New chapter... not much else I can think to say, other than that.
But I am happy.
You were nothing like the others, different from the norm. Like them, you were strong and swift and brave. A natural leader.
But you had something they didn't. Something that set you apart.
Compassion. Not for our enemies, but for your men. Not only tools were they, but friends, brothers, sisters.
You and I, we were – are – brothers.
You promised that you would never leave me; brotherhood eternal, friendship everlasting.
And I believed you.
Was I wrong?
"Spartan-257? Sir? This is Lieutenant Anderton; if you can hear me, I need you to try and move your right arm."
Words? Speech? He wasn't dead. This wasn't a fell dream, a creation of heaven or hell. He was still alive; he still existed.
"Sir, he's not responding… we have to leave him now; this is the sixteenth time that you've tried this. Even down here, we're not safe, and we've been here for hours. Bravo Kilo's know we're somewhere around here, and with the Brisbane gone, we're defenceless…" There was another voice, this one… concerned, definitely upset, but still desperately scared, terrified of unforeseen consequences.
Anderton spoke again, sadness, deep and heartfelt, colouring his voice melancholy.
"Well son, I guess that's just how it happens."
Matthias felt a hand on his shoulder, and crying… someone behind him was crying. Then, there was Loki.
"Jackasses; do you buffoons actually think that he's dead? How many times do I have to tell you, there's brainwave activity-" The AI protested, only to be reprimanded by Anderton.
"Brainwave activity amounts to squat if he's not reacting to external stimuli, Loki. Just let him go. We need to leave, meet up with the other survivors before we get found down here. He's not the only casualty we've suffered today; he's not even the first. Just let him go."
"I know… it-it's just; have you ever had to leave someone behind, someone you've known all your life, someone who, if you were corporeal, could be your brother?" Loki was bitter, anguished, showing more emotion than Matthias thought possible, even for a human.
"Yes… many, many, many times. And if that's taught me anything, it's that we have to move on. We cannot let something like death, such a necessary part of life, get in the way of our living it. Get in the way of our survival. We have a duty, to those who were not fortunate enough to be here, to keep on living. For them. What do you think he would want you to do, Loki?"
Get the job done. Keep these men alive for long enough to carry out Operation Sonic Razor, to end the Covenant. The AI was satisfied, satiated, by this, by the knowledge that he wasn't alone in his suffering. There was a moment of silence, followed by a sigh.
"Yank me." There was more silence, then a hand, rough, gritty, masculine, at the base of the Spartans neck. It was so strange; almost disturbingly intimate, to have someone else touch his skin. To have someone even touch him.
He jolted, unused to, afraid of, such contact.
"Shit! Seems like you were right, after all, Loki." There was a brief moment of silence, during which the crying stopped. "But why isn't he moving, then?"
"His armour's in lockdown. After such an impact, it freezes up. Immobilises limbs, gel layer cushions bones and muscles. It is a method of reducing injury, which remains effective until consciousness is regained, at which point full control of the armour is returned to those who wear it."
A crack, sand caught between armour plates, crunching as Matthias rose on one knee, his left arm easily supporting the massive combined weight of the Titanium alloy armour that had very nearly become his casket.
A moment of rest, then he pushed himself up, a titan, he rose to his full height. Seven and a half feet of machine and man, armour, flesh, merged into one being. A being who, although he was far stronger, smarter, stealthier, than his comrades, was still one of them. Was still human.
A voice across the clearing, far deeper, far more masculine than was possible for any human male spoke, eloquent, concerned, proud. 'Xanthtuum.
"It gladdens me to see you alive, brother. After such a vicious plunge, even I suspected the worst. Faith is something the treachery of the hierarchs has purged from my being."
"Faith is something that you should always have."
Though not to the point of fanaticism
He accepted the Elite's outstretched hand, hauled himself up. Then he turned to Lieutenant Anderton, whose eyes carried a glimmer, of something that approximated hope.
"I'm going to have to ditch this armour." That said, he began to remove components of his MJOLNIR suit. Hydrostatic gel, whatever hadn't boiled from his suit when he was shot down, began oozing onto the hot sand, thick rivulets spilling downhill as it warmed upon the scorched earth.
"Sir?" Anderton again, as concerned as he was nervous. Without his armour, Matthias lost his biggest advantage.
"Armour is malfunctioning. It's reducing my speed to half that of an ordinary human, and my shields are at quarter capacity. If I don't ditch this, I may as well paint a bullseye on my forehead. However," he turned to Anderton, "I will still need protection of some sort."
"No need to worry about that, Sir. Got a few spare sets of ODST armour in the Pelican over there." He pointed towards a crippled aircraft, which looked as though it had recently been ablaze. A duo of marines exited the rear hatch carrying what Matthias instantly recognised as a resupply canister.
Anderton gestured to them, and they dropped the pod at his feet.
"Well, there you are. It's either this or standard marine, and trust me, this is the better of the two."
Matthias was stripped down, soon he was clad in his undersuit, the only part of his MJOLNIR armour that still functioned.
He prodded the canister with his foot. It split cleanly along the centre, revealing a full suit of atmosphere-independent ODST armour. Within twenty-five seconds he had donned the armour, and was much happier for it.
He had lived much of his life sealed within a protective suit, whether Semi-Powered Infiltration or MJOLNIR. Without it, without the familiar, comforting sensation of claustrophobia that his armour produced, he felt weak, unprotected.
