Chapter CVII: The Reason You Suck

December 13, 2543 (UNSC Calendar)/one month later

New Alexandria, Viery Territory, Reach, Epsilon Eridany System

"I'm a military wife now, that means that I can legally mess with government property."- Amber Klaus

"So you're not going to be back for…how long?"

I shrugged. "Not sure, but it's probably going to be somewhere near six months."

Marie blew her hair out of her face in mock frustration. "And I was just beginning to think that you were warming up to me."

I remembered the first time I had seen Marie Megalos. M&M for short. Pavel had finally succeeded in his dream of breaking up with his girlfriend through being an asshole (a dream that I wholly supported) and had asked me over for a celebratory dinner in a fancy restaurant that probably cost him half that month's paycheck. Marie had been the hostess on duty at the time. She had given me her phone when we were done, but sadly, I deployed that same morning, rendering our plans useless.

That had been just over a year ago, and that phone number had developed into a beautiful relationship.

If you can call daily sex with no commitment a relationship at all. That suited both my needs and hers just fine.

After finding it incredibly hard getting a female marine to jump in bed with me I decided to take a different approach. Feeling rather lazy I jumped on a Pelican and called Marie to see if she was still interested in getting involved in some sheet tangling. It took her a few moments to remember me, but she said that she was interested and took up my offer.

"Don't flatter yourself Ems," I dismissed her suggestion. "I'm merely getting accustomed to the sight of the twins." I reached forward with both my hands, fingers outstretched. Of course, since we were in a public place, she immediately took a step back after batting my arms to the side.

"Really?" she raised her eyebrow at me. "You want me fired?"

"No, I want you out early."

She sighed impatiently, no doubt eager to get back to work before her manager scolded her for taking too much off time. She looked stunning, as usual, but her black dress, heels, and professional-looking hairdo were definitely reminiscent of several fantasies.

Yeah, you know you're thinking about it too.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. Some important costumer is coming here and the boss wants him to get the best treatment."

"And that includes that lovely cleavage of yours."

She pressed her elbows together for my pleasure. "Yes. I'm sorry, but you're just going to have to make do without me or find somebody else to satisfy your needs. I'm sorry."

I finally realized the futility of my attempts. "You're not going to be six months inside a tin can filled with men."

"There are women in the military too," she reminded me. "What about that squad mate of yours, Camilla?"

"That is wrong on so many levels."

"Why? People have sex with their superiors all the time."

"Not in the military," I scoffed incredulously. Yeah, yeah, I'm a total hypocrite. "Especially if you're getting it on with someone directly subordinate to yourself."

She groaned in exasperation. "Well, I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Good bye then," I said bitterly, although I found it hard to be actually pissed at Marie.

"No, not good bye," she immediately corrected. "We'll see each other again."

I smiled. She really did care. "And then I'll proceed to f-"

"Marie!" her manager yelled.

-the shit out of one another… I mentally finished.

"So, see you later?" she suggested.

"See you later," I echoed.

She put on her brightest smile before kissing me lightly on the cheek and walking towards her boss and apologizing profusely. Few people could resist to female charm, but even fewer people could resist the aforementioned charm of one woman with looks like Marie. I did not count myself as one of those. The only two people who could probably resist her smile were her father and her brother. And even then her father would probably have a weak spot for his beloved daughter.

But enough with baseless speculation.

I walked out of the restaurant, digging my hands into my pockets and pressing my chin against my chest to protect myself from the chilly wind. I really wished for a hood right about then. The snow hit me in the face, flushing my cheeks and chilling the unprotected parts of my body. I had put on a scarf, but I had thought that three months of growing my regular jarhead cut would be enough to protect me from the windshield.

It very clearly showed that I was raised in a tropical place where the only cold I felt was when the air conditioner was too damn high.

Fortunately, my Hog had more than enough features to make me feel like I was right at home despite being inside a car. But then again, that's the purpose, isn't it? Since I wasn't going to get any action I just sat in the car, my hands on the wheel while I thought about what I could possibly do. The obvious answer was to get shitfaced in some bar with the hopes of snagging some girl before I was too far gone, but the floor still shook occasionally ever since I had taken those shots of whatever.

