Chapter 13
The Master Chief stared at his helmet.
He was in warehouse 3A-42D. He had infiltrated the facility, easily disabling what few security measures were there, and had opened the crate that had been biometrically locked to him. Inside were his weapons...and his armor.
It was not the armor he had worn for the majority of his career. That had been the comparatively primitive MJOLNIR Mark IV and was now probably in a museum somewhere. However, it was easy enough to see his current Mark VII helmet as an extension of his original armor. His Spartan armor.
This helmet was, to most of humanity, the Master Chief's face. He had never made any public appearances with the armor off, or even with the visor depolarized. Being faceless enhanced the mystique, or so ONI Section II had said.
ONI...
How many missions of his had that shadowy organization provided intelligence for? How many enemies did he dispatch at their behest? The Chief had always assumed that any targets he was assigned were legitimate, credible threats to humanity. The dossiers he was given painted clear pictures of rebel threats. But what if...
What if some were like Miller's people?
What if the Master Chief, and the rest of the Spartans, had unknowingly committed atrocities in the name of the Office of Naval Intelligence? Had they assassinated innocent people? Had they suppressed non-violent dissent? How much of what he knew about his career had been carefully filtered to provide him with only what the spymasters at ONI wanted him to know? How much of what he had done was known even to the supposed leaders of the UNSC and UEG? Dr. Halsey herself had said that Lord Hood was routinely kept out of the loop. What if...
What if the government itself was corrupt?
It was that last part that scared John the most. He knew that his ultimate purpose was to be the protector of humanity, but he was just a soldier. He was the boots on the ground. He relied upon those in Command, and the political leadership that commanded them, to tell him where to fight. To tell him who to fight. With what he had just learned, the Master Chief was beginning to suspect that he had given his loyalty unwisely.
The Chief looked at his helmet again.
This was the face of humanity's greatest hero. This was the face that had stopped the Covenant from wiping out the human race.
At least that victory was legitimate. The Covenant had been a very real threat, intent on the complete extermination of the human species. They had come within a hair's breadth of accomplishing that horrible goal. If not for the Master Chief and the rest of the Spartans, there would no longer be a human race to serve. The Human-Covenant War had been forced upon them, and the Spartans had needed to fight it.
But now the War was over.
There were still threats, certainly, but there would always be threats. If human history had demonstrated anything, it was that there would never truly be an end to war. There would always be a need for soldiers, and for heroes. If he ignored the horrors of which he had learned simply because humanity was in danger, then said horrors would never be addressed. Justice would never be given. And many more people would suffer as Miller had. As Meridian had.
Besides, whatever parties or systems that were responsible for this status quo were his enemies. They could be nothing else. And any soldier knows that the most lethal thing you can do in regard to an enemy is turn your back on him.
Doing so had nearly cost his mother her life.
John-117 looked at his helmet.
So. Something needed to be done. But what? What could a supersoldier do to change the world?
He certainly wasn't about to lead an armed revolution. He had seen where such a course could lead in the Insurrection. And who would he put in charge? He had no capabilities to govern, nor did he have the political genius to know how to set up a new order that would be superior to the current one.
He could bring this data to the attention of Lord Hood. The Fleet Admiral had always proven to be an honorable and noble individual. The Chief doubted that Hood had approved of any of this sort of behavior. Yet, they had happened during his watch. He had somehow missed them. If this were brought to his attention, would Lord Hood even be able to do anything about it? He did not hold absolute power.
What, then? Where could he go? What organization could he serve? What objective could he pursue?
Who should he take orders from?
John looked at his helmet.
He decided to start from the beginning.
What was his purpose?
To be a protector of humanity. To serve as the sword and shield of the human race against all forces who would see it harmed, be they foreign or domestic.
How could he accomplish his purpose?
He would be a soldier. A fighter on the front-line of any military conflict that threatened human lives. His greatest skills were in martial combat—in fighting.
How will he know who and where to fight?
At this John faltered. He needed direction. He couldn't just fight on his own initiative. He didn't have the resources or the kind of enlightened mind one would need to determine where a soldier should ply his trade; to know what cause he should support.
Enlightened mind...
Of course! Dr. Halsey!
His mother had always been the smartest, wisest person he had ever known. It was she who had founded the Spartan II program, who had given him his purpose. It was she who had brought these horrors to his attention. She would know what to do. She would know who to fight. He could take orders from her.
The Master Chief settled down, feeling the storm within his soul calm. The future was still uncertain. There would be much to do, and many impossible battles to face. But at least now he had a guiding light...
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Linda had spent 24 hours lying in bed, being useless.
She could theoretically still do some work. She was lucid and considerably more energetic than when she had first woken up. The painkillers had been downgraded to the point where she wouldn't be disoriented. She couldn't get out of bed, but she had her compad with her, loaded with files taken from the Administrative Building's inner servers. There were things she could do.
If she could focus. Which she couldn't.
Linda felt lost. She was unsure what to think, and therefore unsure what to do. It felt like her whole world had been turned on its head and she had no idea how to right it. It was like trying to find the way out of the maze after being spun around a bunch of times. Linda was unsure where that analogy came from...maybe something from her childhood?
Stupid memories. Useless.
She felt useless!
She needed to be able to do something, even if it was only to think about what she had already learned and plan her next move. If she wasn't moving forward, she was moving back, and Linda had no intention of losing ground. Not here.
Yet, for 24 hours, she had failed to accomplish anything.
Linda wanted to be alone. If she could be alone, maybe she could confront whatever was keeping her off balance.
Unfortunately, her new 'friend' was intent on comforting her.
