Chapter XXIII: Back in Black

July 15, 2537 (UNSC Calendar)/

UNSC Joint FOB, New Constantinople, Cygnus System

"Ok, now press your finger here, and we're done," the doctor told me. I did as I was told, pressing my left index finger onto the datapad that the man held. It read my thumbprint before chiming and flashing a green light.

"Well sergeant, off you go," he told me while he returned to the ER, to deal with his other patients. I nodded my thanks and left the room that I had been stuck in for over a month.

After the fight with that elite, an Arbiter, he had been called by some ONI guy. I had collapsed on the battlefield, Pavel had requested a medvac for me and Lieutenant Motou, flying us to the nearest medical center. My injuries had been a lot worse then I initially thought. I had a broken cheekbone from the first backhanded slap I received that day, two fractured ribs from the second, more painful bitch-slap, a broken hand from when the Arbiter kicked my pistol away from me, and of course, that slash to the my back. I am not sure exactly how I managed, but the wound ran diagonally from my right shoulder and stopped about halfway down. I must've rolled away in an awkward way, because the wound should've been horizontal, shorter, and a lot less painful.

My wounds had not been too serious; at worst they were painful, but never life threatening. I paused at a bathroom to empty my bladder. For the first time in over a month I was allowed to do that in an actual toilet, not a bucket. The doctors had been very insisting on not allowing me to leave my bed. That and the fact that they had no inhibitions on using strong sedatives kept me from disobeying them. I looked at myself in the mirror. My hair had grown well over regulation, but it had been slightly longer even before I was thrown into the hospital, I had a nice beard covering the lower half of my face as well. There was a long slash in my left cheekbone, where my helmet had been forced against my face and had broken that bone. The fracture was now healed, but the skin was still covered by two white strips. The doctors had told me it wouldn't leave a scar, damn right it wouldn't, I liked my face just the way it was.

I lifted my shirt, which was really a generic gray UNSC shirt, to look at my ribs. My first thought was that I was loosing my shape, my second thought was that it barely looked like my ribs had been broken. The only treatment I had received for those had been a dose of medi-gel around them to prevent an infection. My hand had been almost "broken in half" to quote a nurse. They had had to place a titanium plate to hold it together and allow the bones to heal. I could see the slight bulging of my skin where the plate was. I also had a scar where they had had to cut me open to place it. Normally, they would've just immobilized my hand and injected some bone-reconstructing fluid, but the captain had requested for me to be gotten out of the hospital as soon as possible.

I finished washing my hands and walked towards the north of the complex. All my personal belongings were stowed there, if I was going to get back into the fight, I might as well do it quick and with a set of armor.

I entered the large room where all the belongings were kept; sitting in a wooden chair was a woman in her mid-fifties reading a romance novel. She was wearing the most outdated glasses I had ever seen.

"Can I help you hon?" she spat through the gum she was chewing.

"Yes, I am Sergeant Francisco Castillo, I need to get my stuff," I told her, trying to avoid looking at her mouth. The sight of her chewing gum was really the kind of stuff that fueled nightmares.

"Ok," she said as she pulled out a board and flipped a couple of pages. Doesn't seem like she had gotten a datapad.

"Ok, your stuff is located in C259 kay?" she informed me.

"Thank you ma'am;" I said politely as I headed to the C section.

"Don't call me ma'am, I am not a ma'am," she whispered, mostly to herself, although I was able to hear her as I walked towards my armor and weaponry. The place was basically a gigantic library with personal belongings instead of books, well a very old public library, most libraries nowadays consisted of a small terminal where you rented a digital copy of a book from a catalog.

