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      'Like shadows that disappear when struck by sunlight, they left me without trace, to stare down our enemies alone. Their names would be etched in stone for the part that they played, when reading them I cannot help but feel ashamed; for there are days when I cannot recall their faces...'



      Dead End, turn back now.


      The crew of zero-four-two had followed along the bottom of a cliff bank for over an hour, with no crevices or footholds to get up and onto the cliff, they were forced to admit defeat and hope that a way over would appear soon. Things took a turn for the worse when the path on which they continued to walk grew narrower until it stopped altogether. There the cliff took over and ventured into the water with its behemoth size. Without hiking up the cliff side; for which they were ill-equipped, the only other two options were to either wade into what was seen as a sea that opposed the cliff and hope to reach land around the other side... or turn back, an option that Sergeant Johnson did not want to consider. It was then that the gods appeared to smile upon them, Johnson got a call from a dropship that had been told to pick up their signal and was currently on its way to scoop them up. The pilot had not specified as to where he would be dropping them off, but the sarge knew that it was not gonna be a beach party...


      Johnson spoke into his radio, more in optimism than rational thought.
"Raven Eye; is there no-one else closer to pick us up? Over."
Raven Eye, however could not lend much hand to Johnson's faith.
"Er thats a negative sergeant, we just picked up a couple of stragglers of your squad, all other birds are making shops and drops. Over."
The thought that others of his squad had made the landing instilled some hope, Johnson became excited.
"Roger that Raven Eye, whose fifteen minutes of fame isn't over in this show? Over."
"I got Mendoza, Bisenti and Jenkins all ready to dance to your tune Sarge, Mendoza being patched up and ready to boogie as we speak. Keep an eye in the sky, we'll be at your position in forty-five. Over."
"Well I'll be...Roger that, over and out."


      Johnson, scoping his surroundings, noticed how vulnerable they were at the current rendezvous point, He turned to the crew;
"Ok men ETA to our position is forty-five minutes. Aziz, Clarke, set up and monitor three motion trackers, Costa and Reed'll cover you in ten, its breakfast time!"
      Johnson rubbed his hands with glee, the rest of the crew sat down in the lush, velvet-like grass and began foraging in satchels for their rations. Davies opened a 'boltneck' energy bar frowning at its inclusion in Marine food, 'another hand in the forces budget' he thought. The company that owned the brand had enough money in their pockets without having their marketing men use the slogan; 'If its good enough for the best its good enough for you!' Nevertheless his objection to the company stopped short of him not taking a ravenous bite into the raisin and nut filled chunky log, Reed meanwhile had triggered the patented quickheat mechanism in his soup tube and shouted over to Clarke, neglecting to mention Aziz.
"Hey Clarke, you want me to crack open some soup for ya?"
Clarke noticed Azizs' face before replying.
"Nah, I'll grab something in a bit, but thanks anyway."


      And so, four of the crew of zero-four-two began to eat; blissfully unaware of an enemy squad that had tracked the trajectory of the dropship Raven Eye and was busy intercepting its path. Davies, who had been quiet for some time, spoke up in memory of a particular thing that Price had done on Eukrat; the shape and colour of the 'boltneck' bar moving him to speak.
"Hey you guys remember on Eukrat when Price put that Grunt turd in his pocket and tried to smuggle it aboard the Pillar?"
The recollection was met with a chorus of disapproval from all those left eating bar Johnson, whom could never be put off his food, not even if he was knee deep in grunt faeces. Johnson knew what Davies was getting at, the energy bar looking like a grunt turd, was just a trigger for a memory about a guy they had all just seen die. Costa who was not fond at having the image of a piece of dried faeces put in his mind while he was eating something that resembled one; threw his half-eaten bar at Davies, it made a dull thud as it richocheted off his helmet and onto the ground beside Johnson. Costa was quite agitated.
"Davies I tell you you got really shitty timing man! I'm gonna go take a piss but when I get back to finish my food I don't want anymore talk about shit while I'm eating, no higienico essay."
Reed echoed Costa's sentiments.
"You're a sick puppy just like Price, dude."
Johnson surreptitiously picked up the bar while answering his worried friend's apparent cry for help at understanding what had just recently happened.
"I remember. I remember Reed telling me he saw him slip it into a ration packet, trying to keep it fresh. Man that kid had problems, I remember making him throw it out the back of our ride home too. Struck the bird coming up behind us, ha, they must have thought it was a new covenant weapon or something. You can imagine that poor bastards face when he got back to the Pillar and discovered what it was as he scraped it off. Price was lucky I didn't throw the book at him for bringing an alien object aboard, he sure did shine some boots that week... Til the next time a'course, him 'n' his crazy ideas, got us into a few scrapes I'll say that.
Davies was thankful of Johnsons support at keeping the memory of his friend alive and continued with his version of the story.
"At first I thought the guy had just fell on some while we were evacuating, but the look on his face..."
Davies paused, and another memory of Price assaulted everyones senses; Price's soulless gaze upon the point of his death, they fell silent upon the reflection. Davies in time recovered long enough to tell the end of his story.
"...The look on his face when you made him take it outta his pocket was priceless, he looked like he'd just had his ball taken off him. Said he wanted to analyze its content, determine a weakness in their diet... Boy he was kook 'n' half.