"You're sure I can't get you something to eat?" Michelle Cortez asked. "All of the food's terrible on this planet, but the bars' food is at least less terrible than the hospital food."
Linda smiled at her. It felt like a herculean effort in her current state.
"No, thank you," she replied, hoping she was successful in keeping her growing frustration out of her voice. She would normally have come up with some type of lie to get Cortez to leave, but recent events had made her cold to the idea. I think I've had enough lies for today, she reflected.
Linda appreciated the sentiment behind Cortez's visit. Really, she did. Offering her comfort to the woman who had been injured in her defense was an honorable, charitable thing to do. Linda just needed to be alone for a while. To process what had happened. She had already convinced her family to leave her for a bit, and then Cortez had come in to visit.
"Hope I'm not interrupting anything," yet another voice called from the open door. Linda looked over, still not able to get out of bed. She saw Evelyn Collins standing in the doorway to her room. Not wanting to spoil any positive relationships, Linda motioned that the prospector could enter. "Just thought I'd stop in and say hi to one of Rogers' buddies," she continued. "I know how tight y'all are."
"Thank you. The thought is appreciated," Linda said. She was shocked to find that she genuinely was glad for the woman's consideration. Maybe she was more off balance than she thought...
Collins looked at Cortez, saying, "Hi, there. Don't believe we've met. Name's Evelyn Collins." The pair shook hands.
"Michelle Cortez," the other answered. "Collins...Collins..." Cortez said thoughtfully to herself, as if trying to remember something. "You're the leader of the prospectors, right?"
Collins seemed surprised. "Yeah. I mean, it's not official, but I'm the one everyone goes cryin' to when there's trouble, so I guess I am. Truth be told, I'm kinda surprised anyone from administration," she said, gesturing to Cortez's office attire, "knows about little old me."
Cortez smiled. "I've made it a point to know as much about Meridian as possible. That includes knowing about all of the people who make this place run. This is my home now, and I intend to help take care of it," she said seriously.
Evelyn Collins blinked. "Your home, huh?" she asked. "Kinda surprised anyone would want a ruined place like this for their own. I was born here, and even I find it tough at times."
"I don't look at it that way," Cortez said resolutely. "I look out the window and I don't see the ruins of an old world. I see the foundation of a new one. I won't forget about old Meridian, about what was lost here," she assured Collins, "but I focus on the future. On the hope for tomorrow."
Collins stared at her. She seemed to be thinking about what had just been said. Slowly, a smile spread across her face. "Nice speech. You thinkin' about runnin' for office?" she asked in a joking manner. There was no bite to her words. Linda could tell that Collins liked Cortez. Liked her mindset.
Linda couldn't take this anymore. Couldn't take the distractions. She was glad these 2 were happy, really she was, but right now she needed to be alone. She decided to just be honest about it.
"I'm glad to see both of you," she said, drawing the pair's attention, "but right now I think I'd like to be alone. It's been a hell of a few days," she said, managing a wry smile.
Both of the other women nodded in understanding. They wished her well and made their way out of Linda's hospital room. Alone at last. Maybe I should have just said that to begin with, she reflected.
Alone at last. Alone. Linda had rarely ever felt so alone. She had gone lone wolf for days on end during the War and she hardly ever felt as alone as she did now. The Master Chief had...he had...
Linda forced herself to confront what she was thinking.
The Master Chief had...failed her. She had needed him, and he had fled the room. How could he do that to her?
The Spartan II forced herself to control her own emotions. She would look at this logically, she would analyze it, and she would adapt to whatever she discovered. She had survived the Human-Covenant War. She could survive whatever this was.
So. The Chief had failed. Why?
He had been confronted with a hard truth: the people he worked for were corrupt. The Master Chief, and the rest of the Spartans, were currently serving a government that had perpetrated or allowed numerous atrocities to be committed upon its own citizens. By many people's standards, they were unworthy of the loyalty the Spartans had always shown them. It seemed the Chief was one of these people.
Not that Linda was any different. She had felt sick to her stomach upon hearing Miller's story and learning, through Dr. Halsey, of many of the other injustices that the UEG and the UNSC were guilty of.
Although, if she were being honest with herself, she hadn't been quite as surprised as her leader had seemed to be.
Over the course of her career Linda had come across many pieces of intelligence that suggested there was a dark side to the human empire. That there were horrible things being done just out of her sight. She probably could have discovered concrete proof of them if she had had the time to dedicate to them. Unfortunately, the Covenant had demanded nearly all of her attention. She had allowed herself to be complicit in the UEG's activities because if she pursued them, the Covenant might have won and humanity would be extinct. It had been necessary. Even now, looking back on it all, she would probably make the same choices again.
But the Human-Covenant War had ended years ago. Why had she never pursued her suspicions before now? Linda had to dwell on this for a long time before she came to an answer. It was not a pleasant one.
Linda hadn't pursued her suspicions because the Master Chief did not share them.
This was not his fault, of course. The Chief did not have her skills at espionage. He had not learned the things that she had learned. He was a soldier, through and through, and probably the greatest to ever live. However, his physical, day-to-day function was to win battles. It was up to the people who had other skillsets to uncover the truth. People like...
People like Linda.
Linda realized then that she had allowed herself to become far too dependent upon her leader. Upon her older brother. She had grown to look to him for guidance in everything, to the point where she didn't even consider exploring avenues that he did not explicitly approve of. She still had her clandestine hobby, of course, but it had remained just that: a hobby. She had not allowed her unique perspective to influence her in any major way. She had not explored any subject that could not be directly connected to Blue Team's current and potential military performance. Whatever his opinions were, Linda would attempt to mimic them; his perspective was her perspective. More than that, she had become emotionally dependent upon him. His confusion at the recent revelations had made it impossible for Linda to center herself because she had been relying on the Chief for her own stability. It had taken an entire day for her to simply be able to analyze the situation as she was now. This was an eon for a Spartan. And Spartans typically didn't have surplus time to waste.
