It Begins with Three
On Tuesday morning, just before lunch, the Earth was invaded by aliens. This made a lot of humans very angry, and a lot of aliens very happy.
Earth was located in the unfashionable end of the Galaxy, it was just an insignificant little blue-green planet inhabited by ape-descendents, who thought wearing Rolex watches was quite cool, and the most frequent problem was what was going to be for tea tonight.
However, about a million miles away, cruising in towards the Earth as calm as jetliners, was a fleet of purple bulbous ships. As big as office buildings, as silent as birds. These ships were biding their time in the rays of the Sol star, grouping up and preparing, waiting.
This invasion fleet would overtake tea in terms of problems.
One certain station orbiting one of Jupiter's moons had a young man strapping on his newest watch as he sat at his communications post, ready for another day of enjoying the rotating darkness of space. When he picked up an alien signal from the fleet of ships, he frowned, and sent a simple warning to Earth and its defenders.
Don't panic, but you have a whole fleet of Covenant ships closing in on you.
The young man wiped his brow, and took relief knowing that everyone knew that he had done his best to benefit humanity.
This is not his story.
This is a story about how the message would not reach its destination – a General of the defence fleet. It would, in fact, fall into the inbox of one of the most incompetent Captain's of the UNSC, who was on an island in the middle of nowhere below the blue-green planets equator. It is here this story starts – in the middle of nowhere. But like all stories do…
They begin with a message.
1
Another day, another dollar.
Actually, I don't get paid for this anymore… Eaden chuckled to herself as she stood in the halls of Ram Air Force Base. She was used to being a soldier for free – when it came down to defending your home world in the threat of attack, asking for pay was in her opinion quite silly.
At least her life was a lot more practical.
But at the air base, practicality had gone out for lunch.
Because here, where men and women were supposed to prepare for war, the biggest concern was trying to pass a hasty petition of changing dinner from beans on toast to something more exciting.
Eaden didn't feel very good at seven o'clock on that Tuesday morning. She missed her alarm by half an hour, got up, skulked into the bathroom to freshen up, and was currently skulking to the drop off zone where dropships dropped off goods that needed dropping off.
Passing a water cooler she stopped to drink a large cup of water, and another, and another for good luck. She suspected she was hung over. Why was she hung over? She stood and thought about it. Where did she get drink from in a military airfield? She glimpsed her reflection in a nearby window. She looked late twenties but she felt like forty, tall, dark hair tied into one braid, the general look of tired drunkenness plastered over her face. She was worried her CO might see her like this, but Eaden was nothing if not resourceful.
She didn't know why her yesterday-self got drunk, but knew there must have been a damn good reason to get this hell of a hangover. Whatever. Her legs would take her and sort it all out, she had all the time in the world, right?
That last bit was actually the life motto of a friend of hers, one who blundered through life with the odd habit of getting into as much trouble as he could, but shrugged it off as nothing more than the norm of life. He was her Captain, but he acted like it very rarely – those rare occasions were when he'd poke fun at his lower subordinates. She knew he didn't have any, but he liked to think so.
He struck Eaden, and mostly everyone else, as a bit of an eccentric, but quite harmless, despite his odd habits that even a child would find quite strange. For instance he would often gatecrash parties, get badly drunk and start making fun of anyone at a lower rank then Captain until he got thrown out.
There was also the fact that right now, he was staring out the nearby window as if hypnotised. Eaden, after stopping to observe him, walked up and asked him what he was doing. The Captain stared guiltily for a moment, then relaxed and grinned.
"Just keeping an eye out for the Covenant," he joked, and on most occasions Eaden would either laugh, or keep walking. Or both. But today she stood with him.
"You know," he said. "I hope I don't sound arrogant when I say that I am the best man in the whole world."
Eaden lit up a smoke – a big fat cigar. "Break ze record of being the most discharged man on Earth?" she asked. Her German accent is exceptional, although rather generic. It had given her more trouble than she could handle.
"No," he said. Sarcasm didn't register with the Captain unless he really concentrated. His ignorance was as remarkable as his knowledge. He knew next to nothing about tactics, formations, or how to handle a tough situation with any number of resources. Eaden came to suspect that the main reason why he had such a success at military life was that he never really understood the significance of anything he did. "How are you Eadee? You look worse than usual."
"I need a drink," Eaden said. "You busy?"
"Look like you've had enough," said the Captain. "But let me think... No, I'm free, why?"
"Walk with me." And walk they did. He did not bother asking her and she did not bother saying where they were headed, her legs were doing the work while her head rested.
Days when the two of them were in company usually ended badly – sometimes the Captain flirts with the officers, sometimes Eaden passes round to everyone, offering military-banned substances – they radiate trouble like a disease. It was a damn big surprise there CO hadn't done anything about them yet.
