Twenty Eight

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"Pardon me, Master Chief, might I have a word?"

Heels clicked against metal rapidly. John stopped, let the ensigns behind him pass, and waited. Dr Santiago seemed to have no issue trotting in those tall shoes of hers.

"Doctor," he greeted.

She seemed too thin under the tailored lines of her pantsuit. Even thinner, with the three inches her heels added. Some people were naturally slim, John knew, but on a military vessel Arabella seemed all the more frail. Surrounded by musclebound men and women, with long, lean muscles and strong shoulders.

Slightly out of breath, Arabella bushed her jacket down and said, "Might we speak privately? One of the conference rooms, perhaps?"

John nodded, and followed where she led. The room was not far, empty, and once the door hissed shut behind them Arabella sighed, deep and long and straight from her belly. Giving her the illusion of privacy to collect herself, John turned on the spot and inspected the room. Not that there was much to look at beyond the table, chairs, and screen on one wall.

Arabella cleared her throat. He turned back.

"I do not know if there is anything that you can do, but I have concerns about my fellow representative." Arabella began, face creasing with worry.

"Reynolds."

"Yes." She folded gracefully into one of the chairs. "As you've no doubt noticed, he is a brash, uncouth, wily little snake with a sharp tongue. And utterly impossible to control."

John folded his arms. "You think he should be withdrawn from the assembly."

"I do."

She looked exhausted.

"I will speak with the Admiral."

Eyes falling shut, Arabella whispered, "Thank you."

There was still a full day and a half before the New Covenant were due to arrive. John took a knee, elbow resting on his armoured thigh. "Are you alright?" John found himself asking. Months ago, he wouldn't have. An instinctive dislike for doctors had brewed inside of him, John had learned. But, this one was different.

This one healed, rather than hurt – augmented, indoctrinated, controlled – and had saved John's siblings.

He didn't owe her anything, John knew. But, everyone deserved kindness.

"I-" she blinked, and laughed. It was a hollow sound. "No. Not quite. Not at all. I am absolutely terrified."

Fear. John knew fear.

"Everyone on this ship is afraid." John offered, this secret thing that he could practically taste in the air the more time passed. "You are not alone."

Hissing in a deep breath, Arabella straightened her shoulders and pulled her painted lips back into a sincere smile. "And you are not what I expected, Chief," she said, not unkindly.

"I've been getting that a lot." Her laugh felt like a victory, however small. "Their ETA is still hours out. Go get some rest."

Once Arabella had fixed a mask of professionalism back in place, she left. John lingered, hands curling into fists as he uncurled his spine.

He took a breath, held it. Let it out.

"Cortana?"

"I've already notified Hood that you're on your way," she responded immediately. "To be honest, he seemed relieved for the excuse to avoid doing paperwork. And, it looks like Shipmaster R'tas is stirring. Given how Sangheili are unfamiliar with hangovers, you might want to dip in and make sure he doesn't cause and incident thinking that he's been poisoned."

John altered his path. "I'm sensing a story."

"The story of how the Shipmaster lost half of his jaws." John eyed a cluster of engineers, humans and Sangheili, arguing over a lengthy equation scribbled on a noticeboard. Jal'tiess was among them. "So, can you explain it yet?"

Very few people would have noticed the faint hitch in John's stride. As it was, Cortana had eyes everywhere. She was the ship.

"No."

"I figured." Cortana sounded pleased. "That's why I scheduled a video-call for you and Miss Edwards at 1400."

John did stop this time, barely noticing when someone nearly crashed into him from behind. "You-"

"Yes," she chirped, "you can thank me later."

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Asides a good deal of growling, R'tas was fine, if bemused that John had bothered to come check on him. The confusion drifted into gratitude, and once R'tas managed to put his helmet on the right way John left for the Admiral.

Hood was standing over a pile of datapads when John arrived.

"I'd tell you to take a seat, son," Hood moved away from his desk and acknowledged John's salute with a tip of his chin, "but I have a feeling you'd break it."

"Probably, sir."

"Since you didn't request Captain Oston be here, I have a feeling this is about a certain representative that already has a list of complaints longer than my arm."

That's… a lot.

"Afraid so." John popped his helmet. He'd gotten used to speaking without being shielded by a visor. "Dr Santiago has concerns."

