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Draconic's Fic, Chapter Six: Franchelle’s Third Symphony
Posted By: Kathryne Charles<Ishdakitty@gmail.com>
Date: 21 November 2005, 7:21 pm
Read/Post Comments
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Chapter Six: Franchelle's Third Symphony
It took three broken bones, eight contusions, one minor electrical burn and an outbreak of Rhienhelser's Flu to end the medical team of the Resplendent's tour of duty. Being reassigned to Obsidian's hospital was, for most army medics, a dream come true. For Jean Schaeffer it was plenty of overtime, lots of advancement opportunities, and most importantly, a place she could call home. She stepped off the tarmac and reveled at the massive Primary Housing District's welcome center along with her colleges. Whoever designed Obsidan's building structures has been an artistic genius. No expense had been spared. Unlike Reach, the UNSC's first major off-world military branch, Obsidan was also going to be home to thousands of refugees from around the galaxy. Its existence had been relatively unknown in the days before the Covenant first assaulted humankind; it sported an idealic environment but it was far to out of the way for most people to make their homes. Since the advances made in Slipspace Engineering, what had formerly been a several month trek in cold storage was now only a few short weeks.
The detours made during Jean's trip to Obsidan, first the discovery of stranded Spartans and later the covenant waylay, had added an extra few days onto the journey. Odds were, the other Naval vessel she was expecting had arrived first…
"MOMMY!" A child pealed across the welcome center's tiled floor at full tilt, and Jean fell to one knee and dropped her baggage, arms open wide. She swept the girl up in a hug, laughing and crying all at once.
"Oh, baby, baby…I've missed you!" Tears filled her eyes, but even through them she could see the blurry outline of her husband, waiting his turn.
"We've missed you too, sweetheart. Sara, show her what you made in school." The girl squirmed free and pulled her little purse out of her father's hands, rifling through the candy and pretend notes to pull out a button that she thrust into her mother's hands. It was a pressed flower, sealed behind plastic.
"It's called a 'daisy' and it's a kind a flower that grows on Earth. They grow all kinds of Earth flowers here that won't grow anywhere else! And there's a boy in my class named Davie and he let me have the prettiest flower 'cause I told him my mom was coming on a spaceship and since his mom is already here he said I should take it 'cause it's the specialest flower of the ones we could choose from." The child finally paused for breath and Jean laughed, hugging her and looking at the pin.
"Can I put it on?"
"Of course!" They both worked together to pin it to her lapel, and with a minimum of pricked fingers it sat gleaming over Jean's heart. She stood, letting go of her daughter's hand and hugging her husband at last, losing herself in the feel of his arms and the smell of his old leather coat. He sighed, tightening his arms, and his eyes looked suspiciously misty when they parted. They had decided to take their jobs, hers in the military medical field and his in construction, because it was the best way to provide a good life for their child. The months spent apart were horrible for all three of them, but then there were days like this. Sara grinned, hopping up and down and staring up expectantly. "Are you really for real going to live here with us from now on?"
Jean smiled at her daughter, feeling the dreary months spent in space melting away under the bright skylights of the welcome center. "Really for real."
"You're late." The technician's secretary waved Halley through the door, and the Head Tech himself looked about as happy as if he'd bit into a lemon. "Honestly, is it so much to ask for you Spartans to think of anyone other than yourselves?" Halley looked around the man's shoulder at the others in the room; Paul lifted his eyebrows, drew a few quick circles around his ear and pointed at the tech's back. She managed to suppress the smile as she walked over to him, taking a moment to examine his shoulder.
"Any loss of mobility?"
"Nope. The burns were mostly superficial. It'll be ugly for a while, but I'm used to that." He grinned. "I have to look at Nile's mug all the time."
The bigger Spartan cracked up, and the boom of his laughter sent the already edgy techs back a few meters. He was huge even before encased in green. "No kidding, man, I feel bad for the mirrors." He traced the deep groove that ran from his right eyebrow, across his nose, and down to curve under his chin on the left side of his face. His right eye was cloned, one of the first and most successful visual transplants the medical community had ever seen. The scar made an already rough appearance that much more intimidating, but far from being embarrassed by the mark, Nile was proud of it. He'd caught the tip of a plasma blade during an insertion op shortly after they had graduated. Thanks to his selflessness, Kaina-254 (the only Spartan field surgeon the program ever had) was still alive and keeping others that way.
"So what's the big 'surprise' I was promised?" Halley put a hand on her hip, removing it a moment later with a silent warning. A few of Cortana's gestures had bled over, and she was constantly correcting herself. She clasped her hands behind her back instead, and glanced to the separated back room.
"I don't know, they won't tell us. Although…" Aril started tapping her fingers rapid-fire on the counter, and Halley cocked an eyebrow. Morse code had been antiquated long before even the Spartan I's had been in service, but the second class of Spartan II's had learned it from Deja. It was occasionally a secret language for them, subtle enough to pass messages right in front of others.
They had tried the trick with Dr. Halsey once, but she had interrupted them with a quickly tapped, "I know Morse code too, Spartans." They had been sheepish, but she'd been proud. She'd even confessed later that they conversed so fast she'd been able to discern what they were doing, but not what they were saying. Only AIs ever managed to keep up. Aril tapped out, "I hacked their incoming files, we're talking serious encryption here. All I know is it's something designed by Dr. Halsey."
