Chapter 16: Hope

"No damage to his ribs and the port is stable."

Frost stood beside Carris at the foot of Steele's cot. The scout sniper was once again asleep and his vitals were stabilized. All the readings on the monitors displayed proper vitals. Another monitor displayed slides of his most recent x-rays, which showed the damage had not been exacerbated.

Jasmine turned around, set her data pad down on a side table, and pushed her glasses back up her nose. She dismissed the other medical staff and waited for them to leave. Then, she folded her arms across her chest and looked up at Carris. As her initial concern began to fade, it was replaced by frustration.

For Frost, it was rare to see Jasmine perturbed. Aggravation did not come easily to her. Empathy and compassion defined her; she was the true angel of the ward rooms. Whether a Marine was on the brink of death or simply received a minor wound to their foot, she cared for them with equal dedication and did not rest until they were healed, safe, and comfortable. Even when there were no casualties to work on, she was constantly observing her staff, guiding them through remedial training, personally restocking supply rooms, sterilizing equipment, cleaning operating rooms, and penning essays on new surgical methods, implants, robotic prosthetics, long-term care on a starship, and other military medicinal matters.

To see her eyes bright and burning, brows knitted, lips pursed, and her stance commanding and defiant, was very jarring. Even though he was not present for what happened, he could not help but feel intimidated. Looking up at Carris, he could see she appeared nervous as well. Whether it was from the head medical officer's posture and expression or the incident itself, he did not know. But it was just as surprising to see the toughest, strongest, most dutiful soldier in their number bearing herself with anxiety. Nothing ever seemed to phase her and yet here she was, unsure and guilty. The only time he saw her lose her cool with his own two eyes was when Steele was nearly gutted by an energy sword; after tearing the Elite's head apart, she rushed him to the field hospital so quickly the others could not keep up. It was like chasing a heavily armored race car. Even then, her face was hidden by her helmet and she maintained a professional appearance.

Seeing the two completely shedding their normal skins made him feel like he was in another dimension. Unable to comprehend it, he just stood stock still and stayed silent.

"Petty Officer Third Class," Jasmine began, "can you please tell me what exactly brought Corporal Steele to that state?"

Her voice was even but firm. Carris folded her hands behind her back and stood up straight.

"We were talking. When I told him he would not be able to be a part of Operation: Exalt, he exploded. He was distressed, beside himself, crying, swearing, and saying things I'm not sure I understood."

Jasmine sighed and her expression softened. She stepped closer to Carris and offered a sympathetic smile. Her hand rose and touched the tall soldier's arm.

"I understand. He must have taken it very hard. Marines are built that way; it's all about the unit and getting into the action together. Unable to join his unit, he feels lost and like he won't be able to contribute. Wouldn't you say so, Nate?"

She turned slightly and faced Frost. The Gunnery Sergeant smiled a little, nodded, and looked up at Carris.

"Doesn't matter the branch of service. Anybody who doesn't get to go with their buddies into the suck, they feel like they're failing and letting everyone down. Steele's a lot of things," he nodded his head to the side and laughed a little. It was somewhat forced. "Most of them are bad, but he's loyal to his pals. He acts like he doesn't give one damn about anybody but he'd be the first one to step in front of a bullet or plasma bolt that was coming your way."

Frost looked at him again and sighed sadly. Without thinking, his legs carried him over to the side of his bed and he bent over. Reaching out, he gently gripped Steele's shoulder and squeezed. "He's a good man, a really good man. Just a great guy. Always tried to keep me on the right path, you know? You couldn't ask for a better friend."

Clearing his throat, he stood back up to face Jasmine and Carris. "It's going to be hard for him to stay, especially when he's going to get back on his feet. It's not like there's a ferry that can just take him to meet up with us when he's healed. He'll have to wait until we get back."

"Or until he gets transferred," Jasmine offered.

Carris and Frost both looked at one another, sharing a distressed glance. The thought had not crossed either of their minds. Imagining his best friend being sent to some other Marine outfit to a terrible battlefront was terrifying. Without his friends, without his unit, Steele would fall apart. In a matter of months or even weeks, he would end up in the stockade for his numerous infractions. If he got into a cell, he would not make it.

