Chapter XCIX: Urges

August 12, 2543 (UNSC Calendar)/

UNSC Inconvenience, geosynchronous orbit above Uppergap, Lambari, Campo Sorrisco System

"When you get this small breaks between fighting, during a battle, you get edgy, nervous, like you need to do something. You get me?"- anonymous UNSC serviceman.

"Hey Sarge, how's the arm?"

"Good, thanks for asking," I replied. "I take it your concussion wasn't particularly bad."

"Nah, they discharged me after giving me some meds."

"They kept me in for one day," I explained, "but then they sent me to a FOB when you had already left. I stayed there until yesterday."

"Yeah, we were deployed in a long-range recon mission. Nothing serious. Boring as hell actually, didn't fire any shots."

"I'll take boring over exciting any time," I chuckled. "Maybe that way I won't get shot as often."

Camilla laughed that hypnotizing laugh of hers and patted me on the shoulder. "Maybe you're right."

"I usually am," I smiled back. "Where's the rest of the team?"

Camilla shrugged while opening her milk carton. Her breakfast consisted only of fruit and cereal as opposed to my pile of eggs, bacon, beans, and sausages. For a marine that went without food for extended periods of time she certainly kept her diet. "Most of them are sleeping or looking for someone to sleep with, Grigori is in the infirmary."

"Serious?"

She shook her head. "Dehydration, forgot to take his water."

"Well, it's a good thing it's nothing serious."

Honestly, I didn't believe that a soldier as competent as Grigori would get dehydrated, especially after being a Helljumper for quite some time. It bugged me a little bit. I couldn't help shaking the feeling that he was in the infirmary in some sort of ONI related business, perhaps checking on my medical reports or having a private meeting with a spook.

"What was your mission about?" I asked in between bites. "Anything important."

"Can't tell you Staff," she said in a serious tone. "After all, it's classified." The last part she said mimicking Albaf's voice. A rather good impression I might add.

I laughed and reached for my last piece of bacon before Camilla lunged for it and snatched it from my plate.

"What are y-"

Then she shoved the delicious piece of meaty heaven into her mouth while smiling cockily at me. She even chewed with her mouth open to show off her prize. I mean, who the hell does that? It's like torturing a man. I gawked at her while the last bacon strip disappeared before my eyes.

"You bitch…"

"Whatcha gonna do about it?" she taunted.

I reached towards her and she flinched. I gave her my best psychopath smile. "Relax, I'm not going to do anything to you." Then I grabbed her tray and tipped it over to the floor, splashing the contents all over Camilla's lap and on the floor.

"Hey! You know how hard it's getting good quality melon while in freaking space?" she complained.

"Pick that up," I snapped. "That's an order."

She glowered at me and muttered something about what I did being completely disproportionate to what she did. Nevertheless Camilla was trained to follow orders and knew that she would end up picking up the mess regardless so she grabbed a bunch of napkins and started picking up the pieces of fruit, insulting me as she went.

"Nobody messes with my bacon."

I finished my sausages and my eggs before Camilla finished cleaning up. By the time she was done cleaning she was furious at me. I had just gotten in the way of her breakfast because of a single piece of greasy food. I'd have understood her anger had she eaten any other item of greasy food, but she had taken a piece of bacon from me. In my own personal opinion she had gotten off easy. If it had been anyone else I would've pummeled their arms to paste or until they begged for me to stop.

"Hey Sarge!" I heard Lamberti call from behind me. "Good to see you again, what the hell happened?"

"Discharged slightly late, someone messed up and sent me to your FOB late, was stuck there for a week."

"Bummer, did you at least get any tail?"

"Get any tail?" Camilla asked annoyed. "Who the hell says that anymore?"

"Oh, hey Cam, didn't see you there," Lamberti replied nonchalantly. "How the hell did you manage to spill all your breakfast?"

"Yeah, how did you manage?" I taunted her. "Must've been looking the other way, because I missed that show."

"Shut up, both of you, and Sarge you're an asshole."

"Whoa," Lamberti said, backing away, "easy there."

I just shrugged. "I've been called worse and it's true enough."

"Fair enough," Lamberti conceded, sitting down. "You gonna wait for me?" he asked me.

"Nah, gotta go check on something."

