XVI

If silence had a physical form, Jacen imagined it would resemble thick obsidian clouds of fog that never lifted. It remained groundside, impenetrable and unyielding. No one said anything. What was there to say? They'd failed raids before, but it was always easier to retreat and try again another day. That simply wasn't the case now. This time they'd left something behind. A few things to be exact—Aiden and hope. There hadn't been a death in a year, but that didn't remove the sting. Jacen had a feeling the sting went beyond Aiden, however.

He glanced down at Naomi's head in his lap. She was conscious, at least. Her pulse was steady, although Jacen felt it fade in and out. He wouldn't know the extent of her condition until Dr. Mathinson examined her, but he was sure all of them would be visiting the good doctor. Aaron was sitting on Jacen's left, his head leaning against the padded interior of the cab. With everyone donned in their shades and thermal gear, it was impossible to see what their eyes could say.

Damon was on the right, shifting in his seat with Naomi's legs across him. He was sure he'd sustained some sort of injury in his back. The pain was unrelenting, coupled with the open wound just above his right knee. He was pissed, more than he'd been in some time. At this point, he felt he would snap at the smallest transgression. He hated that they agreed to this raid; he hated that he wasn't able to mark that Grunt before it blew both Aiden and the Engineer away. Aiden. Christ. He was one of the good ones, another man swept away in this pestilential war. If he'd just been fast enough, maybe he could've saved him. The probability was slim. In all his angst, though, he figured his emotions weren't even in the same realm as Rey.

The captain was practically mute, so silent that you wouldn't even know he was in the truck until you saw him. Damon could feel the crushing weight on the man's shoulders. The loss of Aiden, the loss of the Engineer, would be fresh in his mind for weeks to come—perhaps months. What was he thinking about? How was he processing it? Maybe it hadn't hit him yet. It had certainly hit Damon, and right away. The losses had exceeded the scope of words to express it. Neither Aiden or the Engineer were replaceable. Good men nowadays weren't easy to find; and an alien with the capacity to manipulate technology, to turn the obsolete into the new was certainly hard to find. They were dead. It was a difficult truth to accept, but that was their reality. There was no ignoring it now.

In a few hours' time, Kipp steered the M18 up to the camp's gates and waited for the lookouts to come down from their watchtowers to open them. They squeaked open and the truck roared on through, pulling into the vehicle garage. The lookouts shut the gates and secured them before returning to their posts. Kipp cut the engine to the M18, patiently waiting until the garage vented the Titan atmosphere and replenished it with breathable air and heat. When the levels read 100%, he removed his breathing apparatus and thermal gear around his head with an exhale.

Still, no one spoke.

Rey opened the door and stepped out, removing his gear. The others followed his lead and disembarked, their movements slow and cautions. They were coated in bruises, cuts with dried blood over them, minor burns, and sheer exhaustion. Jacen helped Naomi out of the M18, hooking her arm around the back of his neck to support her. He removed her gear, exposing a bloody nose, black rings around her eyes, and a laceration at the base of her head. She swept a few strains of sweaty hair from her face and glanced up at him before looking with downcast eyes. Jacen didn't need her to say anything; he felt it, and it hurt.

Before they entered into back into the main buildings, Rey halted his progress with a foot on the steps leading forward. His head went low with an exhale. He gripped the handrail, so tight that the fabric in his gloves groaned against the metal. Turning around, he faced the five individuals before him. There was an uneasiness in their eyes. If they were expecting him to have some sort of outburst, they would have to temper their expectations. He didn't have the energy.

"Listen, … before we head inside, we need to address a few things. For starters, no one outside of Astrid and DEV can know what happened." Rey looked into their faces, some of which were marked with mild confusion or no outward expression altogether. He needed them to understand. "We embarked on a mission with the goal of saving, not only our lives, but the lives of everyone in this camp. We failed." He pointed over his shoulder. "But the people in there can't know that. If they knew what we tried to accomplish here and its aftermath, they would lose any hope that they've held on to. For that reason, they can never know, and I'm counting on you to uphold that. Please. As far as their concerned, we carried another raid that resulted in the death… in the death of one of our friends."