Stepping back over to Jasmine, he instinctively took her hands. Jasmine blinked and blushed, but did not take them away.

"Isn't there anything you can do? Can't you keep him in the hospital? Do something to his medical records to make sure he doesn't get transferred?"

"You're asking me to forge medical documents!" Jasmine hissed. She withdrew her hands and took Frost by his shoulders. "I understand you don't want him to be sent away and that in the best of circumstances, he could come with you or at least wait until the task force comes back to resupply. But you cannot ask me to abuse my position like that. If I was to falsify my records, lie to Vivian, lie to all my superiors and even my subordinates, I would be breaking numerous UNSC laws. Not to mention I would be wasting resources and space on someone who isn't even a casualty. I'm sorry, Nate, I know he's like your brother and you care about him very much, but that's asking too much of me."

Frost's mouth opened a little. Instead of being able to formulate a sentence, a stifled sob came out. It was a pathetic noise that bordered on the verge of tears. Although he continued to face her, his eyes went to Steele.

He seemed so calm and peaceful. Once more, his thick blonde hair was swept over to the side. A few errant locks strayed across his forehead. His chest rose and fell with steady frequency. Only when the room was devoid of conversation could one hear his very light breathing.

Jasmine cupped Frost's cheek with her left hand. "I'm sorry, darling, but it's wrong and I can't be a part of that."

"I can't go without him," Frost murmured.

"Neither can I," Carris said, louder and stilted. Jasmine looked at them both.

"You have to. You're soldiers."

Jasmine's hand dropped and she looked at Steele. "Do either of you want to stay with him? It'll be some time before he wakes back up? I don't mind staying with him."

"Yeah, could you, please? I think Carris and I need to get out of here for a little bit," Frost said. He looked up at her. "What do you think?"

Carris hesitated. Her blue eyes were filled with doubt and she looked at him suspiciously. But Frost pleaded with his eyes, trying to somehow convey he was not planning anything or had an ulterior motive. Whether or not the expression in his eyes got across to her, she eased her own and nodded at Jasmine.

"Yes, I think for now we should go. Would you call one of us when he wakes back up? It might do him so good to see us when he wakes back up. It might be calming."

"I agree. If I notice any irregularities or when he wakes up, I'll notify you."

"Thanks, Jas," Frost said.

Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. Jasmine tucked her head under his chin and breathed into his chest. Resting his chin on the top of her head, he nuzzled her for a moment, then withdrew and kissed her. Jasmine smiled and turned back to take her seat.

Motioning to Carris, Frost began to leave. When he noticed he was walking alone, he looked over his shoulder. She was still standing at the foot of the bed, looking at him.

"Carris."

She turned sharply and looked at him. He nodded to the far door. "Let's go."

Slowly, she began to follow him. Side by side, they went out into the corridor, went to the elevator, rode it down to ground level, and went out into the waning sunlight. For the first time in weeks, the base was growing inactive. Convoys were shorter and less packed with personnel and supplies. Supply ships ascending and descending were becoming infrequent. Even the mechanics were running out of vehicles to repair. It was quieter and calmer, especially in the evenings.

A new stillness was overtaking the base. The coming operation was looming closer by the day. Frost stopped. Carris took a step further, halted, but did not turn around. He looked at the back of her head. "I've been with him since I was thirteen years old. It's been ten years. Ten years, Carris. I'm not sure I can do this without him."

She turned halfway and looked at him sadly.

"It's been just a few for me and it's just as impossible. What are we going to do without him?"

For a moment, Frost could say nothing. He felt a strange sense of loneliness. With the base so devoid of activity and life, and the knowledge his closest friend in the entire galaxy was not going to come with him, how could he not? Knowing his right hand man, the best scout sniper in the entire 89th MEU, was going to miss the biggest operation his unit ever participated in, made him feel naked and unequipped. Every unit designation in the entire UNSC Marine Corps was like a building block, right up to the largest formations. But it all began with the fire team, and then most importantly, the squad. Already understrength and with one of key Marines gone, the foundation of the block was cracked.