"C200, C250, Aha! C259!" I said to myself as I walked down the aisle. Yes, like a bride. I reached over to pull back my armor, a weird sensation forming in my back as I pulled down my stuff. It felt like I didn't have quite enough skin to stretch that much, which in a way, I didn't. It would take a while before the scar tissue on my back stretched enough for me to be able to perform any movement regularly. I started but putting on the Kevlar vest, it had a slash across the back that perfectly fitted my scar. It was obvious, since that's where the sword went through. After that I put on the belt that carried the waist protection and my back-pouch, now empty. I took off the running shoes that I had been given by the hospital staff and put on the thigh protection, since my bodysuit had been damaged or lost, they had to go over my new fatigues, which were green camo, not black, it made me look slightly weird. Next up were my old ODST boots. They made my feet look unnaturally large, but they also made me look badass and protected them quite nicely. I finished by putting on my shoulder pads and my forearm protection, vambraces, the manual said. That left everything from below the lower half of my upper arm to right below my elbow unprotected. My elbow pads hadn't made the trip. I was thankful that someone hadn't stolen my exotic shoulder pieces. I picked up my rifle and slung it over my back, I also holstered my pistol. After pulling down my helmet, abdominal protection, and chest piece, I found my knives lying there. They were still covered with purple elite blood. I couldn't help but smile at the thought. They were already rusting a bit near the handle; I'd have to clean them as soon as I got to the Inconvenience. I placed the smaller knife on the strap on the chest piece while I slung the other across my lower back, where it had always been. The old knife that the cook Tenare had given me five years ago was still strapped to my right boot. I made sure that everything was there before taking off. The belt-like abdomen protection was slung across my shoulder like a wrestling championship belt and I was carrying my helmet and the chest-piece with its harnesses in each hand.

"Thank you miss," I said as I left, feeling safer now that there were some millimeters of armor between the rest of the world and me.

"Good luck sonny," she said without glancing up from her novel.

Now there was only one last step before leaving towards the frontline, finding out where the marine's from my ship were fighting. For that I had to ask a tired-looking corporal.

"Ok, what did you say your unit's name was?" he asked me, while clicking some buttons on his 'pad.

"Alpha 2nd, " I repeated.

He scanned through the screen of his datapad before locating it. "Ok, so your unit is fighting on the Third Front, to reach them you'll need to fly with pelican number… 18, and then hitch a ride to your unit."

"Thanks very much," I told him before I left, off to find pelican 18.

"That's it?" the pilot asked.

"Seems like," I told her. It seemed like a lot of pelican pilots nowadays were women. And they said they couldn't drive.

"Very well then, off we go," she said as she entered the cockpit. I had been the only marine headed towards the Third Front, the pelican was only carrying a gauss warthog as well as several crates worth of ammunition on the inside. I decided to fill the two empty magazines that I had right now, I don't think anyone would miss 72 rounds. Am I right?

Damn right I am. I'm always right.

The hatch of the pelican was closed, so I didn't get to have a look at the overall shape of the city or the battlefield. The craft shook a couple of times from AA fire, but we weren't hit directly. After about ten minutes, the pelican made a noise, the noise of it unlatching whatever cargo it was carrying, which right now, it was the warthog. The doors slowly opened and I hopped off even as two soldiers scrambled into the pelican and pulled down the crates of ammunition.

I took a good long look at the city. It had been badly damaged the last time I saw it, but now it seemed like there wasn't a single building left standing. I could see smoke coming from all over the place, and the sky was darkened, even though it should've been about noon right now. The ash and smoke was actually blocking out the sun. You need a lot of ash and smoke to achieve that. I could spot explosions from plasma or regular explosives all over the city. I couldn't hear any gunfire, so I must've been far enough away from the frontline to be safe.

I approached what looked like the command tent and entered. There was a brigadier and two colonels overlooking a hologram of the battlefield.

"Can I help you son?" the brigadier asked.

"Yes, sir, could you tell me where Alpha 2nd is located, I'm just out of the hospital and want to rejoin my unit."

"Couldn't you have asked an officer that wasn't busy leading an army?" he said.

Good point.

I kept my mouth shut. The brigadier took a deep breath and sighed. He gestured for one of the colonels to show me. The man walked towards me and pushed me out of the tent. He stood next to me for a few moments before pointing in a direction.

"That way, follow this road to the first checkpoint, then see if you can borrow a mongoose or hitch a ride in a warthog," he told me.

"Thank you, sir."
"Good luck son," he said before he returned to the command tent.

Why does everyone keep saying that to me? I asked myself Probably because you're going to need it, dumbass. OK, now that was exceedingly creepy, I was now insulting myself mentally. A shrink seemed like a pretty good idea then.

I walked down the road that had been indicated to me, it was more like a trail through the rubble, but I could see a traffic line every now and then, so it must've been a road at some point.

I reached the first checkpoint after ten minutes of walking. It consisted of a bunch of piled sandbags on each side, each mounted with a couple of M41s that were probably salvaged from a destroyed warthog. I could see a small shelter for the marines guarding the checkpoint and another larger shed, which had a single mongoose under it.

