Chapter 41: Homeward
Carris opened her eyes. She felt groggy and weak from the medicine still coursing through her veins. At first, her vision was blurry. With each blink, it began to clear, and clear, and clear, until the bright white light above her was completely visible. Her eyes had been closed for so long it seemed like she was staring at the sun. Before she could raise her hand to shield her eyes, a blonde-haired head came into view. Immediately, her heart fluttered.
"Louis?" she whispered. Briefly, her heavy eyelids closed again but she managed to force them open. Her vision cleared entirely.
"Nope." Nora Langley smiled down at her, her thick blonde hair falling on either side of her face. "Hi, sweetie," she said kindly. "You got out of surgery a few hours ago. Are you feeling alright?"
"Like I got my ass kicked," Carris breathed. "Can you help me sit up?"
Langley stood up with some difficulty from the stool she sat on, wrapped an arm around Carris, and helped the supersoldier up. The moment she was upright, Carris swayed for a brief moment but grabbed the railings on her bed to stabilize herself. She felt cold metal on the bare fingertips of her left hand. On her right, she felt nothing. For a moment, she indulged the strange sensation of pure nothingness where, for years, she had felt everything. Slowly, she looked up and raised her right arm.
All her fingers and her thumb were gone. Her entire hand was wrapped in bandages and there were adhesive caps where each digit used to be. For a few laborious, dragging, monotonous minutes, she looked at her wounded hand. Finally, she drew in a long, quivering breath and turned towards Langley. She quickly raised her own hands and smiled.
"Stay calm," she soothed. "Dr. Jasmine did everything she could to save what was left. But she said there wasn't much she could salvage. Some of the bones were powder, there was a lot of nerve damage from micro-shrapnel. But she told me that you're a prime candidate for cybernetic replacements, so you can get full functionality back. And as for your face..."
Carris became aware of the layer of bandages on the right side of her face. Reaching around with her other arm, she gingerly prodded the bandages with her fingers. At first, she felt nothing but after a few more pokes it began to hurt. "Some fragments of your visor were embedded in your skin and had to be extracted. It was a bad burn, too. Jasmine says you'll make a full recovery but it'll leave a bad scar. She says there are some treatments you can undergo to minimize it, but hey, scars are pretty badass, right?"
She cleared her throat and suppressed her smile. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be bombarding you with this. I don't mean to sound chipper. I'm just trying to make the best of this shitty, shitty situation."
Carris smiled weakly.
"Thanks." She looked down at her hand again and mustered a resigned sigh. "It was bound to happen eventually. And I'm sure Louis doesn't mind a girl with scars."
She began to smile, but then it faded. "Louis? Is he alive?"
Langley raised her hand, urging her to be calm.
"Carris, I don't know. Everything is absolutely crazy right now. All the units on board are mixed up. We have survivors from other ships, from the Army, Air Force, and other Marine units. There's not enough room for all the patients, all the barracks have been repurposed, even one of the mess halls has been turned into a hospital." Langley shuddered. "It's bad, Carris, it's really bad. I've been looking everywhere for the guys. I searched three entire decks before I found you and I was so scared I wouldn't be able to find you again. I decided to stay. I tried asking Jasmine when she came to check on you but she was in and out, you know?"
She began running her hands up and down her thighs. "We're not even close to the infirmary right now. This is the makeshift hospital they set up in the engine room for non-priority patients. I haven't been able to get a hold of anyone to really tell me what's going on and most people don't know anyways. It's a mess."
Carris ran her good hand over her face, stopped over her mouth, and inhaled shakily. The thought that Steele was alone in some cubby hole on the ship was as frightening as it was heartbreaking. She refused to even entertain the idea that he was dead or that any of their squad mates hadn't survived. They had come too far, survived too many bad battles, and fought out of too many close calls to die in a lightning siege like that. Each one of them was as tough as titanium and built from pure courage.
Recovering, she took a deep breath and smiled at Langley. Just as she was about to offer some words of encouragement, she found her friend looking even more downtrodden. Langley caught her gaze and shook her head. "And I don't think I'm going to be around for much longer. I'm recovering but I'm not going to quite be one hundred percent again. My commanding officer talked to me the day before the siege about it and seeing it's doubtful I can meet the physical standards for a CCT I'm going to be ejected from the unit. Which means I'm going to be ejected from the I'm Alone's task force."
Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes. "I'll be fit enough to serve in regular units, so I can reclassify, retrain, and work somewhere else. But I don't want to work somewhere else. I want to stay on the I'm Alone with all of you." She sniffed and wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. Then, she smiled feebly. "Dr. Jasmine said that if they discharge me from the Air Force, the Navy's launching a recruitment drive for qualified corpsmen. She said that the physical standards aren't as demanding so they'd probably take me. Who knows? Maybe I can find my way back and I can start taking care of you guys."
It was a good dream and it saddened Carris to know it probably wouldn't come true. Langley's faint smile and trickling tears told her she thought the very same. Neither of them could bear to speak the awful truth they might never see each other again. The feeling sank deeper into Carris, tearing at her gut and chilling her bones. Immediately, her chest felt tight and her eyes began to glimmer with tears. Quickly, she breathed in and was able to stave the feelings off. There would be a time and a place for that. Neither of them were there yet.
Nora Langley wiped her eyes again and shook her head. "I'm really sorry I couldn't fight with you guys. It felt wrong to get evacuated like that before you all had."
"It's better that you didn't. It was bad, Nora, really bad. Everybody got hit. Lou lost his legs, Nate was gut-shot, and Grant was just..."
