Chapter 8
It wasn't until his fourth week on duty that Fred finally went on an excursion into the glasslands.
His covert examinations of security records had, so far, proved fruitless. He knew that the rest of Blue Team had been similarly unsuccessful, and was growing worried that their covers would be blown before they found what they needed. Thus it was with a feeling of anxious hope that Fred accompanied Sgt. Singh to a dig site, one of Dr. Halsey's scanning devices activated and hidden in his pack.
The dig sight was dozens kilometers from Meridian Station itself. Thankfully, the security forces had access to several old Pelican dropships, so they didn't have to pile onto scout vehicles like the Master Chief had on his excursions with the prospectors. The dropship shook and rattled in a way Fred had not experienced without the accompanying sound of anti-aircraft fire. Decades of landings in hot zones had long ago eliminated any bit of motion sickness Fred had ever had. Even so, he found himself becoming worried as the Pelican made its way over the nearly half-hour flight. The field security armor he had donned for the trip made it easier to hide his relief at their landing; another thing to be thankful for.
The dig site itself resembled nothing so much as a massive pit, over a kilometer in diameter, lined with heavy machinery. Enormous conveyor belts led from the bottom into even more enormous bins, ready to be mounted on vehicles to transport to the orbital elevator. Mining lasers were above the pit itself, used to shave off massive sections of silicates that would then be smashed to bits and placed on the conveyor belts. One of the lasers had recently hit an air pocket, within which the miners had discovered a sign of human habitation that had survived the glassing. Meridian Security had been called in to confirm and secure the find, and Sgt. Singh had decided to take Fred along, as well as a single other officer. Hopefully, it was a sign that he had been making a good impression on his superior.
Fred once again checked his helmet. It contained a built in rebreather, thankfully, but it was not as good as his MJOLNIR helmet. It's visor was smaller, for one, not to mention the heads-up display showed little more than a compass. Also, for some inexplicable reason, the visor was tinted green, giving him a bizarre and inaccurate view of his environment. At least I can see what I'm doing, Fred thought, remembering the Master Chief's description of his own headgear. How the Chief hadn't gone insane in that thing was beyond him.
"Lights on," Sgt. Singh said. Fred and the other security officer obediently switched on the flashlights attached to their helmets. Not even an enhanced light mode, Fred thought with a scowl. He shook off the thought, focusing on the mission. The air pocket was rather large, being about 100 meters deep and half that wide. Towards the rear of the chamber they found what they were looking for: a house. Almost completely untouched by the glassing. The walls were still whole, the doors and windows were intact, even the paint was still mostly visible. Fred stood there for a moment, his brain refusing to believe what his eyes were reporting to him.
"Bit of a shock, isn't it, Barton?" Sgt. Singh asked.
Fred rallied and responded, "Yes, sir. How...how is this possible?"
"A few possibilities. A momentary malfunction in the plasma weaponry. A freak interference by other parts of the environment being glassed. The inherent inaccuracy involved in firing a plasma bombardment big enough and powerful enough to render an entire planet uninhabitable. Crap like this just happens every now and again." Singh shook his head. "It's a good thing, I think...keeps us from forgetting what happened here."
Sgt. Singh then ordered the team to begin scanning the find for the official records. While they all gathered the data, he continued speaking to Fred. "I remember the first find I confirmed. It was another house, not as well preserved as this one. I was as surprised as you are now. Didn't think things like this were possible. It wasn't the house itself that bothered me, though. No...it was what I found behind it." Sgt. Singh didn't stop working, but glancing over Fred noticed his posture had changed. He seemed uneasy, as if merely remembering what he was describing was enough to shake him up. "It was a leash. The kind you put on a pet. There was even a little 'house' right next to it, a wooden one with a small opening for the animal to climb in. Funny, isn't it?" Singh chuckled nervously. "It wasn't the house, or human remains, or any of the things that directly showed human habitation. Something about that little detail, that little sign of the way things used to be, that really drove home just what happened here. Just how many people died, and how much was lost..." Singh trailed off here, either finished talking or lost in his own thoughts.
