Chapter XC: An Emptier World

May 11, 2543 (UNSC Calendar)/two months later

Esztergom (Ezhtergom), Viery Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridany System

It could've been a lot worse. In fact, I think that it could've hardly been any better. Yes, I was extremely satisfied with myself. What was more, she had been satisfied with my performance. At least I hoped so, the fairer sex tend to be incredibly talented at faking that sort of thing. See? Now I'm gonna be thinking about that for a week or more. I hate you.

I yawned as she left the small hotel room (paid by the UNSC, of course) and stretched my arms over my back. I allowed myself the luxury of recalling last night, perhaps I exaggerated some parts of the act but for the most part I remained faithful to reality.

When I decided that I'd had enough I stood up. At first I felt a little self-conscious about being naked, but then I felt stupid because I was alone in the room, Schitzo notwithstanding, and even he wasn't popping up. I grabbed last night's briefs and slid them on. Putting on my underwear was more of a hassle than it should have been because I was still half asleep. Once that was done I jumped back on the bed, not ready to stand back up. I glanced at my room's clock.

"Shit, already?"

Before I could even move my phone rang.

"Who's this?"

"Sarge, it's Sutton, hav-"

"Hey man, thanks for helping me out with that broad, she was one for the books," I thanked him.

"No problem Sarge, her friend was more than enough to make up for the help."

"That hurts," I joked.

"We'll do that again sometime, but turn on your TV."

"TV?" I asked before I remembered that Brooks had been kind enough to get us all rooms with televisions. "What channel?"

"Any channel."

Shit.

"-remiah Cole was best known for his victories against the Covenant in Harvest, retaking the planet from the alien invaders," a pretty newscaster was saying.

Was?

"The Admiral, recognized through all of UEG space as a hero of humanity was confirmed dead recently. His death appears to have taken place in the Psi Serpentis system. So far reports are scarce and little is known about the events surrounding his demise, but sources tell us that his flagship, the UNSC Everest was lost as well as over twenty UNSC ships."

I turned off the television.

"Sarge, you still there?"

"I'm here," I said into the phone. I had never even seen Cole in person, but it felt like sledgehammer hit me in the chest.

"What do you think?"

"I think we're a bit more screwed than we were before."

"This isn't a good thing Sarge, the brass has gotta be going nuts."

"When did he die?"

"April eighteen," he said.

"Two weeks ago, shit." I stopped and started thinking. "What was the outcome of the battle?"

"Nobody knows yet. Some people are saying that it was a Covenant ambush and some other guys are saying that it was an even battle. A friend in HIGHCOM tells me that… Shit Sarge, are you seeing this?"

"Seeing what?" I asked.

"Did you turn of the TV?"

"Yeah…"

"Turn it on, channel four fifty seven."

"Done," I said. "What do you… Holy shit."

"We're gotting some reports from our team in FLEETCOM HQ. What have you got Michael?"

The image switched from the pretty anchorwoman to a crowded press conference room. The camera was focusing on a young reporter with a datapad in his hand. He read a few lines from it before addressing the camera.

"Casey, the UNSC has just announced that they'll issue an official announcement. In fact, they're doing it right now."

The camera moved from the reporter and zoomed in on a UNSC officer. The officer looked almost bored to be in the situation he was in. As soon as it looked like he was about to start talking all the reporters present in the press conference room shut up immediately and the faint buzz of the heli-cameras rotating could be heard. The officer cleared his throat and started talking.

"On the date of April eighteen, in the system of Psi Serpentis Admiral Preston Jeremiah Cole's fleet, Battle Group India, encountered a Covenant force of gargantuan proportions. As you all know, the battle resulted in Admiral Cole's death. The death of Admiral Cole is a devastating blow for the UNSC and humanity, but not one that will affect the war with the Covenaant."

There was an uproar from the reporters, all of them trying to get in a question. The UNSC representative quieted them with a wave of his hand.

