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Draconic's Fic, Chapter Seven: Impressions In The Cameo
Posted By: Kathryne Charles<Ishdakitty@gmail.com>
Date: 27 November 2005, 8:54 pm
Read/Post Comments
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Chapter Seven: Impressions In The Cameo
Warrant Officer Jhonan Dark sat quietly surrounded by his namesake, trying to banish a case of the pre-battle jitters. He grabbed his knees to stop his hands from shaking, and pulled his knees to his chest to stop them from shaking too. Curled into a little ball, he sighed and let his mind wander. He'd made a potentially fatal mistake. Danielle, beautiful red hair, dancing brown eyes; it was a wonder she'd given him the time of day. Their relationship had been brief out of necessity, but last night Jhonan had gotten trashed with the other members of his squad and let himself be talked into sending her a mail-vid.
"Stupid….stupid…" It wasn't that he minded inebriation giving his feeling liberation, but it was bad luck to talk of the future before battle. As a pilot, luck was everything. He ran his fingers over the cameo around his neck; the last thing his mother had given him before she died. It was an heirloom, but not one he ever intended to sell. It was his good luck charm. The woman's profile had caused several other pilots to poke fun at him at first, but a few broken teeth later people gave the charm it's due respect. He hoped it had enough luck left for this battle.
"Birds in the air, I repeat, we have birds in the air," the commander blasted in over the com, and Jhonan felt the jitters vanish in a rush of adrenaline. Live or die, this was the life he loved. He dropped his feet to the floor and ran his fingers over the warm-up sequence, not needing any light. The low-setting illumination on his cockpit kicked in, and as he looked left and right, he could see the other faint lights of his squad mates following suit. Two Longswords to his left he could see Ken climbing into his ship, and he opened his squad's personal com frequency.
"Thought you were gonna miss the party, RedHawk."
"Just my luck, they call the birdie when I'm in the john. Good day to die, DarkFire?"
"Any day in a Longsword is a good day to die."
"Do you have to say that every time?" Jen had a remarkably low, sensual voice for a woman not quite five feet tall.
"But of course, StarBaby, you can't knock tradition."
Their squad leader, TinAngel, jumped on the com. "Can it, Blue Team. We're out next."
"Sir, yes, Sir!" they chorused back.
"Tightass." Jhonan was willing to take the heat for it, someone had to keep their commander from getting too full of himself. He started the pre-burn, more of the launch bay becoming visible as the Longsword's engines began to heat up. He grinned, and rubbed his cameo one more time before tucking it into his flight suit.
"TinAngel, Launch." There was a flash of blue as the squad leader's Longsword left the bay.
"Camelot, Launch."
"StarBaby, Launch."
"SpaceDrummer, Launch." Jhonan took a deep breath, unable to help the grin that spread over his face. The engines were showing green across the board, and the manual control leavers fit snugly in his hands. All the information on the battle already in progress scrolled over his HUD, and he squeezed the acceleration handle and pushed forward.
"DarkFire, Launch." The gees shoved him into his seat, and he let out a gleeful whoop.
This was the only kind of life worth living.
Tehgli of the Unggoy was enjoying his new status in life. After being taken onboard the Heretical Redemption he had been plied with food, drink, comfort, and a never-ending stream of propaganda. After being brainwashed for most of his life by the Prophets, going willingly into a belief was a nice change. The Heretic Leader, Urza Hostominee, did not claim to bring word from great and powerful gods. He instead told his followers about science, and the history of the universe as he had studied on an outskirt colony. His impressive size and brutal nature were worn like a respectable cloak over a brilliant mind and a passionate belief. Tehgli was surprised to learn he liked the leader, and followed more out of respect than fear.
The pair of Sangheili that walked off the small Covenant dropship was an eye-catching sight, one for his fame and the other for a twist of fate. Tehgli had agreed to stand guard when they came aboard in order to report back to his brood mates; everyone wanted to know what He looked like in person. He was the last living Arbiter of this age.
His armor was beautifully detailed; silver etchings covered every inch, and what might have seemed a gaudy display on any other was an awing sight on him. His companion trailed close at his heals, her pale blue coloring and the faint start of iridescent lines on her skin a testament to her youth and nobility. By the time she was old enough to choose a mate, those lines would be full-blown rainbow patterns, and she would stand a head above any male Sangheili. For now she was still shorter than the Arbiter, the size difference only adding to the feeling of mythos he was shrouded in.