I stood up, grabbing my empty tray and stretching my neck just as my squad mate sat down and stretched his back. Lamberti looked at Camilla briefly before shaking his head and laughing at her angry expression. The Italian chuckled for a little bit before digging into his own breakfast, almost as excessive as mine had been. Camilla, on the other hand snorted and tried to look as dignified as possible.

"Don't slouch," she told Arcangelo.

Here they go again.

I quickly made my way out of the mess hall just before the shouting match started. I told you before that they could really go at it with one another, but I don't think I can get the meaning across very clearly. I wanted to get away from them as fast as possible before they actually came to me to help them settle their argument. That never ended well, one of them would be pissed at me for weeks and the other wouldn't let the other forget it.

The hallways of the Inconvenience were almost empty. Most of the crew was on their battle stations and the ground forces had all been deployed. There were probably a couple of other squads in addition to our own on board, but most of the complement was groundside kicking ass or getting their asses kicked. It wouldn't be long before Reaper Squad had to go down again and join them. It was fine by me, I had been in a base without any action for over a week. I was itching for some action.

I didn't plan on hitting the gym. I'd gotten enough workouts back on that base, with nothing to do other than exercise, read, and try to seduce colonial militia girls. I had gotten a lot of spare time. The other option was sleeping, which I had gotten enough of, or talking with my squad mates, which I really didn't look forward to. The last viable option was catching up with different people. Sad isn't it? Having to talk to people.

And my game console happened to break…

The best place to find people would've been the mess hall, but that place was on a short fuse. The officer's club would've been a good option before Darbinian had us humble ODSTs kicked out of there. Another option would've been the shooting range, but I think that the best option would probably be the hangar. Being picked up by pelican after every single mission and receiving air support from pilots, I was bound to find at least someone I knew in there.

The massive cargo bay of a UNSC frigate might've been incredibly small when compared to the Count Me In and would certainly be seen as next to nothing if you put it against a carrier. Still, when you were standing in a huge empty room you felt small. Try standing in an empty warehouse, it feels weird at first, then you get used to it for a while, then you notice how small you are again.

The hangar was mostly empty. There were the usual packed up crates in the corners as well as weapon cases held securely with webbing. Other than that there was only one gutted up pelican in for repairs and a scorpion tank having its melted wheels replaced. I looked around to see if I recognized anyone. I didn't spot anyone familiar immediately so I turned around to leave.

"Oi, Cast! Wait up!"

I turned around to see none other than Horace Zekalwe jogging towards me.

"Cast?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.

"Sure," he smiled. "Why the hell not?"

I shrugged. As far as nicknames went in the military, that was actually pretty decent. Cast, I've spent a sizeable portion of my life in casts, it makes some ironic sort of sense if you think about it.

"So, where have you been all this time? Heard about your arm, but knowing the all-mighty Helljumper you are, why did it keep you unfit for duty for so long?"

I sighed before recounting the story of my adventures during last week for the third time in less than ten minutes. Zekalwe only laughed at my unlucky predicament while I grunted in annoyance at the memory of not doing anything of interest other than that one girl. Well, truth be told the entire week of not doing anything had pretty much been worth it, but I'm not one to show off. Except to you guys, that is.

"Must've been a bummer," Horace said sympathetically. "I've been running sorties for the past couple of weeks non-stop. I finally caught a break when an AA wraith nicked my bird. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm glad I was hit."

I smiled and nodded at him understandingly. "After going on for two weeks with nothing but stims and naps I understand. What were you doing when you got hit?"

"Nothing important, delivering some crates with classified content. Probably booze for all I know."

I frowned. Classified material could be things other than illegal alcohol or drugs. "They get the crates after you touched down?"

"Ya, must've been important, I got a pelican and two falcon gunships on the Search & Rescue to find me. Then an albatross from this ship got me and my damaged craft up here."

"Here you are." I looked around for a place to sit and ultimately resolved to use a crate for that purpose. Zekalwe joined me by grabbing another empty crate and dragging it so that he was sitting in front of me. "How long 'til you deploy again?"

"About two days?" he replied with a shrug. "My ship wasn't really damaged by the flak, the crash was kind of rough. Tree ripped off one wing, ground damaged armor plating." He added with a sly smirk, "You know, the usual."

