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Chapter Five - It's over at Obsidan
Posted By: Kathryne Charles<Ishdakitty@gmail.com>
Date: 18 November 2005, 8:37 am
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Chapter Five: It's Over At Obsidan
"Master Chief, sir, can you read me?
"Go ahead, Lieutenant."
"Captain wants you to know we'll be making our final approach to the Obsidan System in just under two hours. He expects you suited up and ready to greet the welcoming committee." The young man muttered under his breath, obviously muffling it from whoever might be listening nearby. "Bunch of beaurocratic bullshit if you ask me. Not that anyone does." The voice returned to normal. "Should I inform him that we'll be seeing you in an hour or so?"
"Affirmative." John sighed as the com went dead. He reclined back in his cot and checked his watch. He'd slept for just over seven hours. Sloppy. He glanced to his left at the only other cot in the small chamber, and his lips twitched a smile. The usually fierce looking young woman lost her edge in slumber, features softened and lips just barely parted. Her reaction, should he ever describe her slumbering visage as such, would likely be one of a flared temper and violence. Even knowing that, it was still almost worth it. He reached across the short distance between them and grabbed the sheets she was cuddling. A quick jerk and she started muttering, balling up against the chill of the room. "That means you get up too."
"Who the hell do you think you are, CPO Mendez?" He deflected the pillow thrown in his direction and stood, bracing himself a moment later to catch the projectile Spartan. He spun as she hit and pinned her against the wall as she glared back through bleary blue eyes. "You're getting good at that."
"Your temper has given me a lot of practice." He set her down and she straightened her nightshirt, which he realized a moment later was actually one of his few dress shirts. She was practically swimming in the garment. "Petty thievery now?"
"It smells nice; like fabric softener and Spartan."
"You are a fruitcake." The phrase, not originally part of his lexicon, had been picked up from Zephyr in the mess hall during the three-day trip. It was a bizarre description, but somehow it just fit the sporadic mood swings the smaller Spartan was infamous for. The additions to his language weren't the only bad habits he'd picked up; he was fairly certain he'd begun tapping his fingers in rhythm when he got agitated. Which was becoming more and more often. Halley yawned and pushed past him, grabbing a handful of clothing from beside her cot. He sighed, and looked at the only table in the glorified closet they were calling a room. His cloths were neatly folded and stacked. He couldn't comprehend how the younger Spartan managed to accept such a mess in general, but she seemed to thrive on his last nerve.
"If we're down to the two hour mark, I'm getting my last shower." She paused and glanced back at him, pale eyes sad. "Will I see you before you leave the ship?"
"Count on it." He watched her leave, and sat back down, conflicting emotions in his mind vying for attention. They had talked about it the night before, their shared sleeping space a comfort. Everything between them, everything said and done in the last few days, all of it had to end. Superior officers were not permitted relationships with junior officers. No exceptions, especially in the duty driven Spartans. He'd always loved the UNSC. Today he hated it. It's over at Obsidan.
Encased once more in MJOLNIR, John stood by the doorway to the bridge, agitated. His helmet was heavy in his hands. Even though his team was out there waiting for him, every part of him dreaded this end of the trip. Halley walked down the hallway, right on cue, stopping in front of him and offering a smile.
"You look good in green." She ran a hand over his chest plate almost absently, tracing the nicks and dings and scratches it had picked up though it's use. There was so much to say, and none of it was possible. "They're waking my team now; we'll be planetside within the hour. It's been a real honor knowing you, sir." She tilted her head, and raised a finger to his jaw, tracing a small scar. He wished he could be someone else, for a moment. He wished he could kiss her goodbye. But as hard as it was, he had a job to do. She knew it as well as he did. Instead of reaching futilely for what she could not have, she stepped back. "You know that thing we agreed we wouldn't say? Well, it's there anyway. See you around, Master Chief."
He nodded; there were no words he could safely reply with. She walked further down the hall towards the cryo room. He stood there, and looked at the gold faceplate of his helmet, searching for an answer. His heart said to follow her. His duty said to go through the door behind him and prepare to be debriefed. Finding no easy answer, he pulled on his helmet and did what he had always done.
