TITLE: Terrible Temptations
CHAPTER: 10
"Women are meant to be loved, not to be understood." - Oscar Wilde
Captain Lasky was still sitting inside the Pelican when Commander Palmer walked up the ramp. The anguished man had come full circle blaming himself for his treatment of the Chief. He reminded himself he had a ship to run, and that had always been true. What a fool he'd been to think anything could change. He'd rejected and hurt that man to make it easier for him to leave. What did that make him? A coward. Nothing but a coward. That admission lanced through his thoughts leaving him nearly incapable of any other.
Commander Palmer sat down quietly in the co-pilot's chair.
~o0o~
In Spartan Town, on deck S, the Master Chief sat in the same position the Captain had found him several hours before. The holographic image of Cortana reflected her familiar colors against his face and eyes."I made a mistake, Cortana," he said softly. Gently rubbing his thumb over her image. "You always knew the right thing to do." The Spartan let his head drop back against the mattress. Until finally dozed off with images of Cortana's smiling face teasing him, then ruthlessly changing to images of Captain Lasky. The remaining hours of the night left him restless and miserable.
~o0o~
The stale air of Pelican's flight deck shimmered with Palmer's frustration and Lasky's stubborn refusal to understand her point. She decided to put it in simpler terms for him.
"You fucked up, Captain."
"It was for the better. Don't you have Spartans to train? Leave."
"You dangled love, affection, and stability in front of a man who knew nothing of that and when it became inconvenient, you threw it back in his face."
"He has orders… He's leaving. I made it easier for him to leave."
"Before you shoved that energy sword into his heart, did you even consider that he may not know about his orders?"
"He must know by now…" Lasky swiped a hand over his face and made a complete mess of his hair.
"That idiot Comm officer, who shouldn't be assigned on anything more complicated than a harvester hasn't given them to him yet."
"But… that means…"
"Yes! It means you're sulking in here, with seventeen thousand plus crew wondering why they haven't heard from their CO in twenty-four hours. Your XO is admirably covering for you, by the way. You owe him a bottle of Scotch. Now, get up off your ass…"
Lasky came out of his seat. "Watch it, Palmer."
"No. No, sir. I'm not going to watch it, but I am going to make it right. Good day, Captain."
"Sarah, wait."
He followed her to the bottom of the ramp and stopped. Several of the deck crew were watching him. With a deep breath, Captain Thomas Lasky pulled his command face back on. The pain forgotten or just endured because realistically he thought he deserved it. He went in search of the familiar things of his command. He'd start with the Comm officer.
~o0o~
The Master Chief woke from his restless sleep feeling worse than before. A headache, which he'd never experienced before, had bloomed behind his eyes while he slept. Now it pounded with the beat of his heart. Willing himself off the floor, he set the image of Cortana back in the drawer and went in search of a hot shower.
Twenty minutes later, the Master Chief stood in the Senior NCO Galley, glaring at the server until the young petty officer piled his plate so high with eggs, bacon, sausage and hash browns the food threatened to roll off the plate.
"Cheese."
The server didn't argue and covered the mass of food with a fist full of shredded cheese. The Chief grabbed four mugs of coffee and a fresh bottle of ketchup before locating a table nearly hidden in a corner behind a row of plastic plants coated with the greasy dust of a thousand meals.
Ketchup. The Master Chief unscrewed the spout from the bottle and generously covered his food with the red sauce. Sometimes he missed ketchup more than he missed the coffee. The first cup he downed in one gulp. The second he savored, probably brewing since First Watch, strong, thick, and bitter enough to set a Brute back a few paces, just the way he liked it.
Eating his food in silence, Master Chief, managed to keep his thoughts at bay until spoonful of ketchup-draped hash browns triggered a memory of a day when he was about ten years old. Fred had tried to play a trick on him by hiding all the ketchup. The young John retaliated by hiding all the packets of sugar, which he knew Fred hoarded and snuck back to his room. The resulting contest of wills erupted into a food fight. He shook his head and remembered it was Kelly who'd shouted, "ROLL CALL!"
But it was Linda who pulled the dinner rolls from the kitchen freezer. Once they realized what excellent missiles, those frozen rolls made. And damn it hurt when they hit you. It wasn't long before tables were turned on their sides, and a battle ensued.
Halsey and Mendez entered the room, just about the time John's team was negotiating a prisoner exchange between Kelly and Sam.
When Chief Mendez called them to attention, a roomful of ten-year-olds slowly crawled to their feet. Naomi had an entire serving bowl of lime Jell-O clinging to the front of her uniform. Fred appeared to be bleeding to death. Halsey barely contained her relief when it turned out to be nothing more than the spaghetti sauce for the evening meal. While Kelly and Linda, attempting to take possession of a strategic position, had fought it out with chocolate pudding...All the chocolate pudding.
Just before they were discovered, Kelly had slipped and connected the side of her face with the edge of a countertop. John held a cloth full of ice cubes gently to her cheek, trying to ease the swelling around the growing bruise as they watched Halsey and Mendez enter the room.
Their punishment? It took them twenty-four hours to clean that mess hall, including the kitchen and washing all the dishes by hand. Then they each had to write a twenty-page report, including ten references, detailing the causes, effects, strategies and tactics of the battle.
Master Chief wiped the last of the egg from his plate with a piece of toast and sat back to finish his third cup of coffee. A slender hand set a cup of coffee down in front of him and slid into a seat.