A Sangheili warrior stopped the two Elites in their tracks, snarling at the trailing female. "You would bring a female before the Teacher? And a child, no less?" The Arbiter crossed his arms and leaned back, impassive. With quite the opposite reaction, the female leaned forward, her mandibles clenching in agitation.
"You question my honor?"
The Sangheili scoffed, ignoring her and addressing the Arbiter. "The Teacher requests your presence alone." He narrowed his eyes. "Females have no honor."
The Arbiter dropped his lower jaws in what passed for a Sangheili smile, and glanced back to the figure behind him. She dropped her hands to her hips, and with a snap, activated a pair of plasma swords. Tehgli and the other Unggoy stared in shock, and the few Elites present murmured in astonishment. To carry one plasma blade was a high honor, wielding two was unheard of. She darted in, lifting one leg to kick the offending Elite's knees apart, dropping him to the deck. In the same move she crossed the blades, white sparks leaping from the junction, and she pressed it against her enemy's neck. She dropped her lower jaws and hissed.
"I could behead you like this. It wouldn't be pleasant." He swallowed, hard. "Never say females are without honor, for you are like to die without it for such an insult." She snapped her teeth at him, causing him to jump, and stepped back, deactivating the blades and clipping them back on her hips. Without another word she walked towards the doorway. The Arbiter looked down at the defeated Elite and shook his head.
"You should see what she does when someone insults mine." He followed to the doorway, plainly amused by the entire power play.
Tehgli glanced to an Unggoy at his right, bouncing on his toes in excitement. "Did you see that? I didn't know Sangheili even have females!"
"At least not ones that leave their home world. I wonder what all those extra colors on her skin are for?" Meknet scratched his jaw around his mask. "Seems a bit much to me. But did you see his armor? I wonder if it's practical or mostly just display."
"Well, the prophets wouldn't garb their vaunted warrior in armor that didn't work, would they?" Jeslinik, the female Unggoy Tehgli met his first day on the ship, checked her plasma pistol, shaking it to hear if the battery rattled.
"Well, all the other Arbiters are dead, right? So maybe they don't care too much."
Tehgli shook his head firmly. "The only things the prophets care about are themselves. Let's get back to the brood, this story is worth the telling." The Elites were arguing over honor now, and the last place an Unggoy wanted to be was between a slighted Sangheili and his pride. The three Unggoy ducked through a back door, chattering all the while.
"You are getting cocky again." The Arbiter's deep, calming voice filled the silence of the waiting chamber, and his companion flushed a luminous violet.
"I am not." She avoided looking at him, and crossed her arms. He waited her out, his patience far outstripping her own. She huffed a few moments later and fingered the inscriptions on her plasma sword handles. "Sarihauntee said, 'A female must fight twice as hard and be twice as strong as a male to earn her honor.' I intend to do that tenfold."
"Agreed. However, you are still being cocky. That warrior will carry a grudge for you from now on."
"He is welcome to his grudges. When I become head of my family, he will grovel at my feet." Her voice was low and smooth, and took on a brutal edge when speaking of her kin. The Arbiter stepped forward and placed a hand on her helmet. He tugged, and the slightly over-sized armor slid over her eyes. He chuckled and stepped back, as she struggled to right it. "Very funny." She barely got it back into place before the door opened and a Sangheili of impressive stature stepped in. He wore a long cloak of red fabric in scintillating colors stolen from a human world, and an obvious plasma sword hung at his waist, the handle worn with age and use.
"Well, well. Once you led a fleet that crossed all the stars, then you became the heretic-turned-Arbiter. Now you lead one underage female and a handful of mismatched warriors." He gave a genuine smile, and held out a hand to the Arbiter. "It is good to see you again, Orsa."
"And you, Urza." The Arbiter held his palm up to the Heretic's, then gestured to the female at his side. "The 'underage female' is my apprentice, Miira Sohatilhanee." She nodded politely.
"Old Tilha had daughters? This is news to me. I thought he was without heirs."
"He had an heir; just no sons."
"So what did he hold over you to get you to assent to babysitting?" Miira fumed, but the old warriors walked towards a window, watching the small fleet move around the flagship. "Is she going to take you as a mate?"
