Chapter Eighteen
I pulled my duffle bag onto my lap and checked to make sure everything that I needed was there.
All of my clothes had been packed, and the braces and equipment for my stoma was given with Professor Anders. She said that she intended for my braces to stay with me, once we'd settled in on the Pillar of Autumn.
I liked her a lot better than Dr. Halsey.
"You got everything?" John asked.
I looked up at him. "I think so."
"We're about to exit slipspace."
I shrugged the bag onto my shoulder. "O-okay."
John was in his armor. Since he didn't own anything else - he didn't technically own his armor, either - he didn't have anything to carry. The Pillar of Autumn would provide clothes for him, should he choose to take his armor off during slipspace.
My face was downcast as I pushed myself off of the bed.
He ran an armored hand down my arm. "You'll be okay."
I nodded, blinking heavily. I'd cried enough about this move. I didn't want to cry anymore.
Still, I held onto his hand as we walked down the halls. It dwarfed mine, especially in his armor, so it was more like he was holding on to me.
When we arrived in the hangar it was crowded and bustling, as usual. The influx of emotions from...well, everyone, was overwhelming.
It was why I tended to avoid busy places. But it was unavoidable today.
John led the way to the transport ship, a Pelican. In an effort to distract myself I started noting the mechanical pieces that I'd studied in the datapad, from the thrusters to the fulcrums on the wings.
The rest of Blue Team was already at the Pelican, along with Davidson.
I bit my lip when he came into sight, desperately clamping down on my tears. "Davidson."
"Come here, chiquilla." He wrapped his arms around me. "It's Bradley, now."
I did cry then, my face crumbling. "Te extrañaré, Bradley." (I'm going to miss you.)
I'd come to rely on his as a parental figure, in the absence of my own. It had been unintentional, and clearly I was suffering the consequences, but I would have done it all over again if given the chance.
"You'll be okay, caramela. You can just comm me now, right?"
I sniffed. "Y-yeah."
"Alright, get going before either of us start having doubts. Be safe, yeah?"
I climbed into the Pelican, standing just above the ramp. "I will."
The ramp closed. I sat between Fred and John, leaning against John's arm.
I closed my eyes and focused on Davidson - Bradley - for as long as I could. When he faded from my mind I sighed heavily, turning my face into John's arm.
"Cheer up, at least you got to stay with us." Fred tapped my arm with his fingers.
I nodded. "I know. I-I really am glad for that."
Professor Anders came down into the blood tray with us. "I've been thinking."
"About what?" I wiped my eyes again, sitting up all the way.
"Your request."
"M-my...oh." I realized what she meant.
"I'm going to be completely honest; you can't join Blue Team. You're too weak to go on the missions they do."
John seemed to sink with relief, even though he didn't move a muscle.
"However, you have unique powers. They could be useful on the field for certain missions."
And just like that Anders had reignited John's anxiety.
"I know I'm weak, b-but with my powers..." I trailed off.
"Exactly." Anders nodded. "That's why I'm going to talk to the Captain of the Pillar of Autumn about drawing up a contract with you. You'll keep your civilian status, but you'll be able to join Blue Team on a few field missions. Mainly research; there's no way you'll get cleared for combat ops."
John was silent, tense, beside me. He knew that any operation, combat or not, could devolve into something dangerous. We were at war.
His emotions set me on edge, however excited I was that I was being allowed on the field.
I scooted away from him a bit, towards Fred. "I...I want to do that. I know I can help, once we reach Installation 04. I know things about it...that they-they don't."
"You could direct us from the ship." John's voice was hard.
"It...wouldn't be the same. You might need my help."
He didn't say anything. I could feel Linda across from us, also doubtful of the entire situation. She didn't think I could handle it, and from a physical standpoint I probably couldn't.
Anders was thinking the same thing. "Of course, there's no way you can keep up with them by yourself. I had an idea, though."
"What is it?" I cocked my head.
"I still have to fine-tune it, but I want you to come to my workspace tomorrow, okay? Trust me."
The Pelican landed and our conversation ended.
We walked out into the hangar bay and were met by Captain Joseph Killian, a tall man who looked either latino or middle eastern. The SPARTANs saluted sharply.
"At ease, soldiers." He regarded them with an up tilted chin. "Professor Anders, how nice to see you again."
"And you, Captain." She nodded to him.
"You," he turned to me, "must be Ms. Clark?"
I nodded. "Yes, sir."
