Author's Notes:

Hey guys. So, this is a Halo: MLP crossover. The main characters crossing over from the Halo universe are the Arbiter (Thel 'Vadam) from Halo 2 and 3, and Rtas 'Vadum, who was also a character from Halo 2 and 3. No humans will be appearing in this story. That means no Master Chief (sorry). I hope you enjoy this, and I would appreciate comments as to what you liked/disliked. Looking forward to hearing from you. Thanks.
Rtas 'Vadum
Arbiter/ Thel 'Vadam
Also, theme for this chapter:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vQUNZqUXWRk

-TheBigLebowski

Before a pair of mystified lavender eyes, the cosmos, in all its glory, spread from horizon to horizon in a humbling display of majesty. A midnight canvas intensified the subtle glow of million year old starlight, and the auroras danced a verdant tango in a winding river of luminescence to make an evanescent setting all the more dreamlike. It was fitting, as the crickets chirped their melodious lullaby into the crisp spring breeze. After all, most everypony in town was dreaming, asleep; only a few chose to stay up on this particular night, admiring the simple beauty and mystery of the unknown.

Beneath the dome of the night's sky, in a field of warm grass just beyond the glow cast by the lights of civilization, lay a young unicorn mare and a younger dragon hatchling, stargazing as the day's dusk became a memory. Red and yellow and blue had faded to black, a black interrupted by dots of flickering radiance, like tiny sprinkles in the frosting of a dark chocolate cake.

The unicorn loved this time; she was named for it, after all. Twilight rolled a bit to look to her side. The dragon was still lying on his back, his hands folded behind his head and his legs crossed comfortably; Spike hadn't changed for the last hour, save for his verdant eyes, which kept growing larger as he marveled upwards. The unicorn dared not spoil the moment; it was one of the few times of quiet she'd enjoyed all day, and one of the few moments of relaxation from a day full of hectic errands for the both of them.

Rather, she rolled back over, her forelimbs curled against her chest and her flanks splayed along the ground as her stomach embraced the sky, and continued gazing into the simplicity of everything. She could map the stars, but chose not to narrate her wandering eyes as they identified waypoints against an endless backdrop. Cassiopeia, Orion, Draco, the Ursas. Constellations. Sirius, Rigel, Vega, Betelgeuse. Individual stars in a sea of sparkles. But for all she knew of the vibrantly dormant sky, she had many more questions, questions she could not find the answer to, no matter how hard she tried. She, and all like her, could only speculate.

She turned to her companion. Still taken aback by the trance-like movement of the sky, the dragon remained fixated. Twilight turned her eyes back to the sky, but kept her attention on Spike.

"Thanks for staying out here with me," she said softly, her voice trailing off into the cool air.

"Don't mention it," the dragon replied, not moving his gaze, "It's nice to slow down every once in a while."

The crickets filled the following silence, making it serene and comfortable.

"I've got to tell you though," the dragon continued, tapping his foot against the dew wet ground, "When we moved from Canterlot to this little town, I never thought we'd ever be more busy here than we were there."

"Neither did I," admitted the unicorn, reflecting on the events of the past moons; Discord, Nightmare Moon, Queen Chrysalis and the entire ordeal in the Crystal Empire with King Sombra, not to mention myriad local fiascos she and her friends had to deal with since the Summer Sun Festival almost two years ago, "But in a small community like this, whenever there's a problem, not getting involved isn't an option."

"Well yeah. Look at earlier today," Spike admitted, moving his hands to a new spot on his scaly belly, "If anypony had set off a confetti cannon and a cake cannon from the top of a bell tower in Canterlot, it'd be their mess to clean up. Not here though."

Twilight's mind reluctantly remembered the day's source of strife. A pair of pressurized air cannons, one loaded with confetti and another loaded with sugary desserts, were set off from the town's clock tower by the local party animal. It was innocent enough, a simple attempt to brighten spirits and spread delicious red velvet over a large area. However, when the cannons were set off, the sudden increase in pressure caramelized the sugar in the cake, making it stickier than most glues. The resulting adhesive confetti rain covered everything within a four block radius of the bell tower... everything. It had taken the majority of the day to clean up the city property and ponies unlucky enough to be caught within the blast radius. Luckily, hot water neutralized the adhesive sugar; unluckily, that discovery hadn't been made until late in the afternoon.