The group shifted their feet. They didn't have an immediate response. In a way, he was right. Some of the survivors in the camp had lost much already—friends, family, homes, worlds. To know that a potential life-saving raid that would've possibly prolonged their futures failed would evaporate any reason to remain optimistic. No hope bred fear, restlessness, violence, and so much more that they just didn't have the resources to handle. On the other hand, maybe they had a right to know. It was their lives, their future. They didn't know. There was no right answer at this point.

"This was a difficult mission," Rey continued. "We knew what was at stake and… it didn't work out the way we wanted it to." He looked down and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Casualties are hard. All we can carry on with Aiden in our memories and not tarnish it. He would want us to keep fighting." Rey took in a deep breath before speaking again. "And if there's anything you want to say to me, now's the time."

If Rey expected a barrage of insults and speech laced with repressed anger and resentment, it never came. It surprised him. In a sense, he wanted to hear it. He wanted them to shout at him, to tell him that this was a horrible idea that cost of the life of a good man and resources they didn't have to spare. They would die on this moon and it was his fault. But no such accusations were hurled in his direction, only tired eyes and visible discomfort.

"I don't have cross words for you, Rey," Aaron said. "We tried, okay. We really did, but… we got outmatched. Am I pissed? Yeah. We lost a good man today; and worst yet, it may've been prevented." Aaron took a breath and spat blood-infused spit on the floor before pointing at his right temple. "In my head, it wouldn't have mattered if we planned for everything or not. War is chaotic and unpredictable. We all know that. It's a tough deal, but we gotta move forward."

Kipp shook his head. "And how do you expect us to do that? Let's address the elephant in the room here." Kipp waved his hand back and forth, displaying two fingers. "We have two years! Two years to figure something out or we're dead. Move forward? We'll be lucky to get back to square one."

"Yo, let's take it down a notch!" Damon mediated. "We know the situation, Kipp. What I think Aaron was trying to say is that we can't give up. We all just need to step back and then reassess. We're all on edge, disappointed, and hurt. Let's lick our wounds, take our lumps, and get it together. Like the captain said, we can't bring this attitude into the camp."

Aaron twisted his mouth and folded his arms. "So you expect us to be all smiles? Sorry, that's not gonna happen."

"You know what I mean," Damon replied.

"Then we can agree to talk about this later." Jacen walked past them with Naomi on his side. "I need to get her to medical. We could all use some rest. I know I do."

Jacen adjusted his grip on Naomi and walked up the steps. He regarded Rey with a subtle nod and exited the garage. The four of them left inside remained silent for a moment. It appeared the looming question of 'what's next?' was still fresh in their minds. However, they wouldn't—couldn't—answer that question now. Rest and time is what they needed now. To process anything even remotely coherent was borderline impossible.

One by one, they disbanded, filing out of the garage until only Rey was left alone. He stared out into the garage, not targeting anything in particular. His mind was soup, disconnected and unable to find a mental handhold. The urge to erupt was boiling inside of him, an almost primal rage hidden deep inside of him that required a trigger. This was his trigger. But the anger never came, not in the method he expected. All he felt was pain and fatigue.

"Captain."

The all-too familiar voice softly came through the garage speakers.

Rey closed his eyes. "Were you listening the entire time?"

"It wasn't my initial intention," DEV confessed. "The sensors detected your arrival and notified me. I apologize for the intrusion."

"It's fine." Rey opened his eyes. "You had to know sooner or later. Does Astrid know?"

"At this time, no. I presume you want to inform her of the details. It's not my place." The AI paused, leaving Rey to listen to the gentle hum of the A/C. "Captain, a recommendation?"

"Not now, DEV," Rey sighed. "Not now."

