Little fic, taking place in the new continuity (along with Babysat). Darwin appears courtesy of Insidious Harbinger, and the Jackal appears courtesy of Luke-1539. Also thank you to both of them for looking it over.

Just Another Day in Paradise

Darwin was never one for idle chitchat, which always made the mess hall an awkward place to be. While the other marines bragged about their latest campaigns and voted on "Covie Kill of the Week", he just sat there. Presently, at the table beside him, Private Albert claimed to have not only killed a Hunter single-handedly, but did so by putting his hand into its exposed back and yanking out a bunch of worms. No one much believed that. The only person who could ever do that was a Spartan, and even that was a point of dispute amongst the Helljumpers. Instead, kill of the week went to Captain Reynolds, who knifed a Grunt through the eye, took its Needler, and burst a couple of shots into an Elite. Someone mentioned the award would have to be posthumous, and the table fell silent.

Darwin finished his ration and was going to head back to his room when he felt a firm hand on his shoulder push him back to his seat. Even wearing standard marine armor, ONI operatives weren't difficult to pick out. They carried themselves differently, something no one could describe yet everyone saw. Darwin groaned under his breath as the…captain by the markings on his uniform, took the seat across from him.

"Private Hudson?" the agent asked. "Private Darwin Edgar Anstey-Hudson?"

Darwin was never one for ridiculous formalities. He settled for a simple, "Yes captain."

"Word is you're a good shot, and not completely retarded."

"Thank you sir."

"You'll be heading down to Dune with me. Assassination."

Darwin's eyes opened wide. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Be at the drop pod deck, eighteen hundred hours." The officer stood and headed off, leaving Darwin dumbstruck of what had just happened. He cleared his place and headed for his room to wait.

At eighteen hundred hours, Darwin went to the drop pod bay to find the captain. This time, he was wearing the usual ODST armor. The visor was magnetized and shaded, if not for that same indescribable stance he probably wouldn't have known it was the captain at all, until he talked of course. The captain was looking over his automag, standard issue for ONI operatives. A beautiful type of weapon that Darwin had always been itching to get his hands on. The captain slipped it into his holster before taking up a silenced SMG, and then gestured to the suit and weapons on the other table. Unsure, Darwin took up the second automag, replacing his standard issue pistol. Then the sniper rifle that was behind it. Then he looked over the suit. He was actually going to wear a ODST uniform? He was going to drop?

"Sir, Dune is desert terrain. I've only been trained in urban. I've also…sir, I've never dropped before. I've never even ran a simulation."

"First time for everything," the captain said. "Feet first into hell."

"Sir, what is the mission, unless it's confidential?"

"A dozen or so Bravo Kilos set up shop on the planet. We don't know why, not that we care much. Our target is a chieftain." He moved to his pod. "Coordinates are in the pod. Just pressed eject and hold on tight. You went to the bathroom, right? If not, run over now."

"Sir…why are we killing it? If we don't care about it?"

"Because we can, trooper. Hop in the pod." The captain scooted in and closed the door off.

Darwin climbed into his own pod, or at least what he thought his pod was. His heart was pounding and his legs were weak. ODSTs tended to be a pompous bunch, constantly bragging about their latest drops. They explained every detail to the slack jawed marines, every bump and lurch as the pods dropped. Every plummet and shake, every climbing degree inside their metal coffins until they shook against the ground and landed in a hell that religion could not describe.

Those stories didn't prepare Darwin for what came next.

He was ashamed to say he passed out.

And when he woke, he couldn't breathe. He panted, throat closed and wheezing, thinking that there was something wrong with his pod or his oxygen. Then he realized he had actually forgotten how. It took a moment to calm down before he sucked a breath into his lungs. Oh, the taste of his breath. Even stale air like what was in his helmet, it was so wonderful. Of course, not being so worried about his breath, he realized how cramped he was. The ODSTs compared it to being in a coffin. Again, simple words didn't do such justice. He couldn't move. And the air was stale and thick and hot. He wanted real air. He wanted to fill his breath. He struggled and pounded the glass until the four green glowing buttons caught his eye, and he pounded them with a fist or foot. And the door didn't open.

"Captain!" he screamed. "Captain! Captain!"

"Rookie, relax," came the captain's voice over the radio, and looking to the front he saw him standing there. "The door is stuck. I need your help to get you out, alright? Can you do that? Put your legs to it and push, alright?"

Darwin nodded quickly. "Alright, alright. Just please get me out."

The captain moved to the side and out of Darwin's vision. Suddenly, he felt very alone, even knowing that the captain just had to get to the door, he couldn't bare the thought. He wanted out. "On three," came the captain's voice again. Darwin braced his legs. "One…two…three."

Darwin grunted and pushed with all his might, back pressed against the pod's seat and feet against the door. Outside, the captain strained and grunted, pulling with all his might. "A-almost…got it."

The shell popped open with a loud whine of metal. Darwin stumbled out, gasping for air and shivering. Wheezing, he felt those rations run up his throat. He just managed to take off his helmet before he vomited onto the sand.