Another pause interceded between the conversation and the nocturnal environment. From the balcony of the library, an owl crooned to the crescent in the sky, and for a moment, the crickets ceased their symphony as they anticipated nocturnal hunters.

"We should really come out here more often," Spike said suddenly.

Twilight turned to look at him, her belly still facing the sky as her neck craned to the right.

"I think we would all live a little differently if we just took some time to look at the stars every now and then," he continued, "Really forces you to think."

"You've got that right," admitted the mare.

Her own thoughts had strayed from the past to the future, from reflection to planning to memory, since the sun had set. And still, her thoughts ambled.

"You ever wonder what's up there?" she asked.

The dragon turned to her shortly before rolling back to face the auroras without watching the stars themselves.

"Like what?" he asked, his voice tiny in the presence of existence itself.

"Maybe somepony up there is wondering what it's like here,'' she contemplated aloud.

"I guess," Spike admitted, finally taking his eyes off the sky and onto his talons folded neatly over his chest, "Do you think we'll ever meet them?"

"I hope so," answered Twilight, "Don't you?"

"Do you think they'd be like us?" he asked, straying a bit, as if trying to make a more educated answer.

"Probably not."

"Do you think they'd be nice?"

"Maybe," the unicorn responded, "I don't really know."

"I guess I would want to... meet them I mean."

Twilight turned to look at him, rolling over onto her side.

"It'd be cool... I think," he added, "What about you?"

Twilight opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Spike's eyes lit up, and he refocused on the sky. Twilight turned her gaze upwards as well, and saw what appeared to be a comet flashing across the sky. It's bright, yellow tail made an arc across the sky, creating a streak like that of a brush dipped in gold paint and dashed across the canvas of the night sky, just below Orion's Belt.

"Make a wish," said Spike as he watched the celestial object dart from horizon to horizon.

The first of the shooting stars disappeared, but was followed by another and another, each creating golden trails following that of the first.

"That's weird," Twilight muttered, "there wasn't supposed to be a meteor shower tonight."

"What'd you wish for?" asked Spike, oblivious to Twilight's observation.

"I haven't yet," answered the unicorn, still contemplating the nature of the occurrence dozens of miles above them.

"How about a day off for tomorrow?" suggested Spike, and Twilight escaped the wanderings of her mind long enough to agree.

"A day off sounds nice," she sighed, "We haven't had one in so long."

Over the mountains, far to the West, a subtle flash of purple light broke the night, and the wind began to pick up slightly.

"Was that lightning?" asked Spike, turning from the clear skies above to the clouded ones of the West.

"I think so," Twilight answered, "Looks like there's a storm coming."

As she finished, thunder rolled in the distance, confirming that she was right.

"We'd better get inside," Spike concluded, and led the way back to the oak tree, a short walk away. The crickets had stopped now, and the wind was blowing faster.

"Got to love Equestrian weather," joked Twilight as she began trotting to catch Spike.

"Changes just like that," added Spike, snapping his fingers for emphasis.

They reached the house and shut the door firmly behind them, and in the time before the storm set in over them, they watched the stars through the window.

Before long, a light April rain had begun to fall.

"I don't get it," Spike said as the sky was shielded behind a veil of dark clouds, "It was so calm a little bit ago."

"There's always a calm before a storm," Twilight said, watching as blue and lavender lightning danced behind an expansive curtain of cumulonimbus.

"Come on," Twilight said, flicking her tail by the dragon's nose as she turned around, "It's late, and we should probably be getting to bed."

He wordlessly agreed, and followed her up the stairs.

Spike fell asleep quickly, but Twilight stayed awake, the inconsistent and brilliant light of the storm through her window striking like the sporadic wanderings of her thoughts.

There wasn't supposed to be a meteor shower tonight.

The thunder rattled against the bark of the oak, and the tree swayed, creaking as if trying to speak to her.

A thunder storm wasn't in the forecast.

The rain coated the windowpane, and the soft pitter patter of precipitation scurried about on the ceiling like tiny footsteps.

Rainbow Dash said nothing about the weather ponies ushering in a spring rainfall tonight. Normally she won't stop talking about everything she gets to do as the weather team's captain.

The night and the storm grew weary, but Twilight found herself still awake, tortured by subtle curiosities she couldn't answer.

There wasn't supposed to be a meteor shower tonight.

Earlier...