But, he could not help but smile. He knew that manner of military thinking was entirely lost on Steele. He could care less; all he wanted to do was smoke, drink, fornicate, and shoot aliens. In the end, that was all Frost needed him for in a tactical sense. Perhaps, facing the remarkable odds ahead of him, not having his point of normalcy, the one fellow who could make him laugh the hardest, was what truly scared him. Jasmine made him smile, made him feel loved, thought of, and cared about; he could go to her for anything. But if he wanted his sides to hurt and his throat to grow hoarse from laughter, all he needed to do was speak to Steele.

Frost chuckled, shrugged, and stepped closer.

"We adapt, improvise, and overcome. You're going to have to be our new wild card."

"I don't do wild well, Gunny," Carris scoffed, but she managed a smile. She pushed her black hair behind her ears and looked back towards the hospital. "I don't think it was just telling him he wasn't coming that pushed him over the edge."

For a moment, Frost thought something occurred between the pair. Had they discussed what happened at the mine? Did she accost him for defending him? However right she may have been, what gave her the right to accuse and attack his friend?

His hands clenched into fists and he began to close the distance between them. Whether she was about to unleash the same argument upon him or her fists he did not care. Nobody could torment a wounded Marine in such a manner, one who was his friend, no less.

But she didn't seem to notice his aggressive posture. Her eyes seemed far away and her posture timid. As he began to slow down, Frost's fists opened. She did not look like someone who castigated another person. Rather, she looked more like a child who knew they did wrong. Although his anger was not fleeting, he was more confused than before.

Now only a few paces away from her, he stooped a little and craned his neck to try and meet her gaze. Her eyes had fallen to their boots. When she looked up, she seemed scared. "I told him."

Frost blinked, then laughed a little, and smiled.

"You finally told him?"

Carris nodded her head to the side.

"Yes I..." her brow furrowed and she looked up at him in shock. "...what do you mean finally, how could you possibly know?"

Smiling and chuckling, he came closer.

"Carris, everyone knows."

"Did Grant tell you?" Carris asked flatly, her brow straightening out and her facial features sagging.

"No, he didn't, but I'm not surprised he didn't figure it out. He doesn't exactly have the sort of social tact to figure that out."

This made her laugh. Frost shrugged. "We've all known for a while. We can see it clear as day. Not to be rude, but you weren't exactly being subtle. You're practically stapled to his side most of the time. You two delight in each other. I can't say whether or not Steele feels the same way you do about him, but you're certainly special to him."

Carris's blue eyes twinkled. But she soon shrugged, jammed her hands into her pockets, and looked away.

"I never thought I'd have these kind of feelings for anybody. Just wasn't part of the training. I was a little girl and they were teaching me how to effectively eliminate an enemy combatant with a knife without him making noise, disarming roadside improvised explosive devices with a pair of cutters, and how to field strip an MA5B blindfolded. Nobody taught me what to do with these feelings and now I'm groping around in the dark trying to figure everything out. I have so many skills, so much experience, even my body has been pushed beyond the reach of the average human being, yet I find myself so incapable, so uninformed, and so completely out of touch." She threw one of her hands up and shook her head. "What am I going to do about him?"

Frost nodded his head to the side.

"Louie's my best friend. Surprising, really. He and I are far from similar. Some college professors' son and the son of a couple urban workers put on the same uniform and somehow became brothers. I bet you in civilian life, he and I would have steered clear of one another. Steele could care less about honor, duty, military tradition, and just about anything if I think about. For him, it's all about booze, smokes, women, shooting, and his friends."

He came up and tapped her on the shoulder. "When we describe people who just stand out, we often write them off, don't we? Someone presses you about that person or this person, you just wave them off and go, 'Oh, they're a lot of things.' But Louie's not a lot of things. There's not much to him. I was raised listening to music that's six centuries old and was immersed in an environment that balanced academics with hard, rural work. I carry pieces of my family in me. But Steele didn't have that. We're his family, so he carries us in him. I doubt he'd ever admit or acknowledge that, or maybe he doesn't know that himself. Without us, he's empty."

Carris's eyebrows knitted together and she seemed to think deeply. Frost was not sure what to make of the expression on her face.

