Chapter 13: Spartans Never Die
The party had lasted well into the night, and as the band played the center of the pavilion became a makeshift dancing floor. John stood standing alone outside the pavilion just beyond the torchlight with his helmet back on. Cortana was at one of the long wooden tables with platters of food filling up a plate. She had tried some of the wine but cringed at the taste and disliked the light headed feeling it gave her, and was about to reach for a pitcher of water when another man grabbed it and filled her cup up for her.
"Thanks," she said to the man who wore a white cowboy hat and the clothes of a rancher.
"No need to thank me sai Cortana, you are a guest here in the Calla. Forgive me if I do not use your full name, but I have always had trouble remembering numbers." His voice was smooth, silky, and insincere. Cortana took an immediate disliking to this man, but attempted to remain polite.
"Still, thank you."
The man nodded his head and looked around slowly, as if checking to make sure nobody else was listening. Seemingly satisfied he continued to speak. "You know sai despite that lovely exhibition the gunslinger gave for the crowd there are still many in the Calla who believe that it is best to let things be as they are. The Wolves never take all the children ya know, and they only come once in a generation. Twenty-five years of peace in exchange for a raid that only lasts a few hours. A fair deal would you not agree sai?"
"I would think that a better deal would be if none of the children were taken," Cortana said coolly.
"Still, only a handful of gunslingers and your Spartan to stand against eighty Wolves? Long odds indeed," the man said, putting emphasis on the word your.
"You would be surprised by what my Spartan can do, and what I can do as well."
The man smiled and nodded his head in faux agreement, "Indeed. My name is George Telford, and I have a feeling we shall speak again. The town still needs to reach a formal decision as you must know, and there will be plenty of people who will hear what I have to say. Until then, long days and pleasant nights." He left after saying this, not waiting for Cortana to respond.
…
She stood beside John outside the pavilion. He seemed more relaxed now, but she could see by the way his hands were opening and closing into slight fists that he was still tense.
"You don't have to stay here with me," he said.
"And leave you here alone? Not a chance." She moved closer to him and put her hand on his back. Nobody could clearly see them outside of the light of the torches, and he did not resist. "You know I talked to Andy. He said that he could probably help take your armor off, and we are going to need to do that in order to run maintenance on it before the Wolves come. I know you don't like being outside it John but…"
"It's necessary," he finished the sentence for her. "We'll do it tonight, get it over with quickly." His eyes turned to the stage where the band was playing. He then watched as Tian Jaffords walked out of the crowd and approached them.
"Sai Cortana, some of the boys of the Calla were wondering if you might come and sing for them. They seem quite enamored of you," there was a piece of straw sticking out of his mouth as he smiled at her.
Cortana shook her head, "Thanks for the offer but I.."
"Yes, she can," John said and Cortana thought for a moment about punching the Spartan in his side, even if it meant breaking all of her fingers."
"Great, they'll love it." Tian said and Cortana had just enough time to shoot John a you bastard look, becoming even more furious thinking about him grinning beneath his visor, before Tian grabbed her arm and hauled her onto the stage. The band stopped as she walked to the center, and all the eyes of the Calla were on her.
Cortana took a breath and closed her eyes, searching for a song, any song, she could possibly sing. She had sung a little when she was just an AI, something she suspected was only unique to her. Cortana had always made sure no one was around when she did this, although now she guessed that John had been able to eavesdrop on her at one point. Finally she found a song. It was an old one, from Callahan's time in fact. It had been covered by a number of bands since its release and had received new life as a drinking song during the Rain Forest Wars. It was a favorite among the ODST's during the war with the Covenant as well, especially those of Australian descent. Opening her eyes she saw that the entire Calla was still staring at her, waiting. She took another deep breath, and began to sing. It was low at first, but her voice grew stronger as she went. The words were…
Mum and Dad and Denny saw the passing out parade at Puckapunyal
It was a long march from cadets
Sixth Battalion was the next to tour and it was me who drew the card
We did Canugra and Shoalwater before we left
And Townsville lined the footpaths as we marched down to the quay
This clipping from the paper shows us young and strong and clean
And there's me in my slouch hat, me SLR, and greens
God help me, I was only nineteen
From Vung Tau riding Chinooks to the dust at Nui Dat
I'd been in and out of choppers now for months
But we made our tents a home, V.B. and pinups on the lockers
And an Asian orange sunset through the scrub
And can you tell me doctor why I still can't get to sleep
And night time's just a jungle dark and a barking M16
And what's this rash that comes and goes can you tell me what it means?