"There's something in the air," the Captain said happily, breathing in one long supply of oxygen through his nose, letting it out with, "I can smell it. It smells old, and sublime, and greasy?"
"We just walked past a trashcan Captain so don't get your hopes up." When Eaden said this, she threw her cigar in it.
She pronounced his title Kapitan, most people couldn't understand a word she was saying, but the Captain told her that you get used to it after a long, long time.
"I feel like I should remember something," the Captain said wistfully. He let out a sigh before continuing. "Something very important. What day is it today?"
"Tuesday," she said in her heavy accent.
"Ah, that explains a lot. I hate Tuesdays, have I told you that before?"
"Every seven days," Up ahead there was clapping, right through a doorway they were heading to.
"It reminds me of-"
Oh here we go, thought Eaden. They were rapidly closing unconsciously towards the applauding door. Where some microphone-amplified voice was announcing something important.
"-It reminds me of her. Of Eileen. Oh…" His nose had suddenly realised his state of mind and made him sniff heavily. "She really was something else."
"Captain," Eaden sighed. "She was a convicted serial killer."
"Yeah but you only saw a husky shell of a murderer, where I saw someone who only wanted to be loved." They had passed unknowingly into the doorway where the applause had abruptly halted. Eaden and the Captain closed in on a wooden podium.
Almost as if it were natural, the Captain stood up to the mess of microphones. The crowd (of all females) looked at him with disgusted puzzlement.
"And you all," he announced. "Who came down here to get your damn reports for your damn newspapers full of lousy lies." His voice echoed into the gaping crowd.
"Uh Captain?" Eaden said, but he ignored her.
"Sure, you all think I'm some victim who was cruelly tortured by a woman full of heart. Well do any of you understand how a man… can hurt inside?"
"Captain this is the rally of the Feminow group, they're not here for you…" Eaden said. And then dozens of white lens flashes snapped away. The Captain nodded, gave a murmured apology, and made way for a woman in a suit, who will speak in his place, and who would talk about how that man who had just broke into her speech is a prime example of today's problems in society.
However the Captain had left before he could cop too much abuse. He was good at getting out of situations quickly, Eaden had deduced after many a trouble the Captain liked to make. She could vaguely understand why he liked to cause ruckus – Earth could get boring sometimes.
Eaden led the Captain to the outdoor strip of the Ram Base, where great green dropships were packing and unpacking and repacking troops, materials, food, ammo and guns in a seemingly random fashion. The people doing all this packing didn't even really know what they were doing either – little machines did most of the lifting, they just had to stand around and look the part.
Out of all the passing ships, there was only one that Eaden deemed important enough for attention. The ramp of the dropship dropped quickly and heavily, leaving a great scar on the tarmac. Out poured enough luggage to fill a tourist airliner, and in the wave of baggage, a male figure vomited out of the ship in a great many 'Oofs!' and 'Ows!' and landed at Eaden and the Captain's feet. He wore a flower shirt with matching cargo shorts. He also wore sandals.
The man picked himself up and grinded his teeth at them. This was the third pea in there pod, so to say. A man who wasn't very tall, slightly shorter than the Captain, but after spending thirty seconds in his company, she liked to think of the phrase 'size doesn't matter' and how this man from the dropship must've invented those words. His height was as short as his temper.
"Gale!" she said. (The way she said this was Kale, but that's insignificant now) The figure named Gale brushed off a bag from his shoulder, as if he had tumbled into a haystack and was covered in grass. Gale never looked quite at ease with himself, in Eaden's opinion. He also looked like a magician, but ever since Gale had gotten up her for that, she had not mentioned it since. "Nice to see you, how was your trip?
"Trip?" the Captain asked. "What? You were gone?"
"I went to England," Gale growled. "For about a week, remember?"
"Huh. So how was it?"
"Too urban for my taste," Gale answered. "You know they say 'pardon' instead of 'what'? I mean, who says pardon anymore?"
Eaden had known Gale for a long time. And she was content with him, but he always had this odd habit of sounding mean no matter who he was talking to or what he was saying. The Captain had mentioned this before, and Gale got up him for doing so.
The Captain nodded. "You're right, pardon is totally debunked."
"Excuse me," Eaden interrupted. "Pardon is bunk nowadays."
"Doesn't bunk mean bad?" the Captain said. "I mean, just saying it sounds bad… Bunk, see?"
"No no," she replied. "you have to debunk something bunk."
"Huh?" Gale said.
"Er," the Captain said.
"Cher cuzzies! I have a mussage for you's!"
The new voice was from a tall muscled-up local who ran like Hulk's younger cousin. This man had black short hair and a big grin on his big face. This brutish man looked like one of those short-tempered Mgalekgolo aliens.