So getting shitfaced was a definite no-no.

I would've gone to The Grenadier to have a few drinks and exchange some stories, but that was a couple hundred miles away and Marina was no longer my girlfriend, which meant that she wouldn't drive me for free. As a matter of fact, she wouldn't drive me. Period. Of course, I could've asked Zekalwe and he probably would've agreed, but I would feel guilty to force him to serve as my chauffeur on behalf of a couple of drinks.

Well, maybe I could've-

Nah, too much of a dick move.

"Call Pavel."

"Calling Pavel," my phone replied.

"Well no shit."

I heard a couple of beeps before Pavel's gruff voice came in. "Frank," he said simply.

"Pavel," I replied in kind.

"The fuck do you want Frank?"

"What are you doing right now?"

"This is my last day with my wife for a very long time, what the fuck do you think I'm doing?"

"Hey Frank, how you doing?" Amber called out.

"Evening Mrs. Klaus, I'm sorry to disturb what is undoubtedly a mediocre occasion."

"Apology accepted," she replied. "And it isn't mediocre at all."

I smiled to myself. Atta boy Pavs.

"Give us a min Amber," Pavel asked his wife.

"Fine," I heard her sigh, "but don't make it too long."

Ha, too long.

I heard the sound of a door sliding closed before I spoke up again. "Tell me, what's she wearing?"

"Frank…"

"Fine, what isn't she wearing."

"Frank…" he warned sternly.

"Sorry," I apologized sincerely. "I wanted to have some drinks with you, but seeing as you're-"

"Busy."

"Currently-"

"Engaged otherwise."

"Engaging in-"

"A personal-"

"Commitment."

"Which includes-"

"Personal things."

"Such as coitus," I finished.

"Fuck you Frank."

"And you fuck her too," I ordered him. "Make her remember you, in a good way, you know."

"I think my child would take care of that."

I chuckled. "Of course."

"And talking about fucking."

"What else do we talk about?" I asked. "Seriously."

"And talking about fucking, you get yourself some, I don't want you moping about military chicks being to mechanical."

Heh. Yeah.

"Little too late for that," I shrugged at him, "but I'll give it a shot regardless."

"Good luck, see you in a few."

"Agreed."

I hung up and thought some more. I no doubt looked like an idiot staring out at nothing inside a car with its engine on and the headlights flashing. Of course, a courteous New Alexandrian snapped me out of my daze by bombarding my ears with the lovely sound of his recent-model Caballo sports car. Hell, the horn sounded as classy as the car looked.

Unfortunately for the driver of the conspicuous vehicle, I was not nearly as classy as he made himself out to be. So I took my time while backing out, making the turns too short on purpose and only tapping the accelerator ever so slightly. My three-point turn ended up being a thirty-two point turn. I had plenty of space, but I made it seem like I was trying to turn a luggage cart around in a confined hallway. The only thing the poor man could do was honk and yell at me. He was lucky I was sober, had I been in this mood and drunk I would've crashed his pretty little Caballo.

Instead, I tortured him for perhaps two minutes and a half before I left the parking lot and drove towards my hotel. If Marie had the night shift that meant that she wouldn't be getting out for at least three hours, I was supposed to report to base in three hours and forty-five minutes, and I had to return my car and work out some paperwork regarding insurance and the like. If I took a decent-length nap I would be able to make it in time.

But I didn't take a decent-length nap and I didn't make it in time.

"Name."

"Sta- Gunnery Sergeant Francisco Castillo."

"ID number?"

"Is that really necessary?"

The clerk shrugged and tapped the holographic keyboard, inputting my name into the designated box.

"There are twenty-seven men of that name and rank in the UNSC Defense Forces. And one woman," he informed me. "But that one can be discarded. Am I mistaken?"

"No, you're not," I replied good-naturedly. "I'm ODST."

"That much is evident." The clerk tapped a couple of invisible buttons and dragged something in his screen. "There it is." He raised an eyebrow before looking at me. "You were about to be declared AWOL."

I shrugged and tried my best to look innocent. "I had some unexpected delays."

