A Promise
[04]





Eto paced the confines of the small quarters, deep in thought.  She had returned with the intention to relax, but she had not so much as removed her boots since she had entered through the door.  They clicked softly against the smooth floor of the foyer as she listened to the unease of her heart.  Her hands, which had been resting upon her hips, had slid to rest over her stomach as she continued to pace.

“Gods . . . what were we thinking?” she muttered under her breath.

She paused in mid-stride, casting a melancholy glance over the room.  Her eyes came to rest on a communications terminal by the door.

Maybe she could find something to take her mind off of what was troubling her.

She approached the terminal and leaned on it casually, letting her fingers play over the different holographic symbols that crowded the screen.  Each one hummed and glowed as she passed her hand over it, but she chose a golden, rectangular glyph that opened a news feed and gave it a sharp tap.  The screen jumped to life as dozens of bulletins scrolled open to fill the viewscreen.

  Eto leaned forward to rest her chin in her hands and began skimming through the subject headers of the newest transmissions, but nothing really caught her eye.  There were the typical listings for deployment stations, combat rec sessions, and equipment repair, along with a flashing note announcing a tighter rations policy that applied to all out-bound vessels.  Eto huffed softly.

Food was the least of her worries at the moment.  Besides, it was the lower castes that suffered the most from the stringent rationing system.  

She pitied the Unggoy most of all, who were made to eat that pungent, foul-smelling paste for sustenance.  She had heard them complaining amongst themselves in passing, arguing over trivial little things such as the consistency of the chow or the texture of the food nipple.  She didn’t blame them, either; the fact of the matter was, they had little else to talk about.

She, on the other hand, was privilege to much more palatable fare.  It certainly wasn’t any home cooking, but it didn’t taste half bad after a long day’s work and an empty stomach.  She reminisced on the taste of good food for a moment, before chuffing in dry amusement.  She had resigned herself to the fact that she probably wouldn’t be able to keep any of her meals down for the next week or so.

Eto shifted her weight again, propping her elbow up on the terminal while she absentmindedly rubbed her belly with her other hand.  She closed her eyes as she did so, her mandibles pulling up into a smile.  It was just as well; she had grown somewhat plump from all the inactivity she had experienced during her homeland assignments for the medical division.  Even Kovu had begun to jest playfully at how soft she was, although—Eto chuckled, he had admitted his like for it.

“More to love,” he had said, while holding her tightly some nights ago.  

That was before the news of their reassignments had reached them.

Eto sighed and stood up from the terminal to sit on a tall, padded bench that recessed into the wall opposite from where she stood.  It imitated a bay window bed of sorts, with bright, incandescent light that illuminated and softened that area of the apartment.  

It was a nice contrast the typically dim and moody décor of the rest of the ship, which she found to be altogether too depressing.  At least the Renewed Vigor, the supply station to which they were headed, had a lighter color palette, she thought with some measure of gladness.  

But Eto kicked her hooves restlessly against the base of the bench.

Her thoughts kept returning to that night back at their home on Sangheil.  The jasmil had been blooming outside their open window, filling the house with its fragrance.  She wondered how long it would be before she would smell its sweet scent again or rest with her mate within the comforting walls of that house.  

The news of the Sacred Ring had changed everything.  The human defilement of the Ring had thrown the entire Covenant into an uproar, to the humiliation and enragement of the Hierarchs and the High Council.  Of course the Prophets had demanded retribution; such things did not pass without vengeful action.

And now, they had the whole of the Sangheili race baying for human blood.  What was to be a whole year of extended shore leave became a few short, happy months together, she thought bitterly.

Eto realized her sin, and casting her gaze to the floor, rebuked herself inwardly.  

It was the will of the Gods that she and Kovu were to be called into service abroad, and her time spent apart from him would be a test of her faith.

“It is a test. . .” she murmured, her head bowed low.  “. . . and my faith is strong.”

She held her eyes tightly shut in prayerful meditation and sat very still upon the bench for what seemed a long time, until she heard the soft, rhythmic bass of heavy footsteps coming up the hall.  Her heart leapt within her, and her gaze lifted to the nearby door.  