Alpha Centauri System,

Aboard the Covenant Separatist carrier, Shadow of Intent

On a massive transparent screen, a pair of green, slit eyes watched as fantastic destruction turned to silence. The technology of the holographic projection centered above the control room allowed a viewport into the vacuum of space outside, but its effect was visible nonetheless as what once was a formidable fleet was torn apart, and pulled into orbit with the system's sun. Aft and bow sections of a celestial navy crumpled in the grip of gravity, and the lights of their engines flickered and died as the enemy ships, and all those aboard, were consumed by fire and the abyss of space.

"Shipmaster 'Vadum, the drop ships are returning," said a deep voice from the right, calling the Sangheili back to his station.

He swung his armored head around, pivoting his bulky shoulders to look behind him and around the command bridge. Every contoured surface of the expansive room gleamed with an unstained luster, and green and blue light glinted off of the spotless purple superficies. The source of the voice behind him was seated adjacent the floating, central captain's seat of the control room, and was waiting for him to respond with parted mandibles and an unblinking gaze.

The grand scale of the battle had lured 'Vadum from his seat and closer to the bridge's primary screen, and its breathtaking presence had kept him fixated. But now, he was obligated to step away from the awesome scene of expanding clouds of blue fire and radiation before the system's fiery star, and return to his duties.

"Contact them," he said as he stalked back to his seat in the middle of the expansive room, light from numerous consoles and power nodes glinting off of his elegant white armor, "We need to know the status of the rest of the corvettes."

"Ship to ship communications are offline, Shipmaster," came the response from a Sangheili Major working on a different console in the room, off to the left.

The Commander exhaled as he sat down in his chair, rubbing the stumps of his missing right mandibles as he focused on his next words.

"Then deploy the Huragok to the communication center," he said calmly.

"They are already on their way, Shipmaster."

"When will the repairs be complete?" he asked, his voice dominant in the room filled with quiet clicks and beeps as his comrades worked at their individual consoles, "We cannot pursue 'Mdama until the fleet's communication has been reestablished."

"Uncertain," came a voice from his side, "Damage analysis has not yet been completed."

"Are there any other systems that are out of commission?" he asked without hesitation, and reports began filing in quickly as supervisors began barking out their individual results from all corners of the command bridge.

"Weapons systems are online."

"Defensive shields are at eighty percent."

"Engines are fully functioning."

"Life support is functioning properly."

"Reactors are online."

"Good," the commander said as it was confirmed that the ship was not in fact crumbling, "All normal communications technicians are temporarily reassigned to tracking the Remnants' fleet. I want to know when and where they come out of their jump. Devote all other available resources to repairing the ship's communications, and when the Phantoms return, summon the Arbiter to the bridge."

From behind the captain's chair, the sound of the blast door sliding open sounded, and heavy metallic footsteps approached from the threshold.

"The Arbiter is already here, Commander," came a familiar voice, deep and confident.

The Shipmaster spun around in his floating seat and stepped down, placing a balled fist over his chest as he acknowledged the newcomer. He was tall and wide, his muscular arms and gaskins much larger than those he passed as he entered the room. His engraved, sterling armor was sleek and ancient, much different from the design of the newer combat harnesses employed by the rest of the Sangheili. On his back he carried a Type-51 Carbine, and on his waist was slung a Type-25 Energy Rifle opposite the hilt of a Type-1 Energy Sword.

The Arbiter strode to the center of the bridge, and in turn, placed his fist over his breast to match the salute of his counterpart. Despite his presence, the operations of the bridge did not falter, and the focus of each individual in carrying out their assorted tasks in keeping the carrier functioning was unbroken.

"Come," the Arbiter said as he nodded back in the direction of the door he'd just entered through, "We are needed in the hangar bay."

"Arbiter, I need an after action report," the Commander said as he quickly closed the distance between himself and the Arbiter to walk by his side, "What is the status of the corvettes that covered your infiltration?"

"Two of the five remain," came the answer as they left the bridge for a long, contoured hall of purple synthetics and verdant lights, "A worthy trade for four enemy cruisers."

"It matters not how many of them we kill," replied 'Vadum as they reached the elevator bank, "We do not have the numbers we once had. We have but one carrier, five cruisers and now only two corvettes. Our capacity to make war is dwindling. If we cannot win this conflict without our brothers' bloodshed, we may not have a future worth fighting for."

"It is our families' futures we have always fought for, Commander" came the reply as the Arbiter whipped around, conviction dripping from his tone, "And as always, any worthy cause demands sacrifice."

