AN: No song for the chapter. I hold no ownership or claim over Call of Duty, Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare, or its characters.
Devon listened to the radio frequency with numb ears as Ferran and Reyes conversed. Their only partner in action was now prepping to leave the AO for their next operation, leaving Retribution to recoup and handle their's. She could still understand the conversation even without fully listening in, her mind dividing itself to listening and thinking. Ferran was right-they were Earth's only defense now, the only chance the planet had. It made Devon sink into her seat just thinking about the statistics and the probability of them succeeding in this war. Her brain couldn't compute even the slimmest chances and it made the matter all the more worse. She hadn't noticed that she was already off the runway and being turned around, her body having gone to autopilot like so many times. The jarring of her jackal nor the cacophony of equipment could shake her from her thought. That is until Raines came over the frequency.
"Commander Reyes, STRATCOM decrypted a fleet transmission form Admiral Kotch broadcast six hours before the attack." Raines reported.
"Roger Admiral. Go ahead." Reyes said. Devon braced herself for whatever her brother was up to, which usually meant no good. The feed that showed on her HUD jumped around, intel no doubt had trouble decrypting it by the way parts of the image went in and out. Her brother-still prideful as ever-was dressed in his battle-ready uniform, a hard shell comprised of the dark colors of a fleet commander. It was different outfit from the one she and Raines observed on Wolf's helmet cam. Salen would've known she'd see the feed and to avoid alerting leadership of what his choice in fashion meant, chose that of a "peace-time" suit. She studied the background, catching the C6s in the background, saluting him. She could see the various panels and consoles, leading her to believe the broadcast was done form the bridge. She files the information way in her brain to be used for later.
"Today the Front embarks on a conquest. Here and now we will eradicate the authority and influence of the Earth!" Salen wasn't shouting exactly but his voice was more than firm, full of conviction. But, his pacing and looking around, told her otherwise. He wasn't pacing to keep his audience attention nor looking around to meet the eyes of those under him. No. It was something else. Was he nervous? Nervous of what? "Our world is just beginning. Their's is dying! It is not enough to break free. We will break them! Their cities will burn along with the pages of their history. Mars aeternum." She fucking hated that saying. Devon leaned back further in her seat and rubbed her face in annoyance as Raines took over the conversation. She hadn't noticed that she was already in the hanger until Salt called out to her.
"Dev, you alright?" she asked, a drop of concern in her eyes.
"Fucking Salen." Devon mumbled before giving Salt a quick smile and shaking her her head, disembarking from the jackal. "But I see I did damage to that pretty little face of his." Reyes laughed and looked at her in disbelief.
"That was you?" he asked, pointing a finger at her. She nodded.
"Aye. When I was trying to escape, Salen tried to keep me on Mars. Tossed me into my own mirror. Took a shard and slashed his face." she said, with evil smile.
"Damn." Reyes said as they walked the lift. "Remind me to never piss you off near a mirror."
"That's an understatement." Boss said, joining in on the conversation. "Oh, and you boarded an enemy airship?" Gibson looked between the trio in surprise.
"Cannot confirm nor deny that, Boss." Reyes said, gingerly shaking his head.
"I'll take the as a yes." she said, as he passed her on his way to the lift.
"Take that as a hell yes." Salter said with pride.
"Making all kinds of history today." she commented.
"Not exactly the good kind, Boss." Devon commented. Boss dipped her head to the side as she started to walk away.
"True." Dev gave a small smile as the doors closed and the lift began to move.
"Hey, got a question for you." Salt asked, looking at Devon expectantly as she leaned against the railing. Devon nodded for her to continue. "What does 'Mars aeternum' even mean?" Devon looked her with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.
"You don't know?" she asked.
"If I did, would I really be asking you?" Salt asked, flipping the question.
"Maybe you like hearing the sound of my voice." Devon shot back. Reyes laughed as Salt shot her a dirty look.
"Ah, you're so full of it!" she griped.
"She got you there, Fever." Reyes said, still fighting through his laughter.
"Wait," Devon said, quickly pushing herself off the lift's railing. "you do?"
"Pfft, no." Salt defended, looking almost offended in the process. Devon rolled her eyes and shook her head at the act, knowing Salt enough to know she was lying.