"So far, there have been twenty-seven confirmed ship casualties in addition to Admiral Cole's flagship, the Everest. Despite the losses, scouts and surviving ships report that over three hundred enemy ships were destroyed in the battle."

Three hundred enemy ships were destroyed in the battle.

"Cole achieved this feat by managing to turn the planet Viperidae, a gas giant, into a star for a brief instant. This act destroyed the entire enemy force at the cost of his own life."

Having said that the UNSC representative stepped down from the podium as hundreds of reporters tried to ask their questions, each one louder than the last. The officer walked out of the room and left the press people trying to grasp what they had just heard. Sure, the UNSC had been known to tweak numbers every now and then, but three hundred enemy ships. That was simply too much.

"Three hundred?" I asked, stunned.

"That's what they said," Scarecrow replied.

"Propaganda?"

"No one would be stupid enough to make that up."

"Three hundred," I repeated. "I hope that it's true."

"How will the Covenant react, though?"

"I don't know, but losing three hundred of their ships isn't going to make them happy."

"Yeah, and they're not what you'd call a… a happy bunch."

"George, that is the worst joke I've ever heard."

"Yeah, sorry. It sounded better in my head."

"Whatever. I'm heading down to get some breakfast, wanna join?"

"Sure, I'll be down in a few."

I hung up and got up from the bed. Most of my clothes were dirty since I hadn't had the time to take them to the laundry room that the hotel had, and I had kept the Do Not Disturb sign on my door ever since I arrived. I grabbed one of the pair of jeans that I had bought with Marina and put them on, hopping while I slid them to my waist. Once my jeans were buttoned I lunged towards a shirt. I actually lunged, don't ask me why. Before I put it on I pressed the armpits against my nose and inhaled deeply.

"Meh," was the consensus.

I put it on after spraying myself with deodorant. I looked in the mirror before leaving and ran my hand along my scalp, confirming that my renewed mohawk was looking nice and straight. Then I opened the door and closed it abruptly.

"Shoes," I reminded myself.

I had recently bought tennis shoes. The casual type. They were far more comfortable than anything that I had worn in a very long while. To be fair, I had been wearing combat boots ever since my dad died and my mom lapsed into a coma and the only variety that I gave that kind of footwear was the armored boots of my ODST armor. The white fabric was a welcome change.

I grabbed my wallet and checked for my dogtags before I left. The hotel had lovely carpets on the floor, compared to what I was usually living in, it looked like a palace. The elevator took me to the lobby, and from there I walked to the buffet. This hotel was mostly empty save for Reaper Squad and a few civilians that were passing through Esztergom. Already in the buffet were Grass and Lamberti. I wasn't surprised to see them bickering as usual.

"No, no, no! You don't understand. If what you said was right-" Arcangelo punctuated, moving his hands around in exaggerated motions.

"What? What makes you think that you, without any qualifications in that field could possibly know any better than me?" she cut in angrily.

"Oh, now I don't have any qualifications? What the hell is wrong with you, woman?"

"Please," I interrupted them."It's way too early."

"Morning, Sarge," Lamberti greeted, not missing a beat. "It's eight o'clock."

"Too early for when not on deployment."

"Fine," he admitted.

"Hey Sarge," Camilla started. "Who do you think would win in a fight, th-"

"I don't care, please. Just wait for me to leave this place."

I would've made a joke about how they always seemed to be arguing with each other and added an implication that they were secretly in love with one another, but there was absolutely nothing cute or romantic when these two argued. If they started going at it, then you'd better run for cover towards the nearest exit. Or bunker. Don't get me wrong, it wasn't like they hated each other, they just seemed to dislike each other as much as everyone else was starting to dislike Agnarsson.

I grabbed a tray and placed a dish and a bowl on top of it while both my squadmates glared at each other and followed my example. The buffet wasn't looking as tasty as anything that Pavel had ordered for me back in that restaurant, but it sure looked succulent when you compared it to the cheap-but-nutritious food that they gave us on board UNSC ships. Sometimes I think that I ate better in the battlefield, raiding abandoned pantries than on the Inconvenience.

