In the cool, dark environment of his cabin, Trent stared out of the floor-to-ceiling window, seated at the desk that had been provided. His face was illuminated by the soft light offered by distant stars, as they had just fallen out of faster-than-light transit into some other system that Trent had no real ideas about.
He was thinking, as he often did in times like this. This was how it seemed to go. You got dropped feet first into hell, into the shit, and they left you to duke it out with whatever current bad guy was screaming around, smashing everything to bits. For years it just been the Covenant, then the Flood...only now it was getting different. Deadlier. And, somehow, he'd just kept living. Which was apparently why he had the job he had now.
But he wasn't thinking about the creature, which Childs had nicknamed Slender when he'd seen it. Or how Stone's body had never turned up, nor had they been able to find any evidence of the others, though Childs had left behind some experts to 'follow up'. He wasn't thinking about how they'd been whisked away on a sleek, black speedship. Wherever the Dauntless was, he had no idea. Chances were, he'd never see it again.
No, he was reflecting on a barren mountainside, lightyears away and months ago. Of a dying man telling his tale. Behind him, Melissa stirred in their bed, shifting and twisting beneath the blankets. Trent remained seated. He'd already had a shower and dressed. He was going to head out, but the stars had caught his eyes...Melissa stood, walking up behind him. She placed her smooth, warm hands on his shoulders and then slid them down to his chest, leaning forward. He could feel her bare breasts pressing against his back, through the cloth of his uniform.
"Hey, what are you thinking about?" she asked softly.
"A dead man."
"Who?"
"His name was Gage Yevgenny...he was an ODST. A real hardass...I only knew him for...damn near twenty minutes, before he died."
"Well, he must've left an impression, what with all this brooding in the dark."
Trent chuckled. "I guess so. I haven't thought about him too much lately...maybe every now and then. But now...I've been running into people just like me. Survivors. Warriors. Killers. People that can hold their own with me and it's...been a while since I've run into anyone like that. Beyond Enzo, at least."
Melissa laughed. "Someone's got a big head."
Trent rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break. I can kick ass with the best of them. I've survived shit that's killed literally thousands of others."
Melissa patted his chest. "Relax, relax. God, men."
Trent laughed, stood and popped his shoulders and neck, reliving some of the residual tension that had built up there. He turned to face her, placing his hands on her pale, smooth shoulders. "Where do we stand?"
He was surprised by how bluntly the question had come out, he'd meant to ask it more tactfully. But wasn't that how these questions always came out?
"I don't know, where do we stand, Trent? I mean, we have sex and I feel comfortable enough to go to sleep in your bed and let you snuggle me. Does it have to be anything more?"
He shrugged, letting his hands fall to his side. "I doesn't have to be, I guess. I just...my last relationship didn't go so well. It blew up, really, because I didn't stop and ask those all-important questions. I mean, can this even be called a relationship? Are we exclusive?" Melissa pursed her lips in consideration. He resisted the urge to lean in and kiss her.
"Yes," she decided finally. "If you're willing to keep it in your pants around other ladies, then I'm willing to keep it in my pants around other dudes. But..." she patted his chest. "We shouldn't think any further, because chances are we might not survive what's coming up."
"Well, actually...chances are we will survive what's coming up."
Melissa rolled her eyes. "Pride goeth before the fall."
"Hey, this time I've got science on my side. I am, we both are, scientifically lucky."
"Fine then. Chances are, after we run this little gauntlet, they'll split us up and send us off to fight fires halfway across the galaxy."
"I'm sure I can talk Childs into putting us together. Twice the people, twice the luck."
"Well, Mister I-have-the-answer-for-everything. Let's just have fun until there's no more fun to be had. Deal?"
"Deal."
"Good. Now, you're done brooding. I'm going to go take a shower. Go...go be social."
"Yes, dear." She smirked at him, then disappeared into the bathroom. He considered joining her, but ultimately decided she was right, and that Gage had been right, and that he shouldn't stop making friends.
