Chapter 2

Michael J. Caboose

"Well, uh." Caboose started. "This is um... Sheila." The tanks turret was aimed at Caboose, but the Spartan showed no fear of the large mechanical structure. He appeared to feel completely comfortable around it, so when its large turret turned to Tennessee, she showed no sign of fear, and she smiled.

"Hello, Sheila." She murmured and the tank happened to acknowledge her presence. Caboose touched the tanks frame lightly and it turned its attention back to him.

"Sheila, this is Tennessee." He introduced the Freelancer. "She is, ah, working with the Blue Team for a while." The tank turned back to Tennessee and said in a monotonic voice;

"Hello, Tennessee, it is nice to meet you." Tennessee nodded to the tank. Caboose seemed a little happier now the two had met, and he turned to look around.

"I guess I should, uh … show you the bases." He murmured, and gestured for the Freelancer to follow him as the tank went into shutdown. The clambered up a steep hill that overlooked the whole of Blood Gulch, and Tennessee looked around in a slight awe. For a battlefield, it was rather pretty, and the views were stunning. Caboose pointed a finger at the Red Base, where Tennessee noted three soldiers stood on top of it. Another walked out from the entrance, and seemed to command them.

"The bright red one; That's uh, Sarge." Caboose seemed a little nervous, still. "The crimson one is Simmons, The golden one is Grif and the pink one is Donut." He paused. "It is, ah, probably not a good idea if you say Donut's armour is pink though. He gets pretty angry." Tennessee nodded, and her visor zoomed in onto Sarge, who, hence is name, was obviously the leader of the Reds.

"So Church is the leader of the Blues?" She murmured a nod from Caboose. "And Sarge is for the Reds?" Another nod. "That makes sense." Caboose let her study them a little longer, before her turned to her again.

"I can show you around the Blue base now." He said, sounding a little excited. "I can show you all of our rooms and everything." Tennessee nodded to the ecstatic blue soldier.

"Sure thing."

Church greeted them as they walked into Blue Base, and as Tennessee predicted, almost everything was blue, besides the metallic walls that held the structure together. Church was stood in the corner, examining the guns they possessed, while Tucker laid on a couch near the rear of the building, a small Elite on his stomach. Tennessee didn't pose any threat towards this Elite, because it was apparent that it was young. It turned, and said "Blarg!" Then Tucker looked down at it, before glancing across at Tennessee.

"Oh. That's Tennessee." He murmured as the baby Elite grabbed one of his fingers. "Tennessee, this is Junior. He's my son." He paused. "You'll get used to it." Caboose turned to Tennessee.

"Tucker got infected by an Alien and the Alien laid its eggs in him." He sighed. "We try not to think about that …"

"Yeah, thanks Caboose." Tucker sighed, and Church chuckled from across the room, setting down his assault rifle. The Elite jumped off of Tuckers lap, and trotted over to Tennessee, gazing up at her curiously.

"Blarg! Honk!" It raised its arms, and the Freelancer's eyebrows raised before she knelt down and picked up the Elite. It happily rested in her arms, then looked over at Tucker and murmured. "Blarg Chicka Honk Honk." Tucker's eyes widened, and Church burst out laughing as Caboose and Tennessee stood awkwardly, Tennessee carrying a small Elite, which was undeniably adorable. Tucker then frowned, and sat upright as Church leant against the wall.

"It looks like Junior's more of a natural with the ladies." He chuckled, and Tucker scowled at the base's leader.

"Can it, Church." He grumbled. "Kids love a new person, that's all." Junior looked up at Tennessee and lightly touched her visor, wondering what was behind the thick lens, before squirming out of her grasp and jumping back onto Tucker's lap, his eyes still locked onto the Freelancer curiously. Caboose touched Tennessee's arm by mistake, then flinched away as she looked at him, but nothing happened, so he straightened upright.

"I will show you the rooms." He murmured, and they left the living room. There was a slope downwards, then a long corridor heading both left and right. They turned right, and Caboose named each one as they passed them. First on the right was Churches, then Tucker and Juniors, then someone called "Sister" but Caboose explained she had disappeared, and they assumed she was dead, and at the very end was Cabooses. His was obviously a smaller, boxed-in room than all the others. It was then Tennessee realised why the Private was so quiet, nervous and shy. If they were in a pack of wolves, he would have been the Omega, the one who's always last and never complains about it. Tennessee felt a sudden sympathy for the Private, and although he appeared completely nuts, she was sure there was a side of him that he hadn't shown them all. Her room was at the far end, next to Cabooses – she wasn't sure if this was a good thing or not, but she'd find out soon enough. On the left hand side of the hallway, there was a weapon closet, an armour closet, and a miscellaneous storage area that was bolted shut with a password and multiple locks. Tennessee sighed, and she knew it was going to be a long few months for her.

Instead of sleeping, the Freelancer stayed awake, looking around her new home with curiosity. It wasn't long before she escaped the base and started to walk outside of it to explore the grounds. She had left her weapons at the base, apart from her knife, because she knew these Reds weren't going to be any more dangerous than her own team.