His duty.
Paul sat up with a start, shoulder throbbing and head pounding along with it. Being frozen in MJOLNIR was technically safer than being frozen without, but it always left him with such a headache. To his left Micha was sitting up, already grumbling across the com, and Francine was pointing out how unprofessional he sounded. What might have been almost sibling bickering halted immediately as the slender figure in the doorway clucked her teeth and shook her head.
"Don't be such a wuss, Micha. It's better than a hot drop into hell."
"Though only by a fraction. Halley." He had such relief in his voice. Paul yanked his helmet off with a jerk. He pulled himself out of the tube, aches and pain and all, and crossed the deck to her side.
"We really thought we lost you." He grinned, and flicked her hair. Her returned smirk was as lively as ever.
"You think I was willing to die and leave you to lead my team? Pah." She smiled at Francine, who limped over and leaned on the door.
"So I hear they have some really fantastic medical facilities here at Obsidan. Assuming we actually reached out destination." Halley nodded. "Good, then lets get the hell off this ship and patched up. I feel like sh--"
"It's not that big a deal, Fran. What matters is we're alive." Micha was grabbing the gear stowed behind the cryotubes.
"Oh, all of a sudden the boss is here and you're 'toughing it out' like a good little soldier?" She was obviously smiling, and the rude gesture she got in return only made her laugh. "Same to you. In 10 degrees Celsius sans MJOLNIR with a pair of grunts." His laughter joined hers, and Paul shook his head in relief. It looked like they were really going to pull out of this one. Being re-frozen with nothing in the way of explanation had been an ordeal for all three of them, especially since no one said anything about their last team member. When they'd gone under initially the prognosis had been bad. Halley rolled her eyes and grabbed a pack from the lockers along the wall, slinging the ungainly weight over the arm that had been broken.
"Geeze, Hal, how long were we under? I thought that thing was snapped." Come to think of it, her hair was longer than it had been in years.
"Many weeks. It's almost as good as new." She tilted her head, and Paul noticed the earbud com she was wearing. Another oddity, Halley typically did everything involving computer systems without any external mechanics. "Thanks, Cortana. Okay, people, grab your gear, we're on the next Dropship to the planet. Time to go home."
"Wish we could. 'Home' was Reach." Micha shouldered the last pack, and for a moment everyone paused, giving the lost world it's due. Halley nodded and frowned, and turned to lead the way to the deck being used as a ferry station. Paul frowned at Micha, but he couldn't argue. They all missed Reach. If only they could have been there to help defend it. They probably would have died as well, but still, the guilt over not being there in Reach's direst hour would never go away.
The Dropship peeled through layers of rosy clouds, and in spite of their reluctance to accept a new base of operations, all four Spartans found windows to watch through. A collective breath was shared by all as the last obstacle was cleared, and the beautiful landscape made plain to their sight. There were miles of forestland, lakes and rivers glowing blue in the rising sun. The white structures of the new Naval collage being built were gleaming orange in the dawn light and tiny figures of workers moved like ants through the bones of the buildings. The only finished complex, the massive UNSC Primary Housing District, stood like a massive ziggurat amidst the remains of what had been a crater from some ancient meteor impact. The landing zone had been cleared out of forest land around it, miles of tarmac already laid down. Halley whistled long and low, and pointed to the delicate silver shimmer around the PHD building.
"So it's not just a rumor. They actually managed to modify shields to cover the base. Unbelievable."
"Yeah, I heard the rumor that some members of the Engineer race in the covenant are siding with us now." Paul dug into his blond stubble, frowning. "Could pay off for us in the long run."
"Gentlemen and Ladies, we're coming in for a landing," the pilot had that spunky, just-graduated attitude, and Fran rolled her eyes, "so if you'll buckle in, we'll be walking on the planet in no time."
"When are the pilots going to realize we don't fit in these crummy regulation seats?" Fran scowled, and tried to get comfortable.
"I swear, we need a custom Pelican. With bigger seats, more elbow room, and more space for guns. Not to mention filled with said firearms." Paul opened a gun rack, tsk-ing at the empty space.