He left his cabin.
Trent roamed the brightly-lit corridors of the ship for which he knew not the name. He passed several men in dark uniforms that bore the ONI Section Zero crests on their chests, all of them quiet and lost in their own little worlds. As he hunted down the others, Trent thought about what it meant to be Trent Temple. He knew all about being Jason DuPree, and a lot of that had transferred over into this new personality.
But Trent was supposed to be the man he wanted to be, not the man he had been. So who was Trent Temple? Handsome, for one. Trent was far more satisfied with this face than he had been his own. Melissa hadn't made any complaints...though she didn't know that he wasn't who he originally had been. He wondered if that was going to throw a wrench in the relationship if and when it finally came out. That made him think of Veronica, which made him frown intensely. The bitch had left him at the worst possible timeā¦
But hadn't be been griping about how desperate he was for sex with someone else? He thought the relationship could probably have been patched up, though, if he had tried. He was in a time of desperate need...hell, he still was. And if she had stayed, they probably would have been okay. But maybe not, considering his current assignment. So, again, who was Trent Temple? It was an important question.
Trent passed an open door and heard familiar voices wafting out from within. He poked his head in, finding a rec room. If there was one thing he was for damned certain about, it was that Trent Temple was going to make some new best friends.
"Trent, my good friend!" Enzo cried. Trent laughed as he spied the scene before him. It was incredible, surreal even, like a work of art by a particularly bizarre artist. Enzo, clad in what must have been an Elite uniform, had a cigar firmly clutched between two his mandibles, a pool cue in hand. Eric was leaned over the pool table set in between them, lining up a shop, a bent white cigarette in his grinning mouth while he lined up a shot.
"Enzo, are you actually smoking that?" he asked.
Enzo frowned slightly. "With...limited success. Eric insisted I partake." Eric laughed and smacked one of the balls smartly across the table, sinking one of the others into the corner pocket.
"Care for a game? I'm teaching this lumbering alien here some good old fashioned Earth customs. Like getting your ass kicked at a game of pool," Eric offered. He stood, pulled hard on his cig and then realigned for another shot.
"I will have you know that I am marked quite high in my gracefulness on the battlefield, Eric. I am not, as you say, 'lumbering'...if I understand the phrase correctly," Enzo replied, his voice mostly firm but shot through with reluctance. Both men stared at the big Elite, then at each other, then began laughing.
"You've got it right, Enzo. This smartass is insulting you," Trent replied, walking deeper into the rec room. It was small, surely not the only one on the ship, as it was mostly taken up by the pool table with a peripheral of old-school arcade games and comfortable looking chairs orbiting around a bubble window for viewing.
"Aw, gimme a break. He's just too fun to mess with," Eric replied. He lined up another shot, smacked the ball again, though this time it missed.
"Let me guess...you're stripes, aren't you Enzo?" The Elite nodded unhappily, flicked some ash off the tip of the cigar and replaced it firmly in his mandibles.
"Indeed," he replied gravely. Trent chuckled and sat back for a moment, watching them go back and forth until Eric had cleaned up the table, sinking the eight ball in at the end.
"So, any idea what's up?" Trent asked, pulling out his pack of Yeheyuans. Eric held his hand out expectantly. Trent sighed, staring at it, then laughed and gave him one. He stuck one in his own mouth and flipped open the Zippo, lit the tip of the cig. Eric stuck his head forward, puckering his lips, his own cigarette sticking out from his lips.
"Good god you are needy," Trent muttered, then lit Eric's cig.
"Yeah, yeah. We're all needy in our own ways, DuPree. And no, I've no idea what's up." Trent shifted uneasily and Enzo glanced sharply at him, then at Eric.
"He knows?"
"Afraid so, friend. Don't worry, his secret's safe with me so you don't need to rip my arms off or anything."
