Interval 03
A Time and Place
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Crew Deck, Commons [UNSC Vilnius, Enforcer Class Cruiser], Slip Space [Classified Vector], May 6 2563.
"The marine's most valuable weapon is the marine's own bare hands!" Sergeant Daniel Mason announced as Martin and Hamish raised their hands and lowered into fighting stances. Whereas Hamish lowered into your standard 'ready' stance he was taught in the academy, Martin planted himself differently, shifting his weight to his back, hands raised to either side of his face. "In a nuke fight, why the hell should a marine use his fists, or his knife when all he has to do is push a button, you ask?" Mason continued perched on the edge of the sparring mat, overlooking the ODST from 9th Company. First and second squad were present for the presentation, with the only exception being Oliver and Jack. "Well how the hell is the enemy supposed to push the button if he doesn't have any fingers left unbroken?" Mason smirked and looked over his shoulder, nodding to the lance corporal.
Martin struck quickly, launching himself forward and aiming for the ribs. Hamish blocked with both fore-arms, exposing the rest of his body. Martin twisted without recoiling from the block and landed an open palm across the corporal's face. A second later Martin's foot made contact with the back of Hamish's knee and before the corporal realised what was happening, he was lying flat on his back, Martin knelt over him, rubber training knife in one hand, poised to strike for the heart.
"Ow." Hamish moaned as Martin stood and helped the older ODST to his feet. "Where'd you learn to do that?"
Before Martin could answer, Mason spoke up again. "You're about to learn that from me! Today it's my job to teach you how to fight like a real badass! It's your job to shut the fuck up and learn." Daniel shoved Hamish to the ground with the other ODST.
"What the academy teaches you is how to engage another human being in hand to hand combat." Martin announced, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked his old self again, just like during the war in his new black camo battle dress. He'd regained the lost weight thanks to regular meals and was getting back into the routine of soldiering again. "What we are going to teach you today is how to fight a Covenant elite."
One of the marines, a young woman with pale blonde hair and a round boyish face, with 'Baker' printed on her uniform raised her hand. She was built quite athletically, but remained the shortest of all the marines, male and female here. "Don't you mean just 'elites?' They're not Covenant any more."
Realising his mistake, Martin grinned and rubbed his forehead. "Two points to the blonde."
She smiled brightly before Mason shot her down again. "Which you lost for raising your hand to ask a question. Orders were to shut the hell up and listen." The girl now scratched her neck awkwardly. "The basics of fighting a bigger, stronger and generally faster enemy is very simple." Daniel said. "Don't kick above the waist. It's too slow. Aim low with your boots, go for the shins, or the back of the knees. With punches, stay away from the gut. You'd be surprised how much muscle you'll meet in that area. Aim for the ribcage, the throat or the face. If you need to deliver a stumbling blow, put a knee in the groin, or an elbow in the sternum."
Mason nudged Martin who reached to the back of his waist and produced the training knife. He tapped the blade, causing a soft metallic 'ding' which caused Hamish to turn green. The lance corporal hadn't been using a training knife at all, but a real seven-inch clip-point carbon-steel KA-bar.
"Every soldier should have one of these too." Martin continued. "The knife has a million practical uses, from everyday tools to an implement of death. Blades have been a soldier's weapon since the beginning of time, and though our other weapons have evolved and advanced, our knife remains our number one tool. But be warned. Any fool can stab. It takes a truly skilled warrior to kill with a blade."
Martin suddenly lunged at Mason. He grabbed the sergeant around the neck, drove a knee in the small of the older man's back and pulled him backwards off-balance, knife held high in his free hand. The blade was pointed down at Mason's chest as it swiftly fell towards flesh. But just as swiftly, Daniel reacted, throwing up both arms and crossing one over the other, blocking Chapel's blow between his wrists. The sergeant then swivelled sideways, slipped out of the lance corporal's grip and kicked him in the back of the knee. As Martin dropped to the deck, Mason twisted the younger ODST's wrist, forced open his hand and took the knife away with him, bringing it down on it's own owner and pressing the pointed tip against Martin's neck and freezing there. The struggle had lasted less than a second, and if any of the spectators had blinked they would have missed it. Martin had attacked Mason, only to have the sergeant counter his assault, take his knife away and 'kill' the lance corporal with it.
