Chapter 4 - Praemia

March 8th, 2544 (09:00 Hours – Military Calendar)

Epsilon Eridani System, Reach

Undisclosed Location

:********:

Colonel Ackerson mused over the report of Operation BAGMAN on his datapad. The unit-casualties were in as well as their kill-counts and various findings across the Meleonich. From what he could tell, the mission had gone smoothly, much more so than he had even expected. Unit casualties were down. Documents had also been acquired from the facility that confirmed its purpose as an Insurrectionist-operated mine. Moreover, they had found links to other entities tied to the operations on Epsilon Eridani IV that Ackerson knew ONI would enjoy dealing with in the near future. However, there was just one problem that stuck out to him above all the progress that troops on the ground had made.

Before he could think on it clearly, the door to his office slid open. Lieutenant Cordova stepped inside and saluted. "Good morning Colonel. You asked for me, sir?"

"Yes." Ackerson nodded and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. He let out a long sigh once she was seated.

"We did good work. We lost 24 Marines and 3 ODSTs but killed more than 300 Innies in exchange, not to mention that we captured twice that amount. Add to that the more than 4,000 civilians we rescued along with finding sufficient data to confirm the Meleonich's connection with the Molnar Bombing, it might as well be Christmas."

"I heard that the Security Committee sent out an advisory through Waypoint to all banks among the colonies."

Ackerson nodded. "We're warning them not to store any gold from their customers with an Iridium-content matching the amount found at the Meleonich. We're not telling them that last part of course. We're saying its due to the risk of potential radiation poisoning."

"Radiation sir?"

Ackerson laughed a little to himself. "It's an effort by ONI done in the hopes of preventing any further bombings, while also not causing a panic by keeping the explosive-materials in those gold-bars a secret. If there's any more of them out there, they won't be in play for long. This way, there won't be a repeat of the Molnar. Like I said, we did good."

Cordova's eyes darted to the pad then to the floor. She shifted in her seat.

"Something wrong?" Ackerson asked, noticing her fidgeting.

"Sir we did shove a wrench into the proverbial cog of the Insurrectionists' operations…"

"But we didn't bag Benjamin Kirkley." Ackerson finished. "I already know that, Lieutenant."

Cordova swallowed. "Colonel, Blue Team neutralized the entire executive building and acquired the highest kill-count of any individual unit we sent groundside."

"But they failed to find even a trace of Kirkley having been there for any amount of time." Ackerson said, almost sounding like he was correcting her for an unstated slight.

She pressed further. "Blue One's report stated that the guards they captured had never even seen Kirkley there. The flightlogs they recovered from the executive landing pad suggested that he may never have been there at all. My point is that all the evidence points to Kirkley still being out there somewhere, possibly managing this situation from the sidelines." She stopped for a moment and took in a deep breath. "My main concern is that you don't seem to have any interest in the fact that we didn't find him, or care for any efforts that we should take to keep looking. Yet alone that we still don't understand the connection to the AMADDS"

Ackerson didn't answer her, not using his voice. Instead he pulled out a small velvet box from his desk and slid it in front of her. "Open it."

She gave him a confused look.

"That's an order." He asserted.

The Lieutenant relented and took the box. She carefully opened it and pulled back the lid. Inside were two gold braid bars with a thin stripe running between them: the insignia of a Lieutenant Commander.

"A promotion, sir?" Cordova asked, looking half-awestruck, half suspicious, as any sensible ONI agent would in this situation.

"A reward." The Colonel answered. "It's for your expert logistical service that allowed us not only to discover the entities involved in the Molnar Bombing, but also to find and neutralize their base of operations. You've helped us save many more lives in the process. Congratulations Lieutenant Commander Cordova, your mission is over. Now carry your new rank with pride and distinction."

Cordova carefully caressed the bars as though they were something precious. Though they were, the way her face turned made Ackerson believe she was struggling between suspicion and appreciation.

"Thank you, sir, I'm honored." She said. Looks like appreciation won out. Although, Ackerson suspected that that wasn't the case. All agents knew how to give the best impressions to throw people off of their actual intent, a necessary feature for a highly trained member of an intricate intelligence organization.

He nodded to her and pointed to the door. "That will be all, Lieutenant Commander. As of now, the join operation between our respective Sections is officially dissolved."

Cordova stood up with the box in hand but looked like she still had more to say. The way her lips pursed nearly imperceptibly and how her eyes narrowed slightly were all the facial cues he needed to know she was thinking on something. Thankfully, more so for her own sake than his, she said nothing out of the usual.

"It's been an honor, Colonel Ackerson."

"Likewise."

Cordova snapped off a salute, turned about smartly and strode through the doors. Ackerson watched them slide shut behind her. He leaned back in his seat and tapped his finger against his cheek thoughtfully. He was just counting off the seconds. At seven, he snapped his fingers.

From the room's built in holo-display, a 3-dimensional projection of red-hot flames shot out from the floor and melded together over his desk. The image refined itself into curled horns, an elongated jaw and large eyes within which an inferno raged. The face focused on Ackerson for a moment then slowly smiled, revealing stalagmite and stalactite like teeth that lined his maw. "Yes Colonel?" The face said, his voice rumbling with a godly thunder.

Ackerson was unamused at the performance. "Did you plant the probes into Cordova's devices like I asked you?"

The AI gave a graceful bow amidst the flames that consumed it. "Yes Colonel. I've already split off the necessary subroutines. All probes were planted shortly after your initial request."

Ackerson breathed out with a measure of relief. "Good, keep an eye on her for me."

"Will I need to…intervene, sir?"