She shook her head. "We have to find them."
"I don't want to leave you alone."
"I said we."
Carris threw the blanket off herself with her good hand. She was dressed in nothing but a thin, pale blue hospital gown. It was tied tightly in the back but she could feel the I'm Alone's cool air on her legs and back regardless. Langley seemed like she was going to protest at first, but then she assisted Carris to her feet, took some of her weight on her shoulders, and then they limped out of the makeshift ward together.
De Vos sat back in one of the terminal chairs in the security office. Her head was tilted back and she just stared up at the deck above her. She was never more paradoxically happy and depressed to witness the silver titanium bulkheads of the I'm Alone so soon. But she was so utterly tired that she could barely register the emotions. Around her, other ODSTS whose rooms were repurposed to take care of the wounded were trying to get as comfortable as they could. Some were able to scrounge up pillows, blankets, and spare mattresses. Others contented themselves with insulated sleeping bags they used during prolonged field exercises. Quite a few didn't bother with anything; they sat on the deck with her backs against the bulkhead and fell asleep. Even more just curled up on the deck with their equipment still on or around them and fell asleep.
Those ODSTs who were still awake had brought hot plates to warm up their MREs or were brewing coffee. Everybody was filthy and exhausted. A number of wounded Helljumpers were also present but they did not bear grievous injuries.
"Here, Nina."
De Vos lifted her head, blinking as the blood rushed back in. Major Holst stood beside her holding a steaming mug of coffee. Gingerly, she took it from his hand and sat up a bit more. As she did, she caught a look at herself in the blackened terminal screen in front of her. Her face and hair were caked in dirt and mud. During the battle, she had been near one of the impact areas of the Scarab's main cannon. The sheer force of the gun tore up the earth and sent soil flying through the air. Anyone in the radius was covered head to toe in it. Having lost her helmet during the battle, she caught a face full of it. Her red hair was dry and wild from it.
Instead of drinking from the mug, she set it down and ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb out the grit and smooth out her locks as best she could. As exhausted as she was, she was still an officer and needed to look the part. Looking like a little kid who decided to jump into a muddy puddle on a rainy day was not befitting of her rank.
"Any word on when we can access the showers?" she asked the Major.
Holst sat in the empty chair beside her, took a short sip from his mug, sighed, and shook his head.
"There are three groups queued for the workout room showers. I have no idea where we are in that line up."
De Vos wiped her dirty hands on her chest piece. She could feel the grains of dirt and grit falling out of her hair. Larger bits made a tinkling sound as they fell on her shoulder pieces. "Aren't you going to eat?"
"I can't." De Vos winced as she tugged a number of knots out of her hair. Examining herself in the terminal glass, she felt she got her hair as professional as it could be for the time being. Grooming regulations required hair to be kept in a professional looking bun or ponytail, but lacking a hair tie she let it hang loose to her shoulders. Besides, it was too stiff to be cooperative anyways. "Besides, I doubt the MREs they're dishing out have what I want."
"I don't think anybody's getting anything they want for a while," Holst grumbled. "If we weren't retreating before we certainly are now."
"At least we managed to minimize our casualties," De Vos said, glancing at the room packed with ODSTs. Out of all the units that fought at Port Sanchez, the ODSTs walked out with the least lives lost. That might have been due more to the statistical aspect, as theirs was the numerically smallest force in the entire area of operations. But having lost less than a tenth of their total manpower, they were in much better shape than many of the ground units. She hadn't heard any of the casualty rates for the 89th or anyone else, but she knew it was very bad.
"They'll probably pin a couple of medals on our chests for that one," Holst sighed. Anger flared in De Vos's chest but she quickly suppressed it. This was not the time or the place to argue with her superior officer over what was important. Right now, the men and women under their command needed their leadership to be solidified and working towards their current objective rather than fractured over ideals.
Holst finished his coffee and shook his head. "No medal is worth this shit, anymore."
Surprised, De Vos blinked and looked up. He was staring at some of the wounded troops in the corner by the door. Some Navy hospitalmen were tending to them. The Major shook his head and looked down at the deck. "I'm tired of this two-bit show. We get sidelined for the pet projects and favorite sons, we don't share in their victories, and when we get our asses kicked we have to lick our wounds like everybody else and suck it up when it wasn't even our fault."
"Fault?" De Vos asked quietly. "This wasn't anybody's fault, Major. The Covenant beat us. That's it."
"And why did they beat us? Because we were overstretched in manpower and resources because of this idiotic, narcotic-induced, fairy tale Travers dreamed up. Because we were sent on those personnel-draining missions by Waters. Because our role was constantly minimized by Colonel Hayes and his goddamn Marines everyone loves so much. The flaws and failure in our leadership has become systematic, Nina. Travers, Waters, Hayes, Amsterdam, they're going to get us killed over a few planets nobody cares about it."
He stood up, planted his hand on the desk, and towered over De Vos. "You think I'm the one who wants medals? Think again. Those people are going to get us all killed just so they can get a few more campaign ribbons. I'm not going to be here when they order the last suicidal charge and I won't let my troops get massacred for someone else's hubris. So, where are you going to be, Captain De Vos?"
Before she could answer, the intercom crackled to life.
"Attention: situation on the bridge, situation on the bridge, all available security personnel, report to the bridge immediately!"
It was Waters. She didn't sound frantic or distressed, but the urgency in her voice was quite clear. De Vos immediately grabbed her side arm and ran out of the room. In a blur, she and a squad of ODSTs raced to the nearest elevator. They sidestepped the wounded littering the ship's halls and crowded into the lift. It couldn't get to the bridge deck fast enough. When the doors opened, they flowed out and stampeded towards the bridge. The doors slid open.