God help me, I was only nineteen
A four week operation, when each step could mean your last one on two legs
It was a war within yourself
But you wouldn't let your mates down until they had you dusted off
So you closed your eyes and thought about something else
Then someone yelled out Contact and the bloke behind me swore
We hooked in there for hours, then a God Almighty roar
Frankie kicked a mine the day that mankind kicked the moon
God help me, he was going home in June
I can still see Frankie drinking tinnies in the Grand Hotel
On a thirty-six hour rec. leave in Vung Tau
And I can still see Frankie, lying screaming in the jungle
Till the morphine came and killed the bloody row
And the Anzac legends didn't mention mud and blood and tears
And the stories that my father told me never seemed quite real
I caught some pieces in my back that I didn't even feel
God help me, I was only nineteen
God help me, I was only nineteen
She finished, and there was silence at first, then applause. Cortana looked into the crowd and saw that some of them were crying. Tian Jaffords came next to her, clapping as well.
"I can't say I understood half of it, but it was beautiful all the same," he said and led her off the stage. She had to grip the railing a little tighter than usual as her knees were still shaking. A rough hand tapped her shoulder, it was Roland.
"We need to talk, all of us."
…
They waited until all the people had left the pavilion with the exception of Callahan, Andy, and the Jaffords who were waiting by the horses, the party having reached its climax when Cortana had walked on stage.
"What's this about?" John asked.
"Nineteen," Eddie replied running his fingers through his shoulder length hair. "It always comes back to nineteen."
"You mean the song? Its old but I don't see what it has to do with anything," Cortana said, once again standing next to the Spartan and ignoring the look Susannah was giving her.
"You don't understand, we've been seeing the number everywhere ever since we met the dark man in Oz. In the clouds, in the trees, in names and numbers. Jake show them what we mean."
Jake grabbed a stick and began to write in the dirt just as he had back in the forest. "Claudia y Inez Bachman, the woman who wrote Charlie the Choo-Choo, nineteen letters; Donald Frank Callahan, nineteen; Wayne Dale Overholser, nineteen; Benjamin Slightman Sr, nineteen…"
"There are plenty of names that have nineteen letters in them, and that still has nothing to do with the song." John said, getting annoyed.
Jake shook his head, "No you don't understand, it has everything to do with everything. Its not just the names in my world and Roland's world. Your world has it as well. 343 Guilty Spark and Sierra 117. 3+4+3+1+1+7=19. The dates we all come from. Me, Eddie, Susannah, Eddie, and Callahan all come from the 20th century. That's nineteen right there, but there is also the date you guys come from, 2557. 2+5+5+7=19."
"And now the song you just sang, nineteen. Think, the both of you. How many petals were on the rose?" And they did think, they thought about the rose and its blood red petals, all nineteen of them.
"It can't be," Cortana said. "Everything can't come down to one number, what does nineteen even mean?"
"Nineteen is the truth," Roland said. His face remained emotionless, but his eyes glanced down at the ground. "The others have been seeing nineteen since Oz, but I have seen it longer, since I passed through the town of Tull. The man in black had passed through there before I did and had raised a man from the dead. He told the people of the town that if they ever wanted to learn about what the afterlife truly was all they would have to do is ask the resurrected man about the number nineteen. Of course they did, and the answer drove them insane." The gunslingers mouth formed into a hard line, "I put the town out of its misery." His voice was cold and unsympathetic.
(The truth will drive you insane faster than a lie ever will) the voices of rampancy whispered
…
It had taken Andy an hour to get the Spartan's armor off, even with instruction from Cortana. He would stop every few minutes, making a series of clicks and buzzes, before continuing, all the time asking if John wanted his horoscope read. They were to stay with the Jaffords while they were in the Calla, and Zalia had immediately apologized that there was only one room to spare. The Jaffords had five children, two of them twins. There was also Tian's sister and Zalia's brother who were both roont. They slept out in the barn. An old man also lived with them, Zalia's grandfather Cortana had guessed, judging by the way the old man and Tian seemed to dislike each other.
Cortana was sitting on the guess bed now, having at last gotten a bath and a change of clothes when she heard the door open. John walked in, wearing clothes made of rough cotton. Most likely the clothes worn by the roonts, given John's size she thought looking up at him. He sat down in a chair next to the bed.