It was often difficult to read her. Steele never seemed to have any trouble, although nobody knew Carris better than him. They were all close and after living together in comfortable but ultimately cramped quarters. In that kind of environment, you saw multiple individuals' daily routines, unique mannerisms, and most baffling, disgusting, or annoying habits. Steele chain-smoked, openly read pornographic magazines, spent a great deal of time in the latrine with those magazines, took great effort to comb his thick crop of blonde hair or trim his mustache, and generally stayed in his rack rather than roam around the room. Although, he remained very sociable and possessed the ability to multitask. He could hold a conversation despite reading, grooming, or taking care of his gear. No matter what he was doing or what face he was wearing, Frost could figure him out in a matter of moments.

On the other hand, Carris was neat and tidy. Her routine was right out of the infantry manual. She would wash, eat, brush her teeth, attend to any details or duties required of her, and divided her time between training and mingling with the squad. Unlike almost everyone in the squad, she did not smoke, nor did she partake heavily in any alcoholic beverages when they were able to find some. What she read was taken from the ship's recreational area or borrowed from another individual. She never spent more than two minutes during a bathroom visit beyond her morning shower, which was kept under five minutes. While Carris was not as chatty as their scout sniper, slowly but surely she came out of her shell. Holding a conversation with someone was no longer difficult but she was not sure footed in sarcasm or comedy.

Still, it was remarkable progress for such little time. Sometimes, it still felt like she just joined the squad. Perhaps that was why he still found her difficult to understand; it was just a matter of time spent with one another.

When she looked up, she seemed forlorn.

"He kept saying what he was going to do if he couldn't be there for us. Tears were coursing down his cheeks and he was hysterical, just beside himself."

Her lips quivered and her blue eyes glimmered with tears. Before they fell, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "It was like watching his heart break."

Frost could feel his heart tighten. It was like a fist was clenching it. The feeling was beyond sadness or sympathy; he felt guilt for not being by his friend's side.

Carris smiled sadly. "It was horrible to see him that way. But he never lets on just how much he cares. In a way, I was happy to hear him say it. I just wish it could have been different, you know?"

Frost nodded and agreed.

"So, you told him. What did he say?"

"That he needed time," Carris said, kicking at a pebble-sized piece of concrete. She shrugged, hands still in her pocket. "I understand. It's not like I expect him to instantly reciprocate or have those same feelings. I mean, how could he? He's always got a woman in his room."

"Yeah, but those encounters don't mean anything to him." Frost closed one eye and tilted his head to the left, smiling cheekily. "Well, there isn't much that does, but still. But you do. We do."

Carris just nodded, looking down at her feet as she went from foot to foot. Frost watched her for a moment. "I'm glad you told him. It makes me very happy."
She looked up sharply, wearing a confused frown. Frost held up his hands. "I don't mean to sound condescending. But really, I think you and him, that's a good thing. For both of you. You help each other in a lot of ways, but it's more than that. I think you two are just real good pals and that can be very tough to find. Took me thirteen years and enlistment in the Marines to find my best friend. You two make each other laugh, you make each other happy. So, why not give it a shot?"

She sort of laughed, but it was exasperated and sad.

"Give what a shot? I don't know how to do this. I don't even know how you and Jasmine make it work."

"We were friends. We're still friends." Frost smiled, rather more confidently than he thought he was. "It never really stops being friendship. It just becomes deeper. There's a physical aspect, sure, and more importantly a commitment element. But if you're tight before that, you'll find it isn't that hard to stay committed once you take that next step. And the physical stuff? Sounds like a cop-out, but that falls into place so long as you don't force it. Do what feels natural for both of you."

"You're talking like he and I are already together."

"We shouldn't get too far ahead of ourselves, I know. But, it's important to have something to look forward to, or at least hope for," Frost explained.

"Whatever decision he makes, I'll respect."
"That's certainly kind of you. Shows what kind of person you are and what kind of friends you are to one another. But don't use that to deny your own feelings or decimate whatever hope you have. If you don't hope for it, what's the point of wanting it? If we're going to treat something without hope, what's the point of doing anything? Why fight?"

A nearby Warthog revved its engine, turned out of the maintenance shed it was in, and drove by. As it did, Frost and Carris were briefly illuminated in its bright white headlights. Finally gone, they were left in the waning twilight, reduced to a fading pink-purple haze in the distant sky.

Offering a kind smile, Frost patted on her on the shoulder again and walked by. "Don't lose hope, Carris. When he's awake again, go see him."