"Rook," the captain said. "You need to hold it together."

Darwin vomited again, groaning.

"I have to admit, that was not a good drop for either of us. Our supplies are getting too old. They're not factory fresh anymore. My suits acting all wonky. If the Brutes saw us come down, they'll be curious, and want to check things out." He checked the HUD in his helmet. "Objective is ten klicks north. Let's get moving."

What was the captain made of, to do this as much as he did? It was stronger stuff than Darwin had, that was for sure. Darwin just couldn't understand why he was here? Were there no other Helljumpers on the ship, or was he more expendable than them? Maybe the captain had just brought Darwin along as bait. If the Brutes started giving chase, the captain could just gutshoot Darwin and leave him down while he fled. He followed after.

It was hot on this planet. There was only one sun, but maybe the planet was closer to it than say, Earth? Darwin didn't know. He brought his canteen to his lips and took a swig, washing the taste of bile out of his mouth, the put his helmet back on.

"How many kills you got?" the captain asked. "With a rifle?"

"Sniper rifle? Uh…I don't know. Five or six maybe? I don't usually serve as sniper in the squad though. I use a battle rifle a lot though. I know how to lead a target sir. I really don't understand why we are here though. We don't have colonies. Could this planet be used as a stepping stone?"

"No," the captain said simply.

"Then sir, why are we here?"

"Because the Covies are here."

"But sir, none of us are. Why do we come down here?"

"Because the Covies think they are winning. They think they are safe. We are going to show them they aren't."

Darwin shifted his rifle slightly. The suit was uncomfortable to wear. It was tight and the armor was heavier over all then marine armor. It was surprisingly cool, maybe an effect of the suit which was designed to survive the intense heat of an orbital drop. Still, he wasn't comfortable, and shifted nervously.

The captain looked to the sky. "Shit. Phantom," he muttered." He looked around. "We need cover."

Darwin looked around at the barren wasteland of the grounds. Large rocks, sand dunes, maybe they could even dig a shallow hole and bury themselves. Darwin looked to the captain, who had dropped to his belly and was wiggling under a large rock, digging out some sand beneath. When he could manage, he scooted under, and Darwin managed to squeeze in and do the same. All the while, the humming grew louder and louder. "Stay down," the captain whispered. "It's just a patrol. They don't know where we are or they would be on foot."

Indeed, the humming grew so loud and deafening Darwin covered his ears. Then, just as abruptly, it faded away. The captain crawled out and looked around. "Clear, come on."

"Why are the Brutes here though?" Darwin asked.

"Doesn't matter. What matters is they are here." And the captain kept walking.

When the sun had nearly set, they settled into a cave to stave off the frigid night. Darwin wanted to build a fire, but the captain said no.

"We'll freeze to death," Darwin said.

The captain, in his black reflective mask, was unyielding. "If a patrol sees a fire, we'll get torn apart."

"And if we freeze to death, what will be the matter? Can these suits really keep us warm through the whole night? I'm…captain; I'm not trained for this." Darwin sighed, rising and heading in deeper to the cave.

"I'll stand guard the first three hours," the captain said. Darwin nodded weakly. Honestly, he preferred the heat. Deep in the cave, away from the icy wind, he found a warm spot. Curling up, he put his head down.

***

Darwin's eyes opened suddenly. The lids felt frozen, and opening his eyes at all felt like his face was breaking apart. How much time had passed? Had he fallen asleep at all? With a loud groan, he stood. Warm air breathed into the cave. The closer he drew to the entrance, the warmer it grew, until it melted the frost inside him. "Captain?" he croaked out, and rubbed his throat when that sent a sharp pain through his throat.

Slouched in the mouth of the cave, SMG in his lap, was the black clad officer. "Captain," Darwin said again. He reached out and nudged his shoulder, trying to shake him from sleep. But the captain didn't move.

"Oh no," Darwin said. He dropped to his knees and put two fingers under the captain's neck.

There was nothing. Darwin stumbled back. He shouldn't have fallen asleep. He should have been there to keep the captain awake. He should have dragged the captain into the warmer area of the cave, or built a fire whether he liked it or not.

Darwin screamed, smashing his fist into the ground. "Fuck. Fuck this. Why are we even here? Fuck!" He held his head, forcing out of his helmet. "What do I do? Do I go forward and kill the thing? I don't even know which it is!" He looked to the corpse. "Captain, you didn't tell me shit. I don't even know where the extraction point is! So what? I go forward and get killed? For what? For a fucking sandy rock?" He panted, slowing his breath. "Fine. I'll go. Then I'll get killed by the fucking Brutes, just so we can show the Covies how big a dick we have. Save me a seat in hell Captain…Jesus Christ, I don't even know your name."

Darwin squatted and checked the corpse's neck, only to find no dog tags. Instead, he remembered to check the plate on the left shoulder. Taking hold of it, he cut it out with his combat knife. "Jake Simpson. Age, 24. Gender, male. Rank, captain. Blood type, O."

He stood, checking the rifle on his back, then taking up the captain's SMG and canteen. With a heavy sigh, stuffing his helmet back on, he started to walk.

