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Halo: Shadows of Hope

Chapter 10: Aftermath

Chi Mu System, Settlement 01 ("Thunderville")

Planet Hope

Dawn had come, but the dead were still walking.

Walking among them, Petty Officer Second Class Isaac-039 found himself reminded of an old horror movie he'd managed to watch years ago. While genres such as science fiction had pretty much petered out into extinction, classics such as horror were still able to find an audience. And part of the producer's take in that particular download was that the undead could only come out at night. Trash perhaps, but enjoyable nonetheless. And walking across what was once a battlefield, the living stumbling around like zombies and on the brink of collapsing to join the dead, it was a case of déjà vu, and an unpleasant one at that.

We won the battle...the Spartan-II thought, watching as one local's legs gave way, collapsing from exhaustion. But not the war...

Words that had been said many times, but considering how scarce UNSC victories could be in this conflict, words that sometimes needed to be said. And after all, the Battle of Hope, if it were to be named as such in the future, was still on. A single Covenant attack had been repelled, but there was no guarantee that it would be the last.

Looking at the desperation in the living's eyes, the same milky white the zombies had, it was clear that the planet's name wasn't providing the emotion.

Keeping his footing despite the slipperiness of the slope that had become a battlefield, Green 5 glanced up at the sun, its glare reflected by his visor. It wasn't the largest ball of plasma he'd ever seen from a planet or moon, and there'd even been times when he hadn't been able to see one at all. Still, it was shining and providing a degree of warmth, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm that had struck yesterday. Isaac didn't believe that there was any supernatural force at work, but if the reactions of the bearers of the dead were anything to go by, the heat was already starting to cause the bodies to stink. Alien bodies had been piled up awaiting incineration, human bodies were being sorted into body bags, but decomposition was currently ahead in the race. That, and not every body always had all its limbs attached or was even distinguishable. And to make matters worse, practically all of the bodies were from ground pounders or civilians, with practically no ODST ones. So while Green Team and the Helljumpers that had descended with them were acknowledged as sealing the earlier battle in humanity's favour, there was still an uneasy dichotomy in casualty rates. And while it had saved the Spartan-IIs from handling the dead, Isaac still felt guilty over it.

Orders were orders though, as Joshua had pointed out. And after all that had happened, Isaac was still willing to comply by that philosophy.

Wonder how the other guys are doing? the super soldier wondered, idly nudging a dead Jackal with his foot while watching another Pelican descend from orbit, further reinforcing the settlement. Have they-...

"Jesus Christ, this guy stinks!"

"Could be worse Lars. He might have been using your aftershave."

Easily finding the source of the voices, Isaac's gaze shifted to what was once a tank. Technically it still was a tank, albiet of the charred, burnt out, twisted metal variety. The NCO hadn't seen many Grizzlies, but after all he'd heard, it was somewhat humbling to see one reduced to this. He'd seen its burnt out wreck when he first landed, but hadn't really thought about it until now. And he certainly hadn't thought about the charred, twisted corpse that had once been its driver. The same driver that two marines were currently pulling out towards a waiting body bag.

"Any tags?" the one named Lars asked, evidently not keen on looking for melted metal in melted flesh.

"Hell, I don't know," answered the other. "But from what I know, he's apparently an engineer that was working on this beast. Alan Ellison or something like that."

In an instant that might have given Kelly a run for her money, Isaac snapped to attention. Not of the military kind, not wanting to draw attention to himself, but simply out of interest. Alan Ellison? Could it really be him?

Clearly the marines didn't know, and the Spartan-II didn't think it a good idea to push them on the subject. Still, activating the IFF function of his HUD, Green 5 tried to find out.

Nothing...thought the NCO, neither his motion tracker nor IFF identifying the body. Interface must have been destroyed...

Unlike the two carriers of the dead, Isaac didn't feel too queasy over the thought of being burnt alive in a metal coffin, writhing at temperatures high enough to even make you unrecognisable to modern technology. However, he did feel genuine regret. Sitting down by a pile of Grunt corpses, suddenly feeling as tired as every other human being in and around Thunderville, Isaac reflected on the chances of it all, of actually coming across Ellison again after all these years. He'd barely known the man, but while everyone else who'd died over the past nine years had just been a face he remembered, Ellison had belonged to the era beforehand, one where the Spartan-II Program had been for a different purpose.

Sorry pal...Isaac thought, watching the body bag be taken away. It would have been good to see you again under different circumstances.