The Captain, being an officer and all, thought he was the 'cuzzie' responsible for the 'mussage'. He stood forward and pointed to the messenger.
"Speak, Corporal!"
"Aw yeah bru, just wanted to till ya that your commanding ifficer is lucking for you's."
"Lucking for us?"
"Yeah bru, she'll be right ay? You butter git a move on though, or she'll have all our skulls. Heehee!"
"Thank you Corporal, you may go now."
"Sweet as," said the Corporal. "Later!" And the three were left alone. Overhead a plane flew past, covering them momentarily in a shadow.
"I didn't understand a word he just said," the Captain told them.
"That's because you're an idiot." Gale said in a calm matter-of-fact tone.
"Hey who're you calling an idiot?"
Suddenly Eaden, who rubbed her temples off to the side of them, understood why she drank so much yesterday.
2
The Captain was fairly positive that Gale didn't hate him. It was just sort of that friendly-but-profanity-induced banter. Like the way a bartender would speak to a regular. Or how two old timers meet after a long absence.
It was probably the only way to let out all the stress that a war with not one, not two, but around about seven alien species gave you. The Covenant Empire had declared war on humanity about twenty eight years ago, and the reason for all this fighting was neither important nor known by many.
But if anyone knew that a fat militiaman had pissed off an Unggoy by calling it a 'pig eyes' on a distant world, well, let's just say that even the most hot-headed aliens would stop and think, is this all worth it?
For you see, the Empire were like the Crusades on Earth, or like an alien version of Spanish Inquisitions – the Prophets of the Empire just didn't really like humans, and thought they were more dangerous than a colony of rogue and ill-tempered Jiralhanae. Now things went a lot deeper than simply the Prophets not liking humans, but we'll get to that later.
Because right now, the Captain was having breakfast with Gale and Eaden in the mess hall. They were all eating avocado on toast with coconut milk on the sides. Every table immediately near them was empty, and the people nearest-by were doing a very bad job of looking comfortable. Gale asked about this, but the Captain only said that it was because Gale had returned.
The Captain took Gale's soul-stare as a sign of good fellowship.
"Vat did you do in Englant Kale?" Eaden asked between a puff of another cigar. It should be noted for future reference, that she sounded like this to everyone else, but to her own ears, she sounded perfectly understandable.
"Huh?" the Captain asked.
"I was looking at buying a house," Gale said to Eaden.
"Vhy?" she asked. Why.
"Because my tour's over in a few more weeks, and I need a long, long, long, long break."
"Don't tell me you're retiring," the Captain cried, gulping down his tasteless bread. "I mean, you don't look that old."
"I'm the same age as you, Captain."
"What kind of person are you Gale?"
"I think I'm pretty much like you, only rational… and brighter."
The Captain leant forward a little bit. "We're fighting a war for our species and you're thinking about leaning back on a Lazy Boy in England."
"Cap, not everyone loves war like you do."
Indeed. The Captain, the Captain – adventurer, a horrid at personal relationships, ex-hippy – often thought being in the thick of things was what life was all about. Though no one else understood, it was something he couldn't put into words. His mind couldn't interpret his heart.
The Captain frowned and put an arm around Eaden.
"I most certainly do not take pleasure in war! No, I'm like one of those interstellar credit cards, only I don't give out the cheques. I get results! You got to have initiative. Poise! Without complaint I do my duties and get things done for mankind."
"You three," said a passing officer. "Your CO is waiting for you with breath so bated I thought she was hyperventilating. Get a move on."
"Do we have to?" the Captain asked.
"Yes," the officer said, and walked off.
The Captain sulked. Eaden removed his arm. Gale downed his breakfast and looked at his bright blue Rolex he had bought in England because the cute woman at the store thought it suited him. It did not suit him – not even the flowery attire did – but the Captain held his tongue for now.
"C'mon," Gale said, standing. "Let's go meet her."
"Do we have to?" the Captain repeated.
"This isn't parent-teacher interviews Cap. Besides, I got a feeling it'll all work out for the best. Who knows, she might even forgive you two for that incident back in Africa."
"When was the last time you got a feeling and were right about it?" But Gale would answer this question with a grim stare that said: When was the last time YOU were ever RIGHT about anything?
But this particular feeling would only lead to a series of bad calls of feelings that would eventually lead up to the total damnation of what these three would consider the norm of life on an airbase. The results of going to the CO would be in the shattering of a cup, an angry Major, and a bruised elbow. Not to mention a few kilo tonnes of explosive ordinance exchanged between human and alien forces.
It was ten o'clock when the three of them made their way to their Commanding Officer's door. Only a few hours until the Covenant discovered the home planet of their most hated enemy. But the people of Earth only looked up to see the rotating blackness of a starry space.