Halley tapped back, "Hopefully they'll can the suspense soon." She blinked in surprise as the holocrystals overhead warmed, and a woman dressed in Victorian garb materialized a few feet in front of her.
"Indeed, SPARTAN 292, we'll dispense with it immediately." The AI tossed her elaborately curled red hair, and began walking towards the back room, the area accommodating for the hologram's motions. "I am Sienna. I am one of ONI's attaches to Dr. Halsey's current research. I'm here today to test a prototype out on you, 292, if you are willing to participate." Halley nodded, curious, and trailed behind her, the other Spartans following suit. In the space beyond, a plexiglass mannequin stood in the center of the room, a scaled-down suit of MJOLNIR armor set on it. The armor was like nothing the Spartans had ever seen, and Halley walked up to touch it, running her fingers delicately over the rounded violet segments that were set at intervals about the armor.
"These look like the same material that the Covenant Banshees' anti-grav pods are made out of," Aril remarked. Nile's eyebrows shot up.
"Flying Spartans? Sounds like a circus act." He reached out to touch as well, narrowing his eyes. "Really smooth."
"Astute of you to recognize. Yes, Dr. Halsey has been helping design the human-compatible versions of Covenant technology, most recently successfully reproducing their flight systems." Sienna stood back, lifting a parasol to her shoulder. "Unfortunately, the system is far less effective when combined with MJOLNIR. For one thing, the power system is the same one that controls your shields, making them slightly less potent when the Levitation Drive is active. It also has a weight capacity, it caps out around two hundred kilograms." She spun the parasol lightly.
"I see." Halley stepped back, biting her lip. "I'm the only Spartan who weighs less then that fully suited up."
"There is another reason, too. The onboard computer system that metes out power distribution is highly complex. The human brain, even an augmented one, can't handle that kind of information that fast. It would require the finite control of an AI…Or in your case, a psudo-AI." Halley shuddered.
"Is this thing is going to use all my processing speed?" She hated talking about her inhuman side in front of her team; she felt it distanced her from them. Aril gave her a comforting smile in response to her tone of voice; the Asian computer specialist understood better than most what it cost Halley to act human with a brain that ran at the speed of an artificial intelligence.
"Not all, not even close, but enough that it's more than humans can withstand. There will be thousands of variables a second to compensate for. Even while in flight, the suit is on a very limited timer before your shields start to suffer from the overdraw. On the upside, the fusion generator in the back is entirely redesigned, smaller with more yield than a traditional pack. It's the basis for the Mark Eight that the rest of your team will be utilizing in the near future." There was a little cheer from Nile and Paul at that.
"What do you call this, then?" The AI snickered.
"I doubt you'll get the joke, but it's been tagged the Mark Seven-Point-Five."
"I don't."
"Actually," Aril broke in, "A few hundred years ago, way before humans really got off Earth, they used to name upgraded programs by number, and small changes were designated by fractions of a number, such as 'point-five.' It's like they were afraid they were going to run out of numbers." She shook her head. "Silly."
Nile started chuckling, and when attention was turned to him, he held up his hands in mock defense. "I thought the joke was because it kept you from getting a tan." Aril blinked. "The Mark SPF?" Even she had to start laughing at that, although the AI still didn't seem to understand.
"SPARTAN 215 was correct."
"Yes, but Nile was funnier. When can I put it on?" Halley could only barely keep her curiosity in check.
"Now, if you like."
"Done." Halley stripped down, and Paul stepped up to help her don the suit, the techs watching surprised by the Spartan's self-sufficiency. Nile hissed as Halley's pale, naked form was revealed.
"Halley, baby, Sprite, what did they do to you?" His concern was reflected in his eyes, his shoulders going rigid. Halley glanced down to her ribs, at the deep red scars that crossed her from front to back. The marks were still in the process of healing. She smiled back at him.
"Don't worry, I'm not trying to out-do you. They'll be faded in no time. Not bad for a set of replaced organs and a couple of cracked ribs, though, eh?" His eyes lost a little of their worry, but he still had that guilty look, like he'd personally failed to protect her. Perhaps a side effect of his size, he looked at all the Spartans as his "little brothers and sisters." He was willing to take any hit to keep them from being hurt. Seeing something he couldn't have prevented galled him to no end.
Halley slipped on the MJOLNIR suit, Paul fastening the pieces she couldn't reach. Less than ten minutes later she stepped onto the shield activation pad, the other Spartans stepping a small ways back. Halley lifted her faceplate up to grin at them. "Nice to have a helmet again."
"Try not to blow this one up," Paul cheerfully shot back. She gestured, and he laughed. "Same to you. In seventy-five degrees Celsius with a Hunter and a tube of toothpaste." Halley laughed hysterically, and snapped her faceplate back down.
"Please, 292, do hold still. This will only take a moment." The bars of light began to pivot about her rapidly, and a smell of burned ozone filled the air. The suit crackled and hummed, and the violet pods began to glow for a moment before fading away as the shields recharged. Halley took a deep breath, and something loud, hard, and fast slammed into the back of her scull, nearly knocking her out. Force of will alone kept her on her feet, and then a hundred voices screamed at her for attention. She did the only thing she could, and started partitioning her mind, sorting each voice out. She finally reached the last one, and it was coming from outside her head, not in it.