A short eulogy, but Isaac hadn't been trained to deliver one. Rather, he'd been trained to avoid having one of his own. Still, as the chances of that were minimal right now, the NCO was willing to take the risk. Was willing to take out one of the few mementos he had of Reach. Ellison had stirred some memories, even more so than usual. And pulling out a crumpled piece of paper from among spare clips, the same one he'd pulled out when Green Leader had informed the team of their destination yesterday, he allowed himself to return to the past.

Kirk, René...you haven't changed...

Technically that was an impossibility. But with holo-stills having replaced print centuries ago, that non-moving photos were still found could be deemed "impossible" as well. As such, Kirk-018 and René-005 looked the same as they did back when the picture was taken. None of the children (if such a term could really be applied) were really posing, but the trio still fit the frame naturally. Kirk on the right, his gaze unwavering in its firmness. René smiling gently, standing with grace. And the one in the centre, the only one of their number who had changed over the-

"Hey, you're the one who landed by me, right?"

Spinning around, Isaac found the source of the voice. A fellow human. A human who suddenly found himself with a M6D pistol shoved in his face.

Oops.

Isaac didn't care overmuch of what people thought of him. Labelled as saviours, freaks and sometimes both, no Spartan-II did (or rather, should). Still, he couldn't help but feel slightly embarrassed at having pulled a firearm on a local out of instinct, lost in memories that he should have moved on from. He hadn't thought that hanging onto the memento he'd recieved on that day ten years ago affected his job, but as he slid the photo back into an ammunition satchel, he was left to wonder. Wonder as much as the local as to why a weapon had been drawn.

"Jesus..." the man whispered, his puzzlement giving way to what Isaac recognised as anger. "I come to thank you and-..."

"Thank me?" the NCO blurted out, the pale man reminding him all too well of the type of people who pushed James down a flight of stairs back in training. All nice on the outside, poison on the inside. "Why thank me?"

"Well, you know, you landed on some Grunts that were about to frag me," the man snarled. "Didn't know that you wanted to save the honour for yourself."

Honour? Isaac wondered. He's going about honour when...oh.

Unlike the trainers, the civilian before him wasn't poison on the inside and nice on the outside. Rather, it was the other way round and even then, "poison" betrayed the fact that he probably had a good reason to be angry. Isaac couldn't remember the last time he'd been thanked for anything. Not that that actually mattered, he'd known this would be his job since the age of six, but still...

"You don't have to thank me," the Spartan-II said awkwardly, holstering his pistol. "I'm just doing my job."

"Yeah, whatever," the miner grunted, turning around and walking off. "Alan would have said that as well."

Isaac lifted a hand slightly. Alan? As in Alan Ellison? Had the local known him as well.

Watching a cloud slide over the sun as if to reflect his mood, Isaac decided not to chase after the civilian. Yes, he recognised him vaguely from the moment he made planetfall, but it hardly seemed worth making matters even worse by pushing him on the subject. "Alan" wasn't exactly an uncommon name and besides, he shouldn't tear himself up over his death any more than those of Kirk and René. Sure his death was presumably more painful than their drawn out buoyancy tank ones, not to mention more recent, but as a genetically modified human, more was expected of him.

"Green Five, come in, over."

Hearing Joshua's voice over the radio, it was clear that Green Team's leader thought the same. Or, if he didn't, he at least didn't let that get in the way from doing his job.

"Green Leader, this is Green Five, over," Isaac answered. "What's up?"

"Little gathering at HQ. Major Howard wants to see us."

"Affirmative. On my way."

It was a bland conversation, but one Isaac welcomed. The Covenant was still on this rock and chances were Green Team would be entrusted in doing something about it.

Besides, it would take his mind off the recent memories.

Chi Mu System, Mobile Research Station Aeros

Geo-stationary orbit around planet Hope

"Ah, Captain Sattler. Better call Beowulf because I think Grendel just walked in."

Mina Harwood knew she was in for a tongue lashing, knew that she would be lucky if Sattler didn't send the Aeros falling down in flames. But at the very least, she had begun the inevitable debate on a high note. Because watching the captain's expression turn from irritation to confusion, it was clear that he had no idea who either of the two beings were.

No surprises there.

"Um...yes, very clever of you Harwood," said Sattler eventually. "It's nice to see that recent events haven't diminished your usual charm."

"Or your personality," the scientist retorted, seeking to press her advantage. "It's clear that-..."