"Do not be stupid, Urza. She is only half my age. And he did not offer anything; I watched her fight her way through a pack of Jiralhanae on my last campaign. She has a talent like nothing I have seen in many years gone by. Under my tutelage, she may achieve something more than an early death." Miira poked about the room quietly, trying to find something interesting to draw her attention, and without looking back into the room, the Arbiter addressed her. "Stop fidgeting." She scowled, guiltily, and stood still. "So why have you summoned me here? It cannot be that you simply miss my company."
"No. As it happens, I have a proposition for you. Half the remains of the original Covenant armadas are factioned off now, as you well know; and most of them have joined the greatest hunt of the universe." He held up a small crystal, faint blue lines glowing between its facets. The Arbiter's eyes widened in astonishment.
"What is it?"
"It is one of many such artifacts. It is, quite simply, the future of our race."
"I've got a bogey on my tail, anyone copy?" RedHawk dipped and swerved through the battle, trying to shake the Covenant Phantom clinging to his six.
"I copy, RedHawk, hang tight." DarkFire slipped into position behind the Phantom and dropped a full load out of the chain guns. The Phantom was a slightly smaller fighter than the Longsword, but its wingspan was far wider. It was hell to take down, since it's battery containment was located in a very inconvenient bubble under the junction of the wings near the front of its sloping nose. The back section of the wings were made of dozens of individual propulsion units and a honeycomb of empty space. A Phantom could take a lot of damage. "StarBaby, a hand, if you could? Formation Charlie."
"Roger. In position in five, four, three…" On one, DarkFire killed his forward momentum, kicking his drive into reverse. StarBaby, taking the three-dimensional battlefield into account, came up from underneath the Phantom and scored a direct hit on its propulsion drive. It blew apart spectacularly, and she rocketed through the debris, missing DarkFire's nose by a hair.
"Thanks, guys. I owe you dinner." RedHawk turned back towards the firefight, and all three pilots got a spectacular show as the Intrinsic Honor's primary MAC gun blew a hole in the side of a Covenant Battle Cruiser. Ken whistled on the com. "Damn, it's pulling their damn retreat trick." They had all seen it before; a badly damaged Covenant ship would fall behind the line of undamaged ships where it could keep sending plasma blasts into anything their magnetic targeting system could track. The com crackled again, this time TinAngel addressed the pilots.
"Blue two and Blue four, you operational?"
"Roger."
DarkFire checked his HUD. "Green, sir."
"Alright, lets give the Intrinsic a hand. 'Collie' maneuver." Jhonan's already overtaxed adrenaline spiked again. While the tactic was a good one, it was risky. Only the fastest and most daring of pilots would even try.
"Sir, hell yeah sir!" He shoved his throttle into full burn, StarBaby flying in formation on his left wing. The Covenant ship was already beginning to turn off the field, and the Longswords raced to catch up. They buzzed the massive ship, darting in and about the cannons, and Jhonan checked his HUD again. "Shields are definitely down, sir. Performing 'Collie' maneuver now." He banked hard across her undamaged port side, and shot across the bubble the Covenant bridge looked out of. He got a glimpse of the Elite Commanders within howling against the insult, and offered his middle finger as a matter of principle.
He and StarBaby crossed the starboard side, keeping just out of the plasma cannons' targeting radius. The ship, being piloted by a pack of now infuriated Elites, turned in a desperate and fatal move to try and hit the retreating human craft. She turned her starboard side to the Intrinsic Honor, who took the now clean shot through her exposed midsection. The Covenant ship quaked under the onslaught of the MAC rounds, and lost structural integrity. She fell apart like a house built from Popsicle sticks. "Nice flying, you two. I smell a medal for that one." TinAngel's voice glowed with pride.
"Thank you sir...What the hell?" The readings on Jhonan's HUD went chaotic, and the AI onboard the Intrinsic burst in over his com.
"StarBaby, DarkFire, get out of there, NOW! I'm reading a massive gravitational spike in your region, Covenant backup is arriving right on top of you!" Jhonan exhaled the entire contents of his lungs in horror as the vacuum before him was ripped apart by a dozen blue ships. StarBaby screamed over the com, and he watched her Longsword detonate in a shower of sparks as a materializing cruiser smashed through her like she was confetti. His Longsword flashed a proximity warning, but Jhonan knew he stood just as much chance of dodging into another ship as away from one. He grabbed the cameo around his neck and shut his eyes. Everything went dark.
