebody new, he usually volunteers it before they have a chance to ask. He bounces on Tucker’s shoulders and adds. “You guys look like me.”
The Sangheili’s amber eyes widen a little, studying Junior more intently for a very long moment.
“You are fortunate,” comes the reply at last. “Arbiter Thel ‘Vadam is not presently engaged in combat.” The Sangheili turns slightly away and speaks into what Tucker figures must be their version of a helmet radio, voice lowered slightly. Tucker only picks out one word, he thinks, the word for human.
“Dav ‘Lossa is authorized to escort you to the Arbiter,” the Sangheili says to Tucker at last. “She will be here shortly to allow you entrance into the Keep.”
Oh thank god, a pronoun. If he was by himself Tucker would just ask and run the risk of being rude, but… he’s here for Junior.
And he really doesn’t want to fuck this up for Junior.
Dav ‘Lossa arrives shortly—faster than Tucker expects, actually. She stands slightly taller than the door guard, in yellow-gold armor that matches her eyes, voice as deep as the guard’s. “Greetings, human. Arbiter Thel ’Vadam awaits you.” Her gold eyes dart briefly to the sword hilt maglocked to Tucker’s hip.
“It’s actually a key,” Tucker says by way of explanation. “It opens this special temple, and I’m the only one that can activate it—you can try it and see if you want. I mean, I’m not planning on using it or anything. Arbiter’s probably gonna want to see it.”
‘Lossa makes a noise Tucker assumes is probably a laugh. “I am certain he will. This way.”
They’re led through a labyrinth of corridors—Tucker realizes he probably couldn’t find his way out alone if he tried. Maybe that’s the point. The walls are stone, but reinforced, or maybe decorated, with metallic panels, etched in the same kind of design as the stone. Old and new, maybe. These Keeps are supposed to be like thousands of years old.
At last, they reach the central chamber of the Keep, a broad circular room with pillars around the perimeter, and some metal benches, silver and blue. At the center the Arbiter rises from a stone chair. Before him a narrow holoscreen scrolling blue Sangheili text stretches to the ceiling from a projector set into the stone floor. The Arbiter flicks it off with a sweep of one long, sharp hand. Tucker takes his helmet off again as they approach, letting it dangle from his left hand, then realizes maybe that’s not the custom or whatever—probably the Arbiter isn’t gonna take off his helmet. But Tucker can see his eyes, and it seems like he should let him see his. Or maybe he’s just projecting human stuff again. God, whatever. He’s doing his best, okay?
The Arbiter gestures them forward. He’s huge, and Tucker reaches up instinctively for Junior’s hand as they close the distance.
“Lavernius Tucker,” the Arbiter booms.
“‘Sup,” Tucker says, the first thing that pops into his head, and then adds with a nervous laugh, “Uh, you’ve heard of me?”
‘Vadam cocks his head, then makes a sound like ‘Lossa did—laughter. “Sup,” he returns cordially. “Yes, I know of this ‘Great Prophecy,’ Lavernius Tucker.” He takes a step forward to meet them, gold eyes rising above Tucker’s gaze. Looking at Junior. “And this must be… the child.”
“Uh, yeah. This is my kid.” Tucker thinks maybe he should put little T down on the floor, but he’s so little and the Arbiter is so big and at least this way they can more or less look each other in the eye. Is eye contact a thing with Sangheili? Seems like it. ‘Vadam looked him in the eye, anyway. “Lavernius Tucker, Junior. But I just call him Junior.”
He’s startled when the huge alien—Sangheili—steps in close, so close Tucker can smell the guy, a scent like leather and the faint acrid smell of plasma. He’s got one of those blue rifles on his hip. But what he does, from what Tucker can tell below, is very gently bump helmets with a probably equally surprised Junior.
“Sang hei ia li,” he says, and Tucker feels probably more proud than he should that knows that one—I honor you, my kin. “Welcome, son of Sanghelios,” ‘Vadam booms, “to your ancestral home.”
Tucker feels like he could pretty much burst with pride right now. His kid, his Junior, son of Sanghelios. He’s home.
“How old are you, Lavernius Tucker Junior?”
“I’m almost two,” says Junior proudly.
“Earth years,” Tucker clarifies, suppressing an affectionate laugh. Junior uses “almost” to describe basically anything he’s looking forward to; he’s actually pretty far from two still, but details.
“His growth is accelerated,” Thel ‘Vadam says thoughtfully. “It seems the genetic design was successful.”
Designer genes. Tucker had a feeling something like that probably was going on, but he tries not to think about it very much, because to him, Junior’s still just a kid. His kid. A smart kid, accelerated or gifted or whatever they’re calling it these days. He already likes so much stuff, math and language and basketball and grifball and rollerblading. He grows fast, but he’s still just a kid.
The Arbiter speaks to Junior in Sangheili and Junior speaks back and Tucker shifts his weight from one foot to the other awkwardly, feeling kind of ashamed that his Sangheili isn’t as good as his son’s. He’s been trying his best to learn from what’s available on Waypoint, but Junior just picks stuff up a lot quicker.