"Mind if I borrow that?" I asked to whoever would answer.

"Be my guest," said a bored guard. I went to the ATV and put on the rest of my armor, securing my helmet before taking off. I pushed the ignition button as I hopped onto the craft.

I sped off. I actually had to go very slowly, else I would hit a pebble and flip over after two corkscrews and barrel rolls. I wish the mongoose was somewhat more maneuverable. I also wish it had better grip. More protection wouldn't harm either. And would it really kill to put a coaxial gun there?

I finally arrived to the next checkpoint; this one was more heavily armed and even had an actual gate. I was ordered to halt and park the mongoose in case a messenger needed to use, I would have to walk the rest of the way towards my squad.

"Where's Alpha 2nd?" I asked a marine private cloaked with a blanket. It wasn't very cold right now, especially with my armor, but my elbows and arms would soon start feeling the brisk wind.

"They're in the left of the center, you should hop down the trench and head to the left, obviously, until you meet them, should take you about five minutes," he told me.

I thanked the soldier and followed his instructions, I was surprised to see that we had resorted to trench warfare. The Covenant had been fought to a standstill, and we had actually started digging trenches. Well, to call what was in front of me a trench might've been an insult to the English language, or Spanish for that matter. It was basically what you'd call a glorified hole. Some sections of the trench weren't even tall enough to reach my waist. This was going to be fun.

I jumped in the trench (hole), careful to avoid a couple of carbine shots. I crouched and excused myself to three marines playing poker. I started my journey to meet my squad. At times I had to go prone, sometimes I could walk comfortably, but mostly I went through the hole with my back slightly hunched. At least it was wide enough for five people; I even had to push myself flat against the wall for a mongoose carrier. That guy must've been suicidal.

"Alpha 2nd?" I asked a marine.

He pointed straight ahead of me, so I kept on going.

"Well, look what the cat dragged in!" announced a loud voice with a slight Eastern European accent. "The bitch is back!"

I found myself facing my good old friend, Pavel Klaus.

"Hey, how you doing buddy?" I asked him.

"Well, we're low on ammunition, the Covenant refuse to be pushed back, and when the elites took over the invasion, it has generally not gone well for us."

"So we're good?" I asked.

"Damn right we are, the Navy is doing its job just like they should, actually providing time for us to do the same thing down here instead of having to retreat to avoid being glassed."

While he was saying this he lead me to a little cave, actually, it was a man-dug tunnel that led to a parking-lot buried by debris. It served as a hospital of sorts and as an ammunition deposit. I could see at least a dozen crates of ammunition.

"Low on ammo my ass," I muttered.

"Aaaa, Sergeant Castillo, I am glad to see you are fine," Colonel Zavala's voice greeted me. For the first time ever since I had met him, the man was actually wearing his helmet. He looked pretty intimidating, at least more than he did the rest of the time.

"Gramps," I acknowledged him. "How we doing?"

"Well, Whitcomb is doing a hell of a job up there, or at least was doing, most of the ships are now grounded to avoid being destroyed, the UNSC ships are all well behind our rear, serving as anything ranging from mobile hospitals to batteries. The Covenant Navy is grounded on the other side of the city. They have an assault carrier, which just keeps spewing out troops like it's nobody's business."

"And what's our role in that, sir?" I asked, curious as to what I would have to do. I was an elite soldier fighting in the frontlines. My job was to partake in covert operations, not fighting in the trenches.

"Well, as we speak we're building a tunnel and we'll fill it with explosives, the tunnel will obviously lead to the Covenant's line," he explained. "Your team will be the first one to attack."
"My team sir?" I asked. Pavel and me barely formed a fireteam, let alone a squad.

"You remember Lieutenant Motou, and her platoon?"
"Yes I do sir, what's with them?"
"Well, they've become sort of an extension to our small battalion after their company had an unlucky encounter with a scarab," Zavala explained.

"What about Kingsley's team, sir?" Kingsley was the leader of the other ODST squad in the ship. His team was more experienced than mine (makes sense, because mine kept dying) and was usually sent to missions that required finesse instead of overwhelming firepower and some pretty slick maneuvering. That was my job.

"Well, his team also encountered a scarab," the Colonel informed me, the look in his eyes told me how that had gone.