Inside, De Vos found all the bridge staff members on either side. Two Navy security guards armed with M7 submachine guns painted in the blue tech camo bravo pattern. Each one of them was pointing their weapons at Colonel Hayes, standing on the left side of the Captain's station. He was still wearing his BDUs and was holding an M6C up at Waters, standing to the right of the station.
"Colonel, put the weapon down!" she shouted.
"You killed my sons! You left them behind! Now they're all dead!"
"Colonel, your Marines are on this ship! Stand down!"
"You took them from me! They belonged to me! They were mine! You killed them for a goddamn map!"
Tears were streaming down his face. His cheeks and lips were contorted and twisted in a mixture of absolute grief and pure rage. Both eyes were bulging terribly and when he didn't speak he was grating his teeth together. Every feature on his face, from his eyebrows to his lips, seemed to be moving individually. It was freakish and disturbing.
"Colonel, please put that weapon down," De Vos said, keeping her sidearm raised. Hayes whipped around and pointed the weapon at her. A few of the ODSTs shuddered. "Hold your fire!" she ordered. "Talk to me, Colonel, what do you need?"
"We need to go back," he snarled. "Some of my boys are still on that planet. I know it. I'm not leaving my sons behind again."
"Colonel, you're unwell. No one's left on that planet," De Vos said.
"You're wrong!" he roared. "I want my sons back!"
Something moved on the left side. Major Royce appeared from the crowd of disturbed Navy officers. He began to creep around behind Hayes. De Vos lowered her weapon.
"I want a lot of things too, Colonel. I want my ODSTs to get out of this hellish, nightmarish war alive so they can see their families again. I want this war to end so they can go home, so we can all go home. So I can go home and see my family again. But things aren't going to change just because I want something. All we can do is fight back until we defeat the Covenant. Your men, your...sons, the ones who have survived, they're here on the I'm Alone. All the others are gone. I'm sorry."
"You're wrong! You're wrong! I'm going to get my sons back!" Hayes howled. Royce leapt forward, raised his BR55 and slamming the buttstock on the back of the Colonel's head. Hayes toppled over and crashed onto the deck. Keeping his rifle trained on him, Royce maneuvered to the side and kicked the sidearm away. Once he was sure Hayes wasn't moving, he leaned down and pressed his fingers against his neck for a pulse."
"He's alive," he said. "Captain, take him to the brig and lock him up. The Colonel isn't feeling well."
De Vos nodded and her squad came forward. They picked Colonel Hayes up by his arms and proceeded to drag him out. Waters came over to De Vos and took her by the shoulder.
"Glad you got here in time, Nina. If you hadn't showed up when you did, this could have been far worse. Thank you." She turned towards Royce. "Colonel Hayes is going to have a psych-eval; until that time, he's to remain in the brig. Major Royce, you are the acting commander of the 89th until further notice."
"Of course, Captain."
As the bridge staff resumed their positions, Waters turned back towards De Vos.
"Is there anything you need, Captain?" she asked her.
"No, ma'am."
"Alright, return to your post."
De Vos nodded while Waters turned her back on her. Everyone was instantly engrossed in their work. Feeling more like a ghost, she turned her back on them and drifted into the I'm Alone. After everything that transpired, she decided not to return to the security office. She felt like getting lost in the bowels of the ship for a little while. Disappearing did not feel so bad right then.
Frost woke up coughing. A familiar, musky, acrid smell filled the air. Looking up, he quickly familiarized himself with the I'm Alone's titanium bulkheads. This wasn't his quarters. He was actually in a medical ward. At first, he expected to see dozens of other patients. Instead, the room was small, quiet, and empty save for the various medical cabinets and machines everywhere.
His stomach hurt painfully when he tried to sit up. Inching up the bed a little so his upper back was on the pillow too, he managed to look left. Steele was lying in the cot barely an arm's length away from his own. His face was dirty and stubble was growing on his cheeks. Thick, blonde hair fell towards the left side of his head. A cigarette hung loosely from his lips and a tendril of smoke wafted upwards into a thin gray cloud.
The sniper's face was devoid of any emotion. He seemed as still and solid as a statue. Everything about him was muted, even his color. Both eyes, once a vibrant shade of blue, seemed so dim. Instead of weathering his blanket, he remained in an olive drab shirt and a pair of black PT shorts. Both his legs were bandaged and capped just below the knees. Steele simply stared at where his lower legs once were.
"Lou?" he said. Steele didn't respond. "Louie?"
"Leave me alone," Steele muttered. "I'm trying to die over here."
Frost couldn't help but laugh a little bit. Steele didn't look at him.
"How long have you been up? Has anyone come to see us?"
Steele rolled onto his left side and remained silent. Frost expected there to be a long silence when he heard a grumble from his right. Looking over, he saw Maddox sleeping in a chair. His arms were folded across his chest and his head was down. As much as he wanted to know what was going on, he didn't want to wake up his friend. Maddox was the only one who wasn't wounded as far as he could remember and he thought it was better to let him sleep than prod him with questions.
He felt very weak. Lifting his blanket, he saw the stitches and bandages on his stomach. Tubes were tied into his arms and the monitors were beeping normally. For a time, he drifted in and out of sleep. For all he knew, it could have been three minutes or three days. Eventually, he was stirred by the sound of the door opening. Jasmine walked in. She was wearing a white lab coat. Blood stains ran along the bottom and on the sleeves. Dark bags hung under her depleted eyes. She walked in, noticed he was awake, and came over.