"Shit…Hal? Can you hear me?" She was looking up at Paul, who looked really worried, and people were shouting in the background.
"Yes…now. Ouch. Sienna, why didn't you warn me about that?" She sat up, and across the room Nile put a very pale Head Technician down.
The AI looked quite flustered. "We didn't know! I told you it was a prototype. No one else could possibly control it." Halley groaned, and stood up.
"Well, for the record, it hurts. And it's loud. And now I feel almost as crowded as I did when Cortana was in here." She shook her head. "Alright, I paid the price, time for the reward. I need a little space." She put a hand on Paul's arm, softening her tone. "Really, I'm okay. It just took me by surprise." He pulled back to a good distance, still looking concerned. She sighed, and started focusing on the suit. Once again the violet anti-grav pods lit up, only this time it was a sustained glow. She lifted onto her tiptoes, and curled one leg up, balanced on the ball of her left foot. She put her hands out for balance, and gave a tiny push against the floor. She levitated a silent, violet trailed half-meter up before the pods flared again, and she halted mid-air.
"Okay, flooring my teammate aside, that is the coolest suit ever." Paul grinned against his will. Halley had to agree, as she curled her limbs in and rotated smoothly head over feet, again halting with a small flare of the pods.
"Not subtle in a dark environment, but well, well worth it." At about the ten second mark her shield bar began to drain in the corner of her HUD, and she cut power to the pods. They faded back to normal and she landed easily on her feet. "Not terribly long, but am I right in saying I could push it longer if I dump the shield recharge?" Sienna nodded.
"It would leave you exposed."
"Obviously. But sometimes it's worth it. So can I keep this one?" Sienna rolled her eyes, and twirled her parasol again.
"Well, I don't see Dr. Halsey demanding it back any time soon. Although you do need to take it off for a little while. Admiral Warwick has a mission of sorts for the Spartans."
"Well, I'm ready to get back in the field." Paul cracked his fingers.
"I'm not sure if I should be informing you of this, but it's a diplomatic mission, rather than combat."
Halley lifted the helmet off, shaking out her lengthening white locks. "They need Spartans for a non-combat situation? What kind of diplomatic situation needs us?"
"Actually," Sienna said with one last twist of the parasol, "It's a party."
"A party?" John lifted both eyebrows in surprise, as Cortana hid her glee behind her hand.
"I am not making this up." She gave her voice a lofty edge. "Vice Admiral James Warwick is married to one Senator Felicity Warwick, who is throwing a gala," she started laughing again, "on the third night of December, to which all the Spartans are invited. And it gets better, the Admiral respectfully requests that you consider the invitation mandatory and in your best interests to attend." She couldn't hold her mirth in anymore, and sat on the mahogany desk in the Spartan's library.
"In our best interest?" He frowned. "Is that a threat?"
"No, no, no, he's actually being serious. His wife recently published an article for ONI eyes only…"
"Which I'm sure you intercepted."
"…which suggests that in our current state of control in the war, people are going to start looking to how we've won what we've won, a little more closely. Specifically: questions regarding the Spartan II program. It's no secret that you single-handedly diffused the Halo situation."
"Single-handedly? That's a massive exaggeration." He frowned at Cortana, eyebrows drawn together, and she rolled her eyes.
"I know, I was there. But that's not how it looks. Dr. Halsey will be crucified if the truth behind the Spartans ever comes to light, and enough people were in on the secret that it does bare considering. No matter how much the Spartans did for humanity, humanity will always find something about you that is different. The senator needs to humanize you in the eyes of the media, and the public. People, ordinary civilians and military personnel, have died as a direct result of the Spartans." Her tone softened, and she looked away. "Children."
John bristled at that. "None of us regret the life we lead. Dr. Halsey gave us purpose. She made us stronger."
Cortana shook her head. "That's not how they'll see it. They'll call you brainwashed. Conditioned to speak highly of the 'monster' Dr. Halsey was." She jumped in surprise as the Chief took a step towards her, eyes flaring with rage.
"Don't you ever call her that again." Cortana looked genuinely nervous, and he flared his nostrils and turned his gaze away. "She did what she had to." He clenched his jaw, the veins in his forehead pulsing with suppressed anger. Cortana bit her lip, and tilted her head apologetically. He caught sight of her face and sighed, tossing his gaze to the ceiling. "I'm sorry. Don't look at me like that." He shrugged. "I hate hormones." He started towards the doorway, and Cortana leaned forward.
"Should I RSVP for you?"
He replied without looking back. "Tell the Admiral's wife that my team and I will be there." The door slid shut behind him, and Cortana hung her head a moment before letting the holocrystals cool down. She knew the real reason the Chief wanted that expression off her face. It wasn't one of hers.
It was one of Halley's.
