IV
The next morning, John found himself facing his first full day of relaxation aboard the Hercules. He had a sound, comfortable sleep and awoke promptly at 0500. He quickly grabbed a fresh uniform and his bag of ablutions, intending to have a quick morning shower before heading to the mess for breakfast.
He exited his room, wearing his PT shirt, shorts and shower sandals, his clothes and ablutions tucked under his arm. The hall was empty and deathly quiet. As John quickly learned early on, this section of the ship consisted just of private quarters issued to higher ranking personnel such as himself. Apparently this morning they all valued the luxury of sleeping in.
At the end of the hall, however, John heard the hissing of a door as it opened, and he paused. A short female stepped out, her brown hair mussed. She wore civilian sweatpants, a tank top and flip-flops. Not noticing him yet, he watched as she paused to do a bit of quick self-grooming. She furiously swept her shoulder-length brown hair up into a ponytail and tied it with a hairband kept on her wrist.
Then, she glanced down the hall, paranoia flashing across her features. Their eyes locked and she froze, her colour quickly draining from her face. Out of all the people to run into this morning… it had to be the Spartan.
John instantly recognized her – Private Klein. Last time he checked, privates weren't entitled to their own rooms.
"Good morning, sir," she said, keeping her voice quiet.
He approached her, narrowing his eyes.
"Morning, Private Klein." He stopped within a foot of her. "How is your injury?"
She glanced down at herself self-consciously. She looked like shit.
"Good. Thank you for asking, sir."
She watched as the Spartan looked to the door from which she had just come. It read LT Coddington.
Natalie's heart pounded like a drum in her chest as she watched the Spartan put two and two together. She let out a silent exhale, and clamped her eyes shut, awaiting the fallout. She should have fucking left the room last night like she had originally intended…
She heard footsteps, and when she opened her eyes, she saw the Spartan continuing on down the hall without a word. What the fuck? She felt baffled. That was it? He wasn't going to say anything? Maybe he wasn't the confrontational type. Perhaps he would simply in inform the chain of command later, casually after breakfast – have her disciplined or charged. Perhaps Myles, too.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," she whispered under her breath. She quickly hurried down the hall, eager to get back to her own room before anyone else could suspect anything.
She burst into her room, flicking on the lights. Amy, who was sprawled out on her bed wearing nothing but a tank top and underwear, instantly stirred, grabbing the pillow and pulling it over her eyes.
"Fuck off with the lights!" she muttered ferociously.
"Wake up. I'm fucked. I'm totally fucked!" Natalie heard her voice wavering as she spoke. She swiped up the can of chewing tobacco and spit bottle and threw herself down onto her own bed.
Amy peeked out from under her pillow at the bedside clock.
"You fucking bitch. It's 0500." She blinked sleepily at her friend, raising a brow as she saw her going for the nicotine. "You haven't even eaten yet, you savage. Control yourself. It makes you look pathetic."
Natalie paused, but threw down the can onto her mattress, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"Fuck."
"You're pregnant." Amy's first prediction.
"No!" Natalie looked disgusted. "Jesus!"
"Well it better be fucking something life-changing to warrant waking me up this fucking early," Amy spat viciously. She sighed heavily, sitting up, throwing aside the blankets, stifling a yawn into the back of her hand.
"I just got caught coming out of Myles' room."
"I fucking told you not to ever stay all night, you idiot. Who saw you?"
"The Spartan! And he didn't say anything. He said good morning and asked how I was doing, then continued on his way."
"So… what?" Amy asked, raising a brow. "How are you fucked? He obviously didn't care."
"I don't know that! What if he tells the chain of command? Myles and I could both be charged…"
"Look. As I said before, the fact that you and Myles are fucking is a terribly kept secret. Almost everyone knows. If there hasn't been anything done about it so far, there won't be now. I think even the Old Man understands that if you put a bunch of marines on a ship together for months on end, people are going to start getting tired of using their hands to do the job and search for some company, hm? If I didn't have Wayne back home, I'd have already been all over someone. You and Myles aren't the only people who are fucking. Your difference in rank is really the only thing that could catch some flak, even then, I really don't think anyone gives a fuck as long as it doesn't affect how you do your job."
"Thank you for your rational mind." She heaved a sigh. "I'll try not to worry."
"Good. Now let me go back to sleep. Wake me up in a couple hours for some grub."
John went to the mess after having his shower, where he had mulled over the situation earlier when he had run into Private Klein in the hall. She had come out of Lieutenant Coddington's room, something he thought odd, but at the same time, hadn't been confident enough to question. He was aware that marines had relationships with one another. It was rather common, if one paid enough attention, to catch the little signs here and there. None could be more obvious than to be seen leaving a Lieutenant's room in the early hours of the morning, however.
Private Klein could be considered an attractive female. She had large, expressive eyes, a heart-shaped face, a slightly upturned nose and full lips. Her smile was genuine, and her cheeks always dimpled. Her figure was fit and lean, with soft feminine curves.