"Nate," she breathed.
"Jasmine. Are you...okay?"
Jasmine pulled up a stool from the far corner of the room and sat down. For a few moments, she just sat there looking at him. Eventually, she reached up, took off her eyeglasses, and began to shake her head slowly. Tears fell down her face.
"I'm sorry, Nate. I tried everything I could."
Frost felt his heart rate increase. The monitor began to beep a little faster. Jasmine pulled the stool closer and slid her hand into his. Biting her lip, she squeezed her eyes shut. More tears flowed down her cheeks. She sniffed heavily and kept shaking her head. After a few minutes of sniffling, she wiped her cheeks and nose on the sleeve of her coat.
Drawing a few breaths, she composed herself as well as she could. "I'm sorry, Nate, I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "Grant didn't make it."
Frost's lips parted. He slid his hand from hers and looked away. A single tear ran down his cheek and disappeared into his beard. Jasmine continued to sniffle. "I'm sorry..."
"What happened?" he looked back at her, his brow furrowing. "Tell me everything."
"Nate, please, you just woke up..."
Frost slammed his fist down on the table next to his bed.
"Tell me!" he shouted. Maddox jolted awake, Steele looked over, and Jasmine jumped in her seat. More tears ran down her cheeks.
"You passed out," she began, "and we took him away first. It was terrible. He was filled with so much biofoam that solidified we had to cut it out. But when we did he would start bleeding or some of his intestines would come out. We literally didn't have enough of him to stitch him close together. We ran through every single option we had but nothing was taking. He was awake, he was screaming so loud..." Jasmine covered her face. "He was screaming for his mother and then his dad and then he started calling people by their names...he asked for Moser and then he kept saying your name...he asked me to save him...just...so much screaming..."
Jasmine lowered her hands. "And then he just slipped away. I'm sorry."
Frost stared at her for a very long time. Jasmine reached into her pocket and pulled out Moser's crucifix. "He was holding this when he died. I'm so, so sorry, Nate."
He took the cross and held it in his palm. He stared at it and stared at it. Then, he balled it up in his fist and threw on the deck. Again, Jasmine jumped.
"You never lost a patient," he said. "That's what you told me. Do you remember? You told me you never lost a patient. Grant was your patient and he's dead. What the fuck were you even doing!?"
Jasmine sobbed into her hands and it just made Frost angrier. He sat up no matter how much it hurt him. "What kind of doctor are you? First you get half my squad wounded and then you can't even save one of them!"
"Nate, what the fuck?" Steele cut in.
"Jesus Christ, it wasn't her fault. She did everything she could," Maddox implored. "I was in there when he died. She had her hands inside his goddamn stomach trying to keep his guts together."
"Nate, please..."
"Get out!" he shouted at her and pointed at the door. "Just get out!"
All the energy went out of him then. He satback, his chest and shoulders heaving. Both hands remained balled into fists. Jasmine was crying into her hands. A moment later, she slowly rose to her feet and disappeared out the door. When Frost regained control of his breathing he looked over at Maddox. The systems operator glared back at him disapprovingly.
"The fuck is wrong with you?" he asked. "She didn't kill him. The Covenant did."
"Nope," Steele said. "We killed him because we fucked up and got hit. If we kept up, we'd all be sitting here."
"Louis," Frost began, closing his eyes.
"Shut up," Steele spat. "Maddox is right, what is wrong with you? Where's your head out? What's gone wrong? Are you insane? What kind of motherfucker goes around dealing death like you and expects to get away with it? What, in your fucked up head, makes you think that somebody is guilty for something they didn't do, and you're not guilty for something you did?"
"What's he talking about?" Maddox asked.
Before anyone could speak, the door opened again. Knight, a hand over his stomach, and Bishop, shirtless, barged in. When they saw who was inside, they howled with delight. Maddox jumped to his feet and embraced both of them. As they bombarded each other with questions, two more figures came in. It was Nora Langley and Carris.
"Carris!" Steele shrieked.
"Louis!" she cried. Tears welled up in her deep blue eyes and she nearly threw herself on the sniper. They embraced each other tenderly and their lips locked. When they parted, they were both crying. "I didn't think we'd find you."
"You're alive, love, oh my god..." he sobbed. Their foreheads were pressed together, their noses touched, and their lips were barely an inch apart. "Carris, Carris..." he breathed into her. They embraced again, burying their faces into each other's neck. Meanwhile, Bishop bear-hugged Langley with one arm while Maddox and Bishop wrapped their arms around her, too. She looked so small in between the three of them. It was like watching three older brothers meeting their kid sister for the first time in years. That's what it must have felt like.
The crowd parted somewhat as everyone mingled. Steele was happy to see the others and they all learned down on top of him, giving him hugs. Langley kissed him on the cheek and Carris was able to put her muscular arms around Bishop and Knight at the same time, nearly bringing them into a headlock. Then, everybody turned and faced Frost. When they saw his face, their smiles faded.
"We have to talk."
"Have you seen Dr. Ebrahimi?" Vivian asked one of the orderlies passing by. The orderly checked her data pad.
"She's out of surgery and her shift is over, so she's either in her office or her quarters, ma'am."
"Thanks. Keep up the hard work."