The vista where the party was being held was a beautiful wintry scene. The mountain range fifty miles north of Obsidan's PHD had been home to hopeful entrepreneurs looking to design a perfect tourist attraction a generation ago. The long travel time had rendered their plans ultimately futile, but the hotel resort had been resurrected when Obsidan came into the UNSC's possession. Unlike the PHD's location, which was in the middle of its summer season during December, the mountain range was awash with natural snow. Children who had never seen snow before were running about, screaming gleefully, and as John walked towards the entranceway of the resort, he wondered if he'd ever really been that young. Glancing over his shoulder, he did a double take as Will leaned his head back and caught a snowflake on his tongue with a grin. It was quickly replaced with a scowl as he realized he was being watched.
"What?" The Chief had to acknowledge the brightening of Will's mood was a balm to his own abraded memories, to see him reclaim any of that easy-going demeanor from his youth was a blessing. Of course, he couldn't tell Will that.
"If Fred is acting like he's sixteen, you acting like you're six."
"Shut up!"
"Oh right, that proves me wrong." He rolled his eyes and walked through the doorway as Linda and Kelly started laughing, the latter certainly more enthused. In the six weeks since the invitation to this soiree came, the last member of his immediate team had finally caught up with them again. She and Linda had been talking constantly, finally giving John the impression that even the girls had been altered by the breakdown of the implant. Of course, they had also been arguing over the most inane topics. Living in the Spartan complex was an experience like nothing he'd ever envisioned. Being side by side with the second-class Spartans was more comfortable by the day, and he had a feeling that they were developing a cohesion that would be fantastic on the battlefield.
The only downside to their living quarters was five-foot-eight and unavoidable. She played off their decision smoothly, never giving active attention to her feelings. He might even have believed she'd gotten over them, if not for the occasional wistful glances and awkward moments alone. He'd actually dented the metal countertop in the kitchen a week ago when she walked past close enough to brush against him. His hand had clenched down so hard on the table it had left grooves in it and bruises on his fingers. She'd left the quarters soon after, moving into the PHD's engineering district for a few days to help Aril with the shielding system. He couldn't have fathomed he'd miss her presence.
"Uh, Chief? You alright?" Kelly put a hand on his shoulder, and he glanced down, startled. "Okay, just making sure you're still with us. We're in rooms forty-four through forty-six." He blinked in surprise, he'd actually been distracted enough that he'd missed them checking in. He was really getting careless.
"I'm fine, I was just thinking." He led his team down the first hallway, and pushed open the door to room forty-four. There was a terrible cacophony of noise and shouting, and he poked his head in carefully, expecting to see a fight. Instead, Nile, Micha, and Paul were playing some sort of bizarre game on the room's massive vid screen, and by the sound of it going crazy in the process.
"Stop looking at my damn screen!" Nile growled at Micha, who muttered unintelligibly back. Paul sighed, and paused the game with some hand-held controller.
"Stop bitching about who's watching which screen. Next person who does is sleeping on the balcony. Without blankets."
"What are you playing?" Will looked in with interest, and Fred grinned as well.
"I'm not really sure, it's some old vid game Nile found in storage. It's kinda fun though. At least it is," he drew in a large breath, "When Nile stops bitching!" Nile gestured back. "Same to you with my controller up your ass. Vibration set to 'frenzy.'" Nile's eyebrows danced.
"Just when you think you've heard them all…Hey, we have room for one more."
"Dibs." Fred and Kelly spoke almost in unison. Kelly barely beat him out. "Oh come on!" She was always faster.
"Alright, have a seat, we'll walk you through it. First person who loses sits out to let someone else in." Nile stood, and moved to another chair, opening up enough space for Linda and Kelly to share. Will and Fred were stuck with the floor, and John opted to stay standing.
He cleared his throat and glanced to the closest thing the second generation Spartans had for a leader. "Do you have any details on when the function starts?" Paul glanced up from a chocolate bar he was opening and nodded.
"We're supposed to start showing up around nineteen-hundred hours. Anything within two hours after that is acceptable." He held up another bar. "You want one?"
"No, thank you." He looked back a bit puzzled. "Where did you get those?"
"There's a whole refrigerator full of them, with these teeny tiny bottles of alcohol in there too." He grinned. "Alcohol, not just for cleaning battle wounds anymore!" Nile laughed so hard he dropped his controller. Kelly, having caught on to the system fast, took the opportunity to strike.
"Seeing as how you're a girl, I'll forgive that this once." Nile tried to scowl, but couldn't quite manage. John cleared his throat.
"Exactly how many of these 'teeny tiny' bottles of alcohol have you already opened?"
Paul glanced at the trash bag set up nearby. "About half."
"Oh." He frowned. Every inch of him screamed that this was wrong, Spartans should never, ever behave like this. The fact that their "mission" was to attend a party was the most ludicrous thing he'd ever heard. That they were technically on leave, and free to be as civilian-like as they had ever wanted, didn't help his state of mind any. The worst part was, they looked so happy. Will made good-natured wisecracks, Linda quietly pointed out weaknesses in peoples defenses to Kelly, Kelly made the most of the advice and romped and stomped through the game like she'd been playing all her life, and Fred was perched on the edge of his seat, anxiously waiting his turn. If he'd had a knife on hand, he'd have been spinning it.
We're in the middle of the mountains, far away from any Covenant location, utterly unprepared for an attack and acting like a group of civilians. I can't order my team to be ready, because we're off duty. Not to mention they wouldn't be happy anymore. My team deserves some happiness. He snorted. And now I'm talking to myself. Yes John. You've gone insane. He started towards the balcony, and Kelly glanced up. He hadn't seen a smile like that since…since they were children.