She had artificially limited herself, which was a fatal mistake for a soldier to make. She needed to rectify this.
She would still take orders, of course. The Chief was a better soldier and leader than she could ever be. He had earned his place as Blue Lead. But Linda would be careful not to lean on him too much, anymore. She couldn't afford to be thrown completely off balance just because he couldn't be there for her.
Linda was part of a team. She was Blue Two, Linda-058, a Spartan II supersoldier. But she was also Linda. She was an individual, with her own skills and resources to utilize. And she would do so.
Now if only I could get out of this stupid bed, she thought with frustration.
She reached over to her compad; she might as well get some more research done.
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There was little hope that Linda would find any leads in the classified files she had stolen from the Administrative Building. She had exhausted all likely locations to find anything that could help them locate the Forerunner ruins they had originally come to Meridian to find. Besides, these documents mostly pertained to the colony's finances. She had taken them because she had grown suspicious of the setup of the colony. Something just didn't seem to add up to her.
It took a while for her decryption program to unlock the files. The electronic protection was surprisingly robust for a terraforming operation.
When Linda examined the documents, she quickly understood why.
Meridian was dying. No...that wasn't right. It was already dead. The Liang-Dortmund Company was just preventing it from being resuscitated.
The way the operation was supposed to work was simple. The Covenant plasma bombardment had converted a substantial portion of Meridian's topsoil into raw silicates which could be used in a variety of products, from insulation to health treatments. The Liang-Dortmund Company would harvest them, sell them, and then use the majority of the profits to finance the terraforming process which would restore Meridian to a fully inhabitable world. The company would then have substantial land and development rights to continue their investment into the far future.
Liang-Dortmund had indeed been harvesting and selling silicates. They had indeed been making a profit. They had not, however, been using said profits to finance the terraforming. They had not completely abandoned it, of course. They had signed a contract with the UEG that demanded they finance the restoration process. However, they had only allocated enough resources to make it look like they were still committed to terraforming. Currently, there was not enough invested to even keep the process moving forward. In fact, Meridian shouldn't even be inhabitable to the extent that it was.
Where was the money going, then? It took only moments to discover: the money had flowed towards Company headquarters and the Inner Colonies. The profits were being used for various industries, most of which Liang-Dortmund had a direct stake in, all of which disproportionately favored those worlds closest to Earth.
How had the company been allowed to get away with this? Surely the UEG wasn't so incompetent to miss such egregious fraud. Linda took to the 'net and discovered that, in fact, there were several groups that had been claiming for years that the terraforming projects were just a front for further exploiting the Outer Colonies. The groups had either been dismissed as Insurrectionist propagandists or ignored entirely. Linda also discovered that Liang-Dortmund had given substantial campaign contributions to select members of the UEG senate, members who had gone on to become the staunchest defenders of the restoration initiative.
So. Meridian had been written off. Why, then, wasn't it already dead? Linda continued searching, trying to find out why the surface of Meridian hadn't been reduced to an uninhabitable wasteland by the neglected terraforming. She had to dig deep in the records, looking in the electronic equivalent of cluttered corners and sub-basements. Eventually, she discovered another layer of encryption on a series of files stored under the 'Sanitation Expenditures' heading. Suspicious, Linda applied her decryption programs once again.
It took even longer to unlock these files than it had the whole set. She was definitely on to something.
When she finally gained access, Linda was once again stunned.
It seemed that Governor Sloan, the rampant AI that was currently in charge of the colony, had decided to meet fraud with fraud. He had been consistently under-reporting the value of the finds that the automated mining sites were harvesting. He had then made arrangements that the excess profits would be transferred to a private account he controlled, which he would then draw from to continue the terraforming process, albeit at a far slower pace. It was all rather complicated and economically savvy. Linda wondered if the donor whose brain had been used to create Sloan had been some sort of economist...
Well, there it was. Her questions were answered. The only question now, was what would she do with this information?
If she were going strictly by the book, Linda would immediately report her findings to the federal authorities. They would likely order Sloan to be taken off-line and the embezzlement stopped. Logically, they would also demand that Liang-Dortmund resume fully funding the terraforming.
However, Linda was no fool. She knew blatant corruption when she saw it. If she reported what she had found, the only thing that would change would be that all of the profits would go toward company headquarters and the Inner Colonies. The terraforming would go into full relapse, Meridian would die again, and all of the dreams of Cortez, Collins, and the other colonists would come to nothing.
Had Linda discovered this a day before, she would have taken no action until she had consulted the Master Chief. Now, though, she considered her course more thoughtfully.
Linda erased the data. All of the files. She even went so far as to reset her compad to its factory defaults, thus making absolutely sure that all of the data was gone forever. She had backups for the other sensitive information and programs, of course.
The Master Chief might not be happy. She would, of course, be telling him about this the next chance she got. There would be no more secrets in this family. But this wasn't part of their mission. She could make her own decision about this. If he really thought the data needed to be reported, if he made it a direct order...well, she would deal with that if it came.
The hospital room's lights dimmed. The door automatically closed, and locked. Linda's connection to the 'net was severed remotely. She felt a spike of dread. Had someone seen her?
A com-panel on the wall activated its holographic emitter. Projected before her was a...bizarre figure.