      Davies ran Price's wedding ring between his fingers, he contemplated his own fate that now lay in the hands of the gods; who would take his dogtags? Would they think to take the locket his daughter gave him? His thoughts turned to his own mortality and at not seeing his daughter again. Davies put the ring away and pulled out his Vippa. A small rectangular device roughly seven centimetres tall, three centimetres wide and half-a-centimetre thick. It was used for storing images and footage, the device only had one button that was held to turn it on and off, and pressed to flick through its various pictures and films, the soldiers were not allowed to carry any other version that had sound or other functions. Even the latest picture Davies had on his vippa was still old, Abbi was about nine. The images and movies that he had received recently could not be transferred to his almost caveman-like device, he cursed the incompatibility of the new devices to the old. If he were on the Pillar he could see her as she was at her twelfth birthday, watch her as she hid her face from the lens; her acne making her blush. Davies had gone through the same phase as a youngster, though he had told Abbi that his acne was worse in posts back, he knew that as a twelve year old girl, she could not relate to a time when her dad was a child himself, things had changed so much. Davies had fell out with Abbi's mother shortly after Abbi was born, having discovered that she had been having an affair with his twin brother; he was devastated, but he refused to believe that Abbi was not his, she was the only thing he felt he had worth holding on for, and he wasn't going to let anything get in the way of that. He brought the device up to his face, Reed and Johnson could see that he was sobbing, Johnson wanted to say something but he couldn't muster up the strength to tell him that everything would be alright when in truth he wasn't sure he would be able to believe it himself. Costa came back wiping urine from his hands before sitting down to finish off the rest of his rations, Johnson and Reed stared at him in disbelief, Costa, oblivious to his earlier statement about hygiene looked around for his half eaten energy bar before inquiring as to why they were giving him funny looks.
"What? you see my boltneck bar anywheres?".

      Aziz felt that they were at a reasonable distance to be out of earshot of the rest of the crew before he began talking about Reed.
"See, now tell me I'm just paranoid,"
He continued in a mock tone of Reed.
"Want me to crack you a soup tube dude... He didn't ask me!"
Clarke laughed at Azizs' impression.
"He probably just didn't think, thats all."
Aziz responded sounding annoyed.
"Yeah thats right he didn't think, motherfucker never thinks thats just it! If he ever tries similar shit with me that he did with Mcgrath he'll get more than a couple o' stitches, I'll break his fucking nose, worse comes to worse, I'll put a fucking bullet between them beady eyes!"
The crew members that were eating fell silent, Aziz turned around thinking it had something to do with his outburst, then he heard Davies mention something about the look on someones face being priceless and the conversation continued. Clarke however became serious at this point.
"Don't ever let me hear you speak like that again, you listening, joke or not I don't wanna hear that shit. You may not like him and he may not like you but we got stuff to deal with here and the last thing we need is in-fighting, 'nuff bastards out there wanna bury us without one of our own doing it for 'em."
Aziz at the minute could not see the bridge that he was burning with Clarke, he didn't listen to the latter part of what Clarke had said, instead he commented on Reed not liking him.
"He don't like nobody thats the problem, you wanna know why I think Mcgrath transferred, cos she didn't wanna stay in the same squad as that racist prick and I don't blame her, I heard he called her a..."
Aziz continued in a hushed tone, save for someone hear what he had to say and think he a racist,
"...a schwabbie, s'why she slugged him the way she did, s'why she transferred too."
"Why didn't she say anything to the sarge then if that was the case."
"Oh what cos they're the same colour?!"
Clarke couldn't believe how Aziz was trying to manipulate this into a race affair.
"No shithead cos he was her commanding officer you narrow-minded fuck. look, Jean just got tired of all the sexist jibes from us all not from the racist shit by Reed, that comment was probably just the final straw, Reed ain't that-bad-a-guy."
"Well maybe not to you, but I think he's a pussy and a useless one at that, Jean knocked him out, I mean how embarassing is that?"
Clarke laughed at the memory of coming round a corner in the Pillar to see Jean Mcgrath whacking the hell out of an unconscious Reed. After seeing the way Jean could handle herself Clarke quit the majority of his quips about her 'big guns upfront".
"Az, dude, she'd hammer me and you too if she was pissed off, even though she had those gorgeous distracting titties, she could certainly throw a good punch, glad I was never on the receiving end of 'em, the fists I mean, not the titties."
They both went through their memories as to the shape of Jean Mcgrath in combats; 'big guns upfront'; a smile went across both their faces.