"The usual," I agreed. "My usual would kick your usual any time."

"Hey, don't look at me," Horace said, putting out his hands in a placating gesture. "The only reason I joined Marine Aviation is because I'm too much of a coward to be a regular grunt." He was alluding to that centuries-old myth that Air Force and other aviators had it easy. No doubt he meant it as a joke, no self-respecting person would call themselves a coward unless it was a joke.

"Don't get so defensive," I went along. "I was merely stating a fact, H."

Horace laughed with me for a few seconds before he got all serious. "I could probably go toe to toe with any regular grunt, but you special operations types come with less blood than you left with more oft than not. Me? I'll take flying that bucket any time."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I patted him on the shoulder. "After all, you're one of the best pilots we've got."

"Amen brother."

Zekalwe had this thing that made you laugh at any stupid thing he said. I wasn't a humorless guy by any means, in fact, I think I handled the stress of war much better than several people, but this guy could have me choking back laughter and giggling like a teenager in a matter of minutes. He was pretty much the closest thing I had ever seen to a stand-up comedian. He did impressions, long and elaborate jokes, and even some funny stories. The guy could've had a career in comedy if you ask me.

"Heard anything about Marina?" I asked. No matter what my decision had been I still considered her my friend. Somehow. Maybe the high amount of flicks I kept watching made me think that I had to be a gentleman and care about her.

"Nah, last I saw her she was lifting off to provide support and evac for some stranded militia guys. Suicide mission, they called it."

I smiled. "Nah, she probably escaped without a scratch. You know how she is."

"She's the luckiest person that I have ever met in my entire life."

I don't know if the luckiest, but maybe just close enough. I thought. Marina sure had a healthy dose of luck, same as Pavel and I but I'd heard of guys that had been fighting the war since Harvest or that had survived almost everything that the covvies could throw at them. This being a war on a galactic scale you were bound to get some heroic stories, most of them were the usual, but a few were just plain unbelievable. The most inspiring ones were always with Spartans as the protagonists, a fact that never ceased to make me jealous.

"Hey," Zekalwe suddenly said, looking excited. "Did you check out the fleet's page?"

"Not recently, no. Why?"

Zekalwe looked excited and leaned backwards on his crate. "Oh man, you're going to love this. Hold on," he told me while reaching for a foldable datapad tucked into his pants. "Here, check this out."

"EEDF dot UNSC dot mil."

"Yeah, I know the fleet's page address. Thanks."

"With your intellectual capacity I never know," I shrugged. "What now?"

"Nothing, you were featured on the front page," Zekalwe smiled at me.

"Front page?" I asked. "Seriously?"

"Yeah."

"Isn't that reserved for ship's killcounts and stuff like that?"

"Most of the time, but that stunt you pulled off in the seaport made it there. It's some sort of humor piece mocking the Covenant."

"They did a humor piece out of that?" I asked, shocked. "That was probably one of the most badass things I've ever done and they turn it into a joke?"

"Oh, just watch it."

Zekalwe passed me his datapad and I watched the three minute montage of me and my squad kicking some serious ass with style. The video consisted of helmet-cam and rifle-cam footage from my own helmet as well as from Cam's and Grigori's. The footage was very well cut and whoever made this even added a fitting soundtrack to it. All in all it was a funny yet badass. The video didn't give out our real names, instead only identifying us as Reaper-Actual, Reaper-5, and Reaper-8. I was grateful for that.

I was also grateful for the ego boost, those never hurt.

"It's good," I said after the video finished.

"Good? You have the biggest smile on your face."

"I do not," I lied, looking at the floor to conceal my grin.

"Sure, whatever. You and your team showed up the covvies, that's good for morale. Or sumthin'."

I shrugged rather theatrically. "Maybe. Wait, did you just imply I'm a propaganda tool?"

"I did nothing of the sort!" he exclaimed in mock shock. "But you have to admit, the comparison is rather adequate."

"You do realize you're complimenting me?"

"Yeah, I did halfway through the sentence and didn't want to stop and look like a dim-witted idiot."

"Hey, don't worry. You already look like that to me." I gave him my warmest smile.

Zekalwe raised one eyebrow. "Next time I pick you up I will crash bottom-first just to piss you off."

"I'll probably make it out of there. Not necessarily a good thing, but I have a knack for getting out alive."