"None of my business, report to landing pad S-201. Your chariot awaits there."

I smiled and thanked the clerk.

What the hell's a chariot?

I didn't have to walk long before I hopped on a monorail. I honestly have no idea why they still call them that, as there are no actual rails to speak of, but you know what I mean. It moved through the base quickly, stopping once to let in a pair of chatting techs. Of course, as soon as they saw the insignia on my chest they shut up and went to the other side of the small wagon, where they sat down and remained quiet.

I suppressed a smirk of satisfaction at that, some people make us out to be psychopathic soldiers out to kill just for pleasure, others make us to be heroes who kick ass because they're good at it. Still others make us out as glorified soldiers while others rank us a step down from gods. All of them agreed on one thing: we are fucking crazy.

While I did enjoy the fame (or infamy) and the perks that came along with it, it sometimes felt like people treated me extremely carefully, keeping me at bay with a long stick, as if they were afraid that I could kill them. There were very few people that treated me normally, but the few that did I could count as friends and (in most cases) depend on them.

Unless your name is Krikor Darbinian.

The two techs jumped off on their stop and left me to myself as the wagon sped through two miles worth of airstrips, hangars, and landing pads. I took in the sight of hundreds of aircraft being fixed, taking off, landing, or just sitting around. I was particularly interested in a Longsword taking off. It sped up before quickly pulling up and banking to the left. The craft's trajectory indicated that it wouldn't be leaving the lower atmosphere. At least not immediately. As I watched a second Longsword repeat the same maneuvered I realized something. The thing needed an actual runway to take off, it might be only three hundred meters, but you'd think that all of our planes would be able to do VTOL. We are in the twenty-sixth century after all.

Eventually the rail car started slowing down before coming to a definitive halt. I grabbed the two duffel bags containing the entirety of my belongings and threw one of them over my shoulder as I headed towards the pad designated as 201. I was already in the S section, but the walk was still relatively lengthy. By the time I arrived I had switched the position of my bags several times and my back was starting to strain.

"Frank. What the fuck?"

"Sorry," I apologized to Pavel. My friend was looking at me with a very understandable expression that informed me just exactly what he thought of my tardiness. "There was a slight inconvenience."

"No, an inconvenience is a ship," he said. "To be this late you must've found a goddamned fleet! Albaf was about to declare you AWOL!"

"I heard. Nice metaphor by the way."

He smiled with satisfaction. "Thanks, I came up with it just recently. While I was waiting. For you. For a very long amount of time."

"I said I was sorry."

"And I'm willing to bet that you didn't miss the appointed time because you got laid."

"No," I admitted reluctantly. "I overslept."

You have to understand my position here. Being a soldier (an incredibly talented one at that) means that I go without sleep for some time. Nightmares, bad dreams, and the like also come in the package. Not to mention that whenever I do get some sleep I always end up being awoken by some sort of dire situation or other. Curious, isn't it?

"Great," Pavel mumbled. "Be sure to get some before we go into cryo, I don't want you complaining or taking mysteriously long showers."

"Hey!" I yelled defensively. "You were the one who disabled the shower overrides in the first place so that you could shower without having your water cut off!"

Pavel seemed like he was about to say something, but I had evened up with him and he didn't want to start something that we would both regret. Probably because the rest f the squad was in the Pelican's troop bay not twenty yards away and they would hear our rather embarrassing conversation. Smart call on his side.

I started walking towards the craft in question and hopped in. Reaper Squad was already inside, Arcangelo and Rob looked to be sleeping while Camilla was reading through something on her datapad. Naveen was polishing the scope for his EMR with a rag, occasionally stopping to adjust it after placing it to his eye. Grigori, stoic as ever was simply leaning backwards on his chair with his hands clasped over his lap. His cap firmly placed over his head.

"About time Sarge," the only female member of Reaper said. "We've been picking at our eyes here. Literally, I started poking my eyes to see what it felt like before Konstantinov lent me his datapad."

"I wouldn't want a soldier without depth perception covering my ass," the man of Russian ancestry said simply.

"Well, I'm here now and you didn't blind yourself. We can go now."