'What-the-fuck.' Hamish mouthed, staring wide-eyed as Mason helped his friend back onto his feet.
A sudden slow applause echoed throughout the gym. Turning his head, Martin saw the doors were open, and six tall figures strode in. The Sangheili were clad in their full combat armour, helmets tucked under one arm. In the past few days, Martin and the other marines had avoided having to talk to the aliens. But today it seemed the inevitable was about to happen.
The lead Sangheili, the Arbiter, was clad in unique ceremonial armour, and stood at least three feet taller than the humans. He walked right up to Mason and nodded impressed.
"Your combat style is quite..." as the alien tried to think of the word to describe 'intuitive,' Mason cut him off.
"What are you doing here, split-lip?" the sergeant growled, causing the Arbiter's eyes to widen slightly with surprise.
"The Warriors of Dawn haven't been able to practice combat since we left Sanghelios." The Arbiter began, ignoring Mason's blatant insult to his face.
"What our sergeant meant was; what are you doing on this ship, calamari?" a marine by the name of Petrenko called out. The other ODST were on their feet now, forming a line beside Daniel and Martin.
The Arbiter glanced between the marines before slowly nodding. "I see what is happening here. Perhaps you would be less hasty to judge if you knew what this team of warriors could do. You see, sergeant, my men are very much like yours. We also deploy from orbit using..."
"You're nothing like us." Mason snapped, his eyes flaring angrily now.
Martin noticed and quickly placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Dude. Lay off. They just wanna use the gym. I say we let them."
Mason tried to shrug Chapel off, but the lance corporal held fast. After a moment of staring up at the Sangheili, the sergeant slowly nodded. "Fine. Marines, fall out. Let our, guests access the gym."
Slowly but surely the ODST gathering dispersed. Some moved to the various exercise machines housed in the room, while others just left. As the aliens also dispersed to explore the various machines that must have been alien to them, Martin and Mason stood alone by the edge of the sparring mat as a familiar figure walked past.
The female Sangheili was dressed in the same chrome armour from when the marines had first seen her enter the Vilnius. Her wavy purple plumage was tied in a tight knot at the back of her sleek skull and her helmet was held in one hand. She was almost a foot taller than the lance corporal, but not much wider, her combat armour hugging her slender, almost human figure.
"Thank you." She said, halting in front of the humans, speaking softly.
"What?" Martin asked absently, turning his head to look at her.
"For standing down." The Sangheili said with what was supposed to be a smile. Her tone sounded almost smug now. "When one is afraid to fight, it is always best to run or hide."
"Afraid to fight?" Daniel snapped. "What the hell makes you think I'm afraid to fight?"
"The way you buckled so easily and listened to a... subordinate." The female sighed with a glance at Martin's rank, turning away and walking very slowly to the arbiter who was inspecting the treadmill Private Baker ran on. "I can't blame a human for being afraid of us though."
"Hey!" Mason yelled at her back ignoring Martin who tried to hold him back. "Let's get this straight, bitch! I'm not afraid of you split-faced motherfuckers, right? I'll take any of you on, anytime!"
The Sangheili female stopped mid step, before turning on her heels and placing her hands on her hips. "Is that so?" everybody in the gym was watching them now. Some marines and ship crew walking past stopped to poke their heads in to see what the commotion was. All eyes were on the two figures standing by the sparring mat in the centre of the room. Martin gestured as many of them to ignore what was happening, but went ignored. "How about now?" the alien turned and strode into the centre of the mat. "Come on then, human. You say you are not afraid? Then prove it!"
Some of the ODST leapt from the exercise machines, backing the lance corporal up. "Go on, sir. Show this bitch!" Baker shouted. "Show them not to mess with real badasses!" Private Petrenko shouted. "Take that whore down, dude." Private Bouncer egged on.
"Alright!" Mason barked, following the Sangheili onto the sparring mat. "You wanna go? Let's go."
Defeated, Martin jogged to the nearest practice weapons rack and pulling a pair of swords off the rack. The practice swords were carved out of hard wood and shaped to follow the design of a shortened katana, with leather bound handles.
"Daniel!" He pushed his way through the crowd surrounding the sparring mat now and tossed the swords to the sergeant. "Catch!"