Horace stood up and gestured for me to do the same. "I'd propose a toast, but this is the best I can do right now." He pulled me up and offered me his fist. "For luck, and everything that comes with it."

I bumped his fist with an exaggerated motion. "For survival," I agreed. "And everything that comes with it."

"Hey H!" one engineer called from Zekalwe's pelican. "Get back here, didn't you want those circuits rearranged or something?"

"Duty calls," Horace apologized. "See ya later."

"Adios."

I stood up from my improvised seat as Zekalwe walked away from me. His pelican looked somewhat more combat ready than it had a couple of minutes ago. UNSC engineers are pretty damn good at what they do, whether it's blowing up bridges or building them. They are one arrogant bunch though. They are indispensable to the war effort and they never let anyone forget about it.

Now I was left with no other option than to return to my room. Not that it was something bad, but as I have repeatedly stated, I had been without action for a week and the last thing I wanted right now was to do the same boring thing that I had done in that time. Nothing. Of course, my own laziness didn't allow me to go to the gym or firing range, so I guess it would be a nap for me instead.

My quarters were still a mess. When Pavel got back here he would be pissed as fuck, not because it was dirty, but because half the stuff strewn around the room was piled up near his bunk. I could move it, sure, but that would imply me caring about cleanliness.

I yawned as I got in my bed, kicking down the sheets and hugging my pillow. I had just found a comfortable position when the room's intercom rang.

"Frank," Eliza called out to me.

"I'm awake."

"You and your team are needed in the drop bay."

"About time."

Once the whole team had assembled in the drop bay Eliza started briefing us. She popped up on the holotable, making herself real-sized just for the hell of it. As soon as the hologram appeared everyone stopped what they were doing and gave the construct their full attention. Eliza waited a couple of seconds to make sure that all of us were paying attention before she started talking.

"You're all aware of the situation in Uppergap, the city was one of the last strongholds that the UNSC has got in Lambari. Little over a week ago it was wrested from our control in a stealth attack spearheaded by brute stalkers. The cas-"

"Get to the point Liz," I prompted.

"Very well then," she said, pretending to be offended. "The UNSC Army has a strategy to retake the city. The stealth pylons that the Covenant are using make it difficult for any airstrikes to hit their targets or for reliable artillery targeting. Several special operations teams will be sent in to destroy or incapacitate the pylons, enabling UNSC forces to bomb targets of value before the main advance."

"Wait, how do we know where the pylons are?" Agnarsson asked. It was a good question, if we couldn't see the city it meant we couldn't see our intended targets.

"We don't," Eliza replied simply. "However, the approximate location can be deduced from the strength of the electronics blackout." As she explained that to us her hologram decreased in size to give way to a three-dimensional map of Uppergap. Half a dozen red spots appeared in the city. They were all emitting waves that covered the entirety of Uppergap.

You don't have to be a genius to figure out what those dots were.

"Will we have any support?" Grigori inquired.

"Negative corporal."

Snark sighed. "Can't be helped."

"What are we facing?" I asked Eliza.

"Infantry mostly, the latest intel says that vehicles were in short supply for the Covenant forces. They're pinned down in the city, but as long as they retain control of it they have the advantage in this sector."

"Can't you send recon drones?" George asked.

"They did, there are currently several miniature reconnaissance drones patrolling Uppergap, but the interference of the pylons doesn't allow them to transmit outside the city. Once your inside they might be of help though."

"Might?" Agnarsson groaned.

"Yes, might."

"Anything else?" I prompted.

"Ah, yes. As I already mentioned, as soon as the pylons are down the UNSC will start bombing high-value targets. If you come across anything of interest during your mission be sure to mark it. A crate of IR strobes has been requisitioned for that. One last thing, the pylons are to be blown up as soon as the sun sets. Approximately seven forty-three, local time."

That meant that we had about eight hours before that deadline. It seemed like an awful lot of time for a quick mission. Evidently command anticipated some sort of complication. I could guess what those were.

What worried me the most though, was that we would be doing a daytime drop. The city was still letting out tons of smoke from the fires, but not as much as before. Our arrival wouldn't be as concealed as it could have been. In fact, we would be announcing our entrance to anyone that bothered to look up or was within hearing range of our landing.