"Bacon?" one of the serving people asked.

"Yes please, and a lot of it," I replied with a smile.

The serving girl smiled back at me and clumsily put ten pieces of juicy bacon on my plate. You heard that right, ten pieces of bacon. Ten. In case you're not really getting it that's a helluva lot of bacon.

My smile turned into a grin as I tasted the bacon with my eyes. I was probably dumbfounded for a few seconds, because next thing I know Grass is calling my name. And not in a good way, if you know what I mean.

"Sorry, what?" I asked the serving girl. Unsurprisingly, she should've been in posters for clothing brands instead of serving food in a cheap hotel.

"Beans?"

"Sure."

I got a nice pile of beans over my scrambled eggs. I was surprised to see that they looked much like the beans that I ate back in my childhood. I hadn't had those since before I joined the corps. The UNSC seemed to have taken a liking for those sweet beans that had the color and consistency of a nice pile of shit. Don't ask me how I know the consistency of shit.

"Thanks," I told the girl as I turned around and looked for a table.

It wasn't particularly hard since there was nobody else in the buffet room other than us three. I grabbed a nice booth since I liked the cushioned seat and called dibs on a seat on the edge.

"Hey Sarge," Lamberti called out as he sat down. "How come that girl smiled at you and not me when she gave you all that bacon?"

"Ru men ahll dis bahcon?" I asked through the said food item in particular.

"Yes, I mean all that bacon."

"Hmm," I swallowed. "I don't know. Don't dwell on it too much."

"Sure, but I mean, it's not that she smiled at you, it's that she didn't smile at me."

"Hard to figure why…" Camilla muttered while shoving Lamberti out of the way and into the corner of the booth seat.

"No, I mean, she didn't smile at you either, isn't she like supposed to smile to all the costumers?"

"Listen Angel," I said. "I'm hot. Deal with it."

He chuckled and swallowed a big piece of a waffle.

"Hey Frank," Camilla said. "Why are you so weird?"

"Excuse me?" I asked, obviously not amused.

"I mean, you're a staff sergeant, you're supposed to be all serious and tough and like a rock and all that."

"You were a lonely kid, weren't you?" Lamberti asked.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything?" she snapped.

"You obviously watched to many war films as a kid."

I laughed loudly, being careful not to choke on my food. I swallowed and laughed some more even though it wasn't that funny. Once I was able to calm myself down a little I put my palm up and offered it to Lamberti, who gave me a high-five. Camilla seemed to glare at me, her eyes asking me why the hell I had decided to side with the man that she regarded as nothing more than a moron with good aim.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," I apologized. "It's just that I've never met any sergeants that are like that."

"Yeah, yeah. You don't have to be an ass about it," she mumbled while putting waffles in her mouth. Her so very sexy and beautiful mouth.

"Hey Sarge!"

"George!" Lamberti greeted. "Come join us!"

Sutton went through the buffet line in a few quick seconds since he was still the only other person awake. He thanked the cute serving girl and sat down with us, pushing Grass and Lamberti further down the booth while leaving the other side free for me. I smiled at the sight of the two smaller ODSTs squished against one another while the larger man looked as comfortable as I felt, his elbows propped outwards.

He held that pose for a second before laughing out loud. "I'm kidding," he said. Sutton shuffled out of the booth and dragged a chair from a neighboring table and pushed it to the head of the table.

"Very funny George," Grass said as she pushed herself to a more comfortable position.

"Say, Sutton," Lamberti called out. "How did it go with that girl yesterday? Did you seal the deal?"

"Seal the deal, who says that?" Camilla asked in annoyance.

"I do, obviously."

"Well Arcangelo, I am not one to kiss and tell, or in this case I won't engage in coitus and tell, so no details for you."

"You dog," Lamberti said, playfully punching him in the elbow.