Fred wasn't sure how to respond. The Master Chief was never this talkative, especially not in the field. Shouldn't they all be focused on the mission, and save any ruminations for when they were back on base? Not to mention the intimacy of Singh's conversation. Did the Sgt. trust Fred that much? Did he believe they were friends? While Fred had certainly gained more respect for the man since he began working for him, he didn't think they had grown particularly close. Maybe someone who was much closer to being a civilian was just more open about their own psyche.
Whatever the case, Fred continued recording the find, while Dr. Halsey's device hopefully found what they were so desperately looking for.
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"Now this is certainly progress," Dr. Halsey said triumphantly. The Master Chief was happy to hear it.
They were meeting in Halsey's office in the medical clinic, their sleeping pods in Icarus Flats being unsuited to clandestine conversation. Fortunately it appeared that none of the colonists had noticed their absences. It seemed that the residents of Meridian customarily met wherever they could when they wanted a little privacy. Halsey had even had to run off a young couple who had entered the clinic shortly before closing time, looking to have sexual relations in one of the treatment rooms. Reportedly her shouts could be heard all the way to the Administrative Building. The Master Chief was as unfamiliar with sexuality as the rest of Blue Team, but even he couldn't help but wonder how anyone could find that setting sexually appealing.
"How much progress?" the Chief asked.
"I have managed to narrow the potential area to within 20 kilometers of the dig site that Fred visited," the good doctor responded. "The data he gathered should help narrow it still further, hopefully to the point where we can enter the next phase of this operation. We should know within a few days."
"Why not sooner?" Fred asked.
Dr. Halsey sighed, disappointed that she would have to explain it again. She must have understood that the question was born of impatience rather than poor memory or intellect, but Halsey had always loathed repeating herself.
"If I had access to a UNSC supercomputer and an AI assistant I could have the exact location within hours," she responded. "In fact, I likely would have had it weeks ago. Unfortunately, I am limited to what computers we smuggled from Argent Moon and those that were available within the clinic. Frankly, it's rather impressive I've made as much progress as I have," she said crossly. Fred grimaced, nodding in apology.
"Alright, next topic," the Master Chief interjected. There was nothing more they could do about furthering the search for the moment. They needed to focus on the other challenges that had arisen after their arrival. "Linda, what's the status on the Riley situation?"
Linda answered clearly and methodically. "His advances continue to escalate. It is now a rarity that he does not attempt to converse with me at least once during working hours, as well as during lunch break. I believe my current strategy will only continue to work for 1 more week, 2 at the most, without drastic action. However, I have bought some additional time by covertly purchasing the services of a local brothel for him under the guise of an anonymous patron. I learned from bank records that Riley is an occasional customer in said establishment. He is stupid and lazy enough that I doubt he'll question his good fortune. Hopefully this will temper his libido."
"Where did you acquire the funds?" the Master Chief asked.
John swore he could see a glint of vindictive pleasure in Linda's stoic features as she responded, "From Riley's own retirement fund. I managed to arrange it without the fund sending Riley any notifications, so he shouldn't find out until some time after we are done here. If he even notices at all." The glint seemed to intensify, her mouth even seeming to turn upward in an infinitesimal smirk. The Master Chief frowned. It was most unlike Linda to exhibit such emotional responses, let alone to allow it to influence her behavior. He supposed her actions were not technically irrational, but he couldn't shake the feeling that she was enjoying hurting Riley a bit too much. He couldn't let her emotions potentially jeopardize the mission, or her safety. The Chief marveled at the fact that such a scenario was a valid concern with Linda, of all people. What was it about this planet that seemed to be messing with all of their heads?
He decided to go with a mild rebuke and warning. "Careful, Blue Two. We can't risk Riley becoming hostile towards you."
Linda immediately sat straighter and nodded, accepting the rebuke. "Of course, sir. I'll be cautious."