She found a lake within a cave, and stood by it curiously, wondering how the water got there in the first place, and then she focused on her reflection, wondering why she was there. Before long, she realised there was another reflection of a Spartan in there, and she frowned, before looking up at a Red Spartan before her, a shotgun clenched in his hands, pointed directly at her.

"State your business, private." He said, a somewhat rich accent filled his voice, but she couldn't figure out where it was from.

"I neither am a Private nor possess business." She straightened her back. "Lower your weapon." The Red Spartan's arms twitched, but his gun did not lower.

"If you're not a Private," He grunted. "Then what in Sam Hell are ya?" Tennessee folded her arms and leant on one leg more than another.

"I'm a Freelancer." She murmured, and the Red Spartan lowered his shotgun. "I am replacing Texas' duties." The Red Spartan growled a little.

"How do ah know you're not going ta kill me?" The Spartan said gruffly, and Tennessee raised her arms.

"Oh, Come on," She felt slightly irritated. "Do I look as though I am in the position to oppose you?" The Red Spartan looked her up and down, then his posture relaxed.

"I suppose not." He nodded. "Name's Sarge. I'm the leader of the Red Team." Tennessee remembered seeing him before, when Caboose was around.

"I'm Agent Tennessee." She nodded back. "Newcomer to the Blue Team; I won't cause you hassle unless you cause us hassle." Sarge was already intrigued by this new Freelancer. She held her authority, he noticed, but she didn't use it against anyone. He just wished she was on his team and not the Blues. The red soldier nodded once.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Tennessee." He said formally. "Let us hope we never have to fight it out. I can see you're a tough'un." The Freelancer smirked under her helmet.

"I doubt that'll happen, Sarge."

That night, Michael J. Caboose found it hard to sleep. He tried turning, lying on one side, his back, his front, even sleeping sitting up, but try as he might, unconsciousness wouldn't take him away. He knew why though; He was afraid of this Freelancer. She felt different to him than Texas did, and Caboose didn't know whether to trust her or not. It wasn't that he didn't trust Texas, because he knew very well she had saved his sorry ass more than once (And she wasn't afraid to justify that.), but because he didn't understand what was going through his own head. Usually, the cobalt Private would be aware of whatever his simple mind was thinking, but for once, it was too complicated. Eventually, he gave up, and waltzed across his room. The Spartan was wearing a blue shirt with his name on the back and grey tracksuit bottoms, his wild blonde hair messy atop of his head, piercing blue eyes searching for something to do. His gaze fell upon his desk, where numerous drawings lay; mostly of Church, Tucker and Texas. He hadn't drawn Tennessee; He felt almost afraid to. The dark-armoured Freelancer intimidated him greatly, and he considered going for a walk, but he wasn't sure where she was.

Caboose quickly shoved his cobalt armour on, his helmet under his arm, before creaking open the door slightly. He tentatively peered through the crack he had made, checking for any sign of movement. After a minute or so, he opened the door and squeezed himself out, closing it quietly behind him. He moved silently along the corridor, where the walls felt as though they were trying to pressurise him, hold him captive and close to them. He moved a little quicker now, trying to not make any noise. Suddenly, he bumped into something – or someone – and the noise on metal on metal clanged through the bases hall, reverbing and droning on. Caboose stiffened, and he froze up, not wanting to talk, listening for the sound of any soldier that might have awoken. Instead, a feminine voice perked up, and he bit his lip. Whoops.

"Sorry." The female murmured, and seemed to reach forwards. Caboose knew this because the metal on his chest pushed against him a little, then the pressure moved to his shoulder. "Caboose? That's you, right?" Caboose hesitated – How did she know it was him?

"Y- yeah." He muttered. "It's me." There was a small rustle as Tennessee moved slightly.

"I thought so," She said softly. "What are you doing up so late?" The clock in her visor said 3:29. Caboose fell silent before murmuring in reply;

"I could not sleep." He tried to avoid why, but Tennessee pressed him on.

"Is something bothering you, Caboose?" She asked, and then Caboose flinched.

"Um, no." Caboose lied. "I'm just not tired." Naturally, he yawned afterwards, and Tennessee chuckled.

"If you say so." The female Spartan edged her way around Caboose, careful not to bump into him again. "I'm going to bed." She stated, her night vision activating suddenly, and she was staring at the face of a human, not a helmet: She smiled under her visor. "I'll see you in the morning. Maybe you can teach me the ways of the Blues or something." She patted his shoulder as he nodded, then sauntered back to her room, the cobalt Spartan staring after her cautiously. When he heard the click of her door shutting, he frowned, and walked to the roof of the base, sitting down under the stars and staring at the dark scenery that befell him. His thoughts weren't negative any more – he could see that maybe, just maybe, for once in his life, someone was going to accept him into their life, and he could finally get along with someone. The azure-eyed Spartan smiled, closing his eyelids, and sighing, the cool breeze of the night fumbling his hair, and stroking his face gently, and before he knew it, he was asleep like the rest of the Spartans in Blood Gulch. All but one, anyway.