"I heard you took that shield down on Arcadia. Saved us a lot of trouble."
He turned, walking through the hangar with us.
"Anton, the shipboard AI, can show you to your rooms. Welcome aboard."
He walked away without so much as a backwards glance towards us.
Anders sighed. "I guess I'll go see what equipment I've been allowed. I'll see you tomorrow, Tawny."
I waved as she walked away.
I nudged John's arm with my shoulder. "Should we go find our room?"
"We were going to take our armor off." He nodded to Blue Team.
"Oh, sounds good." I smiled a bit. "I-I'll see you there."
He walked off with his team. I turned towards the right, walking out of the bustling hangar.
When I was in a quieter area I looked up.
"Anton?" My voice was small.
"Yes, Ms. Clark?" He had a subtle French accent.
"D-do you know where John's room is?"
"Master Chief Petty Officer John-117's room is in the Senior NCO quarters, across the hall from yours."
"Oh. Where are my quarters?"
"Room 152, two hallways down and to the left."
"Thank you!" I set off.
John's room would be coded to his DNA, and my room to mine, so I would have to enter the code to get into his room. His code was always the same, though; his service number.
As I walked down the hallway I could hear a few people whispering about me. There was a common nickname, "Civie."
Some of them were in plainclothes, too. I absently wondered how they could tell that I wasn't a soldier.
I walked up to his room and put in the number on the keypad, "117".
Anton spoke up. "Mademoiselle, that is not your room."
"I-I know." I watched as the door slid open. "It's okay."
I walked into the room and dropped my duffle bag by the locker. I knelt beside it, pulling out my notebook.
A slight jolt let me know we'd entered slipspace as I walked over to the bed.
I curled up in the corner, sketching a face in the ledger of the notebook.
Time seemed to fade as I drew the strong facial structure. Intense and magnetic eyes. Even in the grey of a pencil they were beautiful.
I'd just finished half of it when the door slid open.
John walked in, wearing his biosuit. My eyes roamed over his body, slowly making their way towards his face.
His physique was intimidating, way too defined to be natural, but I rather liked it.
John was watching me study him with endeared amusement. "Are you done?"
I glanced up to his face. "Hm?"
He laughed through his nose, peeling the biosuit off. There were clothes already in his locker, and he pulled on khaki cargo pants and a black shirt. The shirt would have been a dress on me, but it was almost skintight on him.
"John?"
He looked up.
"Ho-how can people tell that I'm not a soldier? They're wearing regular clothes, too."
He thought for a moment, absently walking over to the desk beside his bed. "You carry yourself differently."
I shuffled my legs under me and cocked my head. "How?"
"Your arms are against yourself when you walk. We hold our arms out more, to avoid hitting our weapons. It becomes habit."
"Oh." I shifted my weight, trying to get comfortable. "That makes sense, I guess."
"You don't look around, either. You're never watching for danger."
"Why would I have to?"
"You don't." Protectiveness swelled in his heart. "But you have to on the field. Most soldiers keep their heads on a swivel, even when they're safe."
"Is it really that obvious that I'm a civilian?"
"That doesn't help." He nodded to my stoma bag.
I was wearing a loose yellow crop top, so it was on display.
"O-oh, yeah. I guess you can't join the military with a-a stoma, huh?"
He shook his head. "It's a liability."
He settled next to me, watching me draw.
I drew a line from the eyebrow down to the tip of the nose, breaking off to make a nostril. Then the mouth. I'd done the eyes before John walked in.
I sketched a strong jaw, bringing it up into a mop of unkempt hair. There was a surgical scar across the face.
"Is that me?" he asked.
I nodded. "With long hair. I like your hair, but I wanted to see what you'd look like if it grew out."
His finger brushed over the paper beside the drawing. "It's not bad."
"I-I kind of like it," I agreed.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "About working with us."
I bit my lip. "I know, i-it's scary. But I...I feel like I need to do this."
"Why?"
"Because...I don't know. I just do." I looked up at him with earnestness in my green eyes. "This is the right thing."
"Tawny," his voice was dark, "you're weaker than normal people. What we do is dangerous; some SPARTANs don't even survive."
"But I'm strong in other ways! Professor Anders said she had an idea, can we- can we at least wait and see what it is?"
His jaw clenched. "Fine. Promise me you'll stay out of it, if her idea doesn't work."
"I-I promise."
oOOOOo
Author's Note: Man this chapter and 17 were short. Sry about that