Enzo bristled. "I would never-"
Eric held up his hands. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean it like that, I just...I saw some shit during the war I shouldn't have..." He trailed off, frowning, staring at nothing in particular.
"It's fine. I was just curious," Trent said finally, trying to bring the situation back into happy, or at least neutral, waters.
Eric perked up, abruptly, and grinned. "How's about another game, Enzo? I love the smell of failure in the morning."
Enzo grinned, almost dislodging his cigar. "Challenge accepted." Trent watched them set the game up, and decided to leave them to it. He had others to catch up on and they seemed content enough by themselves. He said his goodbyes, then slipped back out into the corridor. He wandered for several more minutes before happening upon another rec room, and another Survivor.
"Trent! Come here and join me, my new best friend!" Trent couldn't believe it. This rec room actually came equipped with a bar. It was self-serve and Cannioto was helping himself to a big, square bottle of vodka.
"Cann...how are you doing?" Trent asked, coming up and sitting at the bar next to the medic.
"I am doing well, my friend." He took a shot of the vodka. "Very well. Been dry for too long. Couldn't believe they had this on an ONI ship. Let alone a goddamn Section Zero ship. You indulge?" Cannioto asked, tipping the bottle his way. Trent shook his head.
"Not now...maybe later." Cannioto shrugged and took another slug. "But I was wondering, Cann...how'd you get into this whole thing?" Cannioto smiled and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Me? Oh...nothing too complicated. I've got a reputation. Surgery under fire, they say about me. Joined the Marines at eighteen...wanted to be a doctor from a young age. I got a...one-track kinda mind, you know? And I was smart enough. Test scores off the damned charts. They were desperate in the war, shoved me through Basic and I soaked up all that medicinal knowledge like a sponge...ever watched that old show, House?" Trent shook his head. Reading was more his thing.
"Ah, based around a fictional doctor, old Earth style, advent of the twenty-first century. Greg House was a smartass genius and he was my hero. Wanted to be just like him. I got some of that smartass beat out of me...what with the war and all. But, anyway...yeah. I sewed up guys all over the place. I got my start on a shitty little colony called Duma. Covenant hit that little colony hard, but they were fought off and I got shipped in with a batch of rooks...a trial by fire if there every was one. I saved a bunch of people, and grabbed a gun and kicked some Covie ass when they came back to try and retake the colony.
"And that was how it was, for awhile. I just kept doing my thing for about ten years. I saw action on Delta Halo, fought those ugly Flood bastards. Got back to Earth...then went right back out to the Ark. Came back...helped put Earth back together. I was taking a well deserve vacation down in Miami when this guy shows up. ONI spook, big time. I'm sitting there on my private deck, sunning it up, when this guy just wanders out onto the deck and lays out in chair next to me. And, for like a minute, neither of us say anything.
"And I go...'So, who are you and why shouldn't I kick your ass?' He lights up a cigarette and says, 'Well, my name is Childs. And you shouldn't because A) you can't and B) I'm ONI.' So I laugh and light up one of my own and there's another moment of awkward silence. And, finally, I go, 'So, what do you want?' And he says, 'To offer you a job.' And I say, 'Already got a job.' And then he smiles, big, grinning around that cig and goes, 'Not like this.' And the rest? Well, it's history. Then I joined up and met you nice people."
Trent laughed. It sounded like something Childs would do. He stubbed out his Yeheyuan in a blocky titanium ashtray on the counter. Just in time, too. The overhead comms system clicked on. Childs' voice rolled out, asking all of the Survivors to report to airlock sixteen. Cannioto laughed and finished off the vodka.
"Thus spake Childs," he said, then laughed again, harder this time. Trent laughed too, he couldn't help it. That kind of laughter was infectious, and Cannioto seemed like the kind of guy who was always on the verge of laughter.
They left the rec room together.
Airlock sixteen was unimpressive. Trent, Cannioto, Blair, Melissa, Eric and Enzo had all gathered with Childs in a small, locker room style bay just beyond the airlock. Childs was consulting a datapad. Finally, he looked up at the others.