Vivian trundled through the long hall filled with wounded. She thought the previous post-battle casualty situations were bad but this dwarfed them. There were no more beds available anywhere. Every room was packed beyond capacity. All the halls remained packed and stuffed with personnel. In some places, there wasn't even room to sit or lie down. Men and women wounded in the chest or arms were forced to stand. Passing one of the surgery wards, a steady trickle of roller beds were moved to the post-OR recovery area. Another steady stream brought patients in. Blood was everywhere on the deck and the bulkheads. Battered armor pieces and discarded weapons were all over the place, too. There were rolls of bloody bandages, empty biofoam canisters, used pressure dressings, and the occasional limb.
She did her best to appear controlled and calm. It was all she could do. Many personnel who met her eyes stopped to salute or greeted her with the acknowledgement of 'ma'am,' or 'Captain.' Vivian returned their smiles and gestures. To see them still adhering to such standards made her heart swell with pride. She loved these men and women under her command, these warriors she served alongside. At that moment, she considered them humanity's finest.
Through the miasma of wounded and lost personnel, she managed to find Jasmine's office. Like so many other rooms, it was repurposed into a makeshift ward. Vivian had to work her way back to the nearest elevator and transition to the officer's quarters. Many rooms here were given up for patients too but the blockages in the halls were less severe. She found the door to Jasmine's room ajar. "Jasmine?"
She pushed open the door. Her friend was slumped at her desk with her blood-stained lab coat on the floor. At first, Vivian thought she was sleeping but then she noticed her shoulders were quivering. Jasmine sniffled quietly. Vivian closed the door behind her and pulled up a chair to sit on. She put an arm around Jasmine's shoulders. "Hey, it's okay now, Jas. We're safe. The Covenant can't find us in this system, so we have time to take care of the wounded. I know there's a lot but you can do it."
Jasmine sat up. Her eyes were red and puffy. Tears stained her cheeks. Taking off her glasses, she dropped them carelessly on the desk and wiped her eyes on the back of her hand.
"It's stupid."
"Nobody ever said war was intelligent," Vivian replied sarcastically.
"No, it's not about that," Jasmine said, her voice fragile. "I'm an officer...I mean, I'm an adult, and I'm sobbing my heart out because my boyfriend yelled at me. It's...it's...fucking pathetic."
Before Vivian could even ask, Jasmine explained what happened. Grant died on her operating table after multiple, excruciating attempts to save his life. Jasmine did everything she could to save him and Frost's squad. She personally operated on every single one of them, including him. "My hands were covered in his blood. This man that I love, his blood was all over me. I wasn't going to let him die. I wasn't going to let any of them go. And then Grant did and Frost blamed me. I tried everything I could."
"I know you did," Vivian said, "you don't have to explain. He didn't have a right to treat you that way, it was really, really wrong. And it's not wrong to feel this way, either. You're still human. We have to remind ourselves that from time to time. You've done so much for all these people, Jasmine. This is your time to rest, so rest."
Vivian held Jasmine stand, sat her down on her bed, and then untied her boots. She took them off and her socks, then tugged off Jasmine's sweater. Then, she gently laid her friend down on the mattress and drew her blanket over her. Placing her hand on Jasmine's forehead, she gently massaged it. Jasmine did not appear better.
"He yelled at me during the hospital evacuation, too. I wanted to make sure everyone was out. Even when the Covenant broke in, I was still searching every room for patients. When I came down, they were shooting, so I returned fire. I almost got killed but Frost and his friends saved me. Two of them got wounded doing that."
"It's not your fault," Vivian said, then she smiled. "And you really did that? Even when the planet was falling and the Covenant were coming in?" Jasmine nodded. Vivian whistled. "That was really brave, Jasmine," she said tenderly.
"It was desperate and selfish," Jasmine sighed. "I couldn't live with myself if I left anybody behind. It was for my own conscience."
"No, it wasn't," Vivian countered firmly. "You did that because you're a good person and a brave sailor. People are alive today because of you. That was very heroic." She didn't want to say anything then, but Vivian made up her mind to cite Jasmine for a decoration. Which one she wasn't sure, but for risking her life and nearly getting left behind like that, it was going to be a higher one. By Vivian's standards, Jasmine's actions merited such an award.
"I'm so tired, Viv," Jasmine said. "There's just so much death. Too much. I'm not sure I can handle this anymore. I'm just so tired." Her voice was as fragile as glass. After sobbing for so long, there wasn't much left of her voice anyways. Everything was spoken in a painful whisper.
Vivian leaned closer, resting her chin on the bed.
"You took care of me for such a long time, Jasmine. You take care of everybody. Let me take care of you right now. Your staff is right where they need to be, they're doing everything they've been trained to do. Rest for now."
"Captain Waters, Vice Admiral Travers is transmitting via monitor on the bridge. He requests your presence immediately," Decatur buzzed in her earpiece. Vivian didn't respond to him.
"Jas, I have to go right now. Stay here and try to rest for an hour or two, and then bring your things to my quarters. We'll bunk up together like we used to at Luna OCS. Okay?"
Jasmine just nodded, the tears still running down her cheeks. Vivian waited until she closed her eyes before leaving the room. Once more, she braved the halls filled with the desperate, crying wounded until she returned to the bridge. Every time she stepped onto it, there was an immense sensation of relief. It was the most familiar facility on the ship to her. She felt safe and protected from whatever horrors were out there. This bridge was like home to her.
Stepping to the starboard side display, she found Travers's face on the screen. He was staring at her sternly.
"New orders, Captain Waters," he said. "We're combat ineffective at the moment. Too many damaged ships, too many casualties. We're withdrawing deep into Inner Colony space for repairs and overhauls at available facilities."