The Master Chief nodded, satisfied that she had gotten the point. "Keep looking for alternative solutions," he ordered. "What's the status of your manipulation of Michelle Cortez?"
"Progress has been good," Linda replied, once again all business. "I covertly altered the work schedule of her potential romantic partner, Amare Mbanefo, so that he spends more time in her immediate vicinity. Her email correspondences with her friends have increased in their focus on the male in question. Mbanefo's email account and comm records have shown a similar increase in discussion of Cortez. I believe the situation is ripe for me to give a push to one or both of them to fully transition into a romantic relationship. Her assistance should be much easier to acquire once that is achieved."
To everyone's surprise, Dr. Halsey interrupted. "I still don't approve of this line of action," she said, shaking her head. "Meddling with a person's life in such a callous way is not what I've come to expect of you."
Blue Team stared at her, unsure what to make of the comment. On the one hand, they all felt a sense of guilt and discomfort at being scolded by their mother. On the other hand, none of them were happy with a civilian objecting during a meeting. If it were anyone else the Master Chief would already be putting her in her place. If Dr. Halsey recognized their displeasure with her behavior, she showed no sign of it.
"...be that as it may, we need every asset we can get in this operation. We'll try to restrain our 'meddling' to the strictly necessary and, if possible, ensure it has a net positive effect for Cortez," the Master Chief assured her. He hoped the statement combined a rebuke with a concession, but Dr. Halsey still seemed displeased with the whole affair. Hopefully she would keep her thoughts to herself on the subject from here on out.
The Master Chief turned to address Linda again. "Continue on your current course. Keep me updated if there are any snags or significant changes," he ordered. Linda's response was a simple "Yes, sir."
"Fred, progress report," the Chief ordered Fred.
"Nothing new to report, Chief," Fred responded. "I'm still experiencing some strife with my fellow officers, but nothing that could prove a hindrance. Sgt. Singh seems to respect me, and that bodes well for future setbacks. Still no progress on finding leads to Forerunner finds in the security records."
The Master Chief nodded. Kelly's report was similarly standard, although the Chief had noticed that Kelly's movements were not quite as swift as they normally were. He reminded her of the necessity of receiving adequate sleep and she promised to ensure she took appropriate rest.
Now for the hard part, he thought to himself.
"I have nothing more to report on my findings in the field. Dr. Halsey is currently examining all of the readings the scanner detected. However," the Master Chief hesitated for a microsecond before continuing, "I find myself having difficulty resolving hostilities between myself and prospector Yao Miller. Threats of force have proven ineffective. He has also failed to lose interest as I continued to evade his gang and their attempts to ambush me. My attempts to assist fellow prospectors, including Miller and his allies, have been similarly ineffective. Any opinions?"
Linda and Fred recommended finding a way to publicly humiliate and discredit Miller. Removing his credibility would eliminate his ability to gain the advantage of numbers, at which point his morale would be lowered to the point where he would hopefully be willing to give up. Kelly pointed out that Miller had displayed a level of irrationality and bitterness that made such an outcome unlikely; he would probably keep coming after the Chief even if he had to do it alone. Dr. Halsey proposed a course of action that John had no confidence in whatsoever.
"I still suggest attempting to communicate with him," she said.
Not this again, the Master Chief thought with an internal groan.
"I understand that his background as a rebel makes you inclined to disregard the possibility of peaceful relations, but I think it is our best bet," Halsey said.
"Thank you, Doctor," the Chief replied, "but, as I have stated previously, I think such a course of action will prove unsuccessful."
Dr. Halsey refused to give up. "I understand that your history fighting the Insurrection has left you with a negative impression of their movement as a whole, and rightly so. However, that assessment is unfair when applied to all of its members indiscriminately," she insisted.
"Is it now?" the Master Chief asked. This was really starting to get on his nerves. He knew Dr. Halsey would never agree with the Insurrectionists, but she was coming dangerously close to defending them. Hadn't she read the reports? Didn't she know what they were guilty of? What Miller himself was guilty of?
