Chapter Two: Crossing the Line
June 17th, 2568
Fort Keyes, Minerva, Lambda Rho System
Gunfire flashed across Andrew's vision, painting the sky with vapor trails and tracer lines. His VISR flickered, recovering from the blast. Suddenly he was moving, no, being dragged. Several Marines pulled his body towards the compound gates. By the time he shook his head clear they were beyond the threshold.
"Spartan G199, the lone wolf hides among sheep," the Sergeant shouted.
"But the flock pays no mind," Andrew replied. The Marine shook his shoulders. It was a violent shaking, well beyond the strength the man should contain. Andrew's eyes snapped open. Reflexively he threw a punch, connecting with Caster's jaw. Andrew huffed, cold sweat trickling down his temple. Sam sprawled across the floor.
"What the fuck was that for," Caster shouted. Andrew came to his senses.
"Jesus fucking Christ Sammy boy! Why the fuck would you try to shake me awake like that," Andrew demanded.
"You were thrashing about old man," Sam retorted.
"Old man?! I'm a year older than you Sam," Andrew exclaimed.
"You also have more trauma than the rest of the team combined," Sam yelled back. Just then Thermer walked in from the bathroom.
The two Spartans were visibly irate with one another. "Cool it both of you, now! I want an explanation. Andrew, what the fuck is the malfunction," Thermer commanded.
"Well Boss, I was having a night terror. Sam tried to wake me up and caught a right cross in the process. He's a bit salty about it. Not my fault," Andrew replied to his team leader.
"Not your fault? WHO THE FUCK WAKES UP SWINGING LIKE THAT," Sam cried in protest.
"A WELL TRAINED SOLDIER, YOU FUCKING SHIT BIRD," Andrew yelled.
"ENOUGH! Sam, take a hike. I'll speak with Andrew. I can't do that with you being a shithead though," Thermer ordered. Sam stormed off. The sniper was pissed. He had every right to be, too. What he thought was helping his brother in arms was rewarded with a bruised jaw and a dismissal from their leader. Phoenix was a family and getting shit for being just that was more than enough to make anyone steamed. He slammed the barrack door shut behind him. Andrew sighed heavily and looked at Thermer somberly. Sweat rolled down his face and dripped from his chin. Thermer knew those sweats. All soldiers had them at one point or another. The terrors and fight response were dead giveaways.
"OUTCAST again? Andrew, this is the fourth night in a week. Talk to your therapist and get your dosage increased. I get that it's been stressful since we got stationed here, but I can't have you punching the wall or breaking the team's jaws everytime you startle awake," Thermer said.
"Jesse," Thermer stared him down, "Boss, I'm on the highest dose she's willing to put me on. Look, King and I are working on something that might help me. I'm putting OUTCAST down in writing. All of it. Every detail I can think of. Just give it some time. Please," Andrew asked.
"Fine. Get it done. It better work or I'm making you three man and giving second to King.
"What about your first field mission for them? What did they have you do," King asked as he sat down across from Andrew. The Spartan in question shifted as he tried to remember just what happened.
"This was the point of no return wasn't it? The point where you crossed the line," King asked. Andrew nodded in response, this was the primer. In truth, his guilt didn't just stem from the end of the operation. It built up slowly over the entire eleven months.