As he finished, he placed his hand over the nearest console, and a pair of doors opened with a sound like an exhale from the ship itself. They stepped inside the elevator, and after pressing another few verdant screens inside, began their descent to the hangar.

The Commander's shoulders drooped slightly, but his piercing gaze held fast with his much taller counterpart's. The Arbiter seemed to refuse eye contact at first, rather staring at the lavender interior of the rapidly descending room they occupied. Eventually, he spoke, glancing to his side to meet the gaze of the Shipmaster.

"If it is any consolation," the Arbiter began, his voice slow and quiet as the elevator came to a noticeable stop and the doors parted, "my Phantoms were able to intercept a few escape pods that survived the destruction of the corvettes."

"How many survivors?" asked the Shipmaster grimly as they both stepped out and into another long hallway.

"Enough to replace those we lost when boarding their ships," came the low-pitched reply over the sounds of heavy foot falls.

"Stop evading me," 'Vadum demanded, stopping their promenade in the middle of the solitary hall, "Their lives matter to me, perhaps more than they did before our Covenant was broken. I need to know how many in your boarding party were lost."

"None of the veterans met their ends," The Arbiter continued slowly, standing tall and still as he looked into the eyes of his counterpart," and the Hunters have not been slowed by time nor age."

He walked a short distance farther before speaking again, and after stepping out of the hall and onto a balcony overlooking the carrier's endless hangar bay, he gestured to a quartet of the nearest landed drop ships, their passengers milling around the flight deck. Two Mgalekgolo, their tall, hulking armored bulk impressive even from a distance, prowled side by side away from one of the Phantoms. Behind them, several Sangheili did the same, their weapons held on their hips and backs.

"The Minors however... those that were eager to taste battle found it bitter. Those that were patient are no longer Minors."

As the Arbiter spoke, he pointed to the arranged bodies of several of his dead kin. All of the corpses were lighter and less extravagantly armored than their living brethren who now took respite, alluding to their inferior rank. Small pools of indigo blood gathered around their motionless bodies, which were congregated adjacent the nearest Phantom's hull.

"Seventeen of my Elites have fallen this day."

"Of our Elites," corrected 'Vadum as he turned away from the solemn aftermath of the battle, "Do not think that while I guide this fleet, I grow fat and content with watching our brothers die."

"Then let them know that you care," the Arbiter counseled, "Come with me to the flight deck. Let the warriors see you, and remind them that you have fought as hard as they. I have not forgotten your conviction, but it is hard to see your actions as ones of individual prowess when all they see in battle is this ship, not its crew."

"I am not judging your honor," he continued as he began leading the Commander down a ramp to the bustling flight deck, "Were it not for your mastery of our armada, this fight would be over by now, and we would not be discussing this. I witnessed your tact from the mining platform near the sun, after we delivered the bombs unto the cruisers. The ambush was perfect. Distracted by our infiltration, they had no notion of your presence until it was too late. To come out of a jump on their flank was no easy feat, and to catch the Song of Retribution with its shields down was an accomplishment to bring pride to your name."

They reached the endless floor of the hangar, and the Arbiter continued as he strode in the direction of the landed Phantoms, each of them pockmarked with plasma burns.

"It makes little difference," admitted 'Vadum, "'Mdama's flagship escaped, along with the rest of their cruisers."

"Do not fret," consoled the Arbiter as they began passing other Sangheili warriors, many of them bleeding and all of them pausing as they passed to place their fists over their chests, "We have won a victory over 'Mdama and his dogs, and the tritium they came here to mine will now be used to power our fleet for the next decade. The humans may have bled them as they fled Requiem, but they will not pursue our common enemy. We shall be the ones to finish the Covenant Remnant. They run like the cowards they are, and no matter which hole they bury themselves in, we will find them."

The Arbiter stopped as they reached the side of the nearest Phantom, and he began removing weapons' batteries from a large metallic container, one of many accumulated amidst the landed drop ships.

"And when we do, a thousand hells await them."

The Arbiter took time to remove the battery packs from his sword and plasma rifle, retrieving new ones from one of the containers and slamming them home amidst energetic hums of the now primed, recharged weapons. After he holstered the sword and double checked the Plasma Rifle, he began removing purple, cylindrical canisters from a separate box to refill his Carbine's ammunition supply.

"I assume you are tracking their signatures?" he asked as he once again put his Carbine into its place on his armored back.