Naomi wasn't sure how long she'd been asleep, but guessing from the lethargy of her body, she imagined it was a while. The last thing she remembered was being carried through the cold halls of the camp, coming through the doors of the clinic and seeing the blurry faces of the aids and other personnel. She drew a blank after that, recalling nothing. Her body felt heavy, the simple action of lifting her head a monumental feat in itself. She wanted to speak, but only managed what she could comprehend was groans. The pain was there, radiating from her torso down to the soles of her throbbing bare feet. Even the sheets against her skin felt as if they were made from cheese graters. And all the while, she realized she hadn't even opened her eyes yet.

The bright lights hit her eyes, causing her to immediately shut them again. With a groan, she turned her aching neck in an effort to avoid the light, seeing a cloudy figure outstretched figure on a cot next to her own bed. She blinked a few times to clear her vision to see Jacen hard asleep, his bare torso wrapped in bandages and sown with stitches. His brown skin was blotched with purplish-black bruises and smaller lacerations. He looked how she felt, but she imagined she would face her own horrors when she eventually looked in a mirror. This life didn't give a girl much to work with, she thought.

Boots hit the floor nearby, growing louder and louder as they approached her bedside. A shadow loomed over her as a pair of hands began adjusting her IV. Naomi slowly turned, eyes squinting in the light to see Dr. Mathinson standing over her.

Mathinson reached over and gently took her wrist in his hand and glanced at his watch. "It's good to see you awake." He removed his hand. "Pulse is good. How ya feelin'?"

Naomi groaned.

"Dumb question, right?" Mathinson laughed. "Get comfortable. I want you to rest for the next 24 to 48 hours. You suffered a pretty bad concussion and a head wound. Needed stitches. I know the pain is bad right now, but you'll have to endure it for now. We don't have paid medication like we used to. What's in your system now is all I can provide."

Naomi winced, her head pounding. She averted her eyes away from Mathinson and looked over at Jacen. He was still asleep, oblivious to the world around him.

Mathinson followed her eyes. He touched her shoulder. "Don't worry, he's fine. I have him doped up right now. He sustained some burns, a pair of fractured ribs. Lucky man. Plasma burned through his tactical vest and clothing. The gel layer buffered most of the damage. Seems like you guys were in quite the battle."

Naomi wanted to tell him that he had no idea, that their injuries merely scratched the surface of the true experience. She wouldn't lash out at the doctor, though; he'd seen his fair share of devastation. Whether he sensed her emotions of not, he forced a half-smile and left her bedside. He said he would check on her in a few hours and departed from the room. The door barely closed behind him before tears swelled in Naomi's eyes and rolled down the sides of her face. She exhaled out quivered breaths, wanting so badly to scream aloud until her lungs burst. Maybe she'd held it in too long, a pressure cooker reaching its boiling point. Or maybe it was the last straw, the final nail in the coffin that was ready to be lowered down into the cold earth forever. But why was she feeling this way now? It angered her that she couldn't pinpoint the pain. All she could do was allow the emotions to ebb away and rest for another day.

Astrid figured she'd given Rey enough time. It had been twenty-four hours since they'd returned from the raid, and from the exchange with DEV, it was an obvious failure. To talk to him when the defeat was fresh would've been a mistake, she knew. Boiling water needed time to cool off when you turned the heat off, so he knew that Rey would need a moment. But what would she say? Words seemed fruitless. Nothing could be said that would heal the internal wounds that were inflicted. She almost laughed thinking about the psychology course she attended in college almost twenty years ago, learning how to reason and understand an individual. No one wanted you in their head, and you could never truly understand someone. This fact she knew, and it was something she wouldn't carry with Rey. Nowadays, after nearly three decades of war with the Covenant, who had time for a psycho analysis anyway?

She stood in front of his door that was wedged open. That wasn't good a sign. Inside wasn't much better, if not worse. The room was ransacked: tables and desks were overturned, papers were strewed about on the floor, and glass was shattered. She weaved her feet through the mess, taken aback by the sight but not surprised. No matter the strength, every man broke. For as long as she knew him, Rey was a man of composure and discipline. He was Army, through and through; but there was something more, something deep inside of him that kept a reign on things better than others. Nevertheless, water wear down rocks and war wear down people. No one was completely resilient.

