AN: A big thanks to my beta reader AuroraBlix, you are awesome! Also, go read her stories; they totally rock!
Disclaimer: Red vs. Blue belongs to Rooster Teeth, not me. I make no profit from this, and no copyright infringement is intended.
Chapter Two
Grif and Sister sat nervously, staring at the recruitment officer sitting across the desk from them.
"Right, so, you're going to report here Monday morning and join the other new recruits. You'll all go through basic together and then be given a placement exam to decide what job you're best suited for."
"What if I'm not suited to any job? I mean, I'm incredibly lazy and insubordinate. I bet I flunk out before we even get to the exam part. I'm really not cut out for this. I mean look at this flab – I haven't worked out in like, ever."
"Uh, people aren't actually kicked out very often. It's more cost effective to continue using a second rate soldier than to pay to train a new one who will be more likely to survive and get promoted and payed more, actually … "
"Wow. That's … brutally honest. How can I get your job?"
"Nice try, but there are only two kinds of people who get this job – career guys who refuse to retire, and guys like me who are good with people but shitty at everything else. You're not good with people. I can tell already."
"Are you sure you are?" Grif asked, raising an eyebrow skeptically. The recruiter frowned at him.
"Seriously dude," Grif continued, "I can't do this. My sister is only thirteen. I have to be here to take care of her."
"Hmm … yes that is a problem. We weren't able to locate your mother. How long ago did you say she left?" The recruiter looked at the siblings suspiciously. Sister and Grif glanced at one another and shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
"Two years ago," Grif lied. "After I turned eighteen. I'm her legal guardian," he specified. The recruiter typed a few things into his computer and waited a moment.
"We have a protocol for this sort of thing. Families of soldiers that live on bases in safe areas will often foster war orphans – "
"I'm not an orphan!" Sister cried.
"No, of course not, but I'm sure a place for you with one of these foster families can be found, just until we locate your mother."
"You have got to be kidding me!" Sister said angrily. "I'd rather take care of myself!"
"I'm afraid that can't be allowed until you are at least 16, miss."
"That's bullshit."
The recruiter just shrugged. "I don't make the rules."
Grif just sat there while Sister fumed, head in his hands. The recruiter droned on, explaining that Sister would report in with Grif on Monday and a UNSC social worker would escort her to her assigned foster home.
Both Grifs were numb by the time they got home to the run down little house their mother had left them in. Two days, that's all they had left together. Grif pulled a bottle of vodka and a pack of Oreos toward him as he collapsed on the couch. He reached for the remote, but stopped halfway there and slumped back into the couch again, leaving the room dark and silent. Sister watched him for a moment, then retreated to her own room, the door clicking quietly closed behind her. Grifs were notoriously loud and boisterous people. When they went quiet, that was when something was really wrong. The house was silent for the rest of the day.
When Grif's rumbling stomach finally brought him out of his stupor, he got up slowly and lumbered into the kitchen. He couldn't bring himself to eat though. The rumbling in his stomach was actually making him a bit queasy. He went into his room instead and looked around, then slowly began piling what items he was allowed to bring with him on his bed.
After a while he realized he really was hungry. He stared at the picture of him and Sister with their surf boards in front of their favorite diner on the beach that had been taken last summer. That was the day she had braided those stupid orange beads into his dreads. "To match mine, because we are bffs," she'd said. That was the day her friend Rory had moved to California. She'd taken it pretty hard. With a pang, Grif realized he'd soon have to shave those dreads he'd worked so hard on, with their stupid orange beads. Grif walked quickly down the hall to Sister's room, still holding the picture. He opened the door and stopped dead in surprise.
Sister was sitting on the floor in the middle of her room, the mascara he told her she was too young to wear streaked down her wet cheeks. She was holding a pair of scissors in one hand and her blue and white "Honolulu Junior Spartans" cheer leading outfit – or what was left of it – in the other. There were corners of posters hanging from bits of tape on her walls, and Grif could see the torn remains of several USNC posters from last fall's Career Day at school crumpled in the trash can.
Grif had forgotten – Sister had wanted to be a pilot, or an ODST, or a Spartan, since she was ten. She had a Master Chief birthday party that year, and said she was going to marry a spartan when she grew up. Sister loved heroes and justice and honor. For him, a draft was a literal prison sentence. For Sister, it was a betrayal – a loss of innocence, of trust.
"Hey," he said softly. "Let's go to the diner. We'll take our boards and catch some waves."