Mason caught both by the handle, spun them between his fingers and held them ready. Standing silent at the edge of the ring of bodies forming around the mat, Martin's eyes shifted left and right at the group of marines and crewmen surrounding him now. In front of him, the Sangheili raised her hands and took a similar fighting stance to the human's. Spinning one of his swords again, Mason lowered his centre of gravity.
Humans started cheering and throwing their fists into the air. He had at least forty pairs of eyes on him now. Martin caught a glimpse of some marines exchanging wads of cash. No doubt bets were already being placed. He didn't even want to know whom the crowds favoured.
Even the Sangheili watched, though more silently. The Arbiter stood towering over the mass of human bodies, his arms folded across his chest, a disapproving glare in his eyes. For a moment Martin wondered why he looked so disapproving. If a Sangheili female was forbidden from combat, why was she a part of the Arbiter's fighting force? But soon he figured maybe it was the inglorious public spectacle this sparring match had already turned into.
"Well, human?" the Sangheili female called over the marines. "Now what?"
"Now the pain begins!" Daniel shouted, leaping forward and throwing the first blow...
---***---
Crew Deck, Commons [UNSC Vilnius, Enforcer Class Cruiser], Slip Space [Classified Vector], May 6 2563.
"To be entirely honest, sir, I'm not quite sure I understand the question." Staff Sergeant Reynolds said respectfully. Oliver was walking with Jack and the ONI colonel, Sam Wilkes to meet up with the rest of the ODST for a random inspection. The ONI officer seemed insistent that the Helljumpers be drilled in battle doctrine they already knew backwards, and practice for every possible worst case scenario. But as Oliver had tried to explain to the colonel earlier, was that these boys and girls were wound tight enough, and if they weren't given some space and time, they'd likely snap and be useless to the mission.
"I just want to make sure you know what commands to give when your squad encounters a brute pack supported by a hunter pair." The colonel repeated his question.
"Sir, the hunter pairs turn a standard Covenant make-out session into a full fledged test of a marine's manly prowess." Jack cut in. "Staff Sergeant Reynolds knows to call up the heavy weapons when we see some, sir."
Walking through the crew deck, passing crewmembers who stepped aside to salute the two NCOs and single CO, they moved parallel to the commons. None of the crew was placed in cryo-stasis, since the captain wanted all hands battle ready. As a result, the halls were always inhabited by some crew. None of the sections on the ship were abandoned. It added life to the Vilnius, which Oliver suspected was what Captain Byrne was truly after.
"And your men, staff sergeant?" the colonel asked, taking everything said in their conversation down on a data pad. "Are you sure your boys are up to the task? I understand some of the ODST on this ship are war veterans. One of them a boy soldier from Sigma Tel IV."
Halting in front of the closed door leading to the gym where Oliver knew he could find his company of ODST, the staff sergeant turned to Wilkes and looked at him very seriously. "Sir, I can assure you without hesitation, my vets are the best of the best. The boys I served with during the war, the likes of Mason, Meyers, Bouncer and the others are all tough as nails and twice as sharp. And as for Chapel, a more disciplined soldier does not exist. He's not going to crack like most of the Sigma Tel boys. Finally, the new recruits all graduated with honours and came highly recommended. Ninth Company Katana is the best of the best."
Touching the glowing holographic panel in the centre of the doorway, Jack stood aside as the way into the gym parted down the middle to reveal the crowd of cheering marines and ODST inside swarming around the sparring mat, shouting profanities and waving wads of money above their heads.
Staring wide eyed, Oliver and Jack let their jaws drop as the colonel sighed.
"Yes," Wilkes said. "Highly disciplined. Best of the best. I can see that."
"Yikes." Jack muttered. "This is awkward."
Oliver didn't hesitate another second and darted forward, shouldering his way through the mass of humans. The crowd seemed to part as many of the spectators recognised the staff sergeant and started to disperse. Many backed off; fearing running away might instil his wrath. Others scampered as quickly as possible, leaving the gym, saluting the colonel and Sergeant Cryll as they passed.
Soon Oliver stood on the edge of the sparring mat beside Lance Corporal Chapel. Martin stood by with his arms folded across his chest and a defeated expression on his face. On the mat were Sergeant Mason and the Warriors of Dawn lieutenant, the Sangheili female Oliver knew from file as Esne 'Syles. Daniel was armed with a pair of wooden swords, swinging at the Sangheili who blocked against the armour around her wrists and threw low sweeping kicks while dodging the ODSTs blows and flowing around him with the grace of some kind of alien ballet dancer.