She found Rey asleep atop his cot, his arm resting over his eyes and his left leg hanging off the side. There was a broken bottle of bourbon by his bedside, the miniscule contents pooled under the brown shards.

Astrid swiped a few particles of debris from the sheets and sat down at the end of the cot. She looked over at him and spoke softly. "Reymond."

Rey shifted, remained asleep.

Astrid raked her thumb across her eyebrow and elevated her voice. "Reymond!"

Rey awoke with a jerk, as if being prodded with an electric baton. He sat up with a groan, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut. One look into Astrid's face and he knew the ensuing conversation. He specifically told DEV that he didn't want to be disturbed, not by anything that wasn't seriously important. And now he had no choice but to face the only person he could describe as his living conscience. He swung his legs over the side of the cot and let his bare feet his the cold floor. With a sigh, he ran his hands over his face and glanced over his shoulder at Astrid.

"I know what you're going to say… and I'd rather not hear it."

"And how do you know what I'm about to say?" Astrid questioned. "I'm only here to make sure that you don't lose yourself."

Rey scoffed. "Lose myself? Am I supposed to pretend that everything is okay, that after what happened we still have a light at the end the tunnel? Sorry. I'm not built that way. I'll keep everyone alive as long as possible, but when those systems shut down, there's nothing I can do about it. We're dead."

Astrid folded her hands across her lap and chewed her bottom lip. Rey's mind was flooded with defeat. She couldn't pretend that she knew what is was like to have a weight of everyone's lives on her shoulders, but she did know what it was like to have people depend on you for success. If you failed, everything else around you would meet the same end. But to give up, to carry on as if everything was normal, didn't sit well with her. Maybe she was trying to view the glass half full, but it was her method to remain positive. To Rey, the glass was shattered like the bourbon bottle on the floor.

"Reymond, how long have we known each other?"

Rey turned away and rolled his eyes. He wasn't in the mood for a motivational pep talk, but if it meant he could end this conversation as quickly as possible, then he'd entertain her. "Subtracting the four years here, five or six years."

"And in all that time, we've faced a number of circumstances where the outcome seemed dismal. Do you remember the operation in south China? That was our beginning. It was my first op as the new logistics coordinator and we were investigating insurgent activity. You were a lieutenant then." She laughed. "Anyway, the op went sideways and the insurgents captured our deep cover team and threatened to execute them. I didn't know what to do. Under no circumstances were we to negotiate with them, so the only other option was either let the die or save them. No one wanted to risk their lives for four operatives, but you did. You volunteered yourself and your team and saved those operatives. You did the impossible. And from the moment forward, I didn't want to work with another soldier. It would always be Reymond Anderton."

"Is this the part where you draw a parallel between then and now? Because I can assure you these circumstances are very different."

"Reymond, in my career, I've worked alongside many powerful men and women. People who could level an entire civilization from their office with one phone call. And you know what? Not one of those people could do what you're doing now. They would fail within months. That's why you were chosen for this, because you and the other captains across his moon were the only people with the fortitude to get this done. I'm not saying this to boost your confidence; I'm saying this so that we can have a tomorrow."

Rey shook his head. "And what do you think this raid was about? It was so we could have a tomorrow, and a day after that. The Engineer wasn't a cure-all, but it would've given us time. Time for us to find a solution to getting in contact with the UNSC. Without time, then we don't have a future."

Astrid leaned forward, placing her hand atop his. "Then we have two years to figure that out."

Rey wasn't so sure, and Astrid's confidence in him was beginning to wear on his nerves. Had he completely failed? Probably not; but on it's face, this was a blow that they wouldn't be able to recover from. Now it was time that was more valuable that any resource they had. Rey wasn't one to believe in miracles, but if there was ever chance to receive one, then now was the time.