"Okay, you tell yourself that." she joked. Salter's mouth dropped, her eyes wide as Reyes' burst with uncontrollable laughter. Her reaction brought smile to Devon's face. Oh, how she loved messing with her. It made it better because Salt usually couldn't tell if Devon was joking or being serious. Devon glanced over to Reyes who was doubled over and clinging to the railing for dear life.
"Salt your face…" he tried to say, fighting through the fit. Devon shook her head again she halted the lift. There was still work to do and she still had orders from Raines. She heard Salt sputter behind as she exited, Reyes nearly done with his one good laugh for the day.
"Where the hell are you?" Salt asked. Devon paused, one foot already off the lift, and swirled her upper body.
"I have to do the dossier of Salen." she calmly replied, before exiting the lift fully. The hall leading to Retribution's main communications hub was a mess. Wires poked out from walls and drooped from the ceiling. Panels are were laid haphazardly around as technicians and engineers worked round the clock to put the ship back together again. It was messier than the hall leading to the armory, but then again, she had only saw a small portion. Here she was seeing the full scale of the physical damage. There were other wounds, those not easy to see even to the trained eye. Those would take time, longer than the Retribution's repairs.
Workers nodded greetings to her if they dared, her reputation proceeding her. If they did, she returned the gesture with a nod of her own. Most, though didn't bother, preferring to keep off her radar and continued on with their task. Devon continued stepping over the various tools and equipment, muttering apologies as sent went. She felt one of her uniform pockets grow heavy as she walked and fished around inside until she found the culprit.
It was the necklace.
She had completely forgotten about in the midst of the fight and reviewing Salen's transmission. The thin chain looked like it could barely hold the Celtic cross that hung from it. Devon had feared that while it was still in her possession, it would break further and she would loose the main piece. The cross itself was simply designed. There were no fancy engraved signs air even a name etched into the back of the metal. A ring of equal simplicity was center just behind the cross. Devon could see within the grooves Mars' red sand mixed into clumps with Bradley's blood. She should've cleaned it before going to see Father Michael. But, it was too late to turn back, she was nearing the Chaplin's office.
Necklace was a religious symbol, something she thought Bradley had left behind along with his family when he join SetDef. It had been one of the things confiscated off of his person when he first taken into custody when he landed at the main port. Her first encounter with the man was behind an observation window while he was being interrogated by one her teammates. She had been the one to go through his personal effects and anything taken directly off his person. She had inspected his wallet-something she had found useless as it carries paper currency, identification, and one personal photo-his UNSA ID card, and the necklace. She had asked him about after he had been cleared the higher ups what was so special that he kept it on it at all times. But, he told her to 'fuck off' and left. When she arrived at earth, she had been visited by Bradley's brother and Retribution's onboard Chaplin, Father Michael. He had introduced himself and she was quick to draw the similarities between the two men. He confirmed her suspicions right away and never shied away about the topic of older brother.
In the beginning, she didn't have much trust for him, wondering if he would defected like his brother. But, that suspicion was unfounded and she felt ashamed for even thinking it. Michael was a much more compassionate than Bradley, caring deeply for those under his command and others. Devon had it easier to talk to him than to the shrinks she was made to see after her hospital discharge and the two would talk endless on family, drawing similarities and differences between their childhoods. It was one of the few times she enjoyed talking to someone about something other than work and it helped to strengthen her bond with those around her. She knew of a few times where Alder and the shrink tried to pry those personal sessions out of him. But, the Chaplin refused, saying it was confidential and he would not betray her trust as so many had before him. She thanked him afterwards, knowing if he, she would ended up on mandatory leave for another psych eval.
She stopped in front of the Chaplin's door, trying to come up with a way to tell him about his brother's demise at her hands. Michael still cared and worried for his bothers, even if the feeling wasn't mutual. She had caught him several times praying at the small alter behind his desk to his God to show Bradley the light. But, it seemed now that is brother would see nothing. Devon inhaled deeply through her nose and exhale through her mouth, preparing herself as she opened the door. Father Michael was the only one in the office, going through papers and notes the others had brought in.