"Oh right, because the UNSC is just bending over backwards to make us happy." Whatever else was about to be said was cut off as the pilot touched down.
"Welcome to Obsidan, everyone, your welcoming committee will meet you on the tarmac. Hope you had a good flight, my name is Petty Warrant Officer Lesli Marks, if you'd like to put in a good word for me. I'll be taking off as soon as everyone is out, so make sure you give me plenty of clearance, okay?" The Spartans picked up their gear and walked out of the dropship.
John stepped off the ship he was sent down on, saluting respectfully as an older man walked towards him, the insignia of a Vice Admiral shining brilliantly in the rising sun. A retinue of lieutenants accompanied the Admiral, and the whole pack of them had an air of business around them. After going over something with a man to his left, the man in charge gave a respectful nod to the Chief.
"At ease, son. I'm Vice Admiral Warwick, glad to see you made it here safely. We received word of your entanglement with the Covenant during the trip. Your work keeping the Resplendent safe will not be forgotten." He appraised the Chief with a long, steady look.
"Thank you, sir."
"Well, as much as I'd like to stick around all day trading war stories, I have other things to attend to. I'm sure they'll show you to the new Spartan Building." He snapped off a salute in response to the Chief's, and led his entourage to their next engagement.
"Well, that was rather anticlimactic," Cortana muttered in John's ear. "I wonder what this 'Spartan Complex' he was talking about is." John lifted his head and looked across the Tarmac, and his heart leapt in his chest. Three familiar forms were moving towards him, unconsciously walking in perfect step. The lead Spartan drew the "smile" gesture on her faceplate, and the Chief returned it.
"Linda." He hadn't realized how much he'd missed them all. Then again, getting emotional over things was par the course lately.
"Chief. Glad you finally made it." The other two made the smile gestures as well, and he responded in kind. "Wait till you see the building they gave us."
"It's nice to get some recognition for once." Will's voice was more upbeat than it had sounded in years. "Full sized gym, bunk rooms with enough space for once…"
"Come on, this is John we're talking to. They gave us our own Gravball court," Fred burst in, barely able to contain his excitement.
"You can't be serious."
"Oh, I am. It's a beauty, too, reinforced with Titanium-A so we can't break it as easily as the one on Reach."
"Whoever put this together really knows us." Linda finished, shaking her head. "But that's not even the strangest part. We've been introduced to more Spartans." John smiled behind his helmet.
"I met a few on the Resplendent, actually."
"Oh wow. Legs." Fred stared off at another dropship close by, and Will glanced heavenward.
"I can't believe you. 'Oh wow, legs'? Fred, they all have legs."
"Well, yes, but some are more impressive than others."
"Chief, you see what I've been stuck with for the last two months?" Linda sounded exasperated.
"I can relate. I've been acting the same way off and on, Dr. Wong said it's a result of the thyroid implant breaking down." He shook his head, and followed Fred's gaze. The woman that stepped off the Pelican down the tarmac was as familiar a sight now as the three Spartans at her back.
"Legs in the company of the second gens, no less." Fred's grin was reflected in his voice.
"Yes Fred…Legs belonging to a Spartan. And her name isn't 'Legs' it's Halley." Fred glanced back at him, and John would have given much to see the expression behind the gold. Two more Spartans walked onto the landing pad from the PHD's loading bridge, and John did a double take at the size of one of them. He was easily the biggest Spartan the Chief had ever seen.
"Halley BA-BY!" The armored giant waved, and his normal-sized companion put a fist lightly against their faceplace, shoulders slumping in embarrassment. Halley's head snapped up, and she rolled her eyes.
"Only one person with the audacity to greet me like that…Hello, Nile." The man hustled over, laughing plainly. His voice was as low as an Elite's and still carried the trace of a Bronx accent, and the hand he put on her head pretty much engulfed it. "Make yourself useful and dog the gear, we've got injured people here." He grabbed the gear, still laughing, and patted everyone's shoulders lightly. He was surprisingly gentle for a man who stood at nearly eight feet with the muscles to match. The other Spartan caught up, and raised a fist to knock against Halley's. "Good to see you, Aril."