I secured my two duffel bags to the netting hanging on the Pelican's ceiling before placing them on the ledges above the sitting spaces. I went towards my preferred seat, the closest one to the exit on the left side of the dropship. Sadly, Arcangelo was occupying it. Well, sadly for him.

"Oi!" I said, borrowing the word from my Scottish subordinate. "Wake up." At least I didn't borrow the accent.

"What?" he exclaimed, jerking slightly. "Sarge? You're finally here!"

"Yes, now scoot."

He groaned and moaned in protest, but he unbuckled himself and shuffled sideways two seats over. His moves were clumsy and he looked one step below drunk.

"Glad to see you're sober," I pointed out, being only half sarcastic.

The ex-con only groaned again. "I still am drunk. And hungover, at the same time."

I shrugged at him. "Well, it happens to the best of us."

"To you more than the rest," Pavel helpfully pointed out.

"The smuggled moonshine I had in prison didn't give me headaches half as bad," Lamberti slurred. "That little bottle of mystery drink that I bought off that stupid waitress almost killed me."

"And Rob," I pointed out.

"He's completely out," Grigori informed me. "I even had some medic scan him to make sure he was all right."

"And?"

"His blood alcohol is…high."

"Well, that's not permanent. At any rate, he can get a cloned liver."

The sober members of my squad chuckled lightly at the joke before they buckled themselves in and banged on the cockpit to signal the pilot that we could leave. It took all of ten seconds to wake the pilot of the D77-TC Pelican and another half minute to get him to stop complaining about my tardiness. He had a job, though, a job that he had to do to get paid, so he turned on the engines and did his pre-flight after a rather lengthy rant that ended with Pavel threatening to break three fingers in his left hand if he didn't shut up.

"So, what's with the crates?" I asked, pointing at the objects in question strapped down to the Pelican's blood tray.

"Ammunition for the 'Dillos," Camilla explained.

"How'd you know?" I asked her.

"The big stamp that says so."

To my credit, the big stamp that said so wasn't visible from my position.

"Cam, Cam, Cam, I half expected you to do some ass-pull regarding the shape and measurements of the crates."

"Well, they're your standard three-by-two-by-two, so they could be carrying pretty much anything smaller than an M7."

I chuckled.

"You just had to point out that you knew that, didn't you?" Lamberti asked sarcastically.

"No, I just had to point out that you didn't," she retorted.

"I'm not in the mood for this," the man replied before letting his head slump forward.

"What about you Grigori?" I asked. "I haven't seen you since that night in The Grenadier. What have you been up to?" I was prodding him for information, but that would've been evident only to him and me, perhaps to Pavel, but his knowledge on the matter was more limited than my own.

"Just meeting some old friends," he replied vaguely.

"Really, what kind of friends?"

"Personal friends." There was a definite emphasis on the first word. Subtle, but still there. The man was essentially telling me to fuck off and that this wasn't any of my business. The problem was that it probably was something directly involved with him, especially if it had sent him underground for about a month. I could trust that man with my life in the battlefield, but outside of it I wouldn't trust him with a pair of used briefs.

"Well, glad you caught up with them. What about you Cam?"

"I have some friends here as well," she explained."Did some of the regular tourist stuff in New Alexandria, went hiking in Szurdok with some friends, pretty good place for rock-climbing too. Granted, it's as ugly as it gets, but I had fun."

I was itching to ask her if she had gotten laid, but that probably would've been misinterpreted. It's just that I felt a little protective of her, same with the whole squad, except Arcangelo perhaps. That and I regretted the fact that she was out of bounds for any physical activity that involved more contact than sparring. Hell, jiu-jitsuing with her might've been a little bit awkward when it came down to physical contact. She was a squad mate, it was pretty much impossible for me to think of her in that way.

Except when she wears those tight pants she seems so fond of.

I shook my head, forcing the thought away.

"We all know where Pavel has been," I said suggestively.

Pavel had told Reaper about his marriage as well. They all congratulated him and teased him for not inviting us to the wedding, but no one was genuinely angry at him. I guess they weren't close enough to him for that yet.

Camilla smiled. "Good for him, right Snark?"