She could tell that the projected 3D image was supposed to be a human, but whatever system was responsible for it had clearly stopped being able to function properly. The resolution varied wildly. Various parts of the form would appear fully textured and lifelike before blinking into a fuzzy haze without transition. Bizarre geometric shapes randomly appeared and disappeared all across the space the holographic image took up, often seeming to take the place of the regular body parts like some sort of digital tumor. Linda could see, more by color than anything else, that it was wearing some kind of yellow overalls. There was also some kind of neon orange covering over the top of its head which she supposed was meant to be a hard-hat, but now simply resembled a mess of polygons smeared over someone's scalp. The flashlight in the center resembled a bizarre, misshapen third eye rather than a light source. The program had difficulty depicting movement correctly, the arms seeming to to teleport into a hands-on-hip position. Linda remembered the glimpse she had seen in the introductory video shown upon her arrival on Meridian. She knew who she was looking at.
Governor Sloan.
He spoke in a garbled voice. Linda could tell that it was not intentionally altered, like some in ONI did to hide their identity, but rather from simple malfunction. It must take every bit of his processing power just to keep himself cognizant and performing his self-appointed duties.
His words came out with a clear echo. The echo sounded like the generic, toneless monotone one hears from low-grade translation software. It was a bizarre effect that increased the feeling of the uncanny that radiated out of the Governor's presence. He was just close enough to a normally functioning being to be thoroughly off-putting. What he had to say was short, and to the point.
"I never thought I'd thank the UNSC for anything...but I do thank you, Spartan."
The holographic image vanished as quickly as it had arrived. The door unlocked and opened, Linda's compad reestablished its connection to the 'net, and the lights returned to their full illumination. Within minutes Dr. Halsey rushed into the room, saying that Linda's treatment had been unexpectedly and inexplicably fast-tracked. She would be able to go into surgery within an hour.
Linda was going to have a lot to explain to Blue Lead.
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Kelly twitched, knocking over a beaker of valuable medicine. The precious liquid splashed onto the clinic floor.
Damn stims! Kelly thought, grabbing a mop to clean up the now-useless chemicals. The effects of her abuse of stimulants were becoming harder to ignore. Yet, she had no choice. Her extreme work load and schedule had kept her from getting any meaningful rest since she began her work in the medical clinic. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open, most of the time.
At least it kept her mind too occupied to think about what she had learned yesterday. Not that she was running away, of course.
"Everything okay in here?" Evelyn Collins asked. Apparently she had finished visiting another patient and had seen Kelly's error while passing the clinic's lab. Kelly forced a smile. It was becoming harder and harder to do that.
"Yes, just a little mistake. Everything's fine," Kelly responded, hoping she would believe it. She stowed the cleaning gear, removed the sterile gloves she had been wearing, and thoroughly washed her hands.
Collins nodded before handing her a prescription slip. "Dr. Pym prescribed some more of these meds I've been taking. I'll need about a liter of it by the end of the week," she explained. Kelly accepted the slip, telling Collins that she would get right on brewing a batch of the chemical. After the prospector had left, Kelly examined the note. Her eyes nearly burst out of her skull.
"No...this can't be..." Kelly said quietly to herself.
"I'm afraid it is," Dr. Halsey said, closing the door as she entered the lab. She took a seat on one of the stools. "I'm afraid Ms. Collins has the condition called 'rust lung.'"
"But—this chemical is toxic!" Kelly objected. "If she takes it for too long, it will build up in her system and prevent her lungs from working at all!"
Dr. Halsey smiled bitterly. "Very good. I'm glad to see my biology lessons weren't wasted," she said. Halsey continued her explanation before Kelly could express her horror at joking about such a thing. "Unfortunately, Collins has a unique, and quite advanced, case of the disorder. Not surprising, given the amount of time she has spent on Meridian and out in the glasslands. This is the only treatment that will delay the debilitating effects of the condition."
"But it'll kill her!" Kelly all but shouted.
Dr. Halsey's face lost all pretense of grim humor. "If she doesn't get this treatment, her lungs will shut down in a matter of months. I've explained this all to her. By taking this treatment, she extends her lifespan by a few years. She is going to die no matter what. You're right—taking this chemical will kill her. However, if she doesn't take it, her disease will kill her faster."
This was too much. Too much. Kelly had started this position intending to save people. She had helped many. There was no denying that. But there were so many she had been unable to help. So many she simply could not get to in time. Several of the colonists who had been killed by the riots might have survived if she and the rest of Meridian's medical community hadn't been so painfully understaffed and underequipped. She was a Spartan. She was supposed to do the impossible. Yet, she found herself unable to beat simple logistics. She couldn't overcome the laws of physics.
And she couldn't overcome the neglect and abuse that Meridian was suffering under.
Suddenly, all she had learned from Miller and Halsey the previous day came rushing to the front of her mind. How much pain, how much sorrow, had been caused by the government she served? How many had she been unable to save during the Human-Covenant War simply because of the neglect she had seen ever since she arrived on this planet? How many Army units had been too poorly trained and too poorly equipped to defend their homeworlds? How many worlds had they been ordered to fall back from purely because the higher ups deemed them unprofitable? How many had died because of them? Because of her?
Kelly leaned against the wall. She quickly found herself too overwhelmed to stand, and slid down to the floor. She couldn't think. She could barely breathe. The world seemed to spin around her.
Suddenly, she felt arms embrace her. She felt hands nestle her head in another's shoulder. She felt her hair being stroked lovingly. She heard her mother's voice say to her:
"This doesn't make you weak. It makes you human."
That did it. The dam broke, her emotions poured out, and Kelly cried in a way she hadn't allowed herself to since she was a little girl. When she was done, she fell into a deep, deep sleep.
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The jail cell in Fred's Meridian Security Station was, like everything else in the colony, cramped. There was a simple cot that could fold up into the wall, an exposed toilet and sink, and nothing else. Even so, there was little room to move around. There would barely be enough room to do pushups.