"Mind if I join you, Master Chief?" Commander Palmer didn't wait for an answer; she sat down and sipped at her coffee while she watched the inscrutable man across from her.
"May I help you, Ma'am?"
"Yes. Don't call me ma'am."
"Yes, ma'am."
She thumped herself against the back of the chair with an aggravated sigh. "Chief, I have information to share with you. But I want your promise that you'll stay here and talk to me for a little while after I give it to you. Or we could go somewhere else to talk if you'd rather?"
"This is fine."
"Remember that I offered." Then she hit a button on her comm device, and the Chief's device answered with a ding. She caught his arm before he could look at the message. "Also remember that I said, I'm sorry."
His orders appeared on the small screen. His face is unreadable as he studies the text. "So that's why…"
"Yes, that's why. The idiot."
"Commander… that's unfair."
The injured look on his face lets her know she'd gone too far. At least she got a response out of him. She touched his sleeve with the tip of her finger. "Take a walk with me?"
When they were well away from ears and eyes, Palmer swallowed hard. "I'm perfectly aware this is none of my business. But I won't stand by and watch the two people I admire and care about most in the world be in pain. And be so stupid!"
"Does Tom know this?"
"Of course, he does. I told him I noticed the chemistry between you two immediately. Do you know?" She locked eyes with him and dared him to look away. "Do you understand, John?"
"I am beginning to. We have responsibilities."
"Oh, yes. We can't forget responsibilities! You're in charge of saving humanity, and it's all on your shoulders. He has seventeen thousand crew and a multi-trillion dollar ship to take care of. I have three hundred Spartan egos under my charge. It's my responsibility to send them out to die. Too many of them go and never come back. MIA or KIA it doesn't matter those active, young, and brilliant Spartans follow my orders and go to their deaths. You? You can't even take the time to grieve, or rest or… Goddammit!"
"Sarah, don't…"
"I am not crying!" She shoved his hands away. "Spartans don't cry and they don't take time to tell a man how much they care about him or that he's handsome and she's very much afraid that one word from him and she'd do something really clichéd like fall in love with him. Ridiculous idea!"
He stopped her with a touch and cupped her cheek in his hand. "Tell him now, Commander. He may need more than just your friendship."
Sarah Palmer didn't need to stand on her toes or bend down to reach this man. She looked him directly in the eye and returned the gesture. Her thumb gently rubbed across his lower lip. He sucked a breath and began to move away.
"You're the most interesting man I've ever met," she followed the statement by pressing her cheek to his.
He froze.
"Handsome and mysterious," and before she backed away, Sarah took a moment to inhale his scent, savoring the precious elements that made up the man named John.
"Tom needs you. I am nothing more than an empty shell."
"Then let me help." Contrary to her words, she pushed him away. "Come to my quarters tonight."
"No," he was already shaking his head. "No."
"Come to my quarters tonight, 1800, and that's an order, Master Chief."
~o0o~
At 1730, her door chimed. Sarah Palmer checked herself in the mirror and chuckled at her reflection. "Now or never, Marine. Feet First."
Then in walked Captain Lasky and her insides took a slow summersault. She'd told him arrive earlier so the two wouldn't meet at her door and bolt. All her usual bravado deserted her, and a pounding heart interfered with her ability to breathe. She stood still while the Captain took a long look at the Spartan—turned woman—standing in front of him.
Nothing fancy, the clothes she wore were soft and comfortable. The gold and brown tones matched her complexion perfectly and the soft fabric draped over her feminine curves. Rich sable-brown hair fell around her face giving her a girlish look that any man would misjudge as childish at his own peril. Her lips were shiny and soft, her lips parted. The eyes that held his were full of something unexpressed.
He knew her, from a hundred staff meetings, covered in dirt and gore, stinking of purple Covenant blood, exhausted, injured, and weary, she was always beautiful and courageous to him. But this woman standing in front of him, soft curves and tantalizing scent, clutching her hands together and—dear God—the need to touch her grew like an infection, winding its way through his bloodstream and igniting the need to claim and possess.
Well then, isn't he was fickle bastard? Now he could add that to his list. The list that began with the word 'coward'.
"You're right, Sarah. I am an idiot." In two steps he is by her side, squeezing her fingers and pressing her knuckles to his lips. When he felt her fingers spread across his neck and shoulder, he kissed the inside of her wrist.
Before he can go further, a large hand suddenly tipped his head up and he's staring into the storm tossed depths of John's blue eyes. Time stops as the two men stare, the woman standing between them forgotten.
"My mistake, sir. I shall withdraw before I make a second error."
Two hands reached toward him, one with a grip almost as strong as his and the second, a touch he could not ignore.
"I invited you here to enjoy a meal away from duty and obligation. Will you both join me?" A gesture toward the table yielded nothing.
At first, she thought they might leave. Now it seemed as if they would continue to stare at each other as if she weren't in the room.
"So… the steaks are done and I don't want to waste… I think I'll take off all my clothes and run down the center of the armory. What do you two think?"
"I trust your judgment, Commander. You know that."
Wisdom told her to stay quiet and let the moment play out. So she poured herself a glass of wine and seated herself at the table. Although she tried not to watch, the charisma and chemistry between the two men vibrated between them like plucked harp strings.
"This world we live in is filled with violence and death. You might be a symbol of that world, but I thought I saw something in you. Something I thought I was ready for or worthy … all I did was…"
"Tom, I am not so fragile."