"Ah, Devon." Michael greeted with a warm smile. It reminded her of her grandfather when she was young girl, back when everything seemed so innocent to her. "How are we today, my dear?" Devon stayed silent as she looked down at the floor and chewed on her lip. She raised the hand in front of her that held the necklace and waited until he rose his. When he did, she slowly lowered it into his palm. She heard Michael shudder as he felt the cool metal hit his palm.
"I'm sorry, Chaplin." she apologize still looking at the floor. She saw him nod as he injected it.
"Thank you, Lieutenant." he said.
"You're welcome, Father. Thought you might want it back. Maybe ship it back to your parents." she said, finally looking up into his sad but still smiling eyes. "I've heard they've been worried." He nodded again.
"Aye. Since he left us for the SDF, our father was trying to figure out if he did something wrong. I wondered that a few times myself." he thought out loud. Devon could tell by the look in his eye and how he stared off into space that he was reminiscing about happier times with him and decided she needs to excuse herself to grieve. But, he was still paying attention to and saw the slightest movement to the door. "Where are you going?" Devon paused in her step and opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
"I need to speak with the psychiatrists about coming with a dossier of how Salen works." she said, looking him straight with straight but sorrowful eyes. Michael had nothing but sympathy for her.
"That can't be easy…" he began, taking a step towards her. "rooting around in your brother's head." Devon exhaled as she shuffled her feet. She did not want to have this conversation with him.
"He's not my brother. Isemay made that very clear in the transmission she sent after I defected." she replied, mentioning the wrench by her name.
"But, you are still blood." he retorted. But he caught the warning look in her eyes and decided to change the subject. Though, it was not one she wanted to hear either. "You will need to rest at some point from it."
"I'll rest when I kill Salen." she said, her voice filled with malice as she harshly pulled the door open and left. She did her best to quell her anger she walked the short distance form the Chaplin's office to Communication. It helped…a little, though not not enough to the point her anger didn't make the communications specialists in the room lean away from her when she entered.
The communications office was the at the very end of the hall and served as the main hub for the entire ship. There was a smaller portion on the bridge, but only handle the transmissions and communicated with the other department onboard. The hub itself handle all communications activity on the ship. They tracked every call that was made, every email shuffled out to each department, and directed the calls to their proper destination. There were cubicles set up along the east side of the room where sailors and Marines could make video calls home to family during their allotted hours. Devon couldn't make such calls as anyone who cared about was on the ship and her real family had essentially wiped her from their memories .
Situated at the far back of the hub, was the conference room. It was large enough to hold a small meeting with the ship's leadership if need be was secure so if the Admiral or STRATCOM needed to speak with leadership, they could do so without anyone wiretapping. It was a real concern after an incident with one of the destroyers when an SDF spy had been found hovering outside the hall with a recording device that could hack into the communications link. After the man had been caught and prosecuted, leadership had every conference room set up with emitters that obscured any non-authorized leaderships devices. The room was also equipped with a speaker set in the middle of the table to conference call anyone in as well as a flat screen on the wall for face-to-face conversation.
A specialist seated at a terminal near the entrance, informed her the psychiatrist and STRATCOM were already set up in the conference room and were waiting for her. Devon merely gave a nod of acknowledgement as she passed the youngster on her way to the room. When she entered, she found they were already talking amongst themselves, going off the little evidence they had garnered from the video about her brother.
"Lieutenant Kotch." Raines created from the screen. Devon glanced up at him as she carefully lowered herself into a knew it was for formality purposes, but that didn't mean she had to like it.
"And where have you been?" head UNSA Psychiatrist, Rear Admiral Anaé Vidal, chided. Devon squinted at the speaker phone.
"Mind your own earwax." she shot back.
"That's not even-." she growled. "Oh never mind."
"Lieutenant Kotch, what can you tell us about your brother?" a member of STRATCOM asked.
"Well, he's pompous for one." she began.
"Obviously," Vidal interjected. "Everyone that confidently broadcast out to an entire nation about tearing down a whole planet six hours before the actual invasion."
"He's also calculating." Devon said, nearly cutting the man off.
"Psychopaths usually are." a member commented off to the side.