"Hey!" Camilla complained as he put his arm in front of her. "Watch it!"

"How about you Sarge? That one looked like one for the books," Lamberti asked, ignoring Camilla.

I said nothing, but my expression betrayed my satisfaction with myself. And with her. Booyah!

"Nice!" Lamberti complimented as he offered me his outstretched palm.

I high-fived him and Sutton in quick succession, after which I placed my palm in front of Camilla. I wasn't very surprised when she glared at me and I put down my hand.

"What about you Camilla?" Lamberti teased.

Sutton and me leaned forward, trying to listen in to the conversation. We did this because it was an interesting topic for us as men and because this was Grass we were talking about. It wasn't that we were jealous, we just wanted to know what her private life was like. Same thing I would ask any other male friend. Sure, if she did tell us who she had slept with and I ever saw him again I'd be hard-pressed to resist the urge to kick his face in. Well, maybe we were a little bit jealous, but just a little bit.

"What?" she asked, blushing.

"Did you, engage in coitus?" Lamberti asked, imitating Sutton's phrase.

"That's none of your business."

"So you didn't?" he pressed.

Sutton and me were edging closer towards the conversation as Lamberti kept asking questions. This was shaping up to be one of the most interesting conversations that I had witnessed in the last few years. Seriously, how often do you get to know something about the sex life of the sexiest women you have ever met? Ok, I am a very sick person, but do not dare judge me. You're probably all the same.

"C'mon, tell us," Lamberti pressured Camilla.

"Fine, I didn't take anyone home."

I actually allowed myself to breathe a little easier. Sure, I wasn't about to take a pass at Camilla, but that didn't mean that I didn't have some sort of fantasy that she didn't have sex with anyone else. Again, don't judge me.

"You mean you didn't allow anyone to take you home with him," Lamberti corrected.

"That is seriously the most chauvinistic thing that I have ever heard, what's wrong with a girl taking home a guy?"

"Sounds weird," Sutton said. "Relax, I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he said quickly before Camilla snapped his neck.

"You're being a little aggressive right now Grass," Lamberti noticed. "How long has it been since you… well… got some?"

"Hey! I get laid on a regular basis!"

"Nice of you to broadcast it," I said, pointing to the serving girl, who was giggling to herself and abruptly stopped and turned around when she noticed that we were all looking at her. "Relax," I told her. "We don't care." That was a lie. "We're just men being men with… you. That came out wrong, I mean, you're part of the team, so that means that you get the same treatment as the rest of us."

"Nice save," Schitzo called out from another table. He had a napkin up his collar and a piece of cutlery in each hand, much like a cartoon would've. Schitzo raised his milk glass at me and I was forced to look back to Camilla lest I look like I had ADHD.

"Fine," she acknowledged grumpily.

I smiled to myself and finished my last two pieces of bacon faster than I would've liked. "I'm gonna go check on Pavel," I informed them.

"Don't worry Sarge," Sutton said, "we're all about done."

"Sure, don't wait on me," Agnarsson said, emerging from the elevator. "It's not like I like eating with company."

"I'm gonna go check on Pavel," I repeated. "You can ask Camilla, Lamberti, or Sutton to have breakfast with you. Good morning."

Agnarsson probably mumbled something that could've been considered insubordinate but I was already outside the hotel by the time he was done. I looked to the side and spotted my car easily. It was the only warthog in the parking lot, the other guys had gotten more conventional rentals for the duration of their leave. I checked my pocket for my keys and sighed with relief when I felt them through the fabric. I pulled them out and clicked the lock of the civilian hog off. I hopped, literally hopped, in the vehicle and pulled out of the parking lot with three reckless moves that had no place outside a battlefield.

The drive to the hospital was a short one, partially because I was doing over a hundred and I was only stopped once. The cop happened to be a man, so my natural charm hadn't been enough to get me out of the situation. My dogtags marking me as a Helljumper almost made the man shit his own pants though, I sometimes think that our infamy is our greatest gift. Of course if our propaganda somehow managed to reach Covenant space and actually affect the aliens somehow it would be a lot better.