"I've got homework," Kai said dully without looking up.
"Fuck homework. We're going." Grif grinned at her and pulled her to her feet. Sister stared at him for a moment in surprise and then returned the grin.
%
Hours later, Grif and Sister lay on their surfboards, drifting in the current just off shore, staring up at the stars.
"We should get matching tattoos!" Sister said excitedly.
"You're kidding, right? You can't get a tattoo; you're thirteen."
"I can with your permission. Besides I know you got your Blade tattoo when you were like fifteen, and you didn't even bother get it done professionally, just by your amateur friend. Let's go get real traditional Hawaiian tattoos!"
Grif snorted, "Traditional Hawaiian tattoos? Sister, we live in the 26th century. There's no such thing anymore. That shit's for tourists. There's hardly anything left of what was Hawaiian culture."
"I know a guy who does the traditional style. We should get matching Ala Niho! They symbolize, like, a warrior and protection and family lineage!" she said with breathless excitement.
"Well, what would you need the leg stripe for it if symbolizes a warrior and protection? You're not the one fighting. And it had better stay that way," Grif glared at Sister in the dark, and she glared back. "Besides, weren't warriors supposed to earn their tattoos first?
"I thought it didn't matter because Hawaiian culture is dead?" Sister stuck her tongue out at her brother, who sighed. "Besides, you know what Mom always said – we can trace our Hawaiian heritage back 1000 years!"
"That's a load of bull, Kai," Grif laughed.
"I don't think it is, otherwise why would it be so important to Mom?"
"Oh yeah, family is real important to Mom." Sister was quiet, and Grif finally sighed in resignation. "Fine, we'll get tattoos."
"Yes!" Sister raised her fists in triumph, and they paddled back towards the beach.
%
Sunrise had Grif and Sister staggering back into the house, exhausted and sore, sporting their new tattoos extending from hip to ankle: a sea turtle on the hip with a line of shark teeth and shells, symbols of protection and good fortune, and a line of ocean waves, to remind them of home, descending all the way down to the ankle, ending a shell shaped like a hook. And just to prove he could stand more pain than a thirteen year old girl, Grif had also gotten an angry looking shark, still in the tribal style, on his left pectoral, over his heart.
"Well, that was an experience," Grif sighed. "Time for sleeping now." He collapsed without further comment on the couch, and was snoring in moments. Sister grinned, then sighed and curled up in her own bed to sleep the morning away.
When Grif woke it was afternoon. There was a message on his cell - movers would be coming to put most of their things in storage, and a realtor was going to rent out the house. On the bright side of all this, that rent would go toward a nice little nest egg for the two of them, or the one one of them, if Grif didn't survive this ordeal.
Grif pushed that thought away and went back to Sister' room to find it already entirely packed. They didn't have all that many belongings, after all.
"Hey Sister," Grif said. She was sitting on her bed, staring into space. He walked up and tugged on the one dread lock in her otherwise smooth and tangleless hair – the one with the matching orange beads in it.
"You'll have to cut yours," she said miserably.
"I was thinking … maybe you'd do it for me," Grif replied. Sister looked up at him and nodded. He sat down on the floor in front of her and she picked up her scissors.
%
It was raining. Their ships had been supposed to take off at ten that morning, but a tropical storm had blown in that night and grounded all air traffic. They had spent a few more hours together in the terminal, playing cards, reminiscing, and dreading the moment the storm passed. The clouds were clearing now, despite the rain continuing to fall in some places, and the sunset was blood red.
"Red sky at night, sailor's delight." quoted an overly cheerful marine sitting nearby. Sister glowered at him as Grif sighed and picked up his bags. It was time.
"Well Dex, this is it."
"Remember what I told you – " Grif started.
"I know, I know – keep my grades up, keep out of trouble, and stay away from boys. And you promise to be careful and be awesome!" She grinned at him and they embraced.
"I'll message you all the time, and I promise I'll be home as soon as I can," Grif whispered, stroking her hair.
"I know," she whispered back. Grif pulled away and made his way towards the ship that would take him half way across the galaxy. When he was almost there Sister saw him turn back toward her and she grinned. She knew what he was going to say.
"Don't embarrass the family!" they shouted in unison. She laughed and waved a hand – now braceleted with one of her brother's dreadlocks, orange beads, and a yellow ribbon. That was the last time she saw her brother for a very long time.