Halsey, of course, immediately picked up on his frustrated mood. However, true to form, she seemed to ignore his discomfort and charged ahead. "I know of his past, John," she said in a calm, reasonable tone. "He was a bomber. He would send bombs to civilian homes and places of business in the hopes of killing those crucial to the continued operation of the UEG in the Outer Colonies. I understand the impact that such activities had on you-"
"Do you?" John interrupted, stunning all of his family members into silence. The vehemence, the anger, with which he had said those two simple words was something they had clearly never seen in him before. John closed his eyes, and took several deep breaths. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised at their shock. He had always been a quiet, introverted man, and he had worked hard over the years to hide any sign of weakness. He was their leader and it would have been devastating to unit cohesion for them to see him coming apart in any way. Although...if he were honest with himself...that was not the only reason he had always hidden his feelings. It was also more personal: he didn't like appearing vulnerable. Even to his family.
Now, however, he may have to bite the bullet and share his innermost feelings in open conversation. It seemed to be the only way to make them understand. Besides, it was something they were entitled to. He knew each of them well and he did not like the idea of keeping secrets from each other. John swallowed, forced himself to ignore the ball of dark matter that had suddenly appeared in his stomach, and opened his eyes to look at his mother and his siblings.
Each of them was looking at him with concern in their eyes. Even Linda had an openly worried expression on her face. Concerned as they were, it was clear none of them knew what to do. Spartans were natural problem solvers and their talents had been honed through years of training and decades of combat experience. This, though...this situation had so much emotional baggage attached to it that it had actually done the impossible and made a squad of Spartan IIs hesitate. The Master Chief knew that he would have to take the lead in this. It seemed like the greatest challenge of his life.
After a moment, he asked, "Did I ever tell you all about the time I liberated an Insurrectionist internment camp?" They all looked at each other, then shook their heads. The Master Chief steeled his resolve, and began his story.
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It was early in my career. On a colony called Sosnowiek III. I remember the exact date, the exact time, I found it—0941 hours, 17 March 2527. It was one of the rare times I went lone wolf since the rest of Blue Team was tied up putting down a few straggler cells halfway across the planet. I figured they could use the practice operating without my leadership. If I was ever injured or KIA they needed to be able to function without me.
I was following a lead on an Insurrectionist compound about 12 kliks away from a small town that had been razed to the ground by the rebels. Thousands had died in the slaughter before UNSC forces could arrive to intervene.
I'm sure the Outer Colonists love to talk about the ONI security sweeps. The paranoia that a lot of UEG and UNSC officials had about potential double agents in their midst. What I imagine they don't mention is how the Innie's were even more paranoid than their hated enemies. They were terrified of ONI agents infiltrating their ranks and betraying their secrets.
There was little unity between the various rebel groups. Even calling it a single movement was more of a cultural classification than a sign of anything resembling a functional command structure. In several sectors the Insurrection had space-craft capable of fighting the UNSC outside of an atmosphere, although even they stuck to guerrilla operations since they lacked the resources of the official military. On Sosnowiek, the rebels were strictly grounded and wholly unconventional. If any of their locations were discovered it would be a simple matter to have it obliterated from orbit. The only reason Blue Team was involved at all was because of a need to gather intelligence before the blasts hit.
It was all an indefensible waste of time. The Covenant was invading. They had already glassed several planets. They had murdered billions of human beings and showed no signs of stopping. It was entirely likely that they intended to make good on their oath to exterminate the entirety of the human species. Yet here I was, fighting Innies on some backwater colony light-years away from the war I was supposed to be fighting.
Anyway, the compound itself was pretty basic. It had a chain link fence, a garage that could fit a couple of civilian vehicles, and a single large building that had almost certainly been some kind of warehouse. There were a few ad hoc guard towers that had been thrown up around the perimeter. They were made out of scrap wood and duct tape, mostly. Pathetic. I spent approximately half an hour scanning the place from outside the perimeter. No life signs detected outside the main building. I moved in cautiously, not willing to risk getting killed because of an equipment malfunction. I was careful not to make any noise as I tread over the ¼ meter deep snow.