      Aziz was the first to return back to the subject having had the memory ruined by the fact that he thought Mcgrath was dead on Reach, and necrophilia wasn't his bag.
"Yeah well I still don't like the guy, I mean, the cunt watches me pray, watch him when I pray before I take food, and I've seen him look at the sarge in disgust when the sarge starts talking about his wife, bastards got no respect for fakrah or anyone else for that matter. I just don't like his kind."
Clarke replied flippantly and tinged with sarcasm.
"And there was me thinking we only had one enemy, sheesh."
"And what the fuck was that supposed to mean, ay? All of a sudden my people are an enemy aswell!"
Clarke responded angrily to this accusation.
"That was not what I meant and you know it, I ain't got the problem and you know that too, what I'm trying to fucking tell you is that all this bullshit don't help."
Clarke changed his tune and tried to come across more reasonable than before.
"Moe, you being suspicious and not trusting the guy only makes matters more difficult, I noticed last theatre your fire tended towards his end like you did't trust him to cover your back, even though neither me or Reed could get a good shot on those ghosts. I think you got to look at it from the wider perspective; I'd rather have a bastard that hates my guts cover me for both our survival, than a coward like Price just looking out for his own hide."
Aziz got the point, fewer numbers meant less of a chance for all their survival.
"Yeah well it still leaves a bitter taste in my mouth"
"Not half as much as a couple of needle shards in the face though, remember?"
They both laughed, anybody that has ever survived an attack by a foe with a needler knows of the numbness a few of the shards can induce, Aziz spoke out of memory; recalling its effects on his face.
"Hey that shit weren't funny man, I couldn't move my face properly, I bit my tongue, I couldn't talk for hours."
Clarke jumped on the opportunity,
"Aah, bliss!"
They continued to talk and laugh as they set up the motion trackers, the war of words seemingly over for the minute.