"What the hell?" Oliver's eyes flitted from side to side as he followed the flurry of blows being thrown and blocked. Neither the human nor the Sangheili seemed to be making much contact with each other as they constantly dodged and blocked. Both were breathing heavily though, and sweating buckets. "Dutch, what the hell is going on here?"
"Thank God you're here, Grim." Martin said in a bored tone, glancing sideways at his company NCO. "Daniel is sparring with an elite."
"Yeah, I see that." Oliver snapped. "For how long?"
"Oh, about..." Martin checked his watch. "An hour."
Reynolds opened his mouth, his expression changing between that of confusion across various other emotions until it settled on anger. Without another word he charged into the fight and waved his arms.
The female Sangheili jumped back and raised her arms to defend. Mason leapt forward... and froze as the staff sergeant stepped between them, a look that could stop a plasma bolt in it's tracks on his face. He rounded on Daniel and snatched the weapons out of his hands, tossing them aside.
"What-the-fucking-hell-is-going-on-here?!" the staff sergeant yelled at the top of his lungs. "Y'all better start dispersing!" he shouted at the bystanders. Quickly the crowd dispersed and left. He rounded back on Mason and stopped the sergeant from leaving. "Not you, patchwork! What the fucking hell do you think you're doing? We have enough to deal with without you tearing our support squad apart!"
"We were just sparring..." Mason started, but Oliver cut across him.
"I know very fucking well what you were doing!" he yelled. "From now on you are barred from the sparring mat, and if you so much as look at the Warriors of Dawn wrong I will put you in the brig for the rest of this trip, do I make myself clear, buttercup?"
Mason was stunned. Martin didn't even know what to say. The lance corporal's arms fell to his side as he watched the staff sergeant, completely speechless. This was the first time he'd seen Oliver angry... well, he'd seen angry before. He'd seen miffed before... this was beyond anger though. This was fury. And it was terrifying. Reynolds stood almost as tall as the Arbiter and looked as though he might rip Daniel in two.
"Sir, yes, sir!" Mason barked before turning on his heel and robotically marching out of the gym.
Martin watched him go before moving closer to the staff sergeant who stood silent catching his breath. "Jesus, Grim. What was that about?"
"You know damn well what that was about." Oliver said softly, turning back to his old self again. "Mason has history with elites. Pre and post war."
"Yeah, I agree, but jeez dude." Martin lowered his voice.
"Look, I know he's your friend, Dutch. Keep an eye on him though, will you? This is our first mission, and I don't want Mason fucking up and spoiling future missions." Oliver said before walking to where Sergeant Cryll stood by the entrance to the gym. Wilkes had disappeared.
"Yes, sir!" Martin barked and glanced to where the female Sangheili stood catching her breath. None of the other Sangheili talked. None of them even shifted. They just watched the marines leave until it was just the aliens and a single human left. Martin looked sideways to see the female Sangheili watching him.
"Lieutenant 'Syles!" the Arbiter barked, marching up to the silver armoured female.
Only half paying attention, Martin didn't understand everything that was said, but he could tell from the body language that the speech the Arbiter gave the lieutenant in the aliens' native tongue was a reprimand. The female remained silent and slouched slightly, her eyes fixed on the mat between her armoured boots. The Arbiter stood with his shoulders back and brows furrowed.
Watching for a while, Martin caught random phrases which he translated in his head. 'Your history precedes you.' 'Are you crazy?' 'If the alliance is to work, you must discipline yourself.' These were just some sentences in the Arbiter's lecture Martin translated in his head. It sounded like the lieutenant had something against humans, like Mason had something against her kind.
With a sigh, the lance corporal stuffed his hands in his pockets and walked out into the hall leaving the aliens behind him. Maybe the Arbiter was right after all. Maybe they weren't so different...
---***---
Crew Deck, Mess Hall [UNSC Vilnius, Enforcer Class Cruiser], Slip Space [Classified Vector], May 6 2563.
Ghost hour. Cot time for the crew. The engineering deck and the command centre were run on a skeleton crew to make sure everything ran smoothly while key personnel grabbed some winks. This was the quietest time on the Vilnius. The halls were empty, recreational areas were abandoned. The only busy areas were the barracks and the officers' quarters. Most of the crew were in their cots. Marines snored loudly over the faint hum of the slip space engines below the crew deck.