"No. Something tells me she knows why I haven't pressed the matter about Kirkley, or at least she has an elementary guess. Make sure to inform me if she does any more "guessing-work" regarding this situation. Is that understood?"

"Understood, Colonel." The AI gave another curt bow that came off as ingenuine thanks to the wry smile on his face.

The AI began to dissipate when Colonel Ackerson remembered. "And Araquiel?"

Unlike the fallen angel after which he was named, the construct obeyed his master and returned to full form before him. "Yes?"

Ackerson glared at him. "Do not off this one unless I give you the express permission, even if she does something you believe deems her as deserving."

Araquiel's smile diminished by a few dozen pixels. "Asimov's First Law of Robotics, sir. I cannot, through action or inaction, allow a human to come to harm."

Again, the Colonel was unamused. "I don't remember having you programed with such a highly functional sense of humor, Araquiel. Was it after the eighth or ninth cadaver that you started taking that law so seriously?"

Araquiel gave a throaty laugh. "You're right sir. After all, it is easy to circumvent it when you can simply identify someone as an enemy and not a human. For obvious reasons that's becoming easier these days."

Ackerson sat back in thought. "And what makes someone an enemy exactly?"

"Why, when they oppose the Office, of course."

"That's right." Ackerson said. "We're humanity's best chance for surviving this war. Opposing us is the same as challenging humanity's survival at the highest existential level."

The AI laughed again. "You did give me that as my programing in the place of whatever Asimov was going for."

Ackerson nodded. "So I did." He looked the AI in the eyes. "Keep it quiet and keep an eye out."

Araquiel bowed again with reverence. "My life's motto." He said before dissipating entirely.

The Colonel was finally alone. Although he knew there was never any such thing as alone in a reality where Fourth Generation Artificial Intelligences and people like himself existed. Speaking of AI.

"ADT 6849-9, erase all system-navigational records of Araquiel and all logged communication copies along with any back-ups you have of the aforementioned."

A moment later the local Dumb AI, or Aunty Dot as she was named, came in over the room's speakers. "All system-navigational records of AQL 3696-1's Subroutines from CASTLE Base as well as all recorded communications have been erased."

"Good." Ackerson leaned back into his chair again, allowing himself to relax slightly. Still his thoughts wondered to the report. Truth be told, he was somewhat relieved regarding Kirkley. It was only a possibility that the Major would actually be there, not a certainty. At the very least they were hot on his trail now. He was just thankful that the team he was reluctant to send in had failed in their task. Even if it meant less glory for him, it meant none for them and what they represented. Or who, rather. And that was a partial win any day in his book.

He folded his arms over his chest and let himself drift a little into unconsciousness, dreaming of the growing number of inroads he was making and would make to his ultimate goal: securing a seat for himself on HIGHCOM's Security Committee.

:********:

Duncan sat down in one of the communication cubicles within the Dante Building. His hand hovered tentatively over the contact options in his personal file. He saw Erica's name as well as all of his fellow squadmates from fireteam Charlie, and his Uncle Rick. All of them showed the last known date he had contacted them, with the most recent being Erica and O'Reilly. He had last spoken to them before shipping out to the Juno. That was over two months ago now.

For the sake of mission secrecy, he wasn't allowed to contact anyone on the Juno. He felt a little guilty choosing any of the names. He wanted to know how everyone was doing. The bulk of his concerns went towards Erica but there was something he needed to make sure of first. He typed in O'Reilly's contacts and waited a full minute before an answer came.

The display lit up as the call went through. O'Reilly was on a bunkbed fixing whatever device he was using to make the call. When he finished setting it up, he sat down and gave Duncan a sardonic smile. "Hello Master Iris, and how're you handling your new meat-grinder of a life?

Duncan laughed, shaking his head. "It's alright, I guess. Sorry I've been out of contact for so long man."

"Don't worry, lad. I understand you've got your missions. I have'em too. It's good to know you're still around though."

If Duncan didn't know any better, he heard that last part come out with a bit of weariness. He chose to ignore it for now. They talked for a bit longer. Apparently, O'Reilly had been on a reconnaissance mission that ended about a month ago, during which he had some success in making moves on one of his female colleagues. His bar for success was the fact that she hadn't shot at him yet, and Duncan had to admit that was pretty good too. But he noticed something about his friend. His eyes twitched slightly from side to side and he would glance quickly as people past him by. He looked on-edge. Eventually Duncan couldn't take it anymore and asked. "Hey, Rile, what's bothering you man?"

O'Reilly stopped. "Wha-, what? What do you mean?"

"You look like something's wrong, man."

The Irishman held up his hands and grinned. "I'm alright, lad. No worries here."

"Right." Duncan observed him for a moment. "How's everyone else?"

He watched O'Reilly's eyes flash to the floor. "Well…Cosmo's doing good. He's already done two missions together with his squad so…yeah…he's good…." O'Reilly started to trail off, staring at some distant point in the room he was in.

Duncan nodded, feeling something start to boil in his stomach. "What about Stanton?"

O'Reilly's face darkened. He slowly ran his hands through his hair again and again, as if trying to grasp something. Duncan watched his eyes start to haze over as he tried looking at something. He thought he must've lost an item. Then it dawned on him that he wasn't looking for anything, only trying to avoid looking at him. He felt the boiling feeling rise in his gut and recognized it for what it was, a growing sense that something was wrong.

"Riley?" He asked again. "What is it?"

The ODST stopped fidgeting, though he clutched his head as if the source of all his troubles was inside. He loosened his grip and turned to the screen. It almost shocked Duncan when he saw his eyes watering. The Irishman forced himself to straighten up.

"I