%
Sister sat on the shuttle that was taking her to her new place of residence – she refused to call it home – and clutched her bag tightly to her chest. She'd never been off planet before, and it felt wrong that her fist time should be like this. What should have been exciting instead made her want to cry, and she had promised herself she wouldn't.
There were no windows on the shuttle, nor any in the area the shuttle docked. Sister thrust her arms through her backpack's straps and began lugging her larger duffel down the ship's ramp. She suddenly realized that she shouldn't have bothered bringing even half her clothes – the Moon was awfully cold, and layering doesn't do much good if all you owned was shorts and tank tops.
Sister looked around the shuttle bay for someone waiting for her with a sign or any indication of where she was supposed to go. The UNSC's social worker that had put her on the shuttle had assured her that her new foster parents would be waiting for her when she arrived. There was no one here that looked like they didn't work here. Sister sighed and grumbled something rude under her breath and headed for what she thought was the exit. She let out a squeak of fright when a shadow loomed over her shoulder and spun around to face a frighteningly large man. She couldn't see his face – he was in silhouette because she had to look straight up into the overhead lights on the ceiling because she was so much shorter than him and he was standing uncomfortably close.
"Umm … " Sister wasn't sure what to say. "Just my luck. What will Grif say? I've probably somehow already ended up where I'm not supposed to be," she thought.
"Hello!" the man said loudly, and he leaned down toward Sister, his face only inches from hers. "Are you … Kakanaka?"
She cleared her throat nervously, "Kaikaina, but most people just call me Sister." Sister took a step back and stared – now that she could see – at the golden skinned man, no, boy with bright curious eyes and messy brown hair in front of her. He was only a few years older than her and gave off the distinct impression of a lost puppy.
"I'm Michael. I'm your new brother!" he said excitedly. Sister had to work hard not to make a biting comment – it wasn't this kid's fault Grif has been stolen from her, after all.
"Uh, nice to meet you I guess. Where are your parents?"
"Dad's working. Mom's making supper. She sent me to get you. I'll carry your bags." Michael picked up her duffel and grabbed her bag right off her back, lifting her off the ground slightly before she slipped out of the straps.
"Oh, uh, thanks," Sister said as she rubbed her shoulder. She gaped at Michael – he lifted her bags like they were empty. "You must work out a lot."
"No, I'm just naturally strong. Dad says it's God's way of compensating...and then Mom shushes him and says I'm going to get into college, and then Dad laughs. I don't understand grownups."
Sister understood. Mostly because her teachers treated her the same way. Everyone thought she was stupid too. But then again, she perpetuated that idea purposefully. She didn't think that was the case here.
"My brother wants me to go to college," Sister said. "I think school is boring though. I'll take a ship out into the stars any day."
"Yeah, that sounds kinda scary."
"That's what makes it awesome!" Michael's face scrunched up in concentration; he didn't comprehend her logic.
"Mom says that we need to 'better ourselves.' She'll make sure you stay focused on school. My older sisters mostly just got married, but she wants the rest of us to go to college."
"How many siblings do you have?" Sister asked.
"Well, I'm the only boy, the middle child of, let's see … you'll make number eighteen."
"Holy shit!"
"Oh, you'll have to put a quarter in the swear jar for that! Mom's real strict."
"You're kidding, right?" but Sister could see from his expression that he wasn't. "Um, Michael, are all of them your biological sisters?"
"Well, I consider them my real sisters, but … " he looked around uncomfortably, "about half of them are orphans." He whispered in a sad tone. "But it makes me angry when people treat them different. They're still my family! And now you are too. You're even named Sister! That will be easy for me to remember," Michael smiled happily. He strode through the halls of the moon base, and Sister followed, thinking.
Was this how bad the war was, really? The system had already written her off as a war orphan and Grif hadn't even begun basic training. She watched the news, but how much worse was it than that, really?
"Michael, what do your parents do? They must have a lot of money to take care of so many kids." If Sister had ended up the pity case of some rich philanthropists she would just die.
"Not really. Dad's a waste management technician. Mom takes care of us." Michael stopped, and Sister almost bumped into him. "We're here!" he said happily.
They stood in front of a somewhat shabby looking apartment building that was the same color grey as everything else on the moon seemed to be.
"We're number five," Michael said. "I'm jealous actually; the girls get all the bunk beds." Michael opened the door and Sister was accosted by the shrieks of many small children and a delicious smell that she assumed was dinner.