"I've missed you like crazy, Hal. Wait till you see the shield generators for this place. It's like I've found heaven." Nile grabbed the last bag and nodded.
"You have no idea, sprite. Those floating airbags they call 'Engineers' practically worship her. She keeps coming up with new solutions to their problems. I think she was born to the wrong race." He paused a moment and amended it with, "although the floating sacks of pink flesh are much less cute." He held a hand up as if to deflect a punch that never came.
"Anyway, we're supposed to get you to the infirmary, so if you'll follow the walking mountain there…"
"…cold, Aril. So cold…" They left; still talking, and the Chief watched them with a little sigh. They sounded so much like his own lost Spartans. Linda put a hand on his shoulder gently, and he managed a smile.
"It's like going back in time." He managed to say it pretty dryly, but he knew she probably picked up on the emotional signature nonetheless. She nodded.
"I know." She squeezed is shoulder in the gap between the thick plating, and he drew another quick smile. "Lets give you the tour of our new facility. It really is an amazing sight."
"Alright." They started walking towards the far end of the landing pad. "I have a question, actually. You know about the thyroid breakdown already?"
"Oh yeah. The doctors did about a hundred tests in the last few weeks. Dr. Halsey hasn't exactly been around to confirm them, but if Fred is any indication,"
"Why me?"
"…the conclusion is dead on. I use you as an example," Linda glanced back, the pointed look hidden behind the facemask but her body telegraphing the expression well enough, "because at least Will hasn't done a double take at every attractive female that passes by. And you have been. And that's the good times; when you really like someone you feel the need to open a private channel to talk about it." She kept walking, but her hand clenched in agitation. "I swear I almost ripped the com system out of my helmet last week."
John didn't let his grin show in his voice. "How are you faring, though?"
"Pretty well, actually. It doesn't seem to be as big an issue for women, we don't have about sixteen gallons of testosterone trying to make space after twenty-three years of disuse." She led the Spartans to a pair of Warthogs parked along the landing field, jumping into the passenger seat of one. John ran his hand over the smooth, unmarked shell of the vehicle, whistling in amazement.
"I didn't know they made them like this."
"Like what?"
"New." As Will climbed into the other warthog, he chuckled. "I get to drive?"
"I figured you'd want to. After all, you usually do the driving."
"You know," Fred pointed out, "They say women are bad dr--"
"Can it, or I'll test the NO FEER's spiked tires out on you." John raised an eyebrow as he drove towards the Nav marker Cortana courteously put on his visor.
"NO FEER?" He glanced to the passenger seat. "What's that?"
"Oh, you'll see." Linda pointed. "Left here. Last one on the row." John blinked in astonishment, parking the warthog in a lot that could easily hold three or four of the military vehicles. A small garage sat at the end of the lot, situated against a rather large two-story building. The front doors were a double set, archways carved out of marble on either side. The Spartan's symbol, a flying eagle with arrows carried in its talons, was carved into the attractive doorway. The building was obviously new, but designed to look antiqued, and ivy was growing up the marble pillars set symmetrically about the building's face.
"You must be joking."
"Oh no. It's even more impressive inside." Linda jumped out, and took off her helmet. She pushed the doors open easily, and stepped aside to let the Chief walk in. He followed her lead and removed his helmet, trying not to let his jaw fall open in amazement. Inside the doors was a brightly lit room with skylights overhead, a small reception-style desk sat in the center of the room, and deep blue tiles scrolled across the floor, accented here and there with gold. The room itself revealed both stories; curved staircases arched up along both rounded front walls to a balcony set above and back from the desk below. A set of double doors was situated both behind the desk and identically on the balcony above, leading deeper into the building. Four other doors were visible, one to the left and one to the right on each floor. John stepped in, his boots ringing on the tiles.