"Liz, can you shell our landing area before we land?" I asked. "To disguise our entrance better."

"Yes, there is a small artillery detachment that is being protected by Lieutenant Delacroix. I'll communicate with her and see about it."

"Thanks."

"Lieutenant Delacroix says she'll see about it."

"That was fast," Lamberti complimented. "Talking to several different people at the same time and running a ship."

"Thank you Mr. Lamberti."

"Now, if that is all Liz, just let us know."

"Understood."

I nodded to my team, implying to them that I wanted Reaper locked, loaded, and ready for action. My team was still wearing their fatigues, no one had bothered putting on their armor, so they quickly went about doing that. Camilla hid behind a section of wall as she undressed and put her undersuit on. Despite being our squad mate for almost one year. I mean, hell, people that knew each other for less than that got married.

I took off my shirt and examined my left arm. You could barely tell that just a week ago it had been badly burnt in most places. Some reconstructive surgery had been needed, but by the time I got back on board the Inconvenience most of my arm looked brand new. A little odd if you ask me, but there was still some light scarring right above my elbow, right below where the UA Multi-Threat pauldron ended. I gotta hand it to whoever designed that particular piece of armor, they had been through hell and back and they were still mostly intact.

I pulled down my pants before reaching for my undersuit. Lockley had given me one hell of a scolding for not wearing it, the pain in my arm would've been more than enough to persuade me by itself, but I think Hanna didn't want to miss out on an opportunity to humiliate me. Quite a dickish move on her part, but a justified one nonetheless.

I squeezed into the tight suit with some effort, shaking and wiggling around to make myself fit. Once I was done putting on the fire retardant clothing. In addition to that the undersuit was also designed to resist bladed attacks and to regulate temperature. Yes, I was a complete idiot for not putting it on as much as possible.

I was distracted from my thoughts when Camilla emerged from behind the wall. As usual, she was wearing her undersuit, only that she hadn't bothered putting on her armor just yet. Now, I know I've tired you all with several descriptions of just how insanely sexy Cam was, but just now she looked desirable.

A fact that did not went unnoticed by the rest of the squad, myself included.

After we were done making her blush as much as physically possible and make her feel uncomfortable for a while I stopped the show.

"Ok, enough, enough," I said in between laughs. "That's just rude, guys."

"Sarge, you're a hypocrite." Naveen let me know what he thought bluntly.

"That's the last time I trust you to be mature," Camilla muttered angrily.

I looked at her and prepared to say something. I even opened my mouth before closing it and deciding that it was probably best to shut the hell up.

Lamberti, however, didn't have the same reservations.

"Come on Grass, you know you love the attention."

"I'll kill that motherf-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I intervened just as a grinning Sutton grabbed Camilla by the waist before she attacked Lamberti. "We were just kidding, it won't happen again."

"But Sarge," Naveen complained. "The male members of the squad don't get the same treatment."

"If Cam wants to be treated differently, she will."

"Hey, I never said that!"

"So we can treat you all the same?"

"Some respect wouldn't hurt…" she murmured.

"Different standards it is then."

"How you make that sound like an insult is beyond my understanding," Agnarsson noted. There was even a little bit of admiration in his voice.

"Ok, George, stop groping Camilla and put your armor on. Everyone else same thing."

Naveen spoke up. "I wasn't groping Camilla."

"You were thinking about it, you little perv."

Ouch.

"Wha-? What are you attacking me for?" the marksman said defensively. "I didn't do-"

"Ok, next person that says anything gets punched."

I had sparred with all of them and they knew how hard I could punch. They took the smart decision and refrained from making any noises with their mouths.

As I put my armor on I noticed that the armor on my left arm was a shiny black instead of scarred and chipped like the rest of my armor. Normally it wouldn't have bothered me, after all, I had been forced to get new pieces of armor several times, but they usually came in with the painting just a little bit damaged. Enough to give it a worn look. This replacement was completely new. It made me feel like a complete recruit.

"Oi, Konst, help me out with the pauldron, will ya?" Agnarsson asked. He was having some trouble putting on his shoulder armor with only one hand.

"What's the matter?"

"I can't put my armor on by myself," Agnarsson deadpanned.