      Johnson figured the best way to get Davies out of his moping would be to bring up good memories of other folks that had come and gone through the crew, unfortunately Johnson had a habit of choosing crew members that had met rather sticky ends, Reed; explaining what happened to one of the more unusual folks that had come through Fire Team Zulu.
"...Well the guy kept saying that none of this was real and when they finally put him away he ripped out a warden's eyes with a spoon and then bashed his head through the same spot on a toilet seat over and over again screaming, 'deja vu, deja vu, deja vu'. When it went to court, the only thing he said in his defense was that 'there was no spoon'. He's doing life in pandora's box at the minute. Some eccentric brought some artwork off the guy recently, load of mechanical type octupuss things, massive they are, guy's seriously fucked up.
Johnson grimaced.
"And that was the same kid that didn't get my 'two sticks and a rock' newbie speech?"
Costa jumped in.
"Yep, although how do more than one people throw a rock sarge, I never got that either?"
Reed seemed puzzled himself but remarked on another part to the spoon story.
"Funny thing was though they never found the spoon or the eyes for that matter."
Johnson realised none of this was helping Davies, so he brought up someone else.
"Er what about that guy Kimball? He at least seemed normal."
Reed continued unabated about another poor soul.
"Kimball died in a freak cryo-sleep accident that was being overseen by a Hal nine thousand, first of its kind as they normally have impeccable records, course he was in transport for killing his wife and trying to put the blame on a one-armed man, but that never fooled anyone."
Johnson began to think that all that went through his crew were complete headcases and pondered wether he may have had some bearing on that, he decided to ask if there had ever been anybody, that didn't end up totally out of balance.
"Ok have we ever had anybody leave us or transfer, that hasn't killed someone or started having a relationship with a horse, or... ended up dead from something terrible?"
Reed and Costa looked at eachother, and realised that they couldn't think of anyone that didn't meet that criteria, then Reed thought he had the answer.
"Ooh what about Nietzsche, german guy, had a bit of a god complex y'know didn't believe in god 'n' stuff, married his cousin, funny moustache, him and her."
Johnson figured that that was probably about as weird as it got and didn't expect what was coming; Reed continued.
"Poor bastard got hit by a bus three days before the cheque cleared on his lottery win... Sure makes you think don't it."
Johnson had heard enough.
"Ok you pair, go relieve those two, I feel a migraine coming on."

      Davies spoke for the first time in what seemed like an eon, all the time his breathing still stunted from all the crying he had done.
"Think I should've read my stars this morning Sarge."
Johnson was happy to see him come round seemingly so well, Aziz and Clarke had decided to take their food elsewhere so as not to become upset themselves at his cathartic mourning for Price, little realising that he wept for himself, his daughter and the 'ghosts of the past' just as much. Johnson smiled, the guy in the squad he was close-to was back 'on point', and ready to lead the way.
"Think I should have too Davies, think I should have too."
Davies made a mock-up of what his stars would probably entail.
"Destiny marks you with an O, ha, you shall meet new people but do not be discouraged if they do not believe as you do, as you have the power to change their minds."
Davies and Johnson thought of the covenant, looked at their guns and began laughing.
"Too right Davies, too right my friend."
Davies became serious, he clutched at the locket around his neck and Price's ring; which he had tied into it.
"Sarge?"
Johnson gave him a knowing smile. He would do it if it ever came to it.
"I know Ray, I know."
Davies acknowledged the smile with one of his own, he suddenly felt miles better, like a burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Things would be taken care of, he knew that now, and he took strength from it. Davies offered out his hand and Johnson took it, they both gripped each others hand with all they had. A passing of minds that transcended all but the very nature of their souls occurred, the result made both of them realise the bond that they had made. Ray Davies felt relieved, Avery Johnson meanwhile did not, he now carried a burden of a soul that was yet to know that it had no future in this life. Johnson felt this impact, but he didn't tell Davies, he thought that Davies already knew and could feel it too. A feeling that he would later wish he had expressed and tried to understand from Davies, despite Davies being dead for a long time by that point.



      While Costa and Reed busied themselves about a motion tracker, one of the others had fell over; face down, and was busy resetting its parameters towards the ground. A slow trickling of pulses brought it to the attention of Reed who picked it back up failing to notice the activity it was giving off from around twelve-hundred metres down. Reed manually reset its parameters to cover the cliff face. Meanwhile Johnson and Davies were still talking, and Johnson asked about the locket around Davies' neck.
"So who was it a gift from?"
Davies searched to find a suitable answer, he wanted to explain its history, though it was only a three-hundred dollar locket that could be brought from most major jewellery outlets, and the photos inside were just pictures of a baby and a nine year old girl, for him it encompassed a whole lot more. Davies thought of the world in which he lived now; one of constant war and hatred, a world where it was us or them, no in-betweens, where there was no time for walks in the park, no time to sit with loved ones and simply be. While evacuating Eukrat, Price had said something that had made an impression on Davies,
'Y'know with every new face I become more lonely, I just want to go back home Ray, back to mankind, back to my wife.'
Davies, unaware that he was thinking aloud spoke the word,
"mankind."
Johnson caught what he had said and pondered upon it,
"a gift from mankind huh, a gift from a world we are trying desperately to defend, I think I know what you mean..."

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