"I guess," the marksman said disinterestedly.

Soon after that, the Pelican left the gravitational pull of that large rock that we liked to call Reach. It flew in what I made out to be a straight line for perhaps a couple of minutes.

"Anchor-9, this is Delta-two-zero-one, requesting permission to dock."

"Roger that Two-zero-one, you are free to dock in Hangar 1, a tube is being extended, you should be able to see it."

"I see it Anchor-9, thanks a bunch."

I grabbed my dogtags and shoved them back under my shirt as the lack of gravity took a hold of them once again. The pelican spun, the only indication that I had for that was the shifting of Reach outside the rear hatch window. I heard a loud clanging and then a hiss, the sound of pressures matching up. I unbuckled myself just as the rest of my squad did the same. Lamberti shook Robert awake while the doors opened.

Two navy personnel entered the craft and untied the crates, sending them floating randomly. They pushed them all the way down a tube with padded walls, at the end of the tube another man would grab them and place them on the floor, pushing them downwards carefully to ensure that they would stay there. While they did that we jumped towards our bags and grabbed them, being careful not to hit one another or to get stuck out of reach of anything to hold on to.

There are few feelings worse than that of floating right in the middle of a room with your hands and feet inches from the walls and not being able to move. Ideally you'd throw a shirt or a shoe, but the feeling is still a bad one.

Once we all had strapped our bags to ourselves we jumped the length of the umbilical tube and onto the small room that separated us from Anchor-9 itself. There were handholds on the ceiling designed to be…well… held onto. We grabbed onto those and forced our feet to face the floor. The long tube retracted into itself after Pelican S-201 detached and left. As soon as it was completely collapsed a door closed it off from this room.

"Warning," a synthetic voice warned. It was distinctly an AI, a dumb AI by the sound of it. "Gravity in three, two, one."

My stomach lurched as I suddenly felt the full weight of my artificially-dense muscles and bones. I even jerked slightly backwards as the two duffel bags did their best to drag me to the floor as gravity appeared. I felt myself ever so lighter than I had back on Reach. It was tradition to keep all UNSC vehicles at one standard gravity, the same as back on Earth. A little bit self-centered and inconsiderate if you ask me, but the military does love tradition.

A small unmanned cart emerged from the door as soon as it opened. The three navy guys loaded the ammunition onto it before walking out, the car hot on their heels.

It was not the first time I had been on an Anchor station, it was the first time I had been on Anchor-9 though, but in my experience, all of these stations were pretty much the same. It wasn't like we could get lost, we emerged into a huge-ass hangar, there were two different airlocks that joined this station with the Inconvenience's own hangar, increasing the overall size of the room.

I beckoned to my team to follow me through the huge space. Pavel quickly caught up to me and walked in step with me, the rest of the team a couple of steps behind.

"Never ceases to amaze me," Pavel said. "How chaos can be so organized."

Enlisted men, engineers and resupply officers, were running around the place. Most of them were pushing carts or carrying crates, others had the privilege of an automatic cart, but they still had to load and unload things manually. A couple of cargo exo-skeletons manned by skilled operators carried bigger equipment towards the Inconvenience, the limbs of the mechas moving as swiftly as if they were living, breathing creatures.

Our ship was supposed to depart pretty quickly, and they were trying to get everything done as fast as possible.

"There are always delays," I told Pavel. "No need to worry about me being late."

"Yes," he admitted, "but these kinds of delays are to be expected, you to miss departure by that long is just wrong."

"Once again, I'm sorry. I truly am."

"Yeah," he scoffed, "but just because Albaf is going to give your ass a reaming."

"Umm, actually, I'm not into that," I replied, letting him realize just how dirty his phrase had sounded.

Oh Pavel, it's good to have you back.

"Good to know Sarge," Cam said playfully.

"I'm into that," Lamberti added.

I could not tell whether he was actually serious or not, so the entire squad decided to drop the topic lest our minds were permanently scarred by undesired mental images.

"You know," Cam suddenly said, breaking our silence. "A ream is equivalent to five hundred paper sheets."

We all groaned at her completely trivial fact.