"You know, John, you can join us." She laughed as the controller in her hands buzzed, denoting someone taking advantage of the distraction. She otherwise ignored it. "You can lead us, and still have a good time with us too."
Mendez would have understood. "No. I can't." He walked out onto the balcony, closing the door behind him, and lowered his head into his hands. He'd hurt her feelings. He knew that without looking back. This whole damn thing was just too complicated.
The quickly sobered up younger Spartans headed off to the gala early, giving their elders a little time alone with the addictive vid game. Getting ready was simple, they had already opted to go in their dress uniforms. Medals of honor of every kind were arranged on their chests, John's collection the most impressive of all. He had to leave several purple hearts off to make room. Mendez would have been proud. His team started to look nervous as they marched down the hall towards the conference room. Playing "civilians" in the privacy of their room was one thing, being surrounded by them in a social setting was something else entirely.
Kelly walked a little faster to get along side him, and talked softly as they approached the elevators. "John, I know this it hard on you. Just, try to think of it as a mission, or better yet, a challenge. We've conquered everything else, now we have to conquer fitting in. It's stupid, but necessary if we're going to have lives after the war." She squeezed his shoulder, and they got on the elevators headed up. John was quiet the whole ride, thinking, and when they reached the tenth floor he hung back a little, gesturing for her to stay. Kelly was his oldest friend next to Sam. Only with her could he ever be truly honest about this.
"I don't know if I'm up for this one, Kelly." He looked at the backs of his Spartans as they walked towards the far end of the hall, and shook his head. "I think the war is my life." She smiled sadly, and adjusted his suit jacket, straightening an already straight campaign medal.
"You can do this John. You always win." She leaned up and kissed his cheek, an insanely intimate gesture for a Spartan, and he finally cracked a fond little smile in return.
"Maybe. But I think it will take a miracle to pass me off as human." He stepped up to the door at the end of the hall, and put his most neutral look on his face. The crowd was enormous, classical music filled the air, and the smell of food and perfume fought for dominance. It was fascinating and horrifying all at the same time. No one greeted the Spartans overtly as they filed through the doorway, unconsciously making a visual sweep of the perimeter and giving quick hand gestures of "all clear," not that they actually expected to run into Covenant here. John glanced up to survey the ceiling, and when he brought his eyes back down, a miracle stepped out of a crowd that parted like silk under a razor in her wake. Thought fled his mind with the same sort of burst a plasma grenade might cause.
"Glad you made it." Halley smiled warmly, and all five Spartans stared in disbelief at her outfit. A deep navy blue dress hung from her hips in cascade of velvet; black ermine lined a slender waist and all the garment's trims. A fall of starry silver specks clung like snowflakes to the bottom of the velvet, lessening as they rose till only a few were visible about her waist and none at all on her torso. Black gloves lined her hands up to her elbows, and seeing their expression she glanced down at the finery with a little frown. John blinked the stars out of his eyes.
"Halley, you look…" He froze, at a loss for words. Will looked at his face, frowned, tapped Fred's shoulder and whispered something. Fred glanced over, raised an eyebrow, and nodded.
"Yeah, I'd definitely say he's 'stunned.'" Will nodded back, tapped the Chief on the shoulder, and whispered in his ear.
"The word you're looking for is 'stunning.'"
"Stunning." It was pure reflex, as he trusted his teammate just as much in this situation as any other. It seemed to be the right choice of words, as Halley blushed in response, from her cheeks right down to the rather low ermine neckline. She muttered something, and he blinked again. "What?"
"I said…I lost a bet. To Aril." She sighed, the faint touch of makeup accenting her natural beauty without covering it up. Her hair had even been elaborately curled and pinned, with some sort of silvery spray holding the usually chaotic strands in perfect harmony. "She set me up, I think, but I still agreed to it. She even," Halley said, rolling her eyes, "pierced my ears. Today I take it all back, I am a damn porcelain doll." She bit her lip, and blinked up through eyes that (heaven help me) were darkened with mascara. John crawled his way out of the fog he'd been suffused with, and managed a smile.
"No porcelain doll I ever heard of could survive a fifteen meter drop off a cliff." That seemed to be exactly what she needed to hear, and she grinned back pertly.
"Okay, enough fuss over this stupid dress. We're over at table three." She started back through the crowd, grabbing a Champaign glass off a passing tray. "There's more food then you could imagine, and I think Nile's trying to eat it all. That terrible Felichity woman is around somewhere, trying to make us act more 'human' and getting us to 'be relaxed.' I'd rather be in the middle of a covenant camp then here." She downed half the Champaign in one solid gulp, and John raised a brow. "At least then I'd be allowed to hit things." She offered him the rest of the glass, and he stared at it like it was a rather large insect that just crawled onto his hand. "John, we're not Spartans today. We're whatever we want to be today." She didn't say it aloud, but her eyes finished the thought.
"I don't have to pretend I don't love you today."
He felt heat rise to his face, and downed the glass she offered as effortlessly as she had. She smiled and took it back, slipping the empty glass subtly back onto another of the passing trays going around. "Come on, another member of my team is here. You'll like Tom, he's almost as stuffy as you."