Vivian looked at the readout of the casualty rates below the window displaying Travers. Dozens of ships were destroyed, dozens more were damaged, and casualties were near ten thousand in total. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the port side monitor displaying her battlegroup. Somehow, all her ships managed to survive, but just barely. All the frigates she dispatched were so damaged they could barely make a slipspace jump. Their commanding officers were all due for decorations for holding the line as long as they could. In the end, the enemy ships forced them to retreat. Even the I'm Alone wouldn't last in a fight now.
"Yes, Vice Admiral," she replied as she picked up her data pad from her station. A notification appeared and she opened it. When she saw the coordinates, her eyes widened. The numbers didn't quite register in her mind, the location just didn't seem plausible. It was baffling and shocking, tearing apart her gut and making her heart swell with joy and relief that was unparalleled since she first entered the Navy.
When she looked up, Travers was smiling at her.
"We'll get underway as soon as you're ready. Your ship will make the first jump. I'd also like to notify you that General Amsterdam has cited you for a sister-service decoration, the Distinguished Service Cross, for what you did during the Battle of Jeannette 5. I myself am putting you in for decorations for two separate actions. Take some time to draft your own. I think we have some really heroes under our command, Captain Waters."
"Yes, sir," she said, her voice distant.
"And Captain?"
"Sir?"
"It won't be 'Captain,' for much longer." Travers nodded. "Smooth sailing, Waters."
The transmission terminated after that. Vivian lowered her data pad and turned around.
"Attention," she said loudly. All her officers turned to look at her. "We're going to be jumping soon. Due to our casualties, I am not issuing a ship-wide cryo order. If you wish to enter your pods, feel free to do so. If not, your presence on the bridge is not currently required."
A few heads turned. Individuals glanced at one another. Before anyone could speak up, she folded her hands behind her back. "You've fought bravely and worked very hard. I can handle a slipspace jump by myself. Go and rest now. That is an order."
Nobody moved at first. Vivian thought a wave of military vigor would overtake them at that moment and they would refuse, wishing to stay with their commanding officer rather than sleep. She knew if such a thing occurred, she would certainly be proud and humbled. But she wanted them to go. Thankfully, one by one, they all stood up and trundled towards the exit. Bassot was the first one up. Just as the doors opened, he turned around and saluted. Everyone copied him at once, their heels clicking together and their arms snapping upwards. Vivian returned and held the salute until they were all gone from the bridge.
Sighing, she cast her data pad onto her station desk and went to sit down. Before she could, the doors opened. Turning, she found Frost limped in. He was wearing a spare utility uniform of his, but it was baggy and unkempt. Between his thick hair, beard, and ragged uniform, it was the most unprofessional she had seen him in a long time.
"Gunnery Sergeant, are you supposed to be resting?" she asked stiffly. It was hard to resist the urge to scowl at him. Frost didn't reply at first. He came further onto the bridge, passed Vivian, and went right to the front viewing glass. He stared out at the vast, empty system the entire fleet was in. After a moment, Vivian joined him. "I'm sorry about your friend."
"Me too," he said. "Losing a friend like that, you can't help but think about all the times you were a bastard to him. You wish you could go back and change it; say something else, do something else, anything to avoid what went wrong. To go back and change yourself, that would be the ultimate power, wouldn't it?"
"I can't say," Vivian murmured.
"He always used to tell a story about when his family first moved to America. They told him they were all wearing white clothes and the first thing they did was walking on white sandy beaches. I used to like that story. Life just seems so perfect in it." He raised his hand and pressed it against the glass. His other went to his stomach and he held it gently. A labored sigh passed between his lips. "Now, I don't know what that story means anymore. I don't...nothing makes sense anymore."
Vivian turned and faced him.
"Nate, we fought a hard battle and we lost. We're all coping with something we haven't truly experienced in a long time: defeat. Sustain it for now, but when we come out of the other side, we have to be warriors again."
"I'm not a warrior, I'm just a killer." He turned completely and looked down at her. "I lied to you, Vivian. Those people I killed, they weren't running or resisting. I gunned them down."
Vivian felt frozen at that moment. Her heart, her blood, her mind, everything just became cold. But the shock didn't last and that was most surprising of all. It all made sense in a way. The man in front of her was no longer Frost. Instead, she saw Jack the Ripper from all those years ago. A shadowy figure tearing the darkness apart with a full magazine of seven point six-two millimeter ammunition. Someone who killed quickly and without thought or remorse. Immediately, she heard the wailing of long-haired shadows and felt their pale eyes setting on her. Her world became small, lightless, and claustrophobic. Bloody hands began to grasp her arms and shoulders, their garbled, banshee voices demanding she take up her pistol and obtain her vengeance.
But with a blink and a sigh, she dismissed it all. Frost stared at her grimly, his gray eyes staring deeply into her. "Well, Captain Waters?" he growled. He held out his hands. "You got what you wanted. The monster is real. Throw me in the brig, I'll go without a fight as long as you leave Louie and Carris out of this. Lou stuck by me because he doesn't have anyone else in this life and she stuck by him because she doesn't have anyone else either. Leave them alone, and I'll go quietly."
Vivian looked down at his hands. After a few moments, she scoffed and began walking back to her station. "Isn't this what you want? My life to end? Put a bullet in me or put me in prison, either way, it's over for me."
"No," she answered as she began plugging in the coordinates for their jump. "I'm not going to do either." She stopped and looked up at the bewildered Marine. "I just want to know why you did that."
Frost looked down at the deck, his fists shaking.