"I promised to tell you about how I died," he said. She remembered the promise. He had made it on the first day they came to mid-world, and in all honesty she had hoped that he would forget that he made it.
"You don't have to tell me," she said.
"Yes you need to hear it."
He talked for nearly twenty minutes, and the story had the air of an after action report. Still she had trouble looking at him as he spoke.
Infinity had returned to Requiem in order to eliminate any Covenant and Promethean forces that remained on the Forerunner planet and set up bases of operations. An artifact had been discovered, and Dr. Halsey had been called into to study it. She had discovered than the artifact was transmitting information about Infinity's systems down to Requiem. He had been given tactical command of the Spartan IVs sent down to investigate and he had been with fire team Majestic when it happened. One of the Spartan IVs, young and inexperienced, had run ahead of the rest of the team and ended up being cut off. He had moved up to assist when he saw the large shadow of a plasma mortar forming beneath the Spartan IV. John only had enough time to push him out of the way.
"Did it hurt?" Cortana asked quietly, still not able to look at him. Seven months, she thought, I was only able to buy him seven months. What good am I?
"Yes," he said, and then stood up. "I'll sleep in one of chairs out in the main part of the house. You can have the bed." He turned to leave when Cortana's hand grabbed his. Her electric blue eyes found his.
"Stay," she said and smiled. "I sleep better when you're around anyway."
He looked uncertain, and his movements lacked their usual fluidity as he climbed into the bed next to her. She didn't care, and laid her head down on his chest, closing her eyes and feeling his warm heartbeat once again. The voices were silent
For the first time since Cortana came to mid-world she did not dream, but John did.
…
At first he thought it was of Sam, of Sam laughing. It wasn't though, it was Cuthbert. He knew the man's name, the man with the same blonde hair and eyes as Sam 034, but could only guess as to how he knew. Cuthbert was standing there, revolver in his left hand, there was an arrow where his right eye had once been. It was the end of the world, the end of everything, and he was laughing.
"Roland we are finished. It is the end of us, the end of Gilead," he said. There were other gunslingers around him, all with some sort of wound, their clothes caked in blood. Cuthbert pointed at the advancing column at the bottom of the hill, the slope itself littered with bodies, their chainmail glistening in the sun. "They are coming Roland, let us give them what they want."
Yes, he thought, a cold anger slipping into his heart. His hands gripped the revolvers he carried. He looked at the gunslingers, many of them older than him, some far better, but they all looked to him, they always looked to him. He would die with these gunslingers, as he should have died on Reach with his Spartans, as he should have died with her on the Didact's ship orbiting Earth. He would fight with them, as he should have fought with Blue Team on Onyx. Death would claim him, and all would be right in the world. This time he would not be the last.
He raised a revolver over his head and although the voice and the words they formed were not his own he meant them all the same, "Gunslingers to me! For Gilead, for the line of Eld, for The Dark Tower, and for the White! Gunslingers! Hile!"
"Hile," the gunslingers shouted, raising their revolvers with him.
"Give me the horn Roland, let me blow it, one last time," Cuthbert said, fighting down the blood that was coming up his throat. Cuthbert blew the horn and the army before them seemed to hesitate. The gunslingers charged down Jericho Hill, revolvers thundering, dealing out lead as they went.
The rounds in his revolvers ran empty as he smashed into the column. He brought the butt of one of them down on a helmeted head, the skull cracking beneath it. His fingers were as lightning as he reloaded. A man with a pike came at him, thrusting. He side stepped and kicked the man in the chest, bringing both revolvers up and loading two rounds into the soldiers chest. The sun, which had held the same place in the sky for hours, courtesy of the dark man himself, was blotted out. Arrows rained down around him, the archers not caring if they hit their own men, so long as they slew the gunslingers. A bolt hit his chest and he no sooner pulled it out when another one struck his knee which buckled beneath him. A body fell on top of him, pinning him to the ground. Others followed and he was crushed by the weight. The sound of gunfire ceased as darkness took him.
…
His eyes flew open and he moved to get from under the pile of rotting corpses. Standing he brought both revolvers up, scanning the battle for threats. There were none, he was alone.
"Gunslingers!" he said, but there was no answer. A vultcher screeched at him, and he turned around. There was Cuthbert, still smiling, three arrows in his chest, his eyes glazed over.
"No," he said, and this time it was both John's voice and Roland's. He sank to his knees, "No, No, No!" and for the first time since he was a child he felt tears stream down his cheeks. He was the last, once again he was the last. He would always be the last.