Could the debriefing have ended already?

The door slid open with a soft hiss and she caught her breath.  

Standing there with his tall bulk framed in the doorway was Kovu, a boyish grin slowly spreading across his face at the sight of his mate.  

“Beloved,” Eto breathed in soft greeting as she assumed a demure posture.

Kovu lost no time in crossing the foyer in three great strides and wrapping his arms around her in a firm but gentle embrace.  His helmet clanked into hers, and she laughed, trying as hard as she might to press her cheek against the warmth of his exposed neck.  

“Damn this armor, it makes it difficult, doesn’t it?” he rumbled in his deep voice.  

Eto only laughed again, hugging him tightly once more before pulling back to let her eyes take him in.  the bench was high enough to where she sat at almost eye level with Kovu as he stood, his stomach just touching the edge of the bench.  

Eto’s eyes wandered over his well-muscled form in admiration as the overhead lights glinted off of his sleek black armor.  She had not seen him wear it for some time now, and there was no denying the powerful presence that it gave him.  Their eyes met, and her mandibles parted in a smile.  

“You came back early?” she questioned.

“Thank the Gods, the debriefing was, indeed, brief,” he said with noted relief in his voice.  “But,” he paused, “Commander ’Rahksunee has informed me that the special operations team will be leaving shortly.  There is an urgent assignment that is waiting for us, and I doubt we will even step foot on the Renewed Vigor.”

He looked at her, fearing her features would sadden, but was instead blessed with another smile.

Could nothing steal away her joyous beauty?

“You look stunning,” she said, lowering her eyes as she ran her hands along the smooth armor on his forearms.  She took his hands in her own and lifted her gaze to his sage green eyes.

“You will inspire them,” she said firmly.  

Eto knew that as sub-commander, he commanded the respect of many distinguished Sangheili warriors.  She knew also that her confidence gave him strength.  

It seemed for a moment that his eyes had become glassy, but he lowered his gaze and leaned forward to “kiss” her neck with a gentle nip.  

Eto gasped softly, closing her eyes as Kovu kissed her again and brought his hands to rest on her shoulders.  She scooted forward on the bench until his chest pressed comfortably against her own, and she wrapped her legs snuggly around his waist.  Eto sighed and leaned her head upon his breastplate, letting Kovu rest his chin against the top of her helmet.

“Are you feeling well today?” Kovu asked, his eyes shut in rest as he held her.

“Well enough,” she replied honestly, “when I was done greeting my breakfast for a second time.”  Her body hiccupped with a laugh, but Kovu tilted his head to look down at her.

“You are sure that this is normal?” he asked, concern creeping into his voice.

“Of course it is,” she replied in bemusement.  

Kovu was silent, and for a moment they just breathed together.  Eto glanced up at him.

“What troubles you, Kovu?” she asked.

Kovu stared at the wall for a moment, blinking slowly, then lifted his head up from hers.  

“You,” he said, leaning back slightly so he could look at her properly.  He took her hands and held them apart, looking over her soft form with an affectionate glow in his eyes.

“My Gods, you’re loosing all of those lovely curves already,” he teased, evoking another laugh from Eto.

“I may not be able to recognize you when next we meet,” he continued in mock gruffness, but brought a hand down to caress the length of her side, bringing it to rest over her belly.  His hand rose and fell with the soft rhythm of her breathing, and his eyes lingered there.

“Will you be able to work?” he asked after a moment.

Eto made a scoffing sound in her throat, and looked up at him in amusement.

“Kovu, I still have the whole year ahead of me,” she said and squeezed his hand that was still holding hers.

“I’ve spoken with Kesii already,” she added, and cast her glance downwards.  She took his free hand and placed it next to the other upon her stomach, folding her hands over his.

“I’ll be fine,” she said sternly, meeting his gaze.  Her smile had faded.
    
“But you. . .” she trailed off.

Kovu understood, and brought his hand up to rest beneath her helmet, stroking her cheek as he did so.  

“Please . . . come back to me,” she said.

Her voice was firm, but Kovu could still detect the slight quaver of uncertainty in her words.  He faltered for a moment, thinking of what to say that might comfort her.  He averted his gaze momentarily, but bringing it back to meet hers, it was his turn to smile.

