Frankly My Dear, I Don't Give Vadam

"You do understand why I am quick to mistrust you, Captain?"
Captain Farah Mossberg stood stiffly in front of Arbiter Thel 'Vadam, his shadow casting a wide range over her figure. The officer from the Office of Naval Intelligence ever-so-slightly took a small pace back, and nervously gulped as 'Vadam stared into her face. Despite her attempt to hide her anxiety, the veteran Sangheilli commander noticed - and relaxed slightly.
"Of course, considering you just showed emotion, I suppose it's not impossible that you aren't lying," 'Vadam said.
Regaining her composure, Farah took a breath and met the Arbiter's eyes - her small frame squaring up to the alien hulk in front of her.
"I do that quite a lot, yet people are always surprised," she responded. The elements of what passed for a smile began to appear on 'Vadam's face, as he slowly nodded his head.
"Very well," he continued. "Yet why should I believe that the Office of Naval Intelligence would wish to aid the Swords of Sanghelios? Especially considering prior events that your commanders have seen fit to authorise – a certain assassination attempt comes to mind.”
Farah visibly stiffened. "I wouldn't know anything about that," she said quickly. A bit too quickly, it seemed, as 'Vadam raised his head slightly.
"Back to lying, it seems." he responded.
Farah cursed herself for being so rash. She was on Sanghelios not to instigate yet another conflict for the UNSC to deal with, but rather to help end one that would lead to prosperity for the Swords of Sanghelios - and indirectly, for Earth too. Which is why she was in combat fatigues, along with the eight grim-faced members of a NAVSPECWAR team assigned to her – usually she travelled lightly and alone, but not today.
“Regardless of what my superiors have deemed necessary, that was years ago,” she began. “Now, I’m here, and I bring my team with me, along with several crates filled with equipment you might find useful. All we ask is that you let us use your bases so we can go out in-field and gain intelligence. My team and I are set for a five-month stint on Sanghelios, but we need a secure area to rest, and to contact ONI. That’s where you come in.”
‘Vadam looked down at Farah, his eyes piercing through her gaze, his glare filled with doubt – and curiosity. He took a step backwards, folding his arms across his armoured chest.
“An interesting prospect,” he said. “But how exactly would letting you spy on my rivals assist me?”
Farah smiled. “Well, strictly speaking, we are only supposed to report our findings back to the UNSC’s Xenological Command.” Farah took a slight pause, for dramatic effect – and to disguise yet another bald-faced lie she had told to the most well-known Elite in the galaxy. Xenological Command was but a cover for ONI Section Four: and the only people who knew that Section 4 even existed were the people who worked for it, and CINCONI. Nevertheless. She continued.
“But who will really know if some of the intel we gain also finds its way to another party – for example, the Swords of Sanghelios?”
At this, the Arbiter cocked his head slightly, his eyes shifting in tone from a piercing gaze to an open gesture – if he had eyebrows, Farah was sure one of them would have been raised far above the other.
“An interesting proposition, to be sure.” He admitted. “Many of my kinsmen are proud, noble leaders – you would consider them arrogant. Help from an outside source is nothing but an embarrassment, a stain upon their record – and proof that they cannot truly achieve anything for themselves. They gloat to each other over ill-meaning matters that hold nothing of significance in any sense – not to the Kaidon, to the family, and not even to their honour. And yet they continue to bluster, to make noise over naught and sputter over meaningless debates.
“I am not like them. I am one that holds our culture in one hand, and the beacon of progress in the other. I do not seek to destroy my history, I seek to reform our present. Rip out what should have been left behind in the codas, and reforge a new Sangheili tradition – one based on honour, respect, selflessness and duty, rather than bluster, insults and stubbornness.”
The Arbiter turned away from Farah, to look upon his encampment, watching as he saw dozens of his soldiers attending to their tasks.
“My soldiers are built for war. My commanders are built for war,” ‘Vadam said, motioning to his lieutenants that stood beside him – their worn and torn armour clearly portraying their long years of service to the Arbiter’s cause. “I am built for war. But I aim to reconstruct my people, and myself, for peace. Not isolation, not cowardice, but peace through our strength.”
Farah nodded. “I can understand that. The UNSC wants the same. We won’t let another war damage us as severely as the one with the Covenant did.”
“And I wish you well in your goal,” said ‘Vadam. “But as of now, I prioritise the future of my people over the future of yours. And I am sure you would say the same.”
“I would,” Farah’s voice rang true and firmly, cementing its place in the conversation as an equal to ‘Vadam’s, tired, deep, gravelly tone.
“Prioritising my people does not mean I must ignore your people, Captain. You will have your camps, and you may utilise our bases. We shall use your intelligence to gain a mighty advantage over our enemies, and when the time is right, their forces shall shatter in front of us – all because of you.”
“So, we have an accord?” Farah asked, her tone of voice now slightly higher in pitch, the stern ONI veneer slipping as an air of hopefulness dawned upon the discussion.
“That we do, Captain.”