John couldn't help but notice her features when he had seen her in something other than her bulky battle gear and uniform. Out of uniform, at first glance, one might not even think she was a marine. He had no trouble understanding why Lieutenant Coddington was interested in her.
In the mess hall, Natalie and Amy had found a spot at one of the back tables. The place was bustling, and smelled strongly of coffee, toast and bacon grease. After being on rations for the past two days, everyone rejoiced in having hot food, even if the eggs were powdered and the bread a bit stale.
Amy was sipping from her second mug of coffee, sleepiness still present on her features. She had thrown on her PT sweats and had her hood pulled up to cover her mess of red hair.
Natalie had tried to not let the incident bother her from earlier that morning. After showering, she had changed into her grey fatigues and pulled her hair back into a neat pony tail and made her way to the mess, trying to forget the dishevelled way the Spartan had seen her not a couple hours prior.
Myles had come to breakfast around the same time she and Amy arrived. He had simply given her a nod from across the room and went to sit at the table with the rest of the officers. She wondered if she should tell him that she had been spotted. Knowing his temper, she guessed it probably wouldn't be the best idea.
"Oh look. Check your six." Natalie whispered lowly to Amy, gesturing behind her friend's back with her fork.
Amy swivelled to stare, nearly sloshing her coffee over the edge of the mug. The Spartan towered clearly above everyone else in the steam line, tray in hand, a blank expression on his face.
"Well fuck, you're right. That's gotta be him." Amy turned back around, raising a brow. "You weren't exaggerating when you were talking about his build. Christ, wouldn't wanna piss him off."
"Hmm." Natalie nodded, keeping her eyes on him, watching as the cooks handed him a heaping plate of eggs and bacon. He accepted his plate and turned in their direction. His eyes met hers. Instantly, she averted her gaze, picking up her mug of coffee and raising it to her lips.
Out of the corner of her eye, a tray was set down in the empty spot next to Amy. Natalie slowly raised her eyes and saw it was the Spartan. For a moment, in her morning haze, Amy didn't even clue someone had sat down next to her.
"Oh, hello again, sir," Natalie spoke, smiling politely.
Amy's head turned in a blur, and she stared at the large man sitting next to her, her eyebrows raised in disbelief.
"Sir," she finally said, sounding confused.
"Busy in here this morning," John remarked, meeting Natalie's eyes. He noticed an immediate change in the Private's demeanour as soon as he sat down. "I hope you weren't saving this seat for someone else."
"Oh no," Amy spoke up, shrugging. "It's yours." She briefly met Natalie's eyes across the table, mouthing what the fuck.
Natalie watched as John began eating, and once his eyes were on his food, she shrugged discreetly, appearing as confused as her friend. Amy glanced around, taking note that more people were shooting glances their way, undoubtedly at the Spartan seated next to her.
Across the room, Natalie caught Myles' gaze. He raised a brow curiously. She quickly delivered the same stealthy shrug, and it seemed to satisfy him.
"So, how are you adjusting to the more relaxing routine, sir?" Amy started a conversation, taking a sip of her coffee. "A lot fuckin' different from the last couple days, don't you say?"
"Indeed." John agreed, not raising his eyes from his food.
"I don't know if I got to properly compliment you yesterday for your heroic actions," Amy continued. "You probably hear this a lot, being a Spartan and all, but you're a fucking badass, sir. Thank you."
"Just following orders, Private Smythe."
Amy gave a little smile to Natalie. His identity was confirmed. Leave it to Amy to be stealthy about it. While she often had a bad rap for being rather direct and at times offensive, she occasionally portrayed the talent of getting information without asking a single question.
"I never caught your name, sir."
"117. Spartan 117."
"That can't be the name you were born with!" Amy raised a brow, scoffing. Natalie held her breath – wondering if that response might be a tad too friendly to use when speaking to a MCPO.
"John," the Spartan replied after a beat. "My name is John. Master Chief Petty Officer John 117."
"John," Amy sounded it out. She extended her hand out to him. "Pleased to meet you, sir. Private Amy Smythe." She glanced to Natalie. "And Private Natalie Klein. At your service."
John stared at her hand for a moment, but finally reached over and gave it a firm shake. He watched surprise flash across Smythe's features, undoubtedly at the strength behind his grip.
He glanced to Klein, who was watching this unfold almost nervously. She had finished her breakfast, save for the mug of coffee that she silently raised to her lips. He hesitated for a moment, but held his hand out to her.
Natalie's eyes fell onto the Spartan's large outstretched hand, and she quickly reached out, giving him a quick handshake, mentally wondering how many Covenant he had killed using that hand alone.
She glanced up to his face, searching for any signs indicating his intention to get her into trouble for earlier. She saw none, for his expression was rather neutral, as it usually appeared. She could read nothing.
"I need another cup of coffee." Amy stood up and hurried off, leaving Natalie and John alone.
"Sir," she started, feeling heat rising to her cheeks in a form of a blush. "About earlier this morning…"
"It's fine," he replied curtly, sounding as if he wanted to avoid the subject as much as she did.