It was worse now. Walking alone down the barren landscape to a base he didn't have a clue about. He was lonely and felt such a sickness in his gut. His suit kept him fairly cool, or at least not so hot he thought he would expire, but it was also tight and claustrophobic. And he just wanted to lay down and die, but he pressed on.

His HUD display clicked off the distance with every step. It was half a day's travel of that agonizing, claustrophobic feel in his armor and the stuffiness of his helmet before the HUD finally showed the base was just forward. Not that he needed the HUD. There was a massive billow of smoke climbing from the ground and to the sky. He needed a good vantage point, and settled on a massive sand dune that was a bit to his left. It was more a mountain really, and nearly impossible to climb. The ground shifted under his steps and his armor didn't give him the right mobility. But, like everything else, he managed and reached the top.

He was so exhausted, he didn't immediately notice the Jackal laying on the top of the little hill, and the Jackal didn't notice him. In Darwin's defense, the Jackal blended with the sands well. His skin was a burnt orange color, with brown feathers growing out of his elbows, and strangely he had stringy, chocolate marks on his arms continuing behind the coverings on his chest. Covies were getting tattoos now? Darwin was slightly amused by that. Drawing his pistol, Darwin dropped and put his knee onto the Jackal's back. The sniper came to life instantly: flailing and scratching until Darwin put the muzzle of his pistol to the Jackal's helmet and pulled the slide back, offering a loud click. Then he just froze.

Darwin looked around, making sure no other Covies were there. "So what is a tree-turkey doing all the way out here?"

He didn't expect a response, but the Jackal looked back at him. It touched the side of its helmet, and said in a low mechanical voice, "Shooting Chieftain Taurus."

Darwin actually recoiled. "You can talk?"

"Translator," the Jackal squawked in that same mechanical tone.

Darwin growled, grinding the pistol harder into the helmet. "You're killing the Brute? Why?"

"I don't know. A Sangheili told me to do it, so I do it. Do you question your orders or do you do 'em? So let me up and let me take the shot please."

Darwin looked around. "Why would I trust you?"

"Cause I have a rifle and was aiming at him before you decided to sit on me! You know, you aren't exactly light as a Yanme'e."

Darwin looked to the side. There was a map of the base, and measurements with what he assumed was some sort of Covenant numerical system. "You are trying to kill him?"

"Yes. Now get off me!"

Darwin rolled to his side, pistol trained on the Jackal. "So, this is going to sound a bit off, but marines at least work in pairs: sniper and spotter. You wanna, like, work together?"

The Jackal looked over his shoulder to Darwin, before bursting into a fit of laughter. Darwin was tempted to shoot the little bastard right there and then, but managed to stay his hand. The Jackal at last snorted in amusement, then muttered, "Yeah alright."

He scooted to the side and set his carbine down, instead taking something like a mono-scope out of a back pouch and looking through it at the base. Darwin settled down and brought his rifle to ready. "Who am I shooting?"

The Jackal cawed, this time most likely in frustration. "The big hair one in red armor, and with the hammer. How can you humans be so dense? Forward…uh, what are your human measurements? 300 meters. Wind is non-existent."

Darwin followed the measurements. Good thing the Jackal was here, Darwin would have assumed the Brute in gold armor was the chieftain. But looking at the red armored Brute, he did notice it was holding a hammer on his shoulder.

"The ballistic armor will stop any shot to his body. Even without shielding, it's too thick. Aim for the head. Face would be best, but his skull might not be thick enough."

Darwin took in a breath. The chieftain was moving. Darwin did what he could to follow. The chieftain stopped a moment to talk with a Brute in cyan armor. They laughed and made hand gestures as they snarled and growled.

"Take the shot, human," the Jackal hissed.

"Shut up turkey and let me focus." He lined the crosshairs, aiming only slightly high to compensate for gravity's pull. His index finger touched the trigger, the middle bone on the sharp curve. He exhaled, and inhaled, holding the breath as he squeezed the trigger.

"Human, shoot!" the Jackal screamed.

Darwin blinked, and squeezed again. Again, nothing happened. "Something's wrong," he said. He gathered the weapon and started looking it over. "God damn it, what the fuck! Fuck, jam."

"You stupid fucking…" screamed the Jackal. The Jackal took his carbine by the barrel and swung it down like a club, breaking it across Darwin's back. Darwin screamed in pain, tensing then laying still, face down in the sand.

He shivered, his spine aching, but his armor had taken most of the shock. He groaned, gritting his teeth and looking around by setting his head on the side. He managed to see the Jackal scurrying away, already a good distance away. He twisted his head forward, and through the scope of his rifle, he saw the Brute chieftain walk away. He had fucked up. He had really fucked up.

Fuck it, it was over. Nothing to do. No way to salvage the mission. No way to kill the Brute. No way to do anything. All he could do was get back to the evac point. He smacked his helmet, and the HUD came to life. It pointed him away from the base, where he assumed some sort of ship would be waiting to carry him away. Head held low, he headed off.