As he began to walk towards the barracks, he did not hear her footsteps following. He knew she was not following. Sometimes, a person was so deep in thought and caught up in the turmoil of their mind they just could not get their legs to move. Nobody understood that better than him.

"Frost."

He stopped and turned around. Carris was facing him, her face firm and serious. Both fists were curled into fists.

"This doesn't change anything between you and I."

"You follow my orders and we won't have a problem," Frost simply said.

Carris nodded, then her hands opened.

"But thank you for saying that."

Frost managed a smile.

"Thanks for being there for my friend."

###

Training and preparations continued. A great deal of the resources transported to the Port from Great Bear were steadily loaded onto the assault ships. Albatrosses were loaded with vehicles and rose to orbit, depositing their cargo into the bellies of numerous ships. Aircraft that were not rated for orbit entry were packed in as well; one by one Hornets and Army Falcons were brought skyward. Everything from MRE's and toilet paper to fragmentation grenades and armor-piercing ammunition filled supply holds. Slowly but surely, like a trickle of water, personnel who finished training were sent back up into the ships. Personnel levels in the Port began to decrease, as did the surplus of munitions, vehicles, weapons, medicine, and base building materials.

Personnel engaged in training and schooling for their new promotions graduated from their fast-track courses. Frost, having been promoted three times in under three years, spent a great deal of his off-time studying in the course. But he was proud to have finished and left feeling new skills resonating and gelling with his previous experience. Having been allowed to command his original squad by Major Holst was definitely a factor. Not having to be entirely detached from his friends on a daily basis and spend time with the headquarters element of his platoon was a welcome relief. Frost was a Marine, a ground pounder, a trooper with the Combat Action Ribbons to prove it. He wanted to fight beside his friends, not go up and down the platoon. Still, he felt the weight of his position and was prepared to follow any orders Royce gave him.

Master Gunnery Sergeant Swing was still pushing the Raiders very hard. Shooting drills, small unit tactics, formation maneuvering, ruck marches, field survival training, dive training, and even free-fall parachuting jumps became very normal. Frost relished both HALO and HAHO jumps. It was some time before he was able to conduct such training. In combat scenarios the jump was far more tense and focused. He remembered what it was like to free-fall on the Skopje mountain with Steele. Normally chatty, both were silent the entire Pelican ride to the drop zone. But in a training capacity, everyone enjoyed themselves.

It was bittersweet not to have Steele with him though. Instead, he found Captain Waters beside him most of the time. Day by day, she honed her infantry skills. She became a common sight among the Marines who seemed to enjoy her company. Frost supposed she was trying to win back their respect rather than simply trying to be popular. Many were still wary of the Navy officer who tried to clap their friend and stand-out Marine behind bars. But as the training intensified and the days grew long, they treated her like a fellow Marine. Tales were swapped, jokes were laughed or booed at, and they ate their MRE's together like regular leathernecks.

Vivian took on a new appearance in the time she spent with the Raiders. Her natural tan skin seemed to deepen as it was exposed to the sun and the elements. She gained more muscle and although she remained lean, she was certainly stronger and far more sinewy. For a time, he thought she entirely shed her posture as a Navy officer. Commissioned officers in the Navy held themselves in a certain way; Marines tended to insult them but Frost respected it. They were part of a military order that spanned the centuries and required more than just grit; it took cunning, skill, ruthlessness, logic, and efficiency. Like her Navy peers, Vivian held herself very highly. Her chin was always raised a little bit, her shoulders were very straight, and her hands remained folded behind her back. When she walked, she did so with authority, quite aware of the weight and power of her position as a leader of many crews. In a way, she was a captain of captains. Her gait was further compounded by the space walk, the peculiar wide bounds officers who spent great amounts of time in artificial gravity. However, having spent the better part of a year on the surface and learning how to move like a Marine eliminated such movement. Frost was sure it would return when she ascended to the I'm Alone once more.

Other Navy officers and even enlisted personnel were partaking in some of the joint exercises. Some only went as far as to practice with the Marines at the firing range. It was a start at least. Many hostile glares and standoffs continued between the two factions, but the threat of shouting matches and brawls were gone. Waters' presence between the two groups provided a balancing effect; she still held herself in a Navy manner but she was clad in the BDU's the grunts wore.