"He's not a psychopath." she said, almost sounding like she was defending him. It caught the others off guard. "A psychopath doesn't clues-am I right, Rear Admiral."
"Yes, that is true in most cases."
"He wants us to know that it is him. That all this destruction is by his hand." Devon continued. "He looks at an operation and works within himself with leadership every possible event that has a likelihood of occurring, no matter how small."
"But, you can not account for every possibility." Raines argued.
"He knows that. But he still tries to plan for what he can think of." Devon shook her head. "He will not go through with an operation if he didn't see a viable victory or an acceptable loss."
"And what would be an acceptable loss by his standards, Lieutenant?" she was asked.
"What happened over Earth when Olympus made the jump." she answered quickly. "He did not complete his objective of taking us out and gaining control over Earth. But, he did destroy nearly all of our fleet and the ATTIS is offline. That is an acceptable defeat." Members of STRATCOM leaned back in their seats and thought of the information she had just presented. It was almost near quiet and Dev swore she could hear the turmoil going through the speakers.
"Anything else, Lieutenant ?" Raines asked. She nodded.
"Yes, sir." she responded and tapped a few keys. She brought the beginning portion of Salen's broadcast and replayed it for everyone to watch.
"Yes, Lieutenant." a member said, agitated. "We've seen this already."
"Looking at his movements, his body language. The way he looks back and forth."
"So?" Vidal huffed. "He's addressing a cheering crowd."
"He's nervous." Devon informed. "There's something else we're not seeing, a piece of information we're missing."
"What could he be nervous about?" She shrugged.
"He could've received a threat from High Council or Command." she offered. "Maybe his position is at stake if this doesn't go the way they want it to."
"Is that idea really viable?" Raines asked. She shrugged again.
"Is the Front, Admiral." she said. "Anything is possible." She paused to think of anything else that might spook him. She knew one other reason but wasn't prepared to share it nor bring any harsh memories back tot he surface. She was interrupted for a brief second when she caught Ethan talking to the specialist outside the room. She couldn't make out what they were saying and lip reading was impossible because he had no mouth and the headset mic obscured the specialist's mouth. Devon turned her attention back to the screen, catching Raines' eyes.
"I know that look, Devon." he said, calling her out by her first name. He never did that, especially in front of a group like STRATCOM. They turned their heads to him when he did. "What's going through the brain of yours?" Devon exhaled.
"He could be nervous because of me, sir." she stated before quickly jumping back into the conversation. "You all know what I did and the training I've been through while in the Front." The men bristle at the thought.
"Yes, we know." Raines said. "Anything else?" She shook her head.
"Not that comes to mind, sir." she responded.
"Rear Admiral Vidal, anything from you?"
"No, Admiral." she replied. "This will be enough the begin the psychological profile and if I need anything else I will contact the Lieutenant."
"Alright." Raines said. "Let's get back to kicking SetDef's ass, laddies and gentlemen."
"Yes, sir." they all replied. Devon leaned back in her chair after before lines of communication ceased and let out a frustrated sigh. She could already feel the beginning of a headache and knew it from stress and dehydration. She glanced out the corner of her eye and found Ethan waiting patiently for her. He was waiting for her and wasn't going away anytime soon. Knowing she was just postponing the inevitable, Devon pushed herself up from the chair and left. He was on her the moment she stepped out of the conference room.
"Lieutenant, may I ask questions about your time on Mars?" he asked, blocking her path. Devon stopped dead in her tracks and gave him a hard stare.
"I'd rather not." she said with a shake of head as she attempted to move around him. But, stepped in her way again. The bugger was persistent, she'd give him that.
"Please?" he asked, like a small child wanting to be tucked in and told a bedtime story. She closed her eyes and sighed.
"Fine." she caved. She opened her eyes and look up at him. "But, I will need coffee first." Ethan followed her to the mess hall like a lost puppy, hoping to be her pet. If she wasn't so tightly coiled and in a bad mood, she'd silently entertain the thought that it was borderline cute. Thankfully, the mess hall was vacant despite it almost being chow time. Devon guessed everyone was still trying to put fires out. She gestured for him to take her usual spot at a table in the fire corner while she walked over to the coffee machine to grab herself a cup of dark liquid. When she reached the table, she saw he had taken her usual spot and gestured wildly with her hand for him to switch positions. He tried asking questions before she had even taken the first sip, but stopped him before he could utter syllable. He still had a lot to learn about her. She tipped the styrofoam up just enough for a sip before placing it on the table. She savored that sip.