"Damn…" I muttered. Kingsley had been an exceptional soldier; he was practically the poster boy for the Helljumpers. He was talented, charismatic, a good leader, a ruthless fighter, and at the risk of sounding queer, almost as good-looking as me. I had only met him a couple of times before, but his record spoke for itself.

"Well sergeant, the tunnel is almost finished now, and the bombs are already being placed, they are scheduled to detonate tomorrow at dawn, be ready, you will charge through the no-man's-land after the explosion and try and secure a firm position. The rest of the line will be providing covering fire."

I saluted before leaving. Pavel threw me a couple of magazines for my battle rifle as we left the cave.

"Sergeant," a voice came from behind me "I am glad to see you made it."
It was the Lieutenant. She had 'only' gotten like a gazillion broken ribs, which had somehow managed to take less time to heal than my relatively minor wounds. Damn doctors.

She was looking pretty much the same way as I saw her last time, beat up and green as grass, although she had probably picked up a couple of things regarding leadership. I'm really in no position to complain, as that op she led ended up a success, with over 60% casualty rate, but she somehow managed.

"I can say the same thing ma'am," I told her. "I assume you have already been informed about tomorrow's op."

"Yes sergeant, I have."

Since the Colonel had been ambiguous as to who would lead it, saying that 'my team' would be going in, but not who would lead said team. I had assumed it would be me, but the lieutenant was obviously a higher rank. I decided it would be best over the confusion early on.

"Will you be leading the operation?" I asked.

"In paper only sergeant," she said, clearing my doubts. "Just don't get to used to ordering me around," she added while winking at me. She turned and walked/crawled away.

"Did she just wink at me?" I asked, surprised.

"Oh, here we go again, Frankie Castillo, the Casanova, the ladies man, the Don Juan, must I remind you that you are in a committed relationship?" Pavel burst out.

I was between saying: Do I detect a little jealousy and It was just a question! I decided that the first one would piss my only friend in the whole wide universe more, so I went with it.

"No!" he shouted, a little too loudly and a little too soon.

"Fine, just chill man, you can go for it with the lieutenant if you want to, I'm in a committed relationship you know?" I quipped.

Pavel just turned around and sat down, his back facing away from me. I smiled at him and climbed some of the debris to get a good look at the battlefield. It looked like the Covenant hadn't actually found the need to dig trenches, their line was located in a less-damaged part, so they had partially-collapsed walls and houses for cover. There were some obvious trench-like holes, but their line was mostly the undamaged houses and walls. In between their front and ours there were a hundred yards of nothing but craters, debris, rubble, bodies, and glass. Here and there you could spot the burned out husk of a banshee or a ghost.

The Covenant had wraiths far behind the frontline serving as mortars. We had our own mortars doing just that, plus heavy artillery in the form of rhinos, the Covenant's artillery was now heavily limited (You're welcome), so we had an advantage there. It seemed like the tunnel-bomb would be located slightly to the left of where I was facing right now, right underneath the enemy line, not behind it. The small squad that would join me in crossing over no-man's-land was composed by ten members, the survivors of the cannon assault operation minus five that had been killed.

We would be receiving covering fire from most of the marines in the immediate area, and it was very likely that there were more mines set to go off at the same time that this one, so the Covenant wouldn't be able to form an effective resistance.

I took a moment to hit a jackal that was dragging a body towards the enemy line. No one deserves to have their body torn apart by hungry jackals. That is, unless you're a covvie soldier, cause if you are, you totally deserve it.

There really wasn't much room to maneuver; my team would just run in a straight line trying not to get hit while under the cover of some smoke screens and whatever dust the explosion might lift. The mission parameters didn't really give me much of a choice for how I would be able to proceed. I guess I would be heading straight towards ground zero.

I stayed on the edge of my pseudo trench for a few more minutes, sniping two more jackals that had been stupid enough to hang out in the open. I stopped my small spree after a shot fired from a beam rifle singed my shoulder armor. I dropped back to the safety of the trench, breathing heavily. No matter how used you are to combat, you will never get used to being away for one fucking month only to be thrown right back in for a freaking suicide op. Not even if you're me, and that's saying a lot.

"Get some sleep sarge, you're gonna need the rest," a marine next to me told me. I recognized him as one of the rocket soldiers that had set up on the collapsed building; the large two-tubed monstrosity of a weapon leaning against the wall next to him was a pretty good clue.