We were briefly stopped by another clerk before we were allowed to access the Inconvenience's hangar. We all showed him our identification cards and were promptly allowed to walk inside. Our ship's crew was mostly unloading equipment into different elevators and storage spaces. Most of the stuff being stored right now was ammunition, the more important stuff having been loaded first. Of course, half the Pelicans were still being repaired, the image of a refitted ship wouldn't have been complete without sparks and mechanics, amirite?

"Think you ought to go meet up with Albaf?" Camilla asked as we hopped on an elevator.

"Me, oh hell no, I'm not meeting up with her until I get a warning over the speakers. Right Liz?"

"Sorry Francisco, Commander Albaf requested I inform her the moment you set foot on the ship."

I stifled a curse. "Well, have you-"

"Yes."

"And…"

"She would like for you to report to her office immediately."

"Well I'll be damned."

The elevator doors opened and we all piled out of the large device. My team stood there for a moment, looking like they didn't really want to be onboard the ship. I sighed, it was about this moment when I realized that just maybe I would've loved a boring civilian life being a lawyer or something like that. Pavel looked worse than everyone else. He had, after all, just left his wife behind. From what little I knew about Amber, she was a hell of a catch and an outstanding person. I must've dedicated a little bit more time to get to know my best friend's wife.

"Hey bro," I called to him. "Hold my bags." I tossed him both my duffel bags at the same time, forcing him to drop his own to catch mine. He glared at me before slinging them over his shoulder. At least I had distracted him from his missing wife and all that.

I just wished someone could've saved me from having a verbal beat down from Albaf.

I made my way through a crowded ship and stopped right in front of Albaf's office. I couldn't help but notice how people tended to give this door in particular a wide berth. The ONI logo on top of it was a pretty good giveaway as to what horrors could be found beyond this simple gray door.

Huh, the way I make it sound you'd think the only thing it was missing was a three-headed dog named Fluffy.

Another thing I couldn't help but notice was that the name plaque on the door now had Commander Samantha Albaf on it as opposed to just Commander Albaf. It was a little surprising since the woman was very private and kept to herself as often as possible, revealing something like her name struck me as something that she wouldn't do willingly.

I ignored it and knocked on the door. Antiquated, I know, but I did it regardless.

Of course the door opened automatically without anyone waiting for me behind it. That was just rude. And creepy.

The first thing that I noticed was that the entire office had been remodeled. And I mean completely remodeled, the layout was completely different than what I was used to. The ONI section had been transformed into something resembling a civilian office, with a smallish reception-style section before the actual office. It looked almost harmless.

"Lieutenant," I acknowledged Wilkins. He was tapping on a terminal when I entered. He seemed not to notice my presence for a few seconds. Eventually he tapped the holographic keyboard a little bit too hard and looked up, staring me straight in the eye.

"The commander is waiting for you."

"Wish me luck," I swallowed.

Of course, the man was a complete rock, so he didn't even look at me. Few times had Wilkins showed any emotion at all. Sometimes I wondered if he were some sort of android with advanced AI. I mean, we were in the year 2543, it should've been possible by now. Besides, there were some conspiracy theories running around regarding that issue. It didn't seem so farfetched.

Well, except for the fact that ONI would probably hire someone that behaved like a robot before making a robot that behaved exactly like itself. I mean, what's the point in that?

"Commander," I said as soon as the door slid closed behind me.

Albaf was sitting in an expensive leather chair with a tall back, hiding everything but the top of her head from view. The pose seemed familiar for some reason, but I couldn't quite place it. Perhaps it was one of those stupid movies that Robert had gotten us all into. Regardless, the position was somewhat intimidating when you coupled it with the low lighting.

"This is all a game to you, isn't it?"

Yup, definitely familiar.

"I'm afraid I don't understand," I replied in a cool and collected voice, playing ignorant.

"Don't play ignorant with me Gunnery Sergeant!" she snapped.

Ok, that just adds to the overall level of creepiness.

"Ma'am."

"Don't ma'am me. You know full well that you were over two hours late for your transport."

"I am aware of that."

"And," she pressed, finally swinging around in her chair.