There was also Loki's presence deep in his mind, icy-cold, numbing, yet comforting. He was glad that his undersuit was still functional. Without the memory-processor super-conductive material woven throughout it, he would be alone.
No. He felt much better now that he tasted his air. Cool, metallic. A stark contrast to the hot, burning air he had felt upon his face not a moment ago. He reached for the rear torso plating on his MJOLNIR, and keyed in the self-destruct ignition sequence. Any Covenant that came within twenty-five meters would be sent on the Great Journey prematuarely, whether they had their lunch packed or not.
But still, something was wrong somewhere near. He could tell. Then, he realised. Private Jamieson was hunched over a log, hands on her temples, distraught. She was upset, clearly, but thankfully, or so Matthias judged based on her behaviour, she hadn't given in to the crippling temporary insanity that so often grasped the mind during war.
He strode to her side, crouched, placed his hand on her shoulder. He spoke, and she turned to meet his gaze.
"We have a duty to those that have fallen this day, a duty to make sure that their sacrifice was not in vain."
Anya smiled bitterly, then spoke to herself, the pathetic reflection she caught in Matthias's visor. He didn't care. No one cared. No one ever did. They could all die right now, and no one would care.
There would be false tears shed at a mass funeral, then a new outfit would take their place.
"Our duty is to protect Earth, the human race, at all costs. We have no duty to the dead, unless imagined."
"You - so many other people, are wrong. Those that have died in this war, each and every one of them, died for us. They didn't ask for what they got. They simply fought, to protect themselves, their families, even people they could never meet. And when the time came for them to depart this life, they did so, as duty dictated. When death came, they met it head on, whether kicking and screaming, or crowing triumphantly."
"I – I wasn't crying about you." Lying through her teeth, Anya tried to maintain the façade. But, she couldn't. Tears rolled out thicker when his reply came.
"No one ever does."
How could she be so selfish?
"I…"
I'm sorry.
"Death spares nothing that lives. Everything that is alive will, inevitably, die. Humans, AI's, Covenant; we are all of us unique. But pit us against time, and we'll all come out second best. We will all die, just the same," Matthias turned away, "even Spartans."
"Spartans?"
"Have you ever seen the list? The list of all the Spartans listed as MIA? They're all dead, Private. Each and every one of them."
As a doorstop.
"But… but…" Why would the UNSC lie to them?
"As far as I know, the only Spartan still alive, apart from myself, is John one-one-seven." The Master Chief.
"I… I thought you were dead. You risked everything, for me."
"But, who wouldn't have done the same?" Matthias, who had put his life constantly on the line without compensation since the age of ten, could not comprehend her gratitude. It seemed totally inexplicable.
"No. And, if the did, they would probably turn up by my bunk, if you know what I mean."
Emptiness, lack of sound, was all that greeted her. So, it was true then, that Spartans showed no interest, in… sex.
"If only we never did die. But what would we be, then?"
Strange. He was avoiding the question. Could her Staff Captain be afraid of sex?
"Sir… You… don't want to be rewarded?" Not that she was offering, but she had seen ranking officers demand, and get, anything from those under their command.
Anything.
She was lucky, she supposed, to have had Anderton and Zenglehart, and now this Spartan. But, all these raids were stressful as hell, and the excitement.
There had to be a release. She wasn't one of these hard-boiled ODSTs who got off by smashing Covenant soldiers into submission with the butts of their rifles.
God. To them, foreplay was a frag grenade, and afterglow was putting a Mike Foxtrot head in a jar to show the folks back home.
She would need to make some private time once they got back to a base, either with someone or alone.
"Sir?"
Matthias turned, first towards Anderton, and then to Jamieson.
"Private," he removed his helmet, "Tell me how old I am."
Anya stopped dead. He had to be the same age as Anderton, twenty-seven, at least. He had stubble, just breaking the skin, but none of the discolouration that older men, like her father, had.
Sshe wasn't sure.
Greeted only by silence, Matthias spoke again, his voice merely a whisper this time.
"How about you tell me your age, and I tell you mine?"
"I'm… I'm nineteen, sir."
Sealing his helmet back over his head, Matthias sighed sadly. He hadn't expected her to be an age so close to his own.
"I'm seventeen, private."
"Oh, my god." He was so… young.
"Private…" Matthias could see the horror, spreading across Jamieson's face. He, he wanted to comfort her… but, he didn't know how. He placed his hand on her shoulder, only to remove it almost instantly. He could feel her skin.
Anya looked up, and smiled, just a little.
Perhaps, people did care, after all.
Anderton, having heard the tone and direction of their conversation, ran over, his face now hidden by a new helmet.
"You're gonna have to stow the philosophy for now, Sir. We're picking up an urgent distress call, courtesy of Gunnery Sergeant Stacker."
Matthias, considered, briefly, the option of simply ignoring the message. Of saving the marines he had come to know, at the cost of the others.
No. That was not who he was. He was a Spartan. A warrior. A man. And he would do what was right.
Even if he had to do it alone.
"Play it."
My mind presents...
Journey of an Apostle
A Halo story
Written by Kieren P. McGovern (AKA Untractable Evocation, or Loki, or Fedaykin Guard).
With thanks to Corey W. Smith (Cylor), The Phiend, and Shawn L. Phillips for their help.
The Halo universe and all characters depicted therein, apart from those of my own creation, are the intellectual property of Bungie Studios, with special license to Microsoft. The (original) characters and situations depicted within this fanfiction are MY intellectual property, and use of these characters without my expressed permission will result in serious action.