I'm alive. The thought was hard to focus on, and Jhonan tasted salty blood in his mouth. He lifted his head, and on one side of his view screen, there was the silent, beautiful dance of ships in combat. On the other was the planet they were fighting over, huge and blue and sucking his lifeless ship down. Already the red flames of atmosphere were licking his damaged craft. He struggled to do a manual restart, but the cockpit lights stayed dead. He punched the control panel with a scream of frustration. This wasn't supposed to be the day he died.
"Damn, girl! Fuck! Fuck you! Wake UP!!!" He punched the panel again. If he didn't slow his decent, he was going to be a big ball of flame in the ground. Assuming the Longsword was even sound enough to make it through the hot re-entry. He stopped screaming and hung his head, beaten. He touched his cameo again, and took a deep, shaking breath. "And I just finally got the guts to tell her I loved her. God, damnit, I hate this fucking ship." He pressed his hand against the window, looking towards the stars.
A light flashed.
He glanced down, thinking he'd imagined it. On his HUD, bright letters scrolled over the screen. "Reboot initialized."
"I take it back! I take it back!!" He scrambled to bring the engines back online. One and three were dead, four was at half power, and his reverse thrusters were cutting in and out. It would take a miracle to land the bird in one piece. "One miracle, that's all I ask, just the one! I'll say prayers at night, I'll go to church, and I'll even name my kids after the saints! Just one!" He grabbed the throttle, and pulled back. The thrusters died in a flash of fire, and the ship shuddered like a dying animal. Engine four powered up painstakingly slowly, holding at seventy-seven percent. Jhonan sent out a distress beacon as an afterthought, and then everything else faded away. His world became the dying ship and the ground screaming up at him.
Master Sergeant Demitri Taylor stared at the map on the table in front of him, scanning the two-dimensional field for any tactical advantage. He ignored the Private standing at attention for two full minutes before raising serious brown eyes from the satellite image. "Private Wilson, do you have something to report?"
"Sir, yes sir. Communications received a distress signal about thirty kilometers south, southeast of our position. Looks like one of our boys in the space battle made an emergency crash landing." Sergeant Taylor glanced down at his map again, tapping his fingers in rapid succession. The area on the map was clear of enemy contacts as of fifteen minutes ago, but a survivor wouldn't last long if overrun by Covenant forces. He nodded, brushing a length of overgrown black hair out of his eyes. They had been in this system for far too long already. It was only Fortune's favor that the humans still held their ground.
"Report to Corporal Padilla and tell him I want him and four men to scout the area. If the pilot is alive, get him back here in one piece. I'd like a little intel on how they're doing upstairs. Dismissed." Wilson gave a sharp salute and walked off, a little more spring in his step. I miss having that kind of enthusiasm.
"Corporal Padilla, sir?" Private Wilson stepped up, eyes gleaming. Padilla raised an eyebrow.
"I guess he wants us out there after all?" He stood up from the weapon crate he was using as a seat and cracked his back.
"Yes Sir."
"Alright, grab Jackals, Maine, Wilson and Roe." He slung a BR55 Rifle over his shoulder and walked towards one of the warthogs. "And be quick about it."
Ten minutes later the ODSTs were underway, the Warthogs flying over the uneven ground. PFC Roe, driving one of the army vehicles, shot a grin to Wilson in shotgun. "Hey Tom, you see those new ATVs the Spartans are driving? Man, I'd kill for one of them."
"No shit, those things are beautiful. When do you think they'll make 'em standard issue?"
PFC Kyle Wilson cracked up, hanging onto the Warthog's gauss cannon like his life depended on it. "Never, if they see what a bad driver Dave is. My teeth are about to rattle out of my fucking head here."
"Oh, shut up. Padilla's giving me the evil eye." A bounce nearly tossed them out of their seats, and Wilson grabbed the door handle tightly.
"That's it, next time I drive."
"Like hell! Not till you outrank me, Private."
"Fuck you, sir!"
Kyle chimed in as he got his footing back. "Don't forget, Dave, he's the Captain!"