"Don't we all? To be perfectly honest, Chief, if I ever find out who elected Reynolds as a rep I will throw them in a brig with my best interrogators." Hood smoothed a hand over his shorn head. "Something doesn't feel right about this."

Echoing the sentiment, John shifted the set of his hips until he could prop the helmet on his waist. "Who exactly elected the representatives? The UNC?"

"Cortana?"

"It was UNC," she said. There was an interface for her on Hood's desk, and she appeared upon it. Blue and bright. "After the debrief I had some suspicions. There wasn't anything indicating bribery or blackmail in any of the UNC members records, however once I started looking into their understaff I came across something interesting."

"A sudden influx of money, I'm guessing," Hood said in a gruff, angry tone.

"Not quite. Rather, a sudden increase in insurance costs." She pulled an image up on one of the screens dominating the left wall of Hood's office. It was of a large, stately building. "A million dollar house is a bit out of the price range of an undersecretary, don't you think?"

"Damnit." Hood set his shoulders into a stiff line. "Cortana, dig into this. Financial records, income, expenses, altered Wills and insurance coverages. Hell, I want deep background checks all the way down to the god damned interns. Clear everyone under Officer Lings command and get them on this too."

"Sir," she said, and disappeared.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Granted."

"Remove Reynolds from the assembly."

"Would if I could, son." Hood sighed. "Part of the terms for this summit is that the Alliance and New Covenant both had to exchange an exact list of who would be at the assembly and what they would be representing. We show up without a key member and it's over."

John had an absent thought of suggesting that they shoot Reynolds in the foot to get him on medical leave, but it would result in the same issue.

"Fuck," John said.

"Yeah, son." Hood barked a laugh. It was a terrible sound. "Fuck."

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Once dismissed, John made headway for Arbiter's office for lack of anything else to do. John felt good. He had done what he could, Cortana and Hood were starting an investigation, and in two hours John would be talking to Gabby.

Except, in the elevator, was Reynolds.

John's mood frosted over. Almost physical in presence, the calm, cool veneer John wore out in the field months ago fell over him.

"The great Master Chief," Reynolds said, smile cutting over his face like the slash of a dagger, "I was hardly expecting to run into you. In an elevator, of all places."

"Reynolds," John said, stoic. He faced forward, not even titling his helmet in the representatives direction.

Softly, deliberately, Reynolds chuckled. "If I were one for superstitious nonsense, I could almost call this fate."

Bait was dangled, and John did not rise to it.

"Hood and I are listening," Cortana whispered, though unnecessarily. "He's after something. I'm sure of it."

John flicked the green light, and though it almost pained him to give Reynolds anything, John tilted his jaw a fraction. As if to say, I'm listening.

It was a slow, crawling thing. The smile that spread to reveal too-white teeth. "I will be perfectly, perhaps foolishly, frank with you, Master Chief. I would like access to your MJOLNIR armour."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?" When John remained silent, Reynolds sighed. "Fine. There are traces of the Cortana AI and Forerunner data in your suits hardware. I want it."

Appearing on a small screen, Cortana waved her hand in a 'keep it coming' gesture. John loosened his clenched jaw and gritted out, "Why would I, let alone should I, do that?"

"Oh, all of that classified nonsense is just the UNSC being greedy. Hording all of the potential for leaps in technology for themselves." Clicking his tongue, Reynolds had the appearance of a weary parent scolding a child. "Truthfully, I had expected, if not hoped, that you would jump at the chance of getting a little roundabout payback against the people that, for all intensive purposes, own you."

Warnings rang in John's head. His gut clenched. When next he spoke, it was a snarl, "What the hell are you playing at?"

"Touched a sore spot, have I?" John knew he was intimidating, yet Reynolds did not seem affected by his bulk in the slightest. "Would knowing that your family is very much alive and well do anything to making it better?"

"Oh crap, your heart-" Cortana hissed. "Your brain activity – John, calm down!"

"You want something. I want something." Reynolds twirled his finger between them. Darkly, John thought if he would be so smug and contained if John broke that finger in five places. "I'm sure Grace would adore knowing that the son she named after you has a living uncle instead of a dead one. Your mother, on the other hand, may finally be able to heal after losing you so very young."