"Um, am I missing something?"

With the view screen of the research station's bridge divided in two, Harwood turned to the other half and out of the corner of her eye, saw that Sattler did the same on the bridge of the Haven. She'd almost forgotten about the frigate's commander, the one that had exited slipspace yesterday. Not exactly a fifth wheel, but defiantly a third one to the bicycle she and Sattler had been riding over the past three years. An unknown quantity, and one who might make all the difference. Even if she didn't know it yet.

"Commander...Ling, is it?" Harwood asked, staring at the CO's nametag.

"Yes ma'am," Ling answered, standing even straighter. "Commanding officer of the UNSC Wild Endeavour, assigned to-..."

Harwood drowned out the rhetoric. It was clear to her that Ling was a follower, someone who would follow orders to the letter. This might suit Sattler, considering his higher rank and more...lively personality, but as Harwood was still in charge, it might suit her as well. All that remained was to assert her position over Sattler and let things play out.

"So..." the ONI scientist began, turning her attention back to Sattler. "We tried contacting each other at round about the same time, so I'm assuming that it's over the same thing. Namely that a frigate assigned on patrol entered the system yesterday, no doubt on your orders."

"It's a frigate that saved our lives, you blonde-..."

"Wait..." interrupted Ling, saving the captain from uttering something he might regret. "You sent out the slipspace package? The one with vague orders?"

"Yes," said Sattler firmly. "Against orders, and I wanted it to be vague enough not to be in contradiction to whatever orders Harwood might have given."

"Which I didn't," Harwood pointed out. "I wasn't expecting anything so-..."

"Call me underhanded Harwood and you can talk to everyone down on Hope whose lives were saved because Ling showed up in time."

There it was. Stalemate.

Glancing at Ling, it was clear that the commander's loyalties were still up in the air, that of all the scenarios she'd imagined in regards to entering Chi Mu, a power struggle wasn't among them. Then again, as Harwood reminded herself, it wasn't actually a power struggle. She agreed with Sattler on many points and if it wasn't for Keancros's orders, she would have granted his requests. She'd yet to receive an answer from him and until she did, she couldn't comply with Sattler's demands. For now, she was obliged to follow orders to the letter.

"Listen Sattler, once this is all over, I'm sure we'll be able to...well, do something that might reduce our homicidal feelings towards each other," ventured Harwood, her words causing a snort from Ling around "homicidal" for some reason. "As you pointed out, Thunderville is safe, in part thanks to Ling's arrival. So maybe we should discuss the matter at hand."

His jaw clenched, Sattler simply nodded. Like Harwood, he was fighting against his instincts to...well, do something drastic. And like her, he was willing to suppress them.

How cute.

"Alright Harwood," said Sattler eventually. "The Haven's MAC is still offline and the Aeros isn't worth the effort to use any of the other weapons I have. So let's get down to Thunderville. Where are the evacuation ships, and when are they getting here?"

"Evacuation ships?" Ling ventured. "The Covenant's defeated. We-..."

"Commander, chances are that the aliens have blurted out our location to the rest of the xenos," the captain interrupted. "And since apparently making a stand is out of the question (he cast a dirty look at Harwood, but kept talking), all we can do is run. Or we can hope Admiral Cole turns up and pulls off another victory, but-..."

"But as we all well know, that isn't likely to happen," Harwood pointed out. "And before you ask, Justin, I'll point out that yes, evacuation ships are on their way. And unlike you, I've gone through the official channels in requesting them."

The captain of the Aeros glanced at the scientist, as if to ask what "official channels" existed in regards to a system as desolate as this one. Regardless, he kept quiet. Ling however, did not.

"The slipspace currents..." said the commander slowly. "They got my frigate here faster than I thought possible. Think they'll be around long enough for evacuation craft?"

Harwood remained silent for a moment. Ling didn't know it but she'd raised a delicate topic. The Aeros had detected the...flood of the slipstream around Hope and chances were that Sattler knew about it as well. Something was going on down there, something that she'd mentioned to Keancros in the message she was still awaiting a response to. The Covenant ship not destructing, the acceleration in slipspace...Were the two linked? Did the Covenant know the answer to the riddle, hence why they'd proceeded to the surface? If it wasn't for SK-018's continued absence, Harwood might have let scientific curiosity take over and allow Sattler to run his show. But for now, confidentiality was important, at least in the minds of the powers that be. Even with the Wild Endeavour shipping down men and material, chances were that Thunderville would demand defence rather than offense for the foreseeable future. A future that hopefully involved leaving Chi Mu behind as soon as possible.