"Nicknames garnered from alcoholic binges don't apply." Another jolt interrupted their laughter, and Corporal Padilla opened the com.
"Less chat, more driving, Marines. We're coming up on position."
"Holy shit! You see that path cut through the trees? I doubt anyone survived that." Caleb pointed his warthog's machine gun at the floral carnage as both vehicles slowed to a stop. Alex Maine opened a com channel back to their base, muttering for a few moments before swinging out of the warthog's passenger seat.
"Home base says this area is still clear." He set the com equipment down, and checked across all the channels. "No Covie signals either. We're alone out here, unless our pilot survived."
"All right. PFC Maine, keep your ear to the tracks. Jackals, PFC Wilson, you're with me. PFC Roe, you and Private Wilson scout the area, I don't need anyone sneaking up on us. Damn, it's just my luck to get stuck with two Wilsons in the same squad."
"Sir, yes sir." Roe and Wilson saluted, and Padilla snapped one back. He headed off down the track with two marines on his heels. The swath of destruction to the trees quickly turned to a deep brown cut in the ground, still smoking around the downed spacecraft.
"Longsword Interceptor. Shit, I love these things. Lost most of her tail, though, fuselage is FUBAR." Caleb kept his gun pointed at the ship, but surveyed it as close as he dared. "Pilot was smart; the fuel cage has been dumped. The most common emergency-landing fuck-up is not dropping the cage. Hits the ground, and 'BOOM' goodnight."
"Well, you're just the font of useless information today, aren'cha?" Kyle grinned. "If you ask me, you should've been a pilot."
"I wanted to. I was too tall. And I suck at math. …I found our pilot." Caleb knelt in the brush beside the smoking Longsword, over the body that had apparently crawled there. "Still breathing. Lucky bastard doesn't have more than a few scratches." He rolled the pilot over, and pulled off his helmet.
"Man, he's just a kid still." Wilson glanced ahead to Padilla. "I guess we carry him back, then."
"Hold off a moment, Marine. Jackals, these things have a black box?"
"Yeah. The kid is holding it." Caleb grinned. "Told you he was smart."
"Okay, pick him up." Padilla opened a com to Maine. "Radio base, tell them we've got a live one. Have the medics ready."
"Pretty necklace." Kyle tapped the white impression set in lacy silver.
"It's a cameo. Typically worn during the Renaissance, and even more so the Victorian era. Came back into popularity about thirty years ago." Caleb blinked at Kyle. "What?"
"Dude, are you gay?" He raised an eyebrow sharply.
"What? No, idiot. Just because I'm smarter than you does not make me gay."
"It's okay if you are, man, I have a cousin who's gay. It's no big deal."
"I'm telling you, I'm not gay! What do you have a crush on me or something?"
"What? No! I'm just saying…"
"Enough, you two." The ODSTs stopped laughing as Padilla frowned at them. He started forward again, and after a moment of silence, added, "You're both gay." The laughter ensued till long after they reached the Warthogs.
Jhonan woke to the smell of coffee and the taste of biofoam. He blinked grit out of his eyes and sat up, gasping at the pain in his chest his shirt had been removed, but whoever had patched him up had left his good luck charm around his neck. I live! He grinned and kissed the charm reverently, before looking around the medical tent. A woman was packing medical gear up, and Jhonan's eyes widened more than he thought possible. The woman was helmetless and wearing plastic gloves, but the rest of her was encased in matte black and iridescent green. Black eyebrows arched over pretty hazel eyes.
"I see our lucky pilot wakes. How are you feeling?" She had the most charming smile he'd ever seen on a Spartan. In fact, it was the only smile he'd ever seen on a Spartan.
"Alive. My chest hurts." She nodded; checking the bandages to make sure no blood was seeping through.
"You took a piece of shrapnel through your rib cage. It could have been considerably worse. You probably won't even scar if you limit your activity for a few days."
"I didn't know the Spartans had doctors." She laughed, a low, easy laugh that was as easy on the ears as the sound of waves on a beach. Her bedside manner was phenomenal considering the usual anti-social behavior of the Spartans.