He had a nephew. His sister was alive. His mother-

John had never wanted to hurt someone before. Not like this. The urge sang in his hands, and it would be so easy to turn that shark-like smirk on Reynolds face into a scream.

"Play along," came Cortana's voice, though John barely registered it through the high keen in his ears. If he cared to listen, he would have had more sympathy to the reluctance in her tone. "John-"

"How do you have this information?" he barked.

"I have a number of associates who are very good at finding things." A smirk. "Dirty secrets are a specialty."

John paused, taking a moment to quell the seething anger building along his spine. "What would you do with the data?"

"Rebuild." Reynolds face creased with a scowl. "I lost nearly the entirety of my empire. That data is a means to an end. I have no interest in weapons technology, if that appeases you."

It didn't. But, it didn't matter either.

A glance at Cortana confirmed that he had Hood's permission to proceed.

Putting as much bite into the word as possible, John snarled, "Fine."

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As John settled at his desk, tablet propped on top of his helmet and against the wall - which had Cortana in peals of laughter – he let the tension of the day roll away.

One hour. John could take one hour for himself.

"Connection opening in five," Cortana's face flickered over the screen long enough to send him a wink, "have fun, Spartan."

She flickered away.

Soft crackling, a white screen, and, "How the fuck does this dumb webcam work?"

John instantly felt soothed.

"It's working, Gabby," he said, helpless to the smile drawing over his face.

"Cowboy!" The white smudge shifted as Gabby stepped back from the camera. Her hair was a mess and her smile was wide. "Hi."

"Hi." The ache in his chest throbbed. "Nice pyjamas."

He had no idea when she'd borrowed one of his shirts. It looked…good. Better than good. John swallowed and resolutely ignored the way he suddenly, viscerally felt isolated.

Gabby picked at the UNSC emblem. "You left it last time you stayed." She shrugged. "I missed you."

"It's only been a week," was what John said, but oh, how sweetly those words rang. He didn't feel validated, but close. Wanted. "How's life?"

"Without my smartass, six-foot-everything friend? Boring." The low quality of her camera did not hide the way Gabby's eyes softened. "How you doing, mate?"

His silence was answer enough.

"You know," she started, hands twitching like they wanted to touch and hold. To cradle. She was so tactile. "You were retired, you could have said no."

"I know." It was his duty, retired or not. "Tell me something."

"What?"

"Anything."

Gabby shifted, shoulders dropping as she leaned to one side. "I had Julie for the day yesterday. She was disappointed that you weren't here; said something about making another fort, but out of mud."

John smiled. "You could have made a fine fort."

A flicker in her expression belied her happy demeanour. "It wasn't the fort she cared for, honey. It was you." Again, she shifted, leaning closer to the camera. "How's the new ride? They broadcasted her launching from Gladiator."

"Good. It's…" John tilted his head to the side, glancing briefly at his reflection in gold. "The Alliance has done much. It's good to see that here."

"Everybody getting along?"

"Haven't had to take up your suggestion yet."

Gabby laughed. "I dunno, getting drunk together usually forges a lifelong bond."

R'tas would differ, John thought. "Has there been an official announcement about mixed units?"

Gabby blinked, the pads of her fingers drumming almost mutely on the desktop. "Yeah. The UNC had a big press release a few days ago. Alpha and Omega?"

John bit back a sigh. "They aren't ready to go public."

"Ah. UNC getting pushy on the playground, huh?"

He made a grumbling noise. "I'm supposed to be overseeing them, for now. Advice?"

"What's been tried so far?"

"Training exercises, recon missions. No live fire, not yet." If it were anyone but Gabby, John wouldn't give into the urge to rub the bridge of his nose. "Played a few rounds of poker, and that seemed to bring them together somewhat."

"Wait." Gabby leaned back, expression pulling into something mischievous. "Did you hustle the people representing the hopes and dreams of the Alliance?"

"What? No."

She cackled. "You hussy!"

"There was no hustling." John reasoned, "I came second."

And just as he'd promised, John had done the drills with the losing team. It hardly affected him, but it kept him busy for an hour.

With a grin that crinkled her eyes and made them gleam with soft sort of joy, Gabby said, "You are one of a kind, Cowboy."