"I'm not 'stuffy.'" She rolled her eyes and led him to table three.
"Yeah, and hunters smell like roses."
Linda and Fred hung back, watching the exchange between the two squad leaders. She looked at him with interest glowing in her dark green eyes. "Have you noticed how his veneer of impassiveness seems to vanish the moment she's around?"
"You kidding? All his sense goes up in smoke too." He grinned. "I knew about it weeks ago." He enjoyed her look of confusion for a moment. "The day on the tarmac, when John first got here? He corrected me when I called her 'legs.'"
"Right…?"
"It's all in the tone of voice. It's like if I said to you…your favorite rifle is the SCR nine something." She bristled.
"It's an SRS99C…" She blinked. "Oh. I see what you mean."
"Yeah. I recognized that tone of voice. It's a guy thing."
"A guy…what the hell is a guy thing?" He grinned, dancing out of punching range. "I'll give you a guy thing…" She froze as she remembered they were in the midst of a crowd, and although they were off to the side and not being paid attention to, it was a sobering realization. They headed to table three quietly, feeling much more at home surrounded by their own kind.
The peace lasted only another half hour before a woman in her late-fifties dared to break form and approach their table. She had the look of a woman who had been absolutely beautiful in her day, but the beauty was faded and lessened by the obviously fake smile she greeted them all with.
"Hello, everyone, I'm Senator Warwick. I'm so thrilled that you came to my gala. Tell me, are you having a good time?" A general murmur of assent turned her already false smile even dryer. John cleared his throat.
"We're having a wonderful time, Ma'am." She seemed genuinely surprised at that, and a little respect glowed in her shrewd eyes.
"Well, good, good. Although I do wish you would spread out a bit more. You've essentially cut yourself off from the crowd." She turned an eye to Halley, who scowled back at her. "I know we haven't always seen eye to eye, dear, but really, this is a good thing for your people. They just need to mingle a little." Halley's frown deepened, and the woman dropped her pretences with a sigh. "Give me one good media shot and I'll leave you alone the rest of the night. I know you don't see it that way, but I'm really trying to help." There was just enough honesty in her voice to crack the shell.
"Fine. One." The politician smiled again and whisked away. "Wretched woman." John touched Halley's shoulder so lightly it's a wonder she felt it at all. She looked back all the same.
"Why do you hate her so much?" Halley shook her head.
"I'll tell you someday. And it's not pleasant." She glanced around, and as the orchestra struck up another tune, she tilted her head. "Francehelles's Third Symphony? I know this one." John couldn't help but smile.
"Dr. Halsey had a recording of this…" he started, and she nodded.
"…in her office, and it had a vid of professionals…"
"…doing a waltz to it." He shook his head at the nostalgia. "Did you ever see…"
"…her dancing along with it? Yeah. Fond memory, that one." Halley glanced at the dance floor, and bit her lip. She took John's hand, greatly daring, and stared up at him, a question in her eyes. "Someone once told me Spartans are like regular people, only better. Care to help me prove that statement true?" He stared back down, pulse picking up, and he looked across to the people dancing. The steps were simple. The timing was effortless. Nothing, not the UNSC, not the Covenant, not all the politicians in the world could have asked him to go out on that dance floor. He'd have laughed at them. As he gazed down into Halley's eyes, that same request was there. And for the first time in his life he realized something other than duty could cause him to put aside pride and the mantle of leadership. Something else mattered.
There would be life after the war. And he was going to be part of it.
The steps were easy. Being at the center of so much attention, however, was difficult. They walked onto the dance floor and moved effortlessly to the music, eyes never breaking contact. Tiny steps from a long forgotten vid were pulled out of memory and used, the fear of physical contact and the dangerous doors it opened discarded. They never even noticed the crowd of dancers pulling away to make room. The "oohs" and "ahhs" were ignored. Her body moved like an extension of his, and he realized with an almost electric shock that he was actually enjoying himself. It was by far the strangest moment of his life.
Dr. Halsey had arrived late and intended to leave early. She sighed to herself as Francehelle's Symphony started playing as per her request, and busied herself avoiding people she didn't want to talk to and typing on a data pad. A hand caught her shoulder and she turned around, scowling back at Felicity Warwick's false smile. The woman's connections to COMET had always disturbed her, and the scientist-turned-politician act never altered that fact. That deep down her own guilt over SPARTAN had caused Dr. Halsey to judge the woman harshly had occurred to her, but that hadn't changed her opinions any.
"Yes, Felicity?" She dropped the honorific intentionally; it was part of the tête-à-tête the women played in social company.
"Your Spartans are dancing. I just thought you'd want to know, Catherine." Dr. Halsey blinked in surprise, and moved to a clear place in the room, her jaw falling open. It was John and Halley of all people, moving like dancers who'd been studying their entire lives. John had a genuine hint of a smile on his face, and Halley…was in a dress.
"Did…I not actually wake up today?" She looked to Felicity, truly puzzled.
"After the Master Chief's exposure to the Spartans in Diphen, I saw no need to keep the ruse up anymore. After all, the Complex in the Primary Housing District dedicated to them was dedicated to all of them." Halsey shook her head.
"But...why dancing?"