"We don't have any others, just me. I happened to be around patching up a colleague, and offered to take care of you too. It gets dull when battle dies down." She patted his shoulder lightly, and stood. "I'm going to let the commander know you're up." She walked to the door, and Jhonan swore under his breath. Unless the guard by the door was exceptionally short, the woman was well over six feet tall. Dark glanced around the tent again, this time noting the unconscious Spartan on the far side of the room. The man had dirty blond stubble on his head and face, and the entire right leg armor was removed. His chest piece was also set aside, and he had many more bandages than the ones Jhonan was now sporting. The machines he was hooked up to were giving back steady readings.
A man entered the tent, stern, with a face that bore more wisdom than years. Between haggard eyes and a five-o-clock shadow, Jhonan would have bet anything this was the commander. They always look so tired. The man sat at the edge of the bed calmly, and studied him for a moment before speaking. "I am Master Sergeant Demitri Taylor. You are Warrant Officer Jhonan Dark?"
"Yes sir."
"You crashed your ship into this planet fifteen hours ago. I take it you'd like to know how the space battle is going?"
"If you can tell me, sir, then yes." Jhonan fought the urge to scratch at his wound, which was already becoming itchy.
"As of three hours ago, the Covenant forces in orbit retreated to the far side of the system. Their ground troops are digging in, but have ceased actively attacking our position. It's a stalemate right now." He softened his tone. "I regret to inform you that most of your squad didn't make it. Your squad leader and Warrant Officer Kenneth Nolan were the only survivors besides yourself." Jhonan closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. Something deeper than the flesh wound hurt. Scenes from the night before replayed over and over, the squad's last night together.
"When…when can I get back to orbit?"
"I'm afraid you're stuck with us for a while. We're expecting reinforcements any moment, but until the situation upstairs is resolved no one is getting evacuated without damn good reason."
"I have a damn good reason. I've got Covenant to kill up there." He knew he wasn't being respectful, but the pain in his chest was overwhelming.
"They wouldn't let you pilot a Pelican right now, let alone a Longsword. I know it's difficult, but take it easy." He stood and sighed. "You have your life, not many people can say that. Be thankful." Jhonan stared resolutely ahead till the Sergeant left.
"Of course not. The dead ones don't talk." He glanced around, and scowled. "Sit tight my ass." He stood up, his chest flaring hot and painful, and he managed to pull his shirt on before taking a break. Once he got his breath back he stood, and started towards the door of the tent. A woman was walking in at that moment, and he dropped back, surprised. It was another Spartan. He blinked, and tilted his head. Her helmet was in her hands, and she frowned back at him. Even with the thick boots she stood only an inch or so taller than him. "You're…kinda short for a Spartan."
She rolled a pair of pale blue eyes. "Whatever." She brushed past him and sat by the injured Spartan, setting her hand over his. Jhonan paused, and exchanged a look with the door guard. His chances of escape were limited at the moment, and he sat back down on his cot.
He sat waiting, but it seemed the pale woman was perfectly happy to ignore his presence all together. "Your doctor is really good." She glanced over, and blew a thick chunk of white hair out of her eyes.
"Yeah. She's the best." She turned back to the injured man. More minutes passed.
"You have a name, or something? They took my HUD." She sighed, irritated, and Jhonan's spirits rose a bit. Baiting women was always an interesting past time.
"Spartan 292."
"No rank?"
"You hit your head, soldier?"
"No." He frowned, and looked at his hands. "But I just found out my squad died in orbit and you are the only thing I've got to distract me from thinking about it." He managed to not choke on the words. She sighed again, and this time a bit of compassion appeared in her gaze. She was actually kind of pretty when the chip on her shoulder fell off.
"I warn you, I've got the social graces of a Hunter. I blow stuff up really well, but I'm not much one for conversation." She smiled, a little, and pushed her shoulder-length hair back. "For the record, my rank is Chief Petty Officer."
"Alright, Chief." She smiled at some private joke when he said that, and for a moment her eyes were far away. Whatever she was thinking of, it turned her face really soft and suddenly beautiful in spite of the scars that decorated it. When she returned from that dream-place, the steel returned to her gaze and she looked creepy again. "Can I ask a few questions?"
"I'll only answer ones that aren't classified or personal."
"Okay. Hmm…So why are you so short? I've seen a couple Spartans, and even the girls are huge."
"Personal."
"Okay…what are the purple things on your armor for?"
"Classified."
"Oh, come on Chief, are you going to answer anything?"