Not that Dmitri Ivanov was exercising. He had lied down on the cot as soon as he arrived and had not moved since, except to eat or use the toilet. At least, that's what the officer currently on guard duty had told Fred when the Spartan suggested the man take a break, offering to watch the cells for a few minutes. The officer readily agreed, heading off to do whatever it was he intended to do.
Alone at last, Fred reflected. Now was the time he would get some answers from Ivanov. After the uncertainty sown into all of Blue Team following yesterday's revelations, he felt he needed something concrete. He needed something answered directly and resolutely.
Fred walked up to the transparent, hard plastic door. There were several holes in the door near the ceiling, both to facilitate air flow and to ensure parties outside and inside the cell could communicate even in the event of a power outage. Fred called out to the occupant, eager to begin this conversation.
Ivanov ignored him. Fred knew he was awake. His augmented hearing could pick up the man's breathing and he could tell from the changing pattern that Ivanov had heard him.
"I know you can hear me, Ivanov," Fred said. "Booze may turn you blind, but it doesn't make you deaf." The man continued to lie in bed, pretending to be asleep. Fred sighed. "Well, if that's how you want to play it, I suppose I'll have to talk at you instead of with you. How do you feel about me throwing some ideas for a pop song I've been writing at you? Bouncing 'em off a wall, like."
Ivanov sighed and groaned. "Just can't leave a man alone, can ya?" he asked irately, sitting up and glaring at Fred through the door.
Fred was pleased. Progress. "I just want to ask some questions," he said.
"Questions. Right," Ivanov snorted. He looked at Fred with piercing eyes, seeming to discern the exact reason for this visit. The penetrating quality of the stare was soon joined by a deep seeded cynicism and resignation to one's fate. Ivanov was clearly not an optimist.
So this is what he's like sober, Fred reflected.
"Let me guess, you saw that old box of medals Singh's probably bought back for me again and you wanna know how I wound up like this," Ivanov asked rhetorically. "That about right?"
Fred nodded.
"And I suppose I won't get rid of you until I do?" the prisoner asked.
Fred nodded again.
Ivanov sighed. "What the hell. It's not like I've got anything better to do, anyway." He took a breath before starting his story. "So, you know I was a marine. No big surprise, given the neural implant and fake arm," he said, gesturing to the metal prosthetic attached to his right shoulder. "I got this in 2552, right towards the end of the War." The veteran laughed. "Y'know, it's funny. At the time I figured, this wasn't so bad. The War was over, so it wasn't like I was bein' kept from defending my people. Sure, losin' my arm sucked, but I figured I could just get a cloned one. That kinda operation's expensive, but I figured I would get enough assistance from Uncle UNSC." Ivanov scowled.
Fred got the horrible feeling he knew where this was going. He was right.
"They wouldn't pay for it. Years of service, so many medals I could have 'em melted into a life-size statue of me, and they wouldn't pay to give me a new goddamn arm! The veterans' benefits package clearly stated that they'd provide one, but they didn't want to shell out the cash. The system was backed up, they'd get back to me, we're very sorry for the inconvenience, blah blah blah, every time I called I heard the same shit. Even then, when I was refused by the federal authorities, I figured it wasn't hopeless." Ivanov laughed bitterly. "I went home to New Petersburg, the Outer Colony I'd grown up on. I figured they'd want to take care of their favorite son, right?" The veteran scowled. "No. Even back home, noone would give me an arm. And that sure as shit didn't help me find a new job. You have any idea how hard it is acclimating to a civilian work force when you've spent you're entire adult life fighting a war? Nearly all of my skills were useless in civilian life. I'd need to go back to school just to learn a new trade. Not that I could afford to. Another promise for service that noone wanted to foot the bill for."
So, he had been denied promised rewards for military service. Fred supposed he shouldn't have been surprised. Back during his training in the Spartan II program Dr. Halsey had insisted that all of the cadets receive full eduction on human history. Fred had learned at a young age that nearly every advanced human civilization in history had neglected to care for its veterans. The legendary age of piracy in the colonial era which had spawned so many stories and amusement park rides had largely been caused by the neglect of the large number of British sailors who had been trained to fight the Spanish armada and then left to their own devices when the conflict was over. Finding it difficult to adapt to civilian life and having no place in the military, many turned to piracy. History had repeated itself after humanity turned to space. A few minor rebellions of planetary colonies had necessitated the buildup of military forces which, upon completion of the conflict, were neglected by the UNSC and society at large. Many of the pirate and Insurrectionist groups owed their success to the experience of these veterans.
"That wasn't the worst part, though," Ivanov continued, to Fred's surprise. "No..." the veteran stared Fred directly in the eyes. "You wanna know how I got this arm?" he asked. He continued, not caring about the answer. "I got it when my entire unit got wiped out. Brothers I'd fought with for 30 years...all gone," he said, his gaze falling to the floor and his voice falling to barely above a whisper. "I'm the only one left..." He paused here, forcing himself to pull together. He looked at Fred again, clearly feeding his anger to overwhelm his pain. "At the time, I didn't know what, exactly, we were fighting to protect. I don't mean in general. I mean that specific mission. The Covenant had attacked a colony. We were holding the line as long as we could to buy time for some transports to load up and escape. I figured we were covering a civilian evacuation or something. Then, years later, I looked into what was actually being taken. You know what it was?" Ivanov paused here. "No, really. Guess."
Fred struggled to come up with the most likely answer. "Helium-3?" he asked.
