1203, May 30th, 2544 [MILITARY CALENDAR]/ UNSC Faithful
Watching 211 wake up with a hangover was somewhat amusing. It sounded like he was dying. It didn't help that as soon as everyone was up, we shipped back to the Faithful. Kia teased the hell out of him while recovering from her own hangover.
I was met with a nice surprise when I went to train in the sparring rings. I was waiting to be matched up with another Spartan when a familiar soldier appeared. He was alone, surprisingly, and looked a little more scarred than when I last saw him.
"Zeke!" I call, waving him over. "I heard your team got their butts handed to them down on Kanteo by some Army drones," Zeke says with a smile. He removes his protective bandages and reapplies them while we talk. The movements are thoughtless and automatic, showing that he's done this many times before. "No. I guess the story got messed up somewhere. 211 was wasted and got into a fight. I helped him out," I say, trying to clarify before the news got too far. "Is that so? I guess someone wanted you to look bad," Zeke says. The Commander I "disobeyed" is probably the one spreading the lie since he didn't have the guts to report to our CO. We saw the same army men on our way off of the planet. Other than a few dirty looks, they left us alone. But they looked pretty trashed, so I'm guessing they didn't want to fight.
I look over the sparring ring and watch two Spartans go at it. The fight only lasts for three minutes and the two Spartans stop sparring, which leaves a momentary opening.
Zeke gets up, clenching and unclenching his fists. He pushes an ODST aside who had grabbed the railing and looks at me. "You coming?" he asks. A dozen heads turn towards me and I suddenly feel frozen. "Um..." I manage. An ODST grabs me roughly by the arm and shoves me towards the ring. Before I can turn angrily on him, Zeke grabs me by the arm and hauls me up.
"We're not fighting to kill. Try to remember that, eh?" Zeke says. I wasn't exactly ready to fight him, but I see him readying for a punch and know that I don't have a choice.
Time slows as his fist flies out and aims for my jaw. I quickly side-step just as he showed me and grab his forearm. I shove his arm down and bring up my elbow while taking a step back into him. He doesn't have time to dodge before my elbow connects with the side of his face, making him stagger back. "Ow!" he exclaims, holding his jaw. I step into a more ready stance and let myself loosen up. "You going to take that?!" someone yells from the small crowd. Zeke rolls out his shoulders and he suddenly becomes more serious. I have a feeling he was just testing me. Now...with that look in his eyes? I think he's going to knock me out, given the chance.
It happens so suddenly that I am almost knocked off balance. Zeke launches into a series of rabbit punches that strike me in vital (and not to mention painful) areas. My stomach and arms take quite the beating before I can recover and start defending myself. Once he goes in for a heavier hit, I side-step and place my hand on his back and shove him forwards. He stumbles and I take the chance to punch him in the shoulder. The hit sends him tumbling to the floor where he quickly rolls away from me and back to his feet. The jeers of the other soldiers fade away as we watch each other, timing our movements, acting and reacting accordingly. It becomes a real-time fight. All past promises forgotten, all remorse left behind. The hits are hard and relentless.
Once Zeke goes in for a leg swipe I steel one of my legs and hop up on the other. I then bring the one up in the air down on his ribcage. But I hadn't accounted for his timing and he brings his arm up and around and grabs my leg with a vice grip. He then twists and nearly dislocates my kneecap while bringing me down. I land on my face and only barely dodge the fist that slams into the mat just beside me. While ignoring the pain in my leg, I roll away and get back to my feet. But Zeke is right behind me and knocks me back down. This time he gets on top of me and gets me pinned. But he hadn't secured my right leg in time and I manage to get it under his chest and launch him off. He had anchored his weight and doesn't go as far as I wanted, but far enough to be able to get to my knees.
Zeke is about to launch into another attack when a voice distracts both of us. "Hey! This is a sparring arena, not a death arena. Get your asses off of the mat!"