"Pick better questions." She grinned. Now she was the one baiting him.
"Fine! What is your favorite color?"
"Violet." He expected that to be the end of it, but she got that far off look again. "The kind of violet that the morning sky turns when you're on a world with a yellow sun; the kind that burns off the dew and just makes you feel like you lived another night, and nothing can touch you."
"That was actually kind of poetic." Jhonan grinned, as she rolled her eyes.
"…Hals?…" The Spartan on the cot was struggling to sit up, and the woman immediately turned her concern and attention to him.
"Chill, Chris, you're going to undo all of Kaina's hard work." She pushed his shoulders back down, and the man grinned up at her.
"Halley, you growing out your hair for once? Looks nice." He relaxed, and she smiled down at him with such a loving expression that it seemed a totally different person had taken up that spot a moment earlier.
"Nah, I just can't find a barber worth shit." She checked his bandages, tsking softly. "Got your chest all messed up again?"
"Damn brutes and their grenade launchers. Not as bad as you, though. I heard about the helmet thing." He laughed, coughing in pain, and the white haired Spartan rolled her eyes; again, it was a completely different expression from the one Jhonan had seen earlier.
"I'm never going to live that down."
"Not while there's a Spartan alive to bust you for it. Nice armor upgrade. Nile sent us a message talking about it. How's it holding up in combat?"
"Not bad. Nile is here too, but he's helping set up camp right now." The Spartan on the table glanced over, and raised an eyebrow.
"We got company?"
"You think you're the only guy in this camp to get hurt? That's just like you, it's 'all about Chris.'" She laughed, and ran her fingers through his hair. "Now get some sleep. You'll heal up faster that way." She sat there until he shut his eyes again. When she stood up, she turned to Jhonan, and gave a half-hearted smile. "I'm sorry about your squad. I know how it feels." She started to leave, and he stopped her with a cough.
"You really worry about them, don't ya, Chief."
She smiled back, and her eyes glittered. "Of course. They're my family." She left the tent quietly, and Jhonan fell back against the pillows. Spartans were like regular people, he decided, just a hell of a lot more intense.
Master Sergeant Taylor glanced at the report that Command sent down, blood running cold in his veins. The Covenant forces were amassing for another strike, and their ground troops were already on the move. He took a deep breath and planned out his strategy again, looking for kinks. Finding none, he called over Private Wilson. "Go get me the Spartans. I have a job for them to do."
"I most certainly will NOT stay here!" Miira fumed, but the Arbiter kept his expression calm, and his eyes locked on her. "I do not care if these 'artifacts' will be the salvation of the Sangheili. I want to stay by your side, learning how to be a better warrior."
"Miira," she shivered at the sound of her name and turned her back to him, hands clenching into fists. "I did not ask. I told you. You will stay here and listen to what Urza has to teach, and I will go and find what I can of these strange crystals. If we can eradicate disease, or make perfect Slipspace engines, the Sangheili will be able to throw off our dependence on the Covenant for good. These 'artifacts' may hold that key."
"If you eradicate disease, more warriors will survive to harm each other! If we have perfect engines, we will litter the universe like the humans! Do you not see? A perfect society breeds imbalance, and destruction! Look at the Forerunners. With all their technology and science, where are they now?"
"I do not expect universal perfection. But it is true, the Jiralhanae are beginning to harm our people outside the reach of the Covenant. I need to know what the crystals do, and we must keep them from the hands of the Brutes. And," he stepped in closer to Miira, grabbed her shoulder and pivoted her to face him. Their helmets bumped. "I need to know what Urza intends to do with them. I cannot entrust this to anyone else. He is a fool; he will think your naïveté is all encompassing. I know better. There is none who can better infiltrate the secret heart of my closest friend and enemy than you."
"Come back for me." It was almost a whisper; she hung her head and looked away, hating her weakness. Hating that she was a female.
"If I have to fight through fire and ice and climb the corpses of all Jiralhanae in my path, I will still come back for you. I swear it on what is left of my honor." He stepped back and nodded, and she nodded back, respectfully. He turned and left the room in a rush, not looking back, and Miira sat on a large containment unit in frustration. She looked in the direction of the door he'd passed through, and made the gesture for luck. It was childish, but everyone was always calling her a child, for once she felt entitled.
"You had better."
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