"Mom, I found her! She's really nice and pretty!" Michael shouted. A middle aged woman stepped out of the kitchen and looked Sister up and down.
"Goodness, didn't you pack anything appropriate to wear?"
"Well, I am from Hawaii."
The woman smirked. "That's all right, I'm sure we've got some of the older girls' things that will fit you. Michael, take her things to the girls' room and gather everyone up please. It's time for dinner."
"Okay," Michael wandered away.
"Kaikaina, you just go ahead and sit down. You'll have chores and whatnot like the rest of the kids, but we'll give you a couple days to settle in."
"Thanks. Umm, so what do I call you?"
"Oh that's right, you've still got family they told me. You probably don't want to call me Mom in that case. Though why a woman would go and leave her babies to fend for themselves, I'll never understand."
Sister frowned. She had never resented her mother for leaving them. Kai believed a person should follow their dreams. She loved that her mom had done so even though she was no longer young.
"Well, I guess you can just call me Valerie, or Mrs. Caboose." Sister raised her eyebrows. "I know, it's an odd name." Michael's mother smirked. Sister was getting the sense that she did that often. Of course, with eighteen kids, she imagined one would go mad without a sense of humor.
"That's okay, everyone just calls me Sister."
Mrs. Caboose laughed, "Well, you'll fit right in then. We've got lots of sisters. Actually, you're the oldest girl in the house now. Half my babies are already grown. Michael only has a couple of years left of school. I don't know what his poor father is going to do when he goes off on his own."
"I heard someone talking about me," a jolly voice boomed. A man that by his looks was clearly Michael's father stepped into the kitchen and kissed his wife. "You must be Kaikaina," he said, looking down at her, "Welcome to the Caboose clan!"
At that moment Michael came in carrying two toddlers, with another clinging to his leg. As he staggered into the room 5 more girls who looked ages ranging from around six to ten swarmed in around them.
"There's my girls!" Mr. Caboose scooped a pair of them – twins by the looks of it – into his arms.
"Everyone, this is Kaikaina," Mrs. Caboose said. "She prefers to be called Sister. Make her feel welcome, and don't pester her until she gets settled in." The littlest girl, who looked about 2, clambered into Sister's lap and stared at her with enormous blue eyes.
"Olivia, come get in your high chair!" Michael scooped up the child and Sister shifted uncomfortably. As everyone settled down at the table Sister felt little hands grasp hers on either side and tried to keep her eyes down as Mr. Caboose said a prayer. She ate in silence as the rest of the Caboose clan raucously talked about their days. This family was just the opposite of hers, and Sister wasn't sure she could handle taking it in all at once.
Much later, Sister was curled up on her top bunk of one of the five sets of bunk beds in the girls' bedroom trying not to make any noise as she shook, trying to hold in her sobs. She heard the door squeak and held her breath as footsteps approached her.
"Kakanaka? Are you awake?" It was Michael. "I'd like to show you something," he whispered. Sister opened her eyes. Michael was so tall he was looking straight at her, though she was on the top bunk.
"What is it?" Sister whispered.
"It's a surprise."
Sister sat up and quietly dropped to the floor. She slipped on her flip flops. "Okay."
Michael took her hand and led her to the living room, where he pulled a blanket off the couch and wrapped it around Sister. She saw the pillows and blankets piled their and her eyes widened.
"You sleep on the couch? You don't have a real bed or room?"
"I don't mind. It's a really comfortable couch." Michael led her to the door.
"Where are we going?"
"You'll see." She could see his grin even in the dark.
They walked for a while after they left the apartment, until they came to a grassy park the size of a football field, the grey walls giving way to a clear domed shell overhead.
"Nice to see this place isn't completely barren," Sister muttered. Michael grinned at her, then spun her around.
"Look," he said.
Sister gasped. There it was, in all its blue and green majesty. Earth. Home. The first picture of it had been taken almost 600 years before, and now she was seeing it from the outside for the first time. And it was just as exquisite as she had thought it would be. The tears she had been holding in all day started to fall.
"Ah, I'm sorry!" said Michael, alarmed. "You said you'd never been off planet before, so I thought you'd want to see. I'm sorry if it makes you homesick."
"No it – well it does, but sort of in a good way. Thank you, Michael Caboose, for showing me something so wonderful." She smiled through her tears. He smiled back and put an arm around her blanketed shoulders. They stayed there for a while and just watched the world go by.