"Halley agreed to give me a good picture I could paint for the media in exchange for me leaving the Spartans alone the rest of the night. I assume she chose the Master Chief because he's the most well known of them. Or maybe it because he cuts such a fine figure on the dance floor." She smiled appreciatively at the handsome, dark haired man; his chiseled features and mournful eyes had already gotten several of Felicity's collogues asking her if he was seeing anyone. She'd barely managed to keep from laughing when asked.
"Genetics." Halsey narrowed her eyes. It was only irony that the child of her DNA would be the one to follow through on the attraction John exuded. She didn't believe it was an act for the cameras in the least. I wonder how Cortana's handling it. The AI had been rather curt with her since she'd been left behind when Dr. Halsey had vanished with Kelly. If Halsey didn't know better, she'd have guessed the AI was suffering from abandonment issues. "I need to leave. I have too much work to get done."
"Catherine…" Felicity's voice dropped its usual bite. "Shouldn't you let them know you're here?"
"No. My Spartans are grown up, Felicity." She turned, and edged out of the room, taking one last look at the dancers. It had been worth it to see them.
"And I'm serious, she even got the staff in on it." Halley sat at the Spartan's table, explaining the bet she'd lost earlier in the day. John was trying not to laugh, and Aril wasn't even bothering anymore. "They stuck me in room 117, I'm not kidding, she handpicked it…" Aril giggled, nodding.
"It's funnier that way. I had to pick a number that would get that reaction. Yup, that's the one." She giggled again, and sipped her drink.
"Oh, hilarious. Could you have picked anything gaudier for me to be stuck wearing?" Aril explained the dress to Halley, and the Chief glanced around the table, amazed at the change a brief hour made. Tom and Francine discussed sniper rifles with Linda, and by the sounds of things the women were in accordance, as they systematically ripped the serious, dark skinned Spartan's argument to pieces between them. Fred and Kelly discussed the idea of going skiing in the morning, with a general negative response from Micha due to the amount of drinking being done. Paul joined them a moment later, and it took a meager two shots of something green the bartender was calling "The Spartan Bomb" to get the Russian on board. Nile listened half-heartedly to the various topics going around, unwilling to settle on just one. He and Will passed jokes back and forth, usually to the detriment of the other conversations.
"Chief, that you?" John looked up quickly, smiling as he stood.
"Sergeant Johnson." The sergeant grinned, chewing on the end of a cigar that had seen better days.
"Well, hell, Master Chief, I didn't recognize you with that thing on your face! That a smile, son?" He laughed, and straightened his tux. "How'd they get you people in here, anyway? I've never walked up to a Spartan without having a gun pointed at me!"
Halley smiled, and tapped her left leg, to the small bulge located on the inside of her thigh near her knee. John remembered the incident aboard the Resplendent. The woman took always being armed very seriously. "Technically, you still haven't."
"Whoa boy," he said with a little irreverent salute to the Chief, "you never told me Spartans come in 'pretty.' And you are?"
"Halley." He raised his eyebrows. "No need to bother with rank tonight. Its just Halley."
"I like your style, girl. Avery Johnson, call me A.J." John rolled his eyes. "I told you before, son. I know what the ladies like. Down to business, there's an after party going on in the bar downstairs after all the bigwigs go to bed. Spartans are definitely invited. I'm calling it, 'A. J. Johnson's After-Party Party.'" He gestured an imaginary billboard in the air, and John chuckled. "Hope to see you there, Chief. It'll cut down on the friction, if you know what I mean." He winked at Halley, and swaggered off. She grinned.
"He seems fun."
"He's a friend." The Chief sat back down, sipped water and looked at the thinning crowd. "He has a point, though, things here are dying out."
"Yeah, no kidding. Security already shut the nonessential cameras down." When he tilted his head questioningly, she tapped the back of her head. "Wetwired, remember?"
"And you just monitor computer systems constantly?"
"I have to find something for the rest of my brain to do. It's only rare occasions that I'm totally focused. It's why I like combat so much." She shrugged. "I'm done here. Did my time, now the dress must die." She touched his face lightly, eyes locking with his. Good night, Master Chief." She said her other farewells and left. Not long after, the remaining Spartans made similar decisions. John and Fred got as far as the elevator, before the Chief grumbled in irritation, looking at his chest.
"I lost a pin." He looked at the floor, and shook his head. "I'll join you in a bit, I want to make sure it's not still in there." He walked back to the conference room as the elevator doors closed, and as soon as they shut he detoured into the fire escape. He descended the stairs quickly, re-entering the hotel on the one hundreds floor. He walked to room One Seventeen, and ran his fingers over the brail under the engraved numbers. The door opened, and he took a deep breath. "I'm looking for a thief."
The door opened more, and he entered the room. The door clicked shut behind him.
"Your turn."
"Alright. This one." Halley sat near the edge of the bed, knees drawn up and her hair once more a messy cloud. She reached out and traced a scar on John's chest that started over his right collarbone and arched down until it reached his ribs. He leaned back against the pillows propped on the headboard and considered for a moment.
"Picture the inside of the chest piece of a Mark four." She chewed her lip in thought, then sat up further, eyes widening.
"Oh, right, there was a seam right about there!" He nodded.