"Several of my best technicians are seeing to that," assured 'Vadum, standing behind the Arbiter as he resealed the containers, "When they come out of their jump, we will know, and we will not be far behind."

"Good. We should begin rearming the fighters. They will not likely be surprised again. Our communications are still down, I presume."

"They are."

"A lucky hit," consoled the Arbiter, turning his amber eyes to meet 'Vadum's, "There was nothing you could have done to avoid it. The odds of slipping a round through our shields are astronomical. Were any of the crew killed?"

"Yes, but only a few. It would have been more if we were not understaffed."

"How long until we are once again battle ready?" asked the Arbiter as he stole another glance at the dead bodies of those that had accompanied him on his most recent mission.

"We are unsure at the moment," replied the Commander, "The Huragok have always been efficient, but an anti-matter round does not make for a simple repair."

"Well then let us take this time to rest and heal. There is nothing we can do until we can once again speak with the other Shipmasters. They will know to return to the Shadow of Intent, but while we sit mute they will know to sit idle."

The Arbiter led the march back to the elevator banks, leaving the hangar behind and the warriors to their own business. Once outside the elevator doors again, the Arbiter placed his hand over the console screen, and they slid open once more. He extended a hand to the elevator's interior, but the Shipmaster seemed hesitant to enter. He waited at the Arbiter's side, and eventually found the words he was searching for.

"Thel," he said, causing the warrior to turn to him with a stern pair of eyes, "I have never adequately expressed my appreciation of your dedication to this fleet."

The Arbiter cocked his head to one side as he digested the compliment.

"Our war with the humans taught us much," the Arbiter responded after a short silence, "but perhaps the most important lesson I learned came from the mouth of the Master Chief. No soldier should be awarded for doing what is expected. If my actions were anything less, I would be undermining my duty, and I would not be worthy to wear this armor. If our fallen brothers had not fought so valiantly, they would not be worthy to call themselves Sangheili warriors. Your gratitude, though sincere, is misplaced."

"Perhaps," admitted the Commander, "But to go up against their cruisers with but a squadron of Phantoms and five corvettes, and then to take the mining facility by your lonesome... such merit is why we follow you, Leader."

"Merit had little to do with it," he admitted, "For years I have lived my sentence as Arbiter, but the death I was given will not seem to come. Perhaps the gods wish to see my shame grow after each battle, where I yet stand in the midst of my brothers' ends."

The Arbiter's head fell slightly as he finished, but the Commander only lifted a hand in gesture and offered words of consolation.

"Perhaps it is not their cruelty, but their mercy that keeps you alive."

"There is nothing merciful about war," growled the Arbiter, "I have lived war for decades, as have you. We know this. We fight for retribution, not for peace. I have grown weary of the death of our kin at the hands of these vile Loyalists. Have the Prophets not been proven false? I want only for this war to be over, and it will only end when every last one of the bastards that would attack our families on Sangheilios out of fanaticism for The Great Journey lay in blood and ashes."

"Arbiter. Mercy comes not during war, but upon its end. There is hope for our kind, and it lies at the end of this long, dark night of bloodshed. We have only to fight a little while longer."

The Arbiter looked down.

"Were it so easy."

"I will return to the bridge, that you may do what you must in the wake of this victory," said the Shipmaster as he stepped into the elevator.

"That would be best," admitted the Arbiter, and once the doors slid shut, he again prowled back to the hangar bay.

More craft were coming in through the transparent energy shields of the hangar, and from an elevated platform overlooking the hangar, the Arbiter watched. He watched as Banshees, Seraphs and Phantoms all found their docking positions, and the pilots their sanctuary. He watched as the wounded and the dead of his brothers were assorted, briefly mourned, and prepared for cremation, as was tradition. He watched through the hangar bay doors as the Fleet of Retribution slowly gathered around its flagship, the ship he called home. He remembered how vast the fleets he'd once commanded had been, and compared them to the fragment of the fleet around him. One day, this war would be made right. But until that day came, this war was the life he had to lead.

He stood there for what seemed like hours, until the ships stopped coming in and the number of those wandering the flight deck was reduced to zero. It was then that the voice of the Shipmaster crackled in his helmet.

"Arbiter, communications have been restored. And what's more, we've found them."

The Sangheili's eyes narrowed, and a grin came to his face. He stood, turned, and strode back down the hall.