"Ha!" the veteran laughed derisively. "At least that would be defensible. Ya need helium to run fusion reactors, which you need to power starships. I could understand fighting for that. Can't win a war without a fleet, after all. No...that's not what it was." Ivanov looked directly at Fred again. The Spartan could see pain, mixed with anger and deep betrayal. "Oranges," he said.
Whatever Fred had been expecting, it certainly wasn't that.
"Mother. Fucking. Oranges. 'Cause, ya see, citrus fruits are real tough to grow on terraformed planets, so oranges are worth big bucks. Some fruit company must have paid top dollar to get military protection for their assets. God forbid people go without orange juice! Better send in the fucking marines!" Ivanov put his hand over his eyes, crying and chuckling to himself. "Goddamn corporate influence. My brothers died to protect some fucking bottom line. That's when my drinking started. That's when I became," he gestured to himself, impoverished, disheveled, and imprisoned, "this."
So. Now I have my answer, Fred thought, not entirely glad for it. He was about to thank the man and leave when Ivanov suddenly stood up, walked over to the door, and glared at Fred with raw, burning hatred.
"Hear that? Huh?" he asked in an accusatory voice. "That military, that nation, the one you're so damn proud of—they did this to me. I can see it in you. You've got 'Proud to Serve' written all over you. Bet you and your little club didn't have to go through anything like this. Bet you all had it nice and cushy protecting some rich Inner Colony fat cat while everyone else died for you-"
"Fuck you!" Fred shouted. Ivanov looked taken aback. Fred himself would have been astonished at his own reaction, if he weren't so busy yelling. "You think I haven't felt pain like you?! I had a unit, too. I'd known them all since we were 6. 6! We fucking grew up together! We were the only family we all had! Now there's just 4 of us left. You know how many of them died in front of me?" he asked. He didn't wait for an answer any more than Ivanov had during his story. "A fucking ton. I can remember them all. William. Li. Joshua. Isaac. Vinh. Solomon. Arthur. So many others..." Fred pulled himself together. "I may not have had it as bad as you, but don't tell me I don't know your pain. Don't tell me I haven't bled, that my family hasn't bled, in service to people who don't deserve it!"
Dmitri Ivanov just stood there, staring silently. Fred stood with an aggressive posture, barely keeping himself from pacing the floor, panting as if he had just completed some kind of Olympian event.
"I guess..." Ivanov said slowly, "that was uncalled for..."
The pair just stared at each other. Then, suddenly and at the same time, they both burst into uncontrollable laughter. It took several minutes for the fit to run its course, and when it was done they were both lying on the floor, clutching their stomachs, with tears running down their faces. It was just such a banal thing to say, the contrast with how emotionally charged the conversation had become was too much for either of them. Both of the old soldiers sat up, wiped their faces, and reexamined each other.
"Maybe we're both a bit fucked up," Fred mused.
"Amen to that," Ivanov agreed.
They both shook their heads. The guard Fred had covered for returned, and the Spartan left to head for home. He turned the corner in the hallway, and immediately bumped into Sgt. Singh.
Singh was looking at Fred carefully. Had he overheard the conversation? "Sorry, sir...Is something wrong?" Fred asked.
Singh continued examining him for several moments. Then, a smile spread across his face. "No...I don't think there is," he said cryptically. Fred had had enough for one day. He nodded to his superior and moved to leave.
"Oh, Officer Barton," he said just as Fred went past him. "One of those Spartans that just arrived was asking if anyone here had seen a group of 5 suspicious characters arrive on Meridian in the past few months. Seemed to think they were dangerous."
Fred froze. He turned around. Singh still had that odd smile on his face. "...afraid I haven't, sir..." Fred replied.
"Neither have I," Sgt. Singh said, turning around and heading toward his office.
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The members of Blue Team gathered in the clinic the following evening. They looked at each other. John, Fred, Linda, and Kelly, with Dr. Halsey standing unobtrusively in the back of the room. They saw in each other's eyes the pain and struggle that had come with the recent revelations.
John saw the recovery and balanced resolution in Linda's eyes. He was glad his sister had centered herself again, and was deeply sorry that he had failed her.
Linda saw the renewed conviction and moral certainty in John's eyes. She could also see the remorse in them. She gave him one of her rare genuine smiles, knowing he could tell the difference, and nodded in acceptance of his apology.
They could all see the personal guilt and emotional exhaustion in Kelly's eyes. They could all see the disillusionment and sorrow in Fred's eyes. All of these things were reflected in each other. They were all together in their guilt. Their remorse. Their anger and feelings of betrayal.
Their resolution of never again.
Something would be done. Something had to be done. They would no longer ignore the plight of those ground under the heel of the current order. They would fulfill their purpose, protecting humanity from the domestic threats, as well as the alien.
First, however, they had to deal with the Guardians. The Master Chief confirmed with Dr. Halsey that this should still be their current course. Oddly, the Chief noticed a strange look of concern when she answered his query. It didn't bother him; she would inform him if he needed to know. They would stop the Guardians.
And find Cortana, John silently added to himself. He would not fail her again, either.
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Thankfully, Linda had full freedom of movement again. She would not be battle ready for another day or so, but the clone organs had all taken well, and she would soon make a full recovery. They were all jubilant at their sister's restored health. The details of how she had gotten her treatment, however, had been rather alarming. The Master Chief was grateful for the assistance, but he was not pleased to learn that Governor Sloan had somehow discovered their identities. At least the AI seemed to be sympathetic toward them.
Unless he's setting us up for a trap. The Chief banished the thought, dismissing it as illogical. If he wanted to turn them in, the last thing he would do would be to help get one of them operational again. He may be rampant, but he was clearly still competent enough to run Meridian. The Mater Chief marveled at the sheer willpower and determination Sloan must have had to hold himself together enough to take care of his people.