“Haven’t I always come for you?” he said, and slowly began to sway his hips in imitation of their Union Dance.

He was rewarded with a snort of laughter from Eto, who took up his hands in her own, clasping her fingers through his.  She humored his play, leaning backwards and kicking up a leg to strike a pose as he bent forward to nip softly at her neck.  She couldn’t help but giggle at such silly behavior.

“Yes . . . yes you have,” she managed to laugh despite Kovu’s insistent nibbling at her mandibles.
She leaned back on the cushioned bench and growled playfully as he slid his hand up her thigh; he had just begun to move forward to climb up onto the bench with her when there came the stuttered sound of footsteps from behind.

Eto froze at the sight of a young special operations officer who had just come and was standing in the doorway.

“Sub-commander ’Fusul—” he halted mid-sentence as the awkward sight greeted him, his face turning a bright shade of purple.  He swiftly dropped his gaze to the floor and began to step backwards.

“My apologies, Sub-commander; the door was open, and I ju—”

Kovu rumbled a laugh and stood up straight, pulling up a blushing Eto with him.

“ ’Misuhuree?” he asked.

The spec-ops officer glanced up briefly and gave a sharp nod in respect.

“Would you like to come in?” Kovu added facetiously.  Eto swallowed a quick snort of laughter.  

“Thank you, sir, but no.  I merely carry a message from Commander ’Rahksunee.  He requests your presence at the special operations deployment station on deck nine.  We are gearing up and leaving . . . soon,” ’Misuhuree replied.

“Sooner than I’d thought,” Kovu murmured, giving Eto’s hands a faint squeeze.

“Yes.  Tell him that I am on my way,” he rumbled gruffly.  

The minor officer clicked his mandibles in acknowledgement and gave a nod in parting before ducking back and making a hasty retreat down the hall.  

Kovu reached over and pressed the controls to the close the door.  The moment it had hissed shut, he whipped around to face Eto, and the two of them burst into laughter.  

“You had left the door open that whole time?!” she managed between gasps for breath as she smacked his arm playfully.

Kovu leaned on the bench, clutching a stitch in his side as he continued to chuckle.

“I did, didn’t I?  But you were the one facing it,” he retorted.

“I was . . . distracted,” she snorted.  

“Aye,” he said, lifting her up from the bench as he stood.  “But it was worth seeing the look on his face,” he added, to which Eto choked back another laugh.  She sighed, leaning her full weight into him.

“I am going to miss you,” she said, resting her head against his chest once again.

“And I you,” he said, returning her embrace.

They stood swaying gently together in the foyer for a few still moments, before Kovu spoke in slow, rhythmic verse.

“Alone we were, lost in the dark until fate joined us together,”

“Our hearts forever beat as one.” Eto joined in the last line of the Sangheili proverb.

She pressed her head more firmly to his chest, trying desperately to feel his heartbeat, but it was a futile attempt with so much metal between them.  She pulled away slowly and sighed.

“They are expecting you,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied softly, reaching down to pull a small container from his belt.  He took Eto’s hands and clasped them around the tiny object, and looked searchingly into her soft cinnamon eyes.  

“Don’t forget what you told me,” she uttered in a voice barely above a whisper.

Kovu clasped her hands more tightly around the container and smiled.  

“I couldn’t ever forget it,” he said, and touched his hand to her belly once more.

Eto closed her eyes as Kovu bent forward, tenderly nipped behind her jaw, then turned and strode hastily through the door.  The door hissed shut once more, and Eto stood quietly in the center of the foyer.  She opened her eyes, and uncurled her hands to peer at the curiously small container.  

She sat once more upon the bench and opened it.  She sucked in a breath of surprise as a familiar scent filled the room, and gently emptied the contents of the container into her open palm.  A small, dried sprig of leaves with tiny white flowers slid out, and taking it between her fingers, she held it up in the light.  

“Jasmil . . .” she breathed.

She closed her eyes once more, and uttered a praise to the Forerunners.  The Gods would test her, but they had also given her strength.  

She was ready for whatever might lay ahead in the coming battle.