"What do you know of Mars?" she asked, staring down at the table. Ethan was silent for a moment as his internal processor gathered textbook information.
"Harsh climate. Extreme cold and the soil is not best for growing food. It also has a longer year-687 days to Earth's 365." he stated. "The geography is pitted with craters, sand dunes, and mountains." She was impressed. For a robot he knew more than most. She nodded and took another sip.
"The people? The government?" she asked.
"Mars is controlled by the Settlement Defense Front, or SetDef. Its original mission was to enforce martial law on Earth's off world territories when the colonies started getting restless. They turned on their creators and ignited the Succession Wars. It raged for two years before the Charon Accords where they won sovereignty from Earth." he said, sounding like a history teacher reading out a textbook to his students. "The SDF is a militaristic society with authoritarian roots. Status is based upon loyalty. Military service is mandatory for males starting at the age of twelve and…voluntary for females." She heard the hesitation on the last part, and wondered if he attempting to tread lightly about the topic around her.
"Very good." she applauded before taking another sip. Ethan tipped his head to the side.
"What was your role in SetDef, ma'am?" he asked.
"Skelter pilot." she answered matter-of-factly.
"Women are barred from front line combat positions." he responded. She smirked.
"That's where I'm special." she replied.
"How?"
"My last name."
"Kotch?" he asked. She nodded. "I don't understand." She sighed and set down her coffee.
"Why don't you search that servo-computer chipped brain of yours." she said, leaning into the table. He was quiet for a moment as the circuits fired off with his search of information. When he finally found what he looking for, he stared at her.
"Salen Callum Kotch." he said. She blinked and smiled.
"My grandfather." she nodded. "He started this whole shite-fest."
"So, because of your grandfather," Ethan began, putting the pieces together out loud. "you were allowed to go into a front line position."
"It wasn't without trouble." she said. "I had to go through a battery of test before my case went before High Command and the Council. It took some time but, eventually I got in."
"How old were you?"
"Fifteen." she answered, a bit too quickly. Ethan was struck for a moment by how young she had been in relation to Earth's age of service. She had been fighting probably longer than the Captain or the Lieutenant.
"How does Intracore figure in?" he asked. He saw the instant reaction to the group's name. Even years later, the training still gave her nightmares.
"I went through Intracore training at eighteen." she answered, slower than the previous answer. "It wasn't something I wanted to do. But, the order was from High Command and I had to follow it." She paused to let it all sink in for him. "It was…a dark time for me."
"Why was that?" he asked, wondering slightly if he was intruding or making things worse for her.
"When you go through Intracore training…" she began. "they put you through most of the tactics you will later employ on the prisoner. Its meant to harden you, make you unbreakable."
"Why not all of them?"
"You don't…show you hand until the very end, I believe the saying goes." she said, looking off to the side. She didn't mention to Ethan that it was her mother and eldest brother's idea as well of making her quit the service and become a "real Martian woman". Ethan thought of the statement and what it meant hidden under the words. He approached it with caution.
"So, you were essential tortured." he stated. She gulped and nodded slowly, some of the memories coming to her. "Did you ever use your training?"
"Aye," she answered, hesitantly. "several times." Devon tried to keep herself together as her haunts and fears threatened to take over. She knew if they did, she would go back down that path again and she didn't know if would find the strength to go back from it again.
"Lieutenant Kotch to the bridge. Lieutenant Kotch to the bridge." Gator called out over the ships' intercom, breaking her ominous thoughts. She growled.
"I bloody hate it when they call me that." she mumbled under breath. She knocked back the last of her coffee like it were shot of whisky or vodka before crushing the cup in her hand and standing. "Later, mate."
"Thank you for the talk, Lieutenant." Ethan replied as she walked away. "It gave me a better insight to the Front." Devon paused at the door and gave him one of her rare smirks.