"No. I apologize. It's fucking unprofessional."
"I noticed no favouritism between you and the Lieutenant."
"No. It's a rule. I don't want to be treated any differently." It felt so strange having this conversation with a Spartan.
His eyes dropped to her tray.
"Are you finished? I can take that for you."
"I got it."
John stood. Taking his own tray, he extended his hand out to her.
"It's no inconvenience."
Realizing there was no point in arguing, she handed her tray to him.
"Thank you, sir."
John swivelled and went off to dispose of the trays, and Natalie could feel many pairs of eyes on her. She glanced over to Myles' table and met his eyes. He looked instantly sour, but dropped his gaze back to his food. Fuck. She could only begin to wonder what he could be thinking.
Amy came back, clutching a full mug of coffee. She immediately noticed John's absence.
"Hey, where the fuck did…"
Before she could finish her sentence, amber lights lining the wall began to flash, a beeping alarm screaming its way through the mess. The two women startled in surprise.
Captain Thomsen's voice came over the loudspeaker.
"All personnel to battle stations, I repeat all personnel to battle stations. This is not a drill. Will the Master Chief please report to the bridge immediately."
There was a clatter as John discarded the trays he'd been carrying onto the nearest table and took off in a sprint. Even in the immediate hustle that overtook the mess, he was the first one out the door before most had even stood.
John arrived on the bridge, rushing up alongside the Captain and Dr. Halsey. Despite having run the whole way, he hadn't even broken a sweat.
The various bridge technicans were chattering nervously and tapping away at their workstations. The ship's AI shimmered on her holographic panel. Thomsen and Halsey were staring up at the main holographic screen, their expressions grim.
"What's going on?" John demanded.
"A Covenant assault carrier and its whole fleet somehow followed us into Slipspace," Thomsen replied. "I honestly thought we covered our tracks well enough. We have exited Slipspace in hope of misleading them, as our destination is only 50,000 light years from Earth's solar system." He turned to the ship's A.I, who called herself Keira. "Are you getting any readings?"
"Yes. I am tapping into their battle net as we speak," she answered quickly. "Just let me skim the most recent information… yes, just what I thought. They were on the other side of Capricornia when they received signals of our Slipspace rupture. They are still following us; currently they are one light-year behind us in the Slipspace void. The assault carrier is called The Domination… seems to be captained by Sangheili M'to 'Malnoonee, Special Ops. The main cruiser accompanying it, The Redemption, is captained by Rtas 'Vadumee, Zealot. Lucky I picked up their signals. We'll be ready for them hopefully by the time they exit Slipspace."
"How many drop ships are there?" Dr. Halsey asked wearily.
"Five... ten… thirteen to be exact, ma'am," Keira replied. "We're in for quite the fight. I expect they will try and invade us by attaching to our escape pods."
"Fuck," Thomsen muttered. "We're going to need everything we've got. How much time until they exit Slipspace?"
"Based on previous data archived by other Halcyon-class cruisers during conflict with Covenant ships, I can calculate an average; my best estimate is ten minutes, forty-three seconds and counting."
Thomsen turned, meeting John's eyes.
"You know what we need you to do, 117."
In the weapons bay, Lieutenant Coddington and several officers were trying their best to control the rising tension as the marines got geared up and gathered their share of weapons and ammo. Coddington was handing out mags – seven 30 round magazines per man: six to be placed in the tac vest, one in the weapon for a total count of 210 rounds. They could be made to last if one controlled their fire.
7 day chit be damned – Natalie stood in line behind Amy, dressed in her full battle gear. They needed every man they could get. She tried to ignore the churning in her gut that she always got before a battle.
"This is fucking chaos," Amy commented, glancing back at her. Concern flashed across her features. "You alright? You look pale."
"Just waiting for the day I get used to this shit, that's all."
They collected two grenades each, placing them in their grenade pouches on their tac vests.
"If they fucking blow us up, I hope it's quick. That's all I can say."
"Morbid, but logical." Natalie accepted her M6D pistol and three magazines. She glanced down the line, seeing Myles was handing out assault rifle mags. He handed Amy hers then his eyes locked on Natalie's.
"You're on a fucking…"
"We fucking need every last man. I'm fighting." Natalie said firmly, holding out her hands for the magazines.
Myles pursed his lips, brows furrowing. He slapped the bundle of mags into her grasp.
"Don't fucking get yourself killed, Nat. Go get 'em."
She nodded, feeling her stomach churn once more. Her hands trembled slightly as she shoved the magazines into her tac vest, moving down the line. She slapped the last mag into the rifle, cocking it.
Then, a great rumble vibrated throughout the entire ship. The lights flickered once, twice. The room fell deathly quiet, all movement suddenly coming to a halt. There was a brief moment of unanimous dread that in a second, the ship would be torn apart and they would all meet a fiery death. But seconds ticked on, life continued.
Coddington broke the silence, confirming everyone's speculations.
"They're here."