Frost could not help but admire her. It was not in her training at OCS and she took it far harder than the experienced Marines of the 89th MEU. Even after months of exercises, she was still liable to drop down and fall asleep after a ruck march while the Marines were able to stay awake. But she worked very hard and provided great encouragement to the men. Sometimes, after the day's training ended and the sun began to set, he would see her strolling through the Port. Everyone knew she used to wander the labyrinthine corridors of the I'm Alone. Even after spending so much time on the beautiful ship, many Marines still needed to consult the directory at every corner to traverse the ship. Some never ventured too far from their typical areas; quarters, galley, recreation area, training room, and the hangars. Even a number of the Navy personnel admitted they could get lost.

But not Vivian. She trundled through the halls without glancing up, deep in thought over some aspect of their operations. A few Marines tried to come up with nicknames for her. 'The Midnight Captain,' was one of them, although others preferred, 'The Ghost Captain,' seeing as she could be seen in one instance and then gone in another. In a way, he was not surprised to see her habits unchanged. Still dirty from the field, her face often coated in dust or mud, clad in smelly BDU's, she walked throughout the base. She would watch the Albatrosses take on their loads at the airfield or gaze at the frigates in drydock.

It was during one of these moments, a few weeks later, he joined her.

"Thought you'd go clean up and spend the rest of the evening with Jasmine," Vivian said to him as he walked up on her left. She was still in her field uniform and had an MA5B slung over her shoulder.

"Soon," was all Frost said, throwing his own rifle over his shoulder before folding his arms across his chest.

"Jasmine tells me your man Steele is recovering well."

"He's still sore he won't get into the suck."

"Good. He can use that during his rehabilitation and his assignments here. Maybe we can have him train replacements and participate in sniper school."

"Steele teaching replacements?" Frost clicked his tongue, whistled, and shook his head. "I think all the Commandants would be rolling in their graves if that happened."

Vivian offered a polite chuckle.

A Charon-class light frigate, called Frying Pan, was in the dock ahead of them. Its titanium armor plating glowed in the bright white lights of the shipyard. Night had already fallen and the aura of the lights created a dome like shape protruding out of the darkness. Red, white, yellow, and green lights, like little shiny pinpricks, dotted the shadows of the surrounding towers, cranes, and warehouses. Yellow, metallic scaffolding was erected like a city made entirely of bridges, lefts, and catwalks. From where they stood at the edge of the second airfield's tarmac, the mechanics and builders on the scaffolding looked like ants. Showers of glittering, orange sparks, poured from their welding torches. Sounds of drills, hammering, and shouting carried across the grassy knoll separating the airfield and the shipyards.

As he watched, Frost was reminded of late nights in Halifax. His family's urban home was near the docks. Although orbital travel was far more desirable for travel and the transportation of freight, maritime commerce was still responsible for much of Earth's global trade. He remembered how quiet it was even with ships coming in and out of port. Some of the light didn't carry far over the water, so they looked more like huge, cumbersome shadows gliding across the dark water. With the city subdued and quiet, one could hear the hulls creaking in the waves or the clatter of machinery within.

He looked over at Vivian. She was holding her chest rig with both hands, fingers tucked behind the exterior plate. A small smile tugged at her lips. A gentle nighttime breeze caught a lock of her blonde hair and cast it across her face.

She nodded at the Frying Pan.

"When I was a kid, I used to press my face to the glass of our apartment to look at the docks. I loved watching the ships being built and see all the little flickering lights. Shipbuilding is Skopje's biggest industry, did you know that? Life seemed to revolve around those yards. I wasn't the only one who enjoyed looking at the yards at night too. Seemed like everywhere you went, even if you were far out from the city, you could see them. Even on the darkest nights, you could see it all. We called them 'Skopje Night Lights,' because the flashes were so constant."

Vivian chuckled a little and shook her head a little. "I never planned on joining the Navy. But once I did, I never thought I'd see anything resembling home at all. The galaxy is just so huge and even with the Covenant advancing, there are hundreds of colonies out there. You can't imagine one world being like the next. It's one thing to look the same, but be the same? No. Every place is different in big ways or little ways. But those night lights, I loved them so much. I accepted that it would be a long time before I ever saw them again, and there was a chance I wouldn't see them again."