Then, Linda told him about how she had discovered the evidence of Sloan's criminal activity...and then deleted all of it.
"You did what?" he asked.
Linda was resolute in her answer. She clearly believed she had done the right thing. "I destroyed data that would have lead to the destruction of Meridian. I believe it was the moral thing to do and I stand by it. If you would like to recover the data, it is possible to get another copy from the administrative servers." The expression on her face made clear what she though of that idea.
The Master Chief was surprised. He hadn't seen her so...independent before. He took a minute to contemplate it.
John decided that he approved. Linda was not a drone, after all. So long as she kept him fully notified, and nothing she did jeopardized their mission or put human beings in danger, he trusted her to make her own decisions. Besides...he doubted he would have done any different in her shoes, now that he knew the truth.
The Chief nodded his approval to Blue Two. She seemed relieved, if he was reading her customarily stoic posture and expression correctly.
They all moved on to other topics of conversation. They discussed the people they had met on Meridian. Sgt. Singh. Michelle Cortez. Dmitri Ivanov. Yao Miller. Evelyn Collins. Dr. Halsey had been right. There had been much that their previous experiences had not prepared them for in regard to the Outer Colonies. However, they were Spartans. Thus, they did not give in to despair, nor did they return to their former mistakes. They did what they had always done: they recognized their past faults and adapted so as not to repeat them. Halsey had taught them that much, at least.
The good doctor herself was still standing in the back of the room. She seemed to be trying to stay out of the way, to allow them to work through this without her. She had a small smile on her face and...was she crying?
John frowned.
"Is there something wrong, Dr. Halsey?" the Master Chief asked.
Halsey promptly wiped a hand across her eyes. "No, no, of course not," she was quick to assure him. John simply raised an eyebrow, not buying it for a second. His mother grumbled, displeased. It only lasted a moment though. She soon moved forward, joining them. "You've all grown so much," she said. "So much since I first met you all..." Here Dr. Halsey seemed to tear up again. She paused, seeming to rally herself, before continuing.
"I...I've never had the courage to approach this topic before," Dr. Halsey said, hesitantly. The Master Chief was stunned. Halsey rarely, if ever, allowed herself to appear vulnerable, let alone afraid. Whatever this topic was, it had to be of enormous importance. She continued, saying, "I am referring to how this all began. The Spartan II Program. How you were all...conscripted into it."
The members of Blue Team all looked at each other, mildly perplexed. This was simply not a subject matter that they had given much consideration before. At least, not in open conversation. Dr. Halsey continued, seeming not to notice their confusion.
"As you know, I was the founder of the program," she said. "I devised it, proposed it to ONI Command, and oversaw every phase of its execution. I..." Dr. Halsey paused. It seemed to take her a moment to muster the courage to say what she wanted to say. "I'm sorry."
Now they were truly baffled.
At least, the Master Chief was. Why would she be sorry?
"...I'm afraid I don't understand, Doctor," he said tentatively, feeling like he was back in training, having failed to learn a crucial lesson.
Dr. Halsey blinked, seeing the lack of understanding in her 'children's' eyes. She chuckled. "Of course. How could I forget?" she said, mostly to herself, before turning back to the Spartans. "This is the only life you've ever known. Of course you wouldn't understand."
Dr. Halsey looked each one of them in the eye, trying to convey the severity and earnestness of her words. "I had you conscripted when you were 6 years old. I had you taken from your families, stolen away in the dead of night. I had you replaced with flash clones who died within a few years, just to make sure noone suspected the truth. I had you forced into a program to make you into the ultimate soldiers, a program you were not allowed to reject." Dr. Halsey began crying again, but she made no attempt to hide it. "I took your lives away from you, and for that, I can never truly atone. Please...forgive me."
John, Fred, Linda, and Kelly were all dumbfounded. They had never seen this side of their mother before. They had never suspected that she harbored such feelings. Only Kelly appeared to understand, seeming as if this explained some great mystery that had always bothered her.
"This is why you were always sad, back then," Kelly said softly. "Why you always seemed like something was bothering you, even when you were obviously happy. When we had passed your tests."
Dr. Halsey nodded in confirmation. "Correct. I was happy you were succeeding...but I could never quite force myself to forget what I was doing to you."
The Master Chief still didn't understand. "If you always felt this way, why did you found the program in the first place?" he asked.
"I did it because I believed it was necessary," Halsey replied. She fell into her 'instructor' tone of voice, although it was accompanied by a negative emotionality that had never been present before. It made for a bizarre, off-putting combination. "I knew that the UEG was about to collapse. The Outer Colonies had been abused for too long. Their desire for independence and the right to direct their own destiny had grown too strong, too pervasive. If something wasn't done, a civil war was inevitable. All of human space would have erupted in fire, and billions would have died in the carnage. I believed that by creating a small force of supersoldiers the UNSC could perform surgical strikes that would remove any and all leadership from the Insurrection. I believed that it was the only way to prevent hostilities from growing beyond the point of control." Halsey smiled bitterly, clearly feeling an old grudge she had long held against herself. "I am not blind to my own arrogance. I have always been confident that I knew everything. That I would always be able to see the proper course of action and execute it. This arrogance led me to do many things...unforgivable things. Things I would never do again if I were given the opportunity"
The more Dr. Halsey explained herself, the more confused the Master Chief became. "Are you saying you were wrong? About the civil war?" he asked.
Dr. Halsey shook her head. "No, civil war was quite inevitable unless some type of drastic action was taken. In fact, given the continued and worsening policies of the UEG post War, we are more than likely back on track to one in the near future."