"I told you that I learned to make IEDs for them. My first mission was to ambush a supply caravan. I intercepted their orders prior and knew where they'd be going. I'll never forget it. The crimson lance of fire that blew through that first warthog. The one behind it flipped as it tried to avoid the wreckage. The gunner, his spine bent the wrong way. It was disturbing. The rest of the caravan stopped. I blew the second bomb, sent the rear guard toppling through the air like a leaf on the wind. The final warthog, well they didn't have time to react. I put so much lead down range. I hit the ammo box on the vehicle's LAAG. The gunner, there were so many holes. He was gone before he knew where I was. The passenger and driver weren't any better either. The drivers and passengers of the other vehicles all bailed and found cover, just like doctrine dictates. They knew where I was firing from, they didn't know there were more bombs. My ambush was perfectly planned. There were three meter embankments on either side of the road. I had the high ground. It also meant I could bury smaller anti-infantry devices on the other side of the road. I set those off too. After the return fire stopped I marched down into the kill box I had created. I put an extra bullet in any soldier I even thought could survive long enough for med-evac to arrive. The insurrection troopers who came with me were shocked at the efficiency of it all. The engagement lasted less than five minutes. When we got back to the compound I found out what our stolen goods were; food, radio equipment, tools, but nothing we needed. In my mind I took innocent lives for nothing. The commander commended me for my actions, stating it was the first time something like that had gone so smoothly. I wanted him dead."
Andrew remained silent. He stood up, walked over to his footlocker and retrieved his whiskey. He offered a glass to King who declined with wave of his hand. Andrew poured himself a double shot and poured one out on the metal floor for the men and women he had slaughtered that day. He downed his drink and returned the bottle and glass to their home. He resumed his story as he sat back down.
"I wanted that man dead, but not as bad as I wanted my handler dead. The fucking spook gave me high praise when I sent my report. Said that Chief Mendez and Lieutenant Commander Ambrose would be proud of my 'ruthless efficiency and use of natural barriers.' I like to think I knew the men who trained me well, I know they would have been appalled by my mission. This mission was not what I trained for and it was certainly not what Ambrose or Mendez wanted for the Spartan Three program. I still want to gut that slimy spook for that comment."
"How much of yourself did you have to sacrifice that day? How much did you give up in order to kill those troopers," King asked. His usual snark filled voice carried the weight of genuine concern. He didn't expect Andrew to sound so solemn today. Especially after hearing about what happened with Sam that morning. He had known Andrew for almost six years now. In all that time the Spartan-III had only two settings; asshole and combat. Andrew's voice was devoid of his normal jovial taunting. It held none of the calm neutrality of his commands nor the wrathful venom of his berserker episodes. It contained within itself a great sadness. A mortified, traumatized tone that sat right with neither of them.
" … I don't know." The hesitation, the three simple words, the dull look in Andrew's eyes. Nothing sat right with King. An alarm jarred both of them to the real world. Andrew stared at it for a brief moment. "Gotta go to therapy. We'll work on this later, aye?" With that said he went about saving the progress on the data-pad and left the barracks.
The medical wing of Fort Keyes was rather welcoming. Stark white walls were littered with holo-stills of beautiful vistas, empowering skylines and other imagery. Andrew knew why; it was to help remind soldiers of home, why there were out here in the far-flung corners of the universe, give them something to look forward to when they were discharged after combat took more than just their conscience.
Many of the patients here would think Andrew to be out of place. No injuries, no limp, not even a sniffle or cough. The staff already knew where he was headed though. He pushed into the psychiatric clinic and checked in. Almost immediately a door opened and a young woman called for him. He entered the room and by the time the door closed they were both seated; Andrew lounging comfortably in the large couch and her sitting with her legs crossed in an armchair. She hit a button on a data-pad and began to speak.
"Good afternoon Andrew. How have you been the last week? Please remember, the recording is for my ears only. No secrets." She placed her fingers in front of her face and swiped from right to left in a downward arc. The Spartan sign for a smile. The simple gesture meant many things; welcoming, understanding, trust, etc. She knew it would set him at ease even on his worst day.
For two hours they talked. Discussing his dreams, the project King was helping him with, punching Caster in the jaw, Thermer's reaction to it all. She for one was delighted to hear of his project and said that she would read it after they were done. He was happy to get approval from her instead of skepticism. She had tried for years to get him to open up. She also noted that she couldn't up his dosage, as he expected. By the time they finished Andrew's mood had shifted significantly. A slight smile tugged at his lip. He could honestly say that end the end of his visit that he was happy.