"I don't know. Maybe it's because I'm messed up inside, sick, insane, something. Or maybe I just got lost in it. War has an alluring draw, doesn't it? Or I'm just a monster, a product of war itself and a military machine that doesn't want you to think or feel. Take your pick, Captain."
Vivian smiled dryly.
"You're rather dramatic, aren't you?" Vivian walked towards him. "Get off my bridge, Gunnery Sergeant."
Frost scowled but only for a moment. Resigned and defeated, he began to walk towards the door. Vivian continued stare out the viewing glass at the twinkling stars and empty void.
"What do you think, then?"
"You don't want to hear it," Vivian said without looking back.
"Try me."
She inhaled and turned around.
"I think you're just a lonely, scared little boy who was so scared of living a life by himself, he ran away at the first opportunity he thought that could fill up that hole in his chest. And when he realized that the fastest way to get the love and attention he wanted was killing, he couldn't stop. He even began to like it because each time he did, they gave him an 'atta boy,' a slap on the back, and a medal on his chest. Then, when his guilty conscience began to follow him, he told himself every lie he could to justify and excuse what he was doing, to stave off the truth for as long as possible. Maybe even forever."
Vivian met his blank gaze. "Killing people is terrifying. You said that to me. You kill people because that's all you know how to do and that scares you. But the alternative? Going home, living in peace? That's even more frightening, isn't it?"
The pair stood on opposite ends of the bridge and maintained a deep and deadly gaze. Frost's eyes began to glimmer with tears. Maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was a rage so deep at finally being held accountable for his actions. Vivian't didn't know and she didn't care. Turning back around, she looked into space. "Have you told Jasmine?"
There was nor response. In the reflection he was casting, she saw him looking down at the deck. His eyes were squeezed shut. Vivian shook her head. "That's what I thought. You should be the one to tell her, but we both know I'll be the one who does. You don't have the courage."
Vivian turned halfway around. Frost was still standing there. She nodded at the door. "Run away, little boy, run away."
Frost tore himself around, stormed through the doors, and they slid shut behind him. Vivian returned to her station and sat down. For a moment, she shut her eyes and listened to the I'm Alone's steady hum. The whole ship seemed to be simmering and pulsing with new life even after taking so many wounds. All the engine readouts were green: she was ready to go. But that near silence was delectable to Vivian. It seemed like, at last, there was some manner of quiet in her life.
There was a flickering sound. Decatur appeared on the pedestal beside her station.
"Ma'am..." he greeted gravely. "...would you like me to depart as well?"
"Yes, Stephen," Vivian said, her eyes opening and fixing on the space ahead of her. "I would like to be alone for a little while."
She activated the slipspace sequence. A rip appeared in the void in front of her and it blossomed into a huge, swirling, blue-white portal. The I'm Alone began to slide into it, engulfing the bridge in pure light.
"Of course, ma'am. Before I go, could you please tell me where we're going?"
The I'm Alone shot forward. For a moment, there was a splash of golden, blue, white, and purple lights. Then, they faded into darkness. Vivian disappeared on the bridge, kept alight by orange glows from a few active stations. Decatur's blue glare illuminated the edge of her face as she closed her eyes once more.
"Skopje."
Important Announcement & Author's Note: Once again, dear friends, we find ourselves at the end of a story. The I'm Alone is damaged, her home base has been lost, and the relationships between many of her crew members has been fractured. Now, they are traveling towards an old, fabled planet for a new adventure in: I'm Alone: War Paint. I'd like to give you guys a time frame as to when the first chapter of the next installment will be up, but unfortunately I don't know at this point. I'd like to finish one of my other new projects before doing that, so until I make some headway on those, I can't say. What I will say that I'm Alone will definitely return for a third installment and then a fourth, final installment. And that I am deeply grateful for all of the veteran readers who have been keeping up with this little series since the first chapter of the first story, and all the new readers who have found this, gone back to read the first one, and have kept up with this one. Your viewership means so much to me and it means a lot that you've been so patient and understanding during the many lapse periods for this story. Thank you everyone for being so kind, considerate, and enthusiastic.
And do you know what will really help me out? (warning: shameless plug ahead) While you're waiting for the next installment, you'd do me a real solid if you could check out my other stories, such as the Marsh Silas: An Inquisitor and its sequel Marsh Silas: Bloody Platoon. Or, if you're still in the mood for Halo but with a more grounded story based on current events, check out To be Brave. And if you're an Elder Scrolls fan, mosey on over to my new story Following Roads & Rivers. As well, you can find me under the name RadiationSoap on DeviantArt if you want to see updated work as well as my original writing!
Now for the Announcement: I have been tossing the idea around for a couple weeks about making a Community Discord. I can't really offer an incentive or anything like that (dirt poor fanfic writer that I am.) But this Discord would serve multiple purposes, including:
- A place where you can receive regular updates as to what story or stories I'm working on and teasers for upcoming chapters.
- Links to my off-site work, such as an edited version of the original I'm Alone I'm posting on DA or my original prose and poetry.
- Links to fan-art pieces such as Fail4Fun's work (as well as Fun's profile) or to capture images by shadeops21 (who you might have seen here on FFN as TheShadeOps)
- And a weekly one or two hour period where I can set aside to chat with everybody about anything and everything ranging from the stories you're interested in to sharing fanfiction we like to what games we've all been planning. I wish I could say I could be online more often and for longer but I simply don't have that kind of time because I'm bouncing so much stuff like so many of you are, too.