"And I am sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it Sergeant," Albaf shouted violently. "You've been in the military for how long?"

She made a pause, so I assumed that the question wasn't rhetorical. "Ten years ma'am."

"Ten fucking years," she repeated. "And yet you still behave like a child or a movie character." I did my best to look impassive as she went on. "You are in the military, not in a propaganda cartoon. You have to act like it. That means you have to be punctual, that means you have to follow orders, that means you have to be respectful to your superiors and shine your boots!"

I opened and closed my mouth several times. "Yes ma'am."

"You joined the Helljumpers. Did you really think it would be fun?"

Actually, I did.

She went on. "You probably thought that you'd be jumping out of ships blasting aliens with surprising ease."

That, I actually did on a regular basis.

"And that everyone would treat you like a hero."

Very few people actually did that.

Albaf sighed, rubbing her temples. "Listen Frank, my superiors are very interested in you for some reason or other, I cannot fathom why, but then again, I'm on a need to know basis. They want me to keep you on a tight leash or they'll replace me with someone a lot less friendly than myself."

"Yes ma'am. I understand."

"Do you?" she asked. This time I was pretty sure it was rhetorical. "Because for the amount of time that I have known you, you have been nothing but a maverick, a loose cannon. Sure, you're one hell of a soldier, I'm not going to argue with that, but you behave like you're untouchable the rest of the time."

In my defense, I could hardly know what I behaved like because all my views of myself were heavily biased.

"You are literally the only marine below officer rank that I have ever known to speak up to the captain of his own fucking ship for something comparatively stupid. You act like the hero of some action movie. You're not, you're just another lowly grunt in an army full of men like you Frank. You treat everyone like shit, myself included. You actually behave like you are better than the rest of us, like you're untouchable. The worst part is that you do it in a way that makes it seem like you want to let everyone know it." Albaf looked up and stared at me with those piercing eyes of hers, no warmth was to be found in them. "You are charismatic and you use that to your advantages. You really are nothing more than a bully. A manipulator even." Commander Samantha Albaf sighed almost sadly before looking back up at me. "No matter how talented, special, or good you are, no matter how high your kill-count is, you are not in the position to behave like you do right now."

I nodded sharply.

"Are we clear."

"Yes ma'am," I managed to get out.

"Good, either you start behaving or you'll get someone that isn't afraid to use the leash on you and I'll get a desk job. Dismissed."

I saluted sharply and turned around before marching out of her office, pissed as can be. I wasn't just angry at her because she had basically given me a speech listing all the reasons why I sucked, I was angry because she had been right.

I all but stormed out of the room and walked all the way towards the gym. People must've caught the look in my eye, because they all gave me a wide berth, wider than usual. Once I arrived at the gym I headed directly for one punching bag. I was lucky that most of the ships complement and crew were unpacking and catching up with one another, leaving the gym empty.

I started venting my anger on the punching bag, hitting it as hard as I could, doing my best to break something. I couldn't really tell whether it was my hand or the leather bag that I wanted to break.

Eventually I got tired. I could barely throw a decent punch after half an hour of uninterrupted hitting. My elbows were sore from all the effort and all of my knuckles were raw and bloody. I kneed the punching bag from below before finally holding on to it and letting myself fall down slowly to the floor. My shirt was soaked in sweat and I was breathing fast and shallow, trying to pump some oxygen back into my blood. I stared at the swinging punching back from the floor, watching it go from side to side directly above me.

"Francisco," Eliza said. "I would recommend you stand up and walk around a little. And a visit to the ship's psychologist."

"Very funny Liz," I groaned as I tried standing up. I succeeded in standing up with the help of the same punching bag that I had been doing my best to kill. I could only grimace at the blood stains on it. "Where are we headed?"

"Regular patrol duty in the Zeta Lupus system," she replied in her usual playful voice.

"Colonies there?" I asked, only just starting to catch my breath.

"Two, Miridem and Wolff. Miridem is more heavily populated than Wolff. Wolff itself is a moon orbiting Zeta Lupus VI, a gas giant just on the edge of the system's frost line."

"Give me some background on it," I asked her, mostly because I wanted a distraction.