The cafeteria would have been empty too... was it not for Mason sitting alone on one of the long benches lining the long tables bolted down to the floor of the mess hall. The shutters dividing the mess from the kitchen were pulled down, the tables were clear and spotless and the lights were dimmed casting a grey gloom across the chamber. Alone, the sergeant sat with his head rested on one arm and his eyes squeezed shut. His heart still burned. No more sparring. If he went near the Sangheili Reynolds would toss him in the brig... this was crazy. Why would that bastard defend those split-faced cunts over one of his own?
There could only be one explanation... some kind of deal. Had they manipulated the staff sergeant somehow? Did they have a hand in the UNSC admiralty? The government?
The sergeant shook his head vigorously. No, this was madness. He was being paranoid.
"How are you doing, sergeant?" a voice said.
Daniel's eyes sprang open and he looked up to see a figure in dress uniform. It was Colonel Wilkes, tired bags under his eyes and his hand clutching his PDA. He didn't seem to let go of that thing. Every time Daniel had spotted the colonel today, the commissioned-officer had been typing in his data pad or scrolling through files.
Mason didn't say anything as the colonel moved closer and removed his cap, placing it on the table opposite the sergeant.
"May I join you?" he asked the NCO, to which Mason nodded. Gingerly, the colonel sat down opposite Daniel, and PDA still clutched tight in his hand, made himself comfortable. "Creepy in the cot hours isn't she? The Vilnius I mean. A charming girl on the bridge, the helmsman I believe, calls these hours 'Ghost Hours.' I believe I know now why."
"We all call them ghost hours." Daniel replied dryly through the swollen lip where the Sangheili bitch had landed a shot earlier. "Sir."
With a chuckle, the colonel nodded his head. "Of course. You must understand, this is only my fourth slip space voyage. During the war I was stationed on Earth, and only after was I put into orbit... but this is not my first time on a long voyage with an elite crew." His voice suddenly turned grave.
Mason didn't say anything, sitting straight up. He was curious where this was going now.
"Quite a tragic event, the flight of the UNSC Hammer." Wilkes sighed. "Turned out the elite crew was still loyal to the ways of the Covenant. Too many good men lost their lives in the bombings and the fighting that ensued. Most of them got killed because the do-gooder-captain was an elite lover and refused to believe the aliens were responsible. A few of us with common sense drew arms and tried to defend the crew." He sighed again. "It was how I got this scar, dragging wounded into a life boat." He lifted up the cuff of his sleeve to reveal and small, hardly even visible scar on his wrist, probably where he'd scratched himself, or been hit by shrapnel. Mason scowled at it, causing the scars on his face to twist into a scary glare. "Right... but I suppose that's nothing compared to the suffering you endured at the hands of these aliens, isn't it sergeant? I read your file and must say I'm impressed you were still able to serve with distinction after the elites killed your..."
"Sir... is there a point you're trying to make?" Mason stopped him.
"No, I'm just making conversation."
"Then could we converse about something else, sir?" Daniel asked.
"Very well. How about we talk about alien customs?" Wilkes said. "Did you know the elite females are actually forbidden from combat? They mainly serve as diplomats and priests on the elite home world. And since the UNSC forbade the elites taking any kind of religious leaders on the Halo missions, why on earth would they bring a female with the Warriors of Dawn? I'm not sure about you, sergeant, but I smell something fishy. Captain Byrne reminds me too much of the do-gooder-captain on the Hammer, and I think it's obvious Staff Sergeant Reynolds doesn't have our back. Both of them are too blind to see an obvious problem."
"I could watch them, sir." Mason immediately said. "I know the staff sergeant told me to steer clear of them, but I have an affinity for... how should I say? Discretion?" there certainly was something strange going on. He refused to believe the elites were merely here so the UNSC admiralty could suck up to their new allies.
With a smile, Wilkes rose to his feet and tucked his cap over his cropped hair again. "With that knowledge I think I'll sleep soundly again." And without another word, the colonel turned and left the mess hall, leaving Mason in the dim light with only his thoughts... and his plans.
"Oh lord, Samantha." The sergeant whispered to nobody, rubbing his eyes. "What am I going to start?"