The hospital that Pavel was staying in was a beautiful building, it looked to be made almost entirely out of glass. There wasn't only one building. Instead the hospital complex consisted of three different buildings, none of them went any higher than fifty floors. The outside of the buildings consisted of a huge parking lot of several levels and the rest was green gardens with lovely shrubs cut in several impressive shapes. There were also a few beds of flowers, but if I described those in detail it might seem a little bit weird.

I placed my car in the parking lot and as soon as I hopped off, the platform immediately descended taking the hog to the basement. The sheer complexity of the automatic parking system was just too much for me to understand completely, so I'll simply tell you that it was going to park itself next to another car.

I walked the last few meters to the building that Pavel was interned in. This building in particular was the one where patients with physical injuries recovered and did their rehab. It had several other wards and wings that had different purposes, but I didn't really care about those. This was said to be one of the finest rehab facilities in the whole planet, and by extension, UEG space as well.

"Good morning, how may I help you?" a pretty receptionist asked me.

"Hey, I'm here to see Pavel." I said. "Mr. Klaus, Pavel Klaus. Sergeant."

"Of course, if you'll wait for just a moment," she said with a perfect smile that had probably taken her a lot of time to perfect.

"Umm, he is during his physical right now," she informed me. "That's ove-"

"Thanks, I know the way… Amber," I thanked her after reading her nametag. For some reason they seemed to love it when I addressed them by name.

The room where people did their physical rehabilitation looked awfully close to a gym, in fact, there were several machines in there that regular gyms also had. There were also rails all over the place, so that people with leg injuries could prop themselves up. In addition to the rails I could see the three-step stairs that were there to teach people bound to wheelchairs to climb up and down stairs. Well sure, they were also there for people with mechanical prosthetics, but there weren't many of those around. Almost all of the prosthetics that could be produced were being used on veterans. Good PR never hurts.

"Pavel!" I called out as I spotted my friend from across the room. "How are you?"

"How the hell does it look like I'm doing?" he snapped back.

"Not good," I noted as I reached for a wheelchair and sat in it. "You look like you have polio."

"What the hell is polio?" Pavel asked as he elbowed a nurse that was trying to help him "Gerofme!"

"Leave him be," I told the poor guy. "He'll call for you when he realizes he can't do it by himself." The nurse nodded at me. "Polio used to be a disease, extinct now, that caused your muscles to cramp and stuff. I'm not really sure, I was only half-listening to Camilla when she talked about it."

"Man, does she ramble," Pavel muttered as he grabbed on to a rail with both his hands and pulled himself up. "Did you hear?"

"About Cole?" I asked.

"Yup."

"Yes I heard."

"What do you think?"

"I don't know what to think, except that the public statement seemed poorly-worded and rushed."

"Frank, sometimes I think that your uncle wanted you to be some sort of warrior-scholar."

I shrugged. "Still, three hundred, isn't that stretching it too much?"

"Yeah, but who would be stupid enough to fake those numbers?" he asked.

"That's exactly what I thought."

Pavel had positioned himself between two rails while I propped my wheelchair up a ramp that led to the three-step stairs. He tried taking two steps but immediately used his arms to hold himself up as he finished his second step. He cursed and tried walking once more, this time placing less weight on his legs and using his upper-body strength to save himself some pain. He still winced all the way through.

"You're getting better," I complimented.

"I got shot in the stomach," he exclaimed. "Why the hell can't I walk?"

"Your spine Pavel, the doctors told you that, remember?"

"It was a rhetorical question, you idiot."

No shit.

I propped my borrowed wheelchair backwards into a wheelie and held on to the wheels. I balanced myself on the edge of the first step and hopped down. I could've done a better landing, but I managed to maintain my balance by repositioning my body and the position of the wheels. I smile to myself as I hopped down the next step. This time I landed better. The last step went just as well as the second and I was able to let my body slump forward and the front wheels of the wheelchair fall to the floor.