Sutto chuckled at the sarcasm and quickly strapped on the pauldrons onto Agnarsson's arm. The Scottish rocket man moved his arm around experimentally to check if the armor was correctly strapped on. He shrugged once he reached a conclusion. He was the only one who had trouble putting on his armor. Everyone else was now clad in black ODST armor. It never ceased to astound me how badass we could look.

"Rob, Grigori, pack a bunch of those strobes. Naveen, I want you to take an SRS."

"Thinking about it myself," he replied as he lifted the sniper rifle from the weapons rack.

"Lamberti, we're going to need as much firepower as possible, so you're going to have to keep it basic with explosives."

He sighed deeply. "Fine."

"Everyone else, pack as much ammo and grenades as you can."

I moved to my equipment rack and grabbed four grenades, strapping them to my ribs. I grabbed an extra one and placed it back on the table. Once I made sure the grenades were tightly strapped and secured I started shoving magazines into my pockets. The more the better, but I still ended up with what seemed like an awfully small amount of rounds for the mission.

Knives? Check.

Ammo? Check.

Grenades? Check.

Flares?

I grabbed a pair of flares and put them in my butt-pack. Those things could come in handy if we needed early extraction. They could even work as visual markers for camera-directed strikes or unguided bombings if the need arose.

Check.

I made a point to confirm I had everything that I could possibly need for the following eight hours. Once I did that I grabbed a canteen and strapped it on to my waist. Not that I would be dying of thirst if I didn't drink water for a few hours, but sometimes it paid off to have something to keep your throat wet with. The water-filled canteen sloshed as I secured it. I grabbed two cans of biofoam and secured them to my left thigh. The cloth pouch had some spare room so I shoved down another grenade. Just in case.

"We all good?" I asked as soon as I was done.

"Just about," George heaved as he stretched his arms behind his back.

I waited for the tower of a man to finish stretching before addressing the rest of the team. They had their helmets under one arm and their main weapons on the other. All of them were looking at me. They probably lived just for this part. Before I opened my mouth Eliza popped up.

"Lieutenant Delacroix has confirmed that the 1st Lambari Artillery Regiment has started shelling. They will keep the bombardment for one minute."

"Good, give Chlo my thanks."

"Done. Good luck Francisco. Reaper."

"Thanks ma'am," Sutton nodded at her.

"Lady and gentlemen, not much left to say, you all listened to the debriefing. I want everyone at their sharpest, a stalker sneaking up on us wouldn't be good for business. Keep your eyes on the windows at all times and be ready for intense firefights. You know, urban combat and all that."

They nodded at me and checked their weapons a little bit nervously for reassurance.

"We're Helljumpers! How do we go?"

"We go feet first, Staff Sergeant!"

"Damn right," I muttered.

Now all that I could hope for was that we would all finish this mission standing on our feet as opposed to lying on a stretcher.

Thanks (as per usual) to Sniper Fodder for proof-reading this chapter.

So, sorry but the tropical paradise that I mentioned had a lack of internet, and even if it didn't, I still had a lack of laptop. But worry not, here it is, Chapter 99. Ninety-nine. Just one chapter shy of hitting triple digits. Oh, don't worry, I have a huge speech prepared for when that happens.

Now, back to the part where I explain why I wrote somethings the way I wrote him in the hopes that you'll comment on how awesome I did. First of, I've noticed that Frank rarely interacts with the ship's crew outside his own squad. Sure, he had Layla, Marina, and Yevgeny to chat with every now and then in addition to some other minor characters, but the first two were actually the main character's girlfriends and the last one mostly interacts with Frank in combat situations. Now that's why I had him chat with Zekalwe, who you might remember from past chapters.

I also had him be an asshole to Camilla (Grass) because people are assholes half the time, and when it comes down to it, Frank is more of an asshole than most people. Another thing I noticed is that my characters usually refer to each other either by their names, last names, or call signs. Very rarely do they talk to each other with nicknames or shortened versions of their names. I mean, honestly, how many of you call your best friend by their full name? Unless their name consists of four letters of less, of course.

One last thing. The armory scene? I just love doing those. Gun and equipment porn. Hell yeah. I keep myself from going too much into the details, but I usually end up describing a lot of stuff that you already know.

Wow, that went on for longer than expected.

Hope you enjoyed.

-casquis