"This is…unbelievable." Fred and Will were both grinning, and Linda led him to the leftmost door on the bottom floor. Through it was a gym, with every machine he'd ever seen and a few that he hadn't, all of which were set with much higher weight than any ordinary gym would dream of having. There was a small fountain in the middle of the room, with footpads to step on to provide water for drinking or to cool down. Three large polls were set equidistant through the room, and he glanced at them, wondering what they were for. Linda refused to explain them, though, and led him to the back of the gym and through a door that led to the showers. They were set at a Spartan's height, and partially boxed off, with private bathrooms that were set along the walls.
"And down here is our pool."
"Pool?" She grinned and led him down a short ramp to another large, open space. This one was encased in glass like a greenhouse, with a large in ground pool taking up most of the space. To the left and against the main building was a sauna, and to the right was a rather large hot tub, already steaming. "This isn't incredible, it's insane."
"I know. I'm already in love." The glass walls showed the bright green campus of the PHD with other, less extravagant buildings also open to the field, but Linda raised a hand to a switch on the wall, and metal curtains smoothly folded out over the windows to provide privacy. John shook his head in amazement. "I promise, it keeps getting better."
Back through the showers she led his through a set of double doors to the center of the building, and this time John's jaw really did drop in amazement. The room was huge, with a three-meter tall fountain in the center and marble benches set around the walls. The floor was a slender stone walkway between rows of flowers, bushes, and more local and exotic foliage than he'd ever seen in a human complex. The roof was open to the elements, and there was a walkway overhead leading from the balcony double doors to another set immediately above the ones he'd just walked through. The walkway overhead was made almost entirely out of glass, giving a perfect overhead view. Linda tapped his shoulder and walked back through the doors, entering another single door leading to the right wing of the building.
"This is my favorite part of the tour." Fred added, as the plexiglass wall along one side of the hallway showed a fully furnished Gravball court, regulation style to the smallest detail. The Spartans walked past the various doors into the court, and walked back out into the reception chamber. Linda walked up the right stairwell to the upper right wing of the complex, through which were a kitchen and a dining room, chairs oversized enough to seat a Spartan in MJOLNIR or not. She led him across the front room's balcony, skipping the back of the building. Through the left wing's upstairs access was another hallway, with three open doors.
"Each of these is a rather large sleeping chamber, with a footlocker and standing locker keyed to each of our thumbprints. And the poles you were asking about before?" She walked to one, in the center of the first room, and twisted it with a crack. A hole opened in the floor around the pole, leading to the gym below. John shook his head, literally speechless. "And through the back of the hall is the 'Crème de la crème.'"
The last room was decked out in dark mahogany wood, with huge plush chairs and a collection of books and data chips that covered the walls. The back wall was a blank, featureless square. The Chief looked closer and recognized a series of holographic light projectors inlaid around it. As Linda placed the palm of her gloveless hand on it, words scrawled across, "Accessing…processing…identity confirmed." One hundred fifty names and three digit serial numbers appeared on the wall, and John nearly dropped his helmet in shock. The first seventy-five he knew well, they had all been his squad-mates. Several names were displayed in blue, with various rankings beside them. They were the Spartans who had been reassigned after failed augmentation. Eight names were in bright green, including his, showing active duty. One name was displayed in red; Cassandra was still recovering from her injuries, tucked away in a medical facility. All the others were displayed in white. There was no "key" to what the colors meant, although they were obvious enough to the Spartans viewing it. A similar series of names and numbers finished the set, though the younger Spartans had a full twenty-seven members in active duty.
"I can't believe this. It's…beautiful. Fitting." He shut his eyes, and felt three different hands come to rest on him comfortingly. He blinked past the threat of tears, and managed a grin. "They really spared no expense."
"Actually, conscripted or not, all military personnel get paid. In our case they've been storing what they owe us in individual bank accounts since we were kids. When they started funding Obsidan, they unlocked all the accounts belonging to deceased Spartans and used the money to build this place." She tapped Sam's name on the wall, and a picture of him shortly before he died replaced the memorial, along with his full CSV. "It's like their spirits are in this place with us." Everyone forbade comment; sometimes it was necessary to accept a little spirituality for the greater comfort it gave.
A short time later Linda concluded the tour in the garage. A single vehicle sat in the center of the room, covered in a tarp. A feeling of general giddiness filled the room as Will unveiled it to the Chief.