I checked the guard towers first. Empty. Then I checked the garage. Empty. Then I checked the main building. The doors had been locked. Not just the regular lock, though. The Innies had literally chained the door shut, securing the chain with a mechanical padlock straight out of the 20th Century. I marveled at how ill equipped this cell had been as I ripped the padlock off with my left hand. The regular electronic lock was simple to bypass with my field compad. I carefully pushed open the door, keeping the room covered with my assault rifle and keeping my eye on the motion tracker displayed on the interior of my visor.
I couldn't have smelled it. I was wearing MJOLNIR Mark IV Armor. It's on-board computer systems would have detected the smell and automatically filtered it out. But...I swear I could smell it. I could feel it burning my sinuses and stinging my eyes.
The interior floor was covered in bodies. Literally covered. I couldn't see an actual patch of floor anywhere inside the building. They must have been 2 or 3 deep in places. I could tell right away that they were civilians. There were no guns, no armor, and none of them had neural implants. These weren't soldiers. The Innies had to have taken them from the town before burning it down. They must have brought them here, hoping to find an informant among them. It was Standard Operating Procedure for the Insurrection; they'd "disappeared" millions of people over the years. After all, that's why they murdered the town in the first place.
There were hundreds of bodies. Many of them were already showing signs of decay. I remember being confused for a moment by the lack of visible injuries on most of them. How, exactly, had the Insurrectionists executed these people?
Then it hit me. They hadn't. They'd abducted these people, forced them into a room packed so tight that they literally couldn't even sit down, and just...left them there. Left them there to die. They must have pulled out to avoid the approaching UNSC forces before they could begin interrogations. They'd probably forgotten all about them by now.
How long had it taken? The town had been destroyed a little over a week ago. Dehydration, probably. A terrible way to die, but at least it's quicker than starving.
That's when I remembered the faint life-signs my armor had detected from outside. Right next to a window on the far wall, hanging from hooks attached to chains hanging from the ceiling, was an improvised hammock. Apparently this place had once been used to store animal carcasses, and one of the prisoners had managed to snag some sort of tough cloth onto two of the hooks. His close proximity to an open window directly below the roof must have provided enough fresh air to survive.
I quickly but carefully moved over to him. I had to get him medical attention as quickly as possible. There seemed to be only one survivor, but one was better than none, right? I forced myself not to think of the noises the bodies made as I walked over them, my 1 ton bulk crushing them beneath my feet. I had neither the time nor the resources to properly make a path to the far wall. The navy was going to be saturation bombing this entire area to eliminate guerrilla cells in less than an hour. I needed to get him out fast.
I called out to the survivor when I was directly beneath him. I explained that I was a UNSC soldier and that I was here to rescue him. I could jump up to him easily, but it would be safer if he climbed down.
I'll never forget the look in his eyes as he peeked over the side of his refuge to look at me. His eyes were...almost dead. There was still some life left in him. Not quite spirit broken. Although, the "life" in his eyes could best be described as a mix of disbelief and desperate hope. It took a bit of convincing, but I managed to talk him into climbing down. I carried him out of the building and toward the evac site.
He talked to me on the way there. I asked him to be quiet, but I don't think he understood me. That or he just couldn't stop himself. He talked about what it was like. In the warehouse. About the arguments, the silences, the weeping and moaning. He talked about how some people would collapse from exhaustion, but it was impossible to stay alive on the floor. The people around them would be forced to stand on them, not to mention they would probably suffocate down there. So they tried to get their neighbors to help them up. They would tug on legs, scratch bare skin, even cut them if they had any kind of blade or sharp edge on them. It never worked. Eventually they stopped moving. Eventually everyone stopped moving.