I would really like to try this, but considering that my FFN forum didn't really work out too well, I'm a little bit hesitant to try it out. So if you are interested in a community Discord where you can chat with me and other readers, either leave a comment expressing so here on the story (or any of my stories really) or send me a PM. The PM would probably be a lot easier, but if you're not as comfortable communicating with me directly, leave a comment, I promise I will see it, don't worry.
Again, and I hope this doesn't sound pretentious or snooty or mean, I do not have as much time on my hands as I would like, so if only one or two people or something like that are interested, I'm probably not going to do it because of time management. I'll post this in the latest chapters of my other works and I'll bring it up on my DA too. If around 5 people are interested, I'll go ahead and make it, but I would really prefer somewhere between 8-12. Just please understand this is all related to what kind of time is available to me.
Important Note: If you are not interested in this Discord idea, you do not have to join. It is not a requirement or an expectation on my part. I just wanted to create a possible avenue for you that would make it easier to keep track of the stories you like and chat with one another. And it'd be a fun, easier way for us to communicate because FFN is not a prime social hub as we're all aware.
Okay, with that out of the way, I'll get to the comment responses which I have severely neglected for some time because life is shiiiiit sometimes. I'll try to get to everyone I missed and try hit all the things you're saying, so if I miss anything, just understand it's not because I'm ignoring you, I just have a lot to review.
Comment Responses:
TheCarlosInferno: Vivian and Frost's evolving relationship, from enemies, to tolerable allies, and then to something resembling friends, was one of my favorite aspects of this story. And to have it crumble in the very end with the truth revealed was one of the moments I was so excited for. But I think Vivian's reaction means their relationship is very murky at this point; they're definitely not comrades anymore but they're not like the enemies they were in the first story. As for Carris and Steele, their relationship will be featured more heavily in the third installment of the story. Thanks for reading and commenting!
MightBeGone: I am in a better mood these days, thank you. Taking some time to game a lot was a real tonic. I'm still kinda in the woods but I can see the edge, if you know what I mean. And you're a seasoned reader, you saw right through me! In a perfect world, I would love your idea for Chapter 41 but alas, our world is imperfect. Heartbreak and devastation, good sir, I know. And I think De Vos not getting cookies is going to be the new running gag. Thanks for all the support, my man!
Ace75: Thank you. I do have some support these days which is a welcome change. I'm happy to know the story really hit you. Oh and by the way, as per your comment on To Be Brave, I really appreciate it! But to answer your question, no, I'm neither a veteran or a current service member, I've never been in the military. I've just done as much research as possible and I'm better at it now than I used to be. I will say that I have been thinking about joining the Army because my current job opportunities are quite limited but of course that means I wouldn't have much time to write and my goal for becoming an author would be pushed off a bit. We'll see! Thank you for reading and comment!
Egdeofdoom: If I haven't said it before, love your username. I know! That was the reaction I was hoping some readers would have. I wanted there to just be this pinprick of relief, that things were a little more hopeful, and then I wanted to take it away. That way it would be provide a shock to the characters and the readers, provide a nice climax for the ending, and allow the story to align itself more with the Halo series' timeline. Thanks for reading and commenting!
Qrs-jg: The sieges and evacuation depicted in the lore of the Halo games always fascinated me, and Halo: Reach's depiction in the mission Exodus really made it clear of the utter destruction, pure terror, absolute desperation, and disorganization that occurred during the Human-Covenant War. When we read about real sieges, they lasted for months or even years, but it's interested in Halo because the Covenant's advanced technology can mince-meat a planet in under an hour. That's what I wanted to get here and was really happy with its portrayal. And given scenarios like that, and John-117 having fought in so many, you're quite right! Thanks for reading and commenting!
Chase-A: Don't worry, it'll have two more stories after this! What do you call that? A quadrupleseries or something like that? I dunno. But I'm glad to know you're looking forward to it. I also really appreciate all the comments you've left on Marsh Silas! That means a lot to me! Thanks a bunch for reading and commenting!
Cameron Kelly: Thank you for being a long-time reader and for such a lovely comment. Even though this is fanfiction of a video game, I wanted there to be elements of realism imbued in the military and wartime aspects of the story, as well as into the psychological aspects of many of the characters. While there are times where I try to focus on the aspects of the game, there are times I trade that for real-world aspects, trying to weave them together as best I can. Your analysis of this chapter is very thorough, it's always very humbling when someone takes the time to really sound out what they think about a chapter and how it made them feel. Regarding what you said about ground combat, research into that is very accessible for me and I often dig through online resources or my own collection of historical books as well as veteran's accounts to understand it. Orbital warfare is something that nobody has really done, so I always find those segments to be more difficult to write because I have to rely on Halo's lore which is sometimes unreliable as well as my own understanding and research into naval warfare. Which makes it harder because I have to transition seaborne warfare to orbital warfare and it just gets crazy.
As somebody who works as a firefighter and medic, you've trained for or experienced scenarios similar to these I imagine; mass casualty situations and catastrophic wounds. That really enhances your understanding of situations like that in literature, so never be afraid to correct a mistake I've made regarding medical treatment/wounds or lend some knowledge as to what a person is experiencing: what you described about Grant really gave me deeper insight into what a person goes through when hurt in that way, and that's something I can use later down the line! So thank you! A number of readers have expressed that they have served/are serving in the military and have given me little snippets regarding certain things in the story, so it helps me know what kind of corrections I can make or if I'm pushing something in the right direction.
Thank you for sticking with the stories for so long, I really appreciate it! Thank you!
And another big thank you to everyone for reading! Thanks so much for sticking with me and this story! Keep an eye out for the next one!