“There will be a blood test, of course,” says ‘Vadam, “to confirm parentage. But be assured, I do not doubt your word.”
Tucker grins. “He’s mine, I swear.”
“On behalf of my people I must offer an apology,” ‘Vadam says. “You are aware, of course, that there is great unrest among my people. But you must understand that when this… envoy was sent to you, it was done in secret, an early attempt at forging an alliance with your people by a sect that is now disbanded. Their actions only came to light later. I myself was not aware at the time. There ought to have been other accommodations, a translator… many things that were not done. I cannot say why. I imagine it made things… difficult for you.”
“Yeah,” Tucker said. “It was fucking weird, is what.” Junior squeals and Tucker claps a hand instinctively over his mouth—not so much for ‘Vadam, who probably doesn’t give a crap, but for Junior he’s gonna need to put a credit in the swear jar later. The “swear jar” is basically just Junior’s pocket but that’s what it was called when Tucker was a kid so that’s what he calls it. Anyway, he doesn’t want to talk about this in front of Junior, so he leaves it at that.
“The… envoy,” ‘Vadam continues. “Do you know what became of him?”
“Uh,” Tucker says. “Yeah. He’s not very alive anymore. It wasn’t me,” he quickly clarifies. “Or any of my friends. He was killed by this guy Wyoming. Who was a total dick.” Junior tugs on his hair triumphantly. Fuck. That’s another one for the swear jar. Little T is gonna get so many treats this week.
“Unfortunate,” ‘Vadam declares. “But perhaps… for the best. Not all on Sanghelios would welcome his actions. Nevertheless, I will see to it that our people welcome your son.” He makes a considering noise, then gestures. “Walk with me, Lavernius Tucker. We have much to speak on.”
From the chamber deep in the mountain fortress, they emerge through the maze of corridors into a crescent-shaped courtyard, sunlit under an orange sky. Beneath a row of trees with shiny, spined leaves, there are kids—kids, Sangheili kids, sparring hand-to-hand in the sunlight, playing chase in what looks like a real serious game of tag. Junior bounces hard on his shoulders and Tucker reaches up to finally lift him down and set him on the ground. Junior backs up against Tucker’s knees, suddenly shy. “Dad… can I play with them?”
“Go, son of Sanghelios,” ‘Vadam says. “Meet your kin.”
Junior looks up at Tucker.
“Go on,” Tucker encourages. “Go introduce yourself. Show ‘em your Sang-Heelys.”
Junior’s eyes light up. He leans back on one heel to get his balance, and glides across the stone floor on one foot, then the other. Man, those Heely boots were a great find on SpaceBay. Junior loves them. Won’t wear anything else since he got them.
Heads turn his way. The other kids are in armor too, Tucker notices, not exactly like Junior’s but close. Hopefully he doesn’t stand out too much. Or maybe that’s okay. One by one they circle around Junior, coming to meet the new kid. Junior does the helmet-bump thing with those that approach. He’s a quick learner. Always has been.
He’s still smaller than most of the kids, but that doesn’t seem to bother him. They’re talking to him. They’re interested in him. Tucker gets kind of a funny feeling in his stomach, watching, because Junior’s never been around other kids, never mind other kids like him—kids with gold and orange and yellow-green eyes, reverse-joined knees and sharp-clawed baby hands. And Junior doesn’t look out of place among them, even in his weird armor and his probably very human accent.
The Arbiter nods with approval. “The child has been reared alone thus far, yes?”
“Yeah, basically. I mean, there was my team, and… well, there was a lot of stuff that happened, it’s complicated. But no other kids. Any kids.”
“Here on Sanghelios, children are never raised alone," 'Vadam says solemnly. "They must learn to work with one another, to fight and live together as brothers and sisters. I wonder, Lavernius Tucker, what your plans are, now that you have come here?”
“You mean, like, we could stay? And Junior could like, go to school with these kids and stuff?”
“Essentially, yes. He would learn our ways, grow into a great warrior and know his place among the Sangheili. He would lead a life of honor.”
“Uh, yeah. Huh.” Tucker nods, thinking. “But I get to stay close to him, right? Because like, I’m his family. And where I come from, family sticks together.”
“Then stay,” ‘Vadam says. “And you may learn our ways as well.” He nods to the weapon on Tucker’s hip. “You bear the arms of our people. We can teach you to wield them with skill.”
“Oh, I know how to use my sword,” Tucker can’t resist shooting back. “Bow chicka bow wow!” The Arbiter merely cocks his head. Probably didn’t get that one. It’s cool though. Maybe Tucker can teach them a few things, too.
“No, but yeah,” he says, grinning, watching Junior do a little spin on his heel, showing off proudly to the Sangheili kids of House Vadam in the afternoon light of three suns. “That sounds good, man. That sounds really good.”