"Hey," I told the nurse. "Don't most people have automatic wheelchairs? What's the point of these?"

"It's part of a process," he explained. "Besides, it's always good to know how to get around in one of these, you never know when a battery will break down."

"Sounds reasonable enough."

Pavel grunted as he collapsed to the floor once again. This time the nurse made no move to help him up.

"Come on man," I complained. "When will you be able to walk? I learned to go downstairs in a wheelchair and you still can't walk with crutches."

"Shut up, you don't know how this feels," he snapped.

"I know it hurts," I pointed out, standing up from the wheelchair. "How about you hurry it up?" I asked him. "How about he hurries it up?" I asked the nurse.

"We're letting him go as fast as it is safe for him to go."

I grumbled.

"Deal with it," Pavel said as he struggled to pull himself up again.

"Not like I have much of a choice. Chingada."

"Watch your potty mouth," he said.

I didn't say anything for a while as I watched him try to walk across the rails without using his hands for support. He didn't manage to accomplish his goal. He didn't look like he made any progress either. I knew this was a slow process, but it was starting to get frustrating.

"We might be deploying sometime soon," I said finally.

"I know."

"You won't be there."

"I know."

"Shit man."

"I know."

"Ok, now that's getting annoying."

"I kn-"

"Pavel, I will hit a cripple."

"Fine, fine. Crutches please."

The nurse handed Pavel two crutches and my friend moved slowly towards one of the exercising machines. He tossed his crutched on the floor and let himself fall on the seat. It was a cable weights machine. He set it to the maximum weight and started lifting the weights with almost no effort. His arms had always been pretty bulky, but now they looked even bigger than before.

I found a set of barbells and laid down backwards on a bench. I put a more than enough weight to exert some pressure onto my arms and chest and started pumping away as Pavel did the same thing. It became some sort of a contest to see who would last longer. Eventually Pavel was forced to stop because his stomach started hurting. He rubbed at his still-healing scar and reached for his crutches.

"I win," I said.

"Yeah right, that one doesn't count."

"It counted when my back was slashed."

"Douche."

"I believe the proper term is touché," I corrected.

"Ass."

Pavel rubbed his scar some more and started heading towards the walking rails once again. He tried several times while we conversed about Cole's death and everything that it implicated. I practiced some more tricks with my borrowed wheelchair. Pavel fell some more times and cursed some more but never seemed to give up. I started doing crunches and pull-ups before I got bored.

"It's good to see you bro," I said.

"Whoa, your Mexican accent really came out on that one."

"I was thinking," I admitted.

"In Spanish?"

"Yeah, it'll probably sound weird, but I usually think in English."

"Go figure."

"Anyways, goodbye."

"Bye," he muttered as he stood up and tried again once more.

"I'll come to see you in a couple of days," I said as I left. "Today's Saturday, how does Tuesday sound?"

"Sounds just fine Frank."

"Au revoir. That was French."

"I know Frank."

On Monday my team was back on the Inconvenience and headed off to fight the Covenant once again.

Guys will be guys. And girls will usually be uncomfortable when talking about sex in front of guys. Hey, at least that's my experience. I once had tons of fun trying to get a friend-who-is-a-girl of mine to say the word "penis". Trust me, holding back so much laughter made it worth it in the end when she said it and then blushed redder than a tomato.

But enough with personal anecdotes that you probably find neither interesting nor funny. What do you think about Reaper Squad being deployed without Pavel to help. Surely, no good can come of that. Or can it? This is the part where I should cut off and say: "Find out that and more in the next chapter of TheLife".

But I won't.

As always, thanks to Sniper Fodder for proof-reading this chapter. Also as always, I hope that you enjoyed reading chapter 90 of this fan fiction. Today is Monday. Have a nice week you people.

-casquis