I take this as a direct order from a superior officer and quickly scramble off of the sparring ring. Despite the throbbing sensation in my temple and the blood dripping from my head, I snap a salute to Charles who had entered with his team. "Now we have to clean the stupid thing. Next time you want to abuse your pupil, do it somewhere else!" Jaff says. Zeke comes down from the ring and removes the protective bandages. His expression is sour as he does so. "I had him," Zeke says irritably. "You kidding me? He had you in the bag. Another minute and you would have been out cold in the infirmary," Charles says with a grin. Zeke just growls and shoves the ODST's aside and leaves the room. I watch him go, worrying that I upset him in some way. Heaven forbid I lose my only friend over a sparring match...
"Ah, don't worry about it Jackson. He gets like that when he loses," Charles says. George produces a towel and throws it at me. "Get yourself cleaned up before you bleed out. I'm not going to be responsible for a dead S-II," the ODST says.
After a short trip to the infirmary and a short meal, I go to find the others who are lounging in the observatory room.
We happen to be near a large gas giant that has an asteroid field orbiting it. It's quite beautiful. The system has three gas giants and four smaller planets, two of which are life sustainable. We're passing through this area for routine repairs that couldn't be done during slipspace, which gives both the pilots and the soldiers time to relax. Slipspace can be a little nausiating at times.
Kia is reading some modern fashion book and Parkson is near the window, looking outside. 211, however, is trading blows with another Spartan. Just as I enter, 211 turns to look at me and Arnold jabs him in the jaw, making him stumble back and growl in annoyance. "I see you've found Zeta," I say to the others with a warm smile. "And I see you've found Zeke's temper," Jessica says, noting my bruises and bandages. "Temper? Did something go wrong?" I ask, suddenly worrying that someone was hurt or killed. "Not really. We got pinned by some innies and took a few rockets to our bird's tail. Came down over a desert. The militia chased us down and almost had us," Jessica says. "Yeah, until the Pelican went up," Jacobs says and mimicks an explosion with his hands. "Whoosh! I've never seen anything more beautiful."
Arnold takes 211 down by a leg sweep and walks off, dusting his hands. "I set the whole thing to blow. When they came looking for us, they never saw the charges," he says with a chuckle, clearly proud of his work. "You'd think with a show like that Zeke would be happy," I say and walk over to join the others. "You know him. He's still mulling over the rockets. Talking about 'no honor in losing to an ambush'," Arnold says, deepening his voice to mock his squad leader. Just then, Zeke walks in and his expression sours once again. "You're right. I should have expected them to be there, and I got us shot down," he says bitterly. He goes to the nearby bar and snatches up a drink and guzzles it. "Lighten up, oh brave squad leader. I think you got enough payback with that airstrike," Jacobs says. "You should have seen them run. Like rabbits they ran!" Jessica says with a laugh. Zeke just grunts and turns his back to us. "He'll come around. Just give him a few hours," Arnold says right before he leaves the room. Jessica and Jacobs follow, chatting on their way out.
"I'm going to take a shower if you need me," Kia says and sets down the fashion book. She leaves and Parkson follows her, waving goodbye. 211 follows silently after glancing back at us.
It takes me a moment to realize that Zeke had been gathering up the guts to talk to me. But once I realize this, I go sit next to him. I find him hunched over a glass of whiskey. His hand grips the bottle tightly, almost whitening his knuckles. I can tell he's fighting something back. Maybe...what? Tears?
"Have you read the field report?" He asks me, voice barely above a whisper. This question takes me aback. I'm only a sergeant and I haven't been given clearance to access those kinds of files. "No, sir," I answer hesitantly. "There's a reason I went so hard on you in the ring. I took my anger out on you," Zeke says. There's no apology in his words, only fact. Zeke takes out a holo-pad from his jacket and slides it to me.
I power it on and a wall of words scrolls up. Against the blue hue of the holopad, the text is easy to read.