"It was about six years ago, I think. Pre-shielding. It was your typical 'repel the ground forces' operation, but Linda took a Banshee pilot out towards the end, and the thing landed on me." Halley covered her mouth with one hand to hide the smile. "Never even saw it coming. Linda apologized for weeks. It cracked my armor, and we had to jog six kilometers back to the LZ. The split just kept sawing into my chest the whole time. Superficial but messy." He smiled. "My turn, I think… I've been wondering about this one for a while." He reached across to touch the small depression two inches above her right breast. "If I'm not mistaken there's a matching one on your back, under the shoulder blade."
"Good memory you've got there. Yeah, impaled by a ghost's fusion piston." He cringed a little at that. "First time I ever saw a ghost. I'm running recon with Paul, and this thing flies up at us out of nowhere. All I have on hand is a pistol, so I open fire, and wouldn't you know, million to one shot I hit the battery pack. Boom. The Elite flies over my head, and I shoot him about six times before he even hits the ground. Splick."
"Is 'splick' even a real word?" He grinned, deflecting the halfhearted punch and pinning her hand to the bed.
"You're ruining the story." She mock-scowled and continued, not bothering to free her hand. "So he goes splick and I'm looking at him, my back to the ghost."
"Oh no."
"Oh yes. I told you, I never saw one before. The fusion reactor blows up behind me, and another million to one shot, the piston shoots right through the back of my shoulder and out the front. Lodged at the grooved end." John winced again. Spartans underwent a lot of pain, but being impaled was one of the all time worst. He knew from personal experience. "Paul drags me back to camp, and I'm mostly delirious from the concussion, babbling about one of Deja's assignments. Halfway there I remember where we are; only I think the Elite has me. Paul had bruises for a solid week." John laughed, leaning back again. "My turn." She leaned across, her face hovering close to his, and she gently touched the scar on his chin.
"Boring story. First day we trained with serrated blades. They needed us to realize the difference between a sharp blade and a dull one." He considered kissing her while she was so close, but instead pushed her back, grabbing for her feet in the confusion. She giggled and struggled, but between his greater size and strength he prevailed, grabbing a hold of her foot. "This one." He tapped the sole of her foot, and she screamed, kicking for freedom and failing.
"No nonono…I'm ticklish, let go." She giggled and slapped at his shoulder. When it didn't budge him she gave up and settled for a position leaning against his chest. "Okay, but if you tickle me, I will hit hard. It's actually got a good story, and it has a saying, too. If you took the shoes off my whole team, you'd find out that Micha, Paul, Kaina and Chris all have the exact same scars." She gestured to the long faded burn scars that climbed as high as her ankles. "Ever hear of Thesis?"
"In a doctoral sense, yes. As a system, no." He amused himself as he listened, the fingers of his right hand tugging at her hair, removing the last few clips that had survived their earlier encounter.
"Okay. Well, it was mostly a resort world. Huge lava fields fed into an ocean that was perpetually seventy degrees Fahrenheit. Beautiful, tropical world. It got glassed in 2547. My team and I got sent down there to get people evacuated, but our pelican took a hit fifty kilometers out from our LZ. Pilot died instantly. We got dropped in the middle of a lava field." John's mouth fell open. "Granted, it was mostly solid, but insanely scorching. We had to hotfoot it to the LZ, pun intended. We took off all the top sections of our armor, sacrificed it for survival. The air-conditioning units failed in a matter of minutes. Longest run of my life, and Kaina went down two kilometers away from out destination. I was the only one close enough at the time, so I picked her up and carried her the rest of the way. She's the most incredible surgeon you've ever seen, but she never could take as much damage as we could. So now, no matter how bad things get, it's still better that 'a hot drop into hell' because we've actually been there. Took thirteen weeks for the skin to regrow." She smiled as John tossed another hairclip onto the floor.
"That must have been excruciating."
"It was. Fortunately, the UNSC made enough advances in nerve graphing that we still have feeling in our feet."
The UNSC. It would always come back to that. John sighed, and closed his eyes. "You realize we could be Court Marshaled for this?" She sat up and waited for his eyes to open. She met his gaze with a very serious expression.
"There aren't a lot of things in this universe worth that. You are." She shook her head. "One way or another, this is going to end badly. Even if the UNSC never catches on or cares, statistically one of us is going to die in combat. No happy ending."
"I know. That's why I wanted to take this chance." He touched her face, fingertips brushing over her skin so gently it could almost be mistaken for a breeze. "If they bring me word you've been killed in action, I don't want my next thought to be that I wasted what little time we had." She nodded in agreement.
"Great minds think alike."
"Halley." He took a breath, but she pressed her finger to his lips.
"Don't say it. Our luck is going to be touch and go as it is. No need to jinx something so ready to jinx itself." She smiled, so sadly, and tears were visible in her eyes.
"Superstitious twit." He grinned as she laughed in outrage.
"Who taught you that one?"
"Zephyr." She got up and balled a fist.
"That man is so dead." John raised an eyebrow and looked her over, lips twitching.
"Dressed like that?" She glanced down, growled and leapt back on the bed.
"Fine, you can die first for all I care!" He stopped her assault with a kiss, and in moments, Zephyr, tragedy, and even the UNSC was forgotten.
There was going to be life after the war. And he was going to be part of it.
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