"Zeta Lupus is a relatively new colony at just under a hundred years of age."

"Relatively new for an Inner Colony, you mean."

"The UNSC has deemed the term 'Inner Colony' outdated and presumptuous."

"Yeah, because there are no Outer Colonies anymore," I retorted.

Eliza seemed to sigh, but she didn't voice the actual sound. "An incorrect statement Francisco, there are a few Outer Colonies, as you call them, still operating, safe from Covenant eyes. Crassus is one of them."

"Yeah, yeah. What else can you tell me about Wolff?"

"It was originally very similar to Titan, only needing relatively minor terraforming to make its temperature tolerable. Its inhabitants still need to wear oxygen packs when going outside, but that is only a minor inconvenience."

"And Miridem?" I asked.

"Your regular successful colony, plenty of people and a booming local industry. It is what you would call a science colony, with a relatively large section of the population working in science or science-related industries. In fact, several updates to armor configurations used throughout the UNSC are designed there," Eliza informed me.

"Built on Mars, I take it."

"Isn't everything?" she joked.

I allowed myself a small smile before taking a drink from one of the water dispensers in the gymnasium.

"Why exactly are we deploying there?"

"FLEETCOM Sector Two has had a substantial increase in Covenant activity in recent months, the UNSC is sending additional ships to the sector in case there is an attack." She added, "As a quick reaction force."

"Uh-huh," I shook my head. "I'll bet you ten credits that we are called to some planet before our deployment ends."

"I'd take that bet, but, unlike you, AIs do not receive salary."

I stared at the speaker from which Eliza was speaking. It would be a lot easier to address a physical representation of the construct, I could never get used to being talked to from several directions.

"Can't you just like…create money?"

"And what would you offer in return?"

"Damn Liz, you don't have to overanalyze everything, I was just joking. Cynically I might add."

"I am an artificial intelligence, I am designed to overanalyze things."

"Fair enough," I granted. "How much longer till we reach the edge of the system?"

"Two hours," she informed me, "the captain is only doing point-nine percent of our thrusting capacity. Our engines had to be refitted, you see."

"Huh, didn't know it got that bad up here," I said, it was probably the closest I could come to acknowledging that the Navy had it just as tough as we did without losing some of my infantry pride. "We can still use our boosters if need be, right?"

"That is correct."

"Good, how long till we arrive to Zeta Lupus?"

"Little under two months Francisco."

"I can live with that."

I shook my head and threw the disposable cup into the trashcan as I headed away from the gym. I had used one of the towels to wipe my hands clean of blood before leaving. I'd have to put some bandages on top too. I was getting scars on top of my scars on my knuckles.

"And Frank," Eliza added before I left.

"Yes?"

"As a friend, not a construct that knows better than you, I think that you might need to see a shrink."

"I see, as a friend, I think that you should probably fuck off."

Thanks to Sniper Fodder for proof-reading this chapter.

It was about goddamned time that someone called Frank out on his assholeish ways. That was a pretty hard scene to write for several reasons, the most prominent one is that I've grown to love the character and have a hard time having him be called out so bluntly. Believe it or not, I actually had to sit down and think about all the negative things Frank-related. In the end, I think the scene was pretty good.

Ok, so this is there is still one more "filler" chapter coming up, but that one's going to figure some action and overall badassery. So, as you see, this is probably the longest time that Frank has been on leave, over a month. Good for him, amirite? Well, I'm proud of this chapter given that it doesn't feature any action, I was quite unsure about Chapter 106 and the lack of reviews probably means that you agree with me. Although I am all for encouragement, I'd appreciate some constructive criticism every now and then, mentioning things that you don't like or bother you a bit. Constructive is the key word there.

As I have mentioned countless times before, I strive to be a better writer, and only you guys can help me reach that goal. You've already helped a lot, and for that, thanks.

Just to wrap this up, I threw in a couple of references there, one for Austin Powers and another for Harry Potter. Both are pretty straightforward and easy to spot. At least in my opinion.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Stay strong.

-casquis

PS: Are this post chapter thingies getting too long? I mean, just look at the goddamned author's note.