"Now, I know you all have questions. Sorry I've been so...quiet, but things are busy and, well...we needed a few more recruits. That's what we're doing here now. I wanted to do introductions, then a briefing." Childs looked suddenly at Enzo and smiled. "You're gonna love this, big guy." Enzo shifted uncomfortably under the man's gaze and unwavering grin. A moment of awkward silence passed, then was thankfully interrupted.
There was a loud clank of airlocks connecting. Several seconds passed in silence as the airlocks when through their cycles. The door opened to admit another pair of Survivors.
"Gentlemen, and lady, may I introduce Thomas Kent Nauls and Kiza 'Ralmak."
Nauls was young, very skinny and black. He had a shaved head with a bandana around his forehead, his eyes hidden behind slender, black sunglasses and a broad grin. He wore a technician's blue jumpsuit uniform and clutched a metal briefcase at his side.
Kiza was the first female Elite that Trent had seen in his life. In fact, up until that moment, he'd been half-convinced that there were no female Elites. It was a topic he hadn't been able to comfortably broach with Enzo, and Enzo had never volunteered any information. Kiza was smaller than Enzo, shorter by almost a foot. Which didn't meant that she still didn't tower over everyone else there at something like seven and a half feet. Her skin was light blue, mostly hidden inside an Elite uniform without the armor.
She looked awkward and uncomfortable, merely nodding when her name was mentioned. But then here eye seemed to catch on something. Trent follower her gaze to Enzo, who was staring right back at her. Trent returned his gaze to Kiza, hiding a smile. Though now that he looked a little closer at her, the uniform she was wearing clung to her lithe body, he had to say that the difference between human females and Elite females wasn't enough that he couldn't enjoy what he was seeing. He blinked and cleared the thought from his mind.
Trent had had his fair share of sex lately. It was time for Enzo to enjoy himself. After Childs introduced each Survivor and their specialties in turn, he explained who Nauls and Kiza were. Nauls was, apparently, the foremost expert on Forerunner cryptography and a Survivor, as luck would have it. Kiza, another Survivor, was an expert in all things stealth, scouting and sniping. She was also a calculated political move to try and ease vague tensions between the humans and the Elites, specifically with regards to the Survivor Initiative.
"Now that we all know each other, let's get to a briefing room and get this show started the proper way. We don't have much time."
They all followed Childs out of the airlock bay. Trent noticed Enzo and Kiza gravitate towards the back of the group. They navigated the ship, coming to a comfortable looking briefing room. The Survivors settled into their chairs while Childs dimmed the lights and assumed his position at the front of the table. A holographic image leaped into being when the lights reached their appropriate dimness. The scene depicted was one of space, a vast vessel in a perilously close orbit to a glowing, blue star against the dead backdrop of space.
"This is a Forerunner vessel we have codenamed the Icarus. We were originally going to have you take care of another situation on a desert planet but...this came up. We just received intel on this and it's got a time limit. The Icarus is in a decaying orbit around Gamma Sigma Eight, a recently discovered star. It's got little over a few days before it's gone. As I've said before, ONI, particularly the Black Ops, are looking for Forerunner artifacts.
"They've found something onboard the ship. Something important. A piece of data. That's as much as I know presently. The point is, I need you boys and girls to get onboard that ship. Extract the information and get out. Questions?"
"What kind of opposition are we up against?" Trent asked.
"Good question. We have no idea. But we've become at least vaguely familiar with the Forerunners...and we know that there's usually something horrible waiting on their ships or installations or their goddamned Halos...obviously, we'll run scans once we get in close, but we probably won't know for sure. This close to a star tends to interrupt scans. So I want everyone suited up and fully armed. Anymore questions?"
There were none. They knew the score.
"Good. Very good. Head for the armory, gear up. I'll feed you the relevant information as it comes in. We'll be in-system inside of an hour."