FRM: Major Zeke-087
TO: Captain Anglri Jameson
Launched off from the UNSC Faithful at 0700 hours. Touched down on Planet Hugri at 0745 hours. Patrol scans for 1.2 hours. Nothing out of ordinary. Rations lost to native predatory bird due to pilot error. Continued for twenty-six day recon/patrol. [READ ATTACHMENT] Found and followed Insurrectionist convoy. RPG homing missiles deployed. Shot down over Gjaralhi desert. Arnold-019 planted and charged explosives to inner hull of Pelican. Retreated distance and detonated charges. Fell back into Insurrectionist ambush. Arnold-019 mortally injured in firefight. Wounds sustained:[FIELD REPORT] 3 broken ribs, multiple scorch wounds, permanant[?] damage to left scapula muscle. Emergency lifted to UNSC Faithful. Requested immideate medical transfer to planet Reach.
My breath catches in my throat upon finishing the report. Being a fellow Squad leader, I know exactly how Zeke feels. Why he is so angry. He believes that it's his fault that Arnold was hurt. He thinks that he was the one that lead them into the ambush. But clearly Arnold doesn't think so.
"I put them all in danger. I could have gotten them killed," Zeke hisses. "And for what?!" Zeke's temper flares and the bottle of whiskey goes flying across the bar and slams into the wall. The glass doesn't break but the open bottle sloshes onto the carpet. "Some cheap thrills? I'm not a kid anymore, damn it! I've been in the service for nine years now. Nine! Once I left the forest behind, I swore that i'd grow up." Zeke lets out a bitter laugh and shakes his head. "What an idiot I was. I thought that I'd be a good soldier. A good little boy who did as he was told. But what did I prove? That kids shouldn't be in the military. That's what I proved. We aren't fit for service. This shit isn't fair!" Zeke's voice rises to a shout and I make sure to keep a little alert for sudden outbursts. "We never had lives worth talking about. We never got to go to school, we never had friends, we never even learned how to ride a bike! Who do they think they are? GOD?! I highly doubt it!"
Zeke suddenly sinks back into his seat, the fight drained out of him. "What kind of life did I leave, though? No parents...no family...I left a world behind because I had to." He suddenly turns to me and I can barely stand the sadness in his eyes. "They took her from me. My grandma. She was the only one left that mattered. The only one that gave a shit about me. The bastards didn't even give her a chance. What kind of sick twisted mind would gun down an innocent bystander? Insurrectionists. That's who! Their fight was with the UNSC, not us! They looted every house on the street. Killed everyone they set their eyes on because of some stupid rations quarrel." Zeke chuckles and the sadness in his eyes ebbs away. "I got my revenge. It was years later, but I got it. I tracked them down. Every single Insurrectionist that had held her down and executed her. I didn't torture them, of course. I'm better than that. But I did make sure that they knew the little bastard boy got his revenge."
The Spartan's face is a maelstrom of emotions that range from anger to sadness. "Now you know what I've been through. I'm an S-III, always have been and always will be. We aren't like you II's. Most of us were orphans. Refugees given a chance for revenge. Arnold had his family taken away by Jackals looking for salvage near his home world. Ransacked his little town. Jessy's planet was glassed. She was one of the outer colonies to be found after Harvest. I still remember the pictures...and as for Jacobs? He has a special reason to hate the Innies. When the bastards fled Madrigal, not all of them hid in the Rubble. They looked for a new place to call home. Found his planet. His parents didn't want to give up their farm so the innies took it by force. Jacobs was in their barn when he heard the gunshots. Knew it was trouble so he ran. Winded up in the woods for a few days before the UNSC somehow found him. Offered him a place in the new Spartan program."
Zeke lets his head fall onto the counter and grunts roughly. "Drank too much again. Damn alochol," he says. I hadn't expected to learn this much about them, so I'm taken aback by it all. But as I'm about to say something, Zeke raises his hand, cutting me off. "Don't say anything. You listened, which is better than opening your mouth. I don't give a shit if you tell your team about what I said. Just don't go running your mouth to anyone else," Zeke says. "This is personal business. I trust you, Jackson. Don't make me a fool."
That night, I go to sleep with a lot of things going around in my head. There's no doubt that I've gained a new level of respect for our friends. But it also gets me thinking about the Spartan-II's and Spartan-III's. I have yet to meet another Spartan-II, but if what the others say is true, the Spartan-II program was an unfair abomination.