"Then why?" John asked insistently, putting aside any horror at such a possibility to deal with later. "Why has your opinion changed?"
"My perspective has changed because I realize the error in it," she answered. "Not in a practical sense, but in a moral one. I was looking purely at the big picture, but in doing so I had forgotten that the big picture is made of little pictures. It is a mosaic, not a single image. I should have been trying to save everyone, not enslave you for the greater good."
"If you had done that, you would have failed. You can't save everyone; noone can." the Master Chief insisted.
Dr. Halsey set her features. John could tell that every ounce of conviction in her being was poured into her words. "No. I couldn't have. I could have tried, though. I should have tried. Even if I failed, it would still have been better than resorting to the...evils that I utilized. Don't forget, John—any of you—that many of the atrocities that have angered you so were committed by people who believed they were serving a 'Greater Good'."
All of the Spartan IIs sat back and digested that for several minutes. What Dr. Halsey had said had challenged the basic assumptions about themselves that they had held for nearly their entire lives. Assumptions that, they now realized, had been deliberately instilled during their training.
The Master Chief frowned. He could tell this was really troubling his mother. His leader. He decided, once again, that the truth was the best tool to use here.
"I don't know if it will help," he said cautiously, "but I can't imagine choosing any other life for myself. Being a soldier is what I'm good at. It's important. And if nothing else, I know I've done real good with my life." He tried to fill his words with as much conviction that Halsey's had had. The good doctor looked surprised.
"I don't regret being a Spartan, either," Fred added. "I think I would have become a soldier, as well. It's been hard at times, but being a Spartan is what I was made for."
Linda spoke up next. "I don't really see the point in 'what ifs'," she said. "What matters is what is, and what is is that I'm a good soldier. A damn good sniper, too," she added with a bit of uncustomary pride. They all chuckled a bit, with the exception of Dr. Halsey, who still looked stunned.
"I've thought about it," Kelly admitted next. They all looked to her in surprise. "There have been times that I've wondered what I could have been. However," she added insistently, "I also don't regret becoming a Spartan. We helped save the human race. Whatever bad we may have been manipulated into doing or allowing, we did real good. Probably more than we ever would have been able to do on our own."
The Master Chief noticed that Dr. Halsey still seemed to be struggling with what was happening. What was wrong?
Suddenly, he had an epiphany.
"I believe what we're trying to say, Doctor," John told his mother, "is that we forgive you."
Fred, Linda, and Kelly all looked to John, seeming surprised. After a moment, though, they all nodded in agreement.
Dr. Halsey's face turned to stone. Did she not believe them?
Halsey burst into tears. They were not weak tears. This was true weeping, with all of the indignity and vulnerability one could possibly have in such an emotional outpouring. John thought he could detect joy at their admission, but mixed in with it was guilt and unspeakable sorrow. It was as if every emotion Halsey had ever struggled with was overwhelming her. He didn't know what to do.
Fortunately, like always, Kelly knew more about human interaction than he ever would. She simply got up, walked over to Dr. Halsey, knelt down to where she sat, and hugged her. The rest of her siblings all got up and joined her. Thus, they sat, cradling their mother as a lifetime of regret and suppressed emotion poured out, and those who loved her were there to keep her from crumbling from the shock of it all.
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Beneath the surface of Meridian, far below the family working through the greatest challenges they had ever faced, something ancient stirred. A signal from an infinite distance away activated systems that had lain dormant for tens of millenia. Factories, advanced beyond human comprehension, began producing horrors the likes of which the universe had only ever seen in its darkest nightmares. Behind it all, towering over the Forerunner complex, was a single, terrible entity, whose existence could spell doom for an entire galaxy.
The Guardian was awakening.
Note: I'm going to be direct about this: CRYING IS NOT WEAKNESS! Crying is an emotional/psychological coping mechanism. It is often the healthiest, and therefore most productive, response to experiencing something horrible. In fact, some researchers have hypothesized that one of the reasons women tend to live longer than men is because it is more socially acceptable for them to express their emotions through methods like crying. What makes a person strong is how they deal with what caused their crying, and Kelly deals with it swiftly and decisively. She doesn't let it destroy her.
Note: This is probably the most ambitious chapter I've written yet. The emotional and personal struggles that the Spartan IIs go through as individuals and as a group are, in my mind, the most interesting thing I could explore in this story. The fact that it is all primarily cerebral makes it far trickier to depict than anything in the previous chapters. I've been planning this since I started writing this story in October. Any feedback on how I did would be greatly appreciated.
Note: Dr. Halsey's perspective and character arc are taken from the original Nylund novels. Until Halo 5 came out, nothing pissed me off more about the newer stories than how badly they mischaracterized Dr. Halsey. This was a character of great complexity and moral conflict, one that went through the most change throughout the books. I find what she did ethically repugnant, but I could empathize with a person who was trying to save as many lives as she could and never stopped feeling terrible about what she was doing. The newer novels, and to some extent Halo 4, turned her into a Nazi scientist archetype that started the Spartan II project just to see if she could. It was an insulting reduction in character and complexity. If I can give 1 thing to Halo 5, it's that it seemed to dial back on the Halsey hate. Of course, it dialed back on everything story related, so I guess that doesn't really count for much.
Note: If you think Ivanov's unit being sacrificed for the sake of fruit was unrealistic, I suggest you look up the term 'banana republic' and the United States' interference with South America in the 20th Century. People did die for the sake of fruit companies turning a profit.
Note: As you may have guessed by that last bit, we're nearing the endgame, at least for the Meridian arc. I've set all of the dominoes up. Time to knock 'em down.
Thanks for reading. Love you guys.
Slipspace Anomaly