The survivor, Vladek, had gotten lucky. He had been one of the first one's forced in and had immediately picked up a heavy tarp he found on the far floor, climbed to the hooks hanging from the ceiling, and created his makeshift hammock. He would reach out the window and take snow from the roof to eat, thus staving off the thirst that claimed all of the other prisoners. He even passed some along to those beneath him in exchange for not trying to rip the hammock down. Resourceful man. Eventually, though, they too collapsed, and Vladek had noone to give snow to.
I don't know how he didn't get sick from the rotting corpses. Maybe the fresh air from the window bought him enough time for me to arrive. Maybe he did get sick, and died after I handed him over to the medics. I don't know. I didn't have the time to check up on him. Less than an hour after I found him the warehouse, the compound, and all of the surrounding area was destroyed by orbital bombardment.
I could only hope that the bastards who had done this got blown to hell in the blasts.
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The Master Chief finished his story. His voice had gone from grim, to an almost emotionless monotone. These were memories he hadn't dredged up for years. Maybe he hadn't ever really dealt with them.
The rest of Blue Team and Dr. Halsey were silent. Grim faced. Halsey looked like she was holding off crying through sheer force of will. It took a moment for the Chief to understand why they were reacting like this. After all, they had all heard and seen worse stories over the course of the Human-Covenant War.
Then it hit him: they weren't reacting to the story at all. They were reacting to how it had affected him. They had never seen him this way. Never seen him so deeply hurt by something he had seen. Apparently his efforts to conceal his emotions had been more successful than he had ever dreamed possible.
The Master Chief looked at Dr. Halsey, the reason he had told his story. "Now do you understand?" he asked her. "I know what the Insurrection was. What Miller was. What Miller is. There is no making peace with a man like that," he said resolutely.
Dr. Halsey still looked like she was about to cry. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears. "People aren't that simple, John," she whispered. His augmented senses had no trouble hearing her. "Miller isn't that simple."
The Master Chief shook his head in disbelief. Still? She still doesn't understand?
"Oh, John..." she moved to get up and go to him. The Master Chief stood up and abruptly left the room. He couldn't take this anymore. He'd go outside and wait for the next bus. He'd just put his hand over his mouth, breathe through his fingers or something. A little lung damage was a small price to pay for getting out of that room right then.
Blah blah, sorry for the delay, blah blah, Fallout 4, blah blah.
Note: I pretty much ripped off this flashback wholesale from 2 sources. The first and most obvious is "Hunt the Truth" season 1. The second is the graphic novel Maus II by Art Spiegelman, which depicts the author's father's experience in the Holocaust. I highly recommend it, and its predecessor Maus, to anyone interested in getting really depressed and horrified about the human race.
Note: This chapter's shorter than I intended it to be, but I figured that I shouldn't include too much or it would take away some of the impact of the flashback. Don't worry, there's more coming soon.
Note: I tried to have John's narration be distinctly different from the way I usually portray his perspective in third person. I figured that he would be in a very different state of mind relating something that had traumatized him while young than he would going about his business in the modern day. Did I pull it off ok?
Note: As far as I'm aware, the Spartan IIs experiences fighting the Insurrection have received little to no attention in Halo media and they seem to have had even less of an impact on the characters themselves. I always thought that this was a huge waste from a storytelling perspective, especially considering how much ill will is still present in the Outer Colonies towards the UNSC. Don't worry, I'm not turning Blue Team into PTSD horror stories. I just think this adds an interesting new dimension to the Spartan IIs and John in particular. Thoughts?
Note: If you're curious about the name of Cortez's crush, I got it from a list of African first and last names. I mentioned earlier that people from all over UEG space travel to terraforming jobs, resulting in extreme ethnic diversity. In an effort to show that, every time a new character shows up I try to give him/her a name from a part of the world I haven't represented yet. Hence Yao Miller, Sgt. Singh, Officer Delacroix, etc.
Thanks for reading.
Slipspace Anomaly.