"It's an ATV." The Chief tilted his head and stepped closer, running his hands over the smooth green and gray plating. "It's an ATV with a mounted chain gun? Nice."
"NO FEER stands for 'Normal Operation For Every Environment Rover.' The tires are reinforced rubber with Titanium-A tracing, including deployable spikes that extend to a maximum length of twenty centimeters. You could drive up a near vertical cliff face in the middle of a snowstorm with this thing." Linda couldn't stop smiling.
"I remember you mentioning those." John shook his head. "I've never seen one of these before."
"It's new, barely past the prototype stage. It's got so many perks; I can't even describe them all. Although the boost pads on the frame do bare mentioning. The ONI scientists reverse-engineered the Ghost's anti-gravity pods…not completely, but enough to give the NO FEER a three second boost when you press here." Will pointed to a red trigger on the left handlebar. "It drains the macro-battery pretty fast, though. You need to give it a second to recharge after the boost. Beyond that we've got composite armor shielding; the NO FEER can disperse most low-grade energy blasts without too much trouble. The engine is double plated and encased in half an inch of T-A. It takes a lot of damage and it's relatively lightweight. It's like these things were designed for us."
"Considering Dr. Halsey's notes on anti-grav were the basis for the boost system," Linda muttered, "I'd say in a lot of ways they were."
"And this one is…"
"All ours. We got one of the first off the line."
"One more question." John grinned like a kid. "When do I get to take it for a test drive?"
The sound of an Irish flute filled the last bunkroom; a somber, haunting melody hung in the air of the complex. John had only intended to stop in the Spartan building long enough to drop off his few personal items after the exhilarating drive earlier in the day. The NO FEER, currently nicknamed the "Puma" after it's cat-like ability to climb any surface, was one of the most enjoyable vehicles he'd ever been on. His train of thought was interrupted by the odd presence of music led him to the last room in the row. He glanced in, and noted the familiar sight relaxing in one of the bunks.
"You never mentioned you play an instrument." He sat across from Halley, surprised by the bunk's strength under his armor.
"You never asked. Your hair looks nice, by the way." He'd stopped in at the local barber (though part of him was rather bemused at the idea that he of all people had a "local barber") and gotten himself cleaned up. Buzzed close on the sides and two and a half centimeters on top; it had been his way of remembering Sam these past few years. Halley had bothered to brush hers back, its length considerably more than it had been when they first met.
"Thanks. When did you learn to play?" She laughed at that, returning the small steel tube to its case near her feet.
"Hmm…about eight years ago. Paul and I got stuck in a refugee boat for four weeks waiting for pickup. The civilians on board about drove us nuts, but fortunately there was a band along with their gear on board. They taught us the ropes." She smiled, and studied him. "You know, you've got good hands for a guitar. I could teach you, if you like."
"I don't know."
"Have you ever seen a skill you can't master?" She walked to a locker and pulled out a beautiful, battered old acoustic guitar.
"Well, no…unless you count math. I've never been great with math."
"Well, then, even better. They say right-brained people are good with math, while left brained people excel with music. Look, it's easy. Just press your fingers here, these are the frets." She set the guitar in his lap, and pulled off his gauntlets before setting his fingers on the strings. His body temperature raised a few degrees, but he kept his face straight. "Gentle with the strings…and I know you can be gentle when you try." His ears started to burn a bit. "Now, this is the chord of 'C', and it's the basis of everything else..."
She walked him through the chords, and finger-picking, and for three hours they sat and laughed and made discordant music. As the sun was starting to set, her watch went off, and she frowned.
"I have to go, they're fitting us for our new MJOLNIR tonight. Apparently there is a surprise waiting for me." She stood up and cracked her back with a yawn. They met eyes for a moment, and she broke contact first, looking to the locker. "You can keep practicing if you like, just put the guitar away when you're done. Paul will kill me if it disappears." She put the flute case in the locker, and closed it most of the way. She glanced back, as if to say something, then snapped a salute. Without another word she left, and John strummed the strings softly, letting the instrument make a soft mournful sound.
It's over at Obsidan.
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