Her smile faded and she looked down briefly. For a moment, Frost grew concerned and thought about putting a hand on her shoulder. A simple gesture of understanding was often enough to bring someone out of their own mind. Before he could, she raised her chin and the little smile returned. "But here we are. Right on the frontier of UNSC space, at the head of a task force armed to the teeth, preparing to thrust into the unknown perils of the Covenant occupied zone. We can see all the reconnaissance images and read sheets and sheets and sheets of data, but we will never truly understand what's waiting out there for us. You couldn't be any farther from home than where we are now, and we cross the frontier, we'll be going somewhere we may not come back from."

Letting go of her rig, she pointed briefly at the shipyard. "But here it is. A picture of home. May just be a mirage, but facades like that aren't innately good or evil entities. Sometimes, they can taunt and torture us. Maybe a year ago, it would have been horrible to stand here and see this reminder of my homeworld. I can imagine it, feel it even; so terribly homesick I'd keel over."

She brushed the hair from her eyes and then folded her arms across her chest. For a moment, her mouth hung open slightly. Her eyes searched the yards, the glare of the lights glowing in her emerald green eyes. "But, it warms my heart to see it. I feel more at home than I have been in years."

For a time, she was silent. Frost was unsure of what to say but he was happy enough to listen. Suddenly, Vivian laughed a little and turned a little to face him. "Maybe I've just settled into the lifestyle. Just got used to ships and military bases and having so much sweat on my back I might as well be swimming."

"I'd like to say you get used to it," Frost joked.

"If you've been doing this for a decade and you're not used to it, then I'm a goner," Vivian said. Frost laughed. She gazed at him for a moment, a curious look sparkling in her eyes. "What do you have to see to remind you of home?"

"Oh, I dunno. It's hard to say. Sometimes I lived in the city, and other times in the country. Depended on the season. We had a decent parcel of land we raised horses on and grew flowers. Big, green country. I loved the way it looked when it was covered in snow."

"How ironic," Vivian mused.

"Trust me, it's not lost on me in the slightest." Frost sighed then, his smile fading. "But sometimes when I look at a snowy field, I can't see home. Can't feel it, like you can. It's just been so long. Last time I saw it was when I was sixteen and it was only for a short time."

"Seven years without seeing home," Vivian shook her head. "I can't imagine how hard that is."

Frost just nodded. He looked back at the yards, but could see Vivian looking at him out of the corner of his eye. Eventually, she looked forward. "Well, at least you have something to work towards."

He chuckled a little.

"Something to hope for."

"We're ready," Vivian said, turning to face him. "We pull this off, maybe we can all go home. Together."

Frost turned and saw she was extending her hand. She was wearing a confident expression, one that he could not help but mirror himself. He took her hands.

"Together."

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Author's Note: Would be a Vox story if there were people talking in twilight with wind in their hair. I liked this chapter, it was interesting; Frost is beginning to repair his friendship with Carris through their mutual friend, as well as forming one with Vivian. It'll be interesting to see how this turns out. Well, for you; I know what's gonna happen. I'm going to devote my available time to working on Marsh Silas in the next few days; I don't want to fall behind on two projects farther than I already am. I again got slammed with work this week and I'm feeling very unwell too, so writing has been slow. But I'm catching up, slowly but surely. Thanks everyone for sticking with me.

Gonna be short on comment responses too, because I gotta hit the sack right quick.

Comment Responses:

MightBeGone: Thanks for the support and encouragement, glad you're enjoying it so far. You can expect some more Steele and Carris stuff soon.

TheShadeOps: Jasmine's coming a little out of her shell too. She's less rigid now and although she's the literal angel of the battlefield, she's not going to baby people either. A little teasing is healthy and gets people out of certain moods if applied correctly and Jasmine certainly knows how to do it correctly! It's fun to write her like that. And hey, wouldn't be I'm Alone without the whiplash.

Wow, that's really something and it sounds pretty cool. I'd certainly like to see that. I've been thinking of downloading the Trebuchet mod but I'm trying to get more acquainted with Arma 3 before I do.

Qrs-jg: 50-50 chance when you tell someone you like them you get a smooch or they burst into fits, right? ...right? Or is that just me. Might just be me if I'm being honest...oh god I'm so lonely.