"I have reason to believe that evacuation craft will arrive in the near future," said the scientist eventually, answering Ling's question only on the level she was comfortable with. "Until then, all I can say is that we carry on with business as usual."

Sattler snorted. "Right, business as usual. So I guess we can still count on you being an-..."

Harwood cut him off. She wasn't in the mood for cheap jibes. And sensing that Ling was about as reciprocal to her as her superior, she cut the commander off as well. A pre-emptive strike as a CO might call it.

Letting out a sigh and rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Harwood couldn't think of an alternate name.

Glancing around the bridge, the scientist found it practically deserted. Nothing was happening on the Aeros, not with the project at a standstill and the ODSTs sent to the surface either dead or missing. She had some time on her hands. Time enough to even use them.

Heading towards a terminal, Harwood proceeded to do so.

Settlement 01 ("Thunderville")

Ardo Turner was irritated.

No, not irritated. Angry. Annoyed. Maybe even livid. Still, however he felt, whatever adjective he used to describe himself, he was able to keep his emotions under control in the best way he knew how. Holding a cigarette in one hand, fiddling with a Covenant pistol in the other and taking solace in the presence of a pile of Grunt corpses in his close proximity.

See that, methane breathers? The miner thought bitterly, letting out a puff of benzene, ammonia and at least 3,998 chemicals. You're not the only gas sucker around here.

Ardo knew it would have been a waste of time to talk to the aliens. He'd learnt of the distinction in names of the three species that attacked Thunderville, but they were all just carcasses now. And somehow he doubted that any of them would be speaking anytime soon. Maybe that was why he sought out their company.

That's right, keep silent…the resident of Hope thought, toying with the pistol he'd taken off one of them. Just keep like that till you draw a gun on me.

Which they wouldn't of course. Another bonus of aliens over armor clad freaks any day.

Soaking up what warmth he could from the sun, Ardo reflected on his mistake on approaching the...thing that had landed yesterday. It was like that day three years ago, the marines walking in like they owned the place. And now history was repeating itself. The 31st had been decimated, Thunderville's population was struggling to cope with their own losses and now a bunch of hotshots were landing all around town. No doubt he was in for another three years of monotony, providing the aliens didn't glass them first.

Hope they get that freak, the sonofa...

Letting his train of thought run to a halt and tossing the pistol aside, Ardo felt his frustration cool slightly, fitting in with the breeze coming from the west that was blowing the Grunts' methane towards him. Perhaps it was being unfair, but anything was better than going down the path of "if only." You know, if only that relic hadn't unearthed itself. If only the Covenant hadn't shown up. If only Ellison was still alive. If only this whole war hadn't started, leaving Hope free to-...

"Ardo? Ardo, is that you?"

Drawn out of the realm of "if only" and into the realm of "who's calling my name," was at least able to muster enough intellect not to ask such a question. Because looking straight ahead, he quickly found the source of the sound.

Tara...

"Ardo! Ohmygosh, you're alive! You're still alive!" exclaimed the man's sister, running over and hugging him before he could even get to his feet. "OMG! You-..."

OMG? Who actually still uses that?

Once again, Ardo didn't voice his thoughts. Firstly, Tara was hugging him so tightly that it was hard enough to breathe, let alone speak. Secondly, it seemed a bit cruel to point out to his sister that she was using archaic language. And thirdly, while he wasn't really in the right state of mind to admit it, he was glad to see her. Glad to see that she was still alive, whilst so many of Thunderville's soldier and civilian population wasn't.

"I've been looking for you all day!" Tara continued. "I never thought you'd still be up here! I mean, what, were you here all night?"

"Yes," Ardo replied blankly, getting his sister to release her grip. "Yeah, I was..."

It seemed stupid now, looking back on it. But back when he'd been fighting for his life, Ardo hadn't really cared. And right now, he didn't really care either. All in all, as the irritation boiled up, not helped by his sister's usual...idiocy, Ardo Turner found himself caring about very little.

"Anyway," continued Tara, seemingly oblivious to her brother's state of mind. "Best to get home and-..."

"And do what?"

Tara recoiled in surprise, the look in her eyes telling Ardo that he'd crossed a very unpleasant line, one that he'd managed to keep on the right side of for nineteen years. But right now, he'd had it. Every piece of irritation, everything that had happened over the last forty-eight hours, everything he'd repressed, came bursting out.

"Oh sure Tara, let's go home!" the teenager yelled. "Let's twaddle on back to our gingerbread house and let the marines deal with the nasty witches that have fallen from the sky! Let's wait for another artefact to unearth itself! Let's wait for life to sort itself back out so we can get back to monotony! Let's just wait for the Covenant to show up again! Let's make friends with another engineer, so that we can go through the same pain of watching him get burnt alive! Let's just do all that and-..."

Tara slapped him. Hard.

Recoiling in surprise rather than from the force of the blow, Ardo still found himself rubbing his cheek. It wasn't so much from the pain, but from the notion that his sister had actually hit him. His sister, the one who'd never been made miserable by their world, had always seen the positive side of things, was now looking at him in a manner reminiscent of the Elite who'd nearly killed him in the battle.

"Ardo, shut up," said Tara firmly. "Just shut up."

Feeling weak in his legs, Ardo did. Collapsing back down to the ground, he began to wonder when was the last time he'd eaten anything.

"Ardo, this can't go on..." Tara sighed, sitting down opposite him in a position that reminded the miner of the clapping games he'd been forced into playing as a child. "We have to do something."

"Do what?" the miner asked dejectedly. "What can we possibly do?"

"Bro, aliens landed yesterday and nearly wiped us out. And chances are that...thing that unearthed itself has something to do with it."

"What, that...relic?" Ardo asked, not liking where this was going. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything. But after all that's happened, the least we can do is actually tell someone."

The miner remained silent. The anger was returning, but he didn't have the energy to express it. All he could hope for right now was to pass out.

After all that had happened, Ardo had almost forgotten about the light. He'd assumed that someone else had noticed it as well, and when he'd arrived back at Thunderville yesterday morning and discovered that wasn't the case, he hadn't sought to draw attention to himself. He hadn't even told Riley about it when he'd had his pay docked. But for him to bring it up now, after all that had happened...well, he could imagine the kind of reaction he might get then.

"Tara, don't even think about it," began Ardo slowly. "Whether that thing has anything to do with the Covenant or not, it's none of our business."

"Of course it's our business!" Tara exclaimed. "We saw it. We were almost killed just before we did. And many other people haven't been as lucky as-..."

"Damnit Tara, don't bring Alan into this!"

"...I didn't mention Alan."

Ardo slumped down, dejected. He was hurting. And not in the physical sense.

As distraught as he'd been when Goliath went up in flames, necessity had dictated to Ardo that he lay grief to one side as he fought for his life. But now, in the calm after the storm, he found that grief charging into him from the side. Ardo wasn't exactly without friends on Hope, but necessity had dictated that Thunderville be tight nit. Of all the soldiers who had come from worlds no doubt more appealing than this dirthole, Alan had been an individual he could genuinely call a friend despite the age difference, a man for whom WHAM came naturally. And now, thanks to some alien murderers, he was dead. Gone. And chances were, forgotten. But until that moment came, Ardo found himself hurting all over, unable to deal with this.

"Alan's dead you know..." the miner began dejectedly. "He...he..."

"Yeah, I know," said Tara softly, giving her brother a soft hug. "I heard what happened. And that's why we have to-..."

"Do what?" Ardo asked. "What does the light have to do with that jarhead?"

Tara sighed. Ardo simply sat there. He missed his old sister almost as much as his friend. What else would the Covenant take away from him?

"Ardo, you know Alan hated Hope as much as you do."

"What? When did you-..."

"He told me!" the younger Turner exclaimed. "He told me while you were snoozing away! Told me that the only thing he liked here was his friendship with us. That's why he died Ardo. Not for Hope, not for the UNSC, but for us."

Somehow, Ardo believed her. That was why he was willing to let his sister keep talking.

"That's why we have to tell someone about the light," Tara continued. "At the least, we have to save all the other Alans out there."

Ardo snorted. He didn't see himself as a hero. Chances were, as soon as he let slip that he'd seen an alien structure emerge two days ago, he'd be seen as a traitor. But, for all her usual bubbliness, Tara had a point. He owed Alan both friendship and his life. And maybe there was a way he could honour that.

"Alright," said the miner eventually. "Let's go tell them."

04/16/10 (Update): Corrected SK-017 typos-all are meant to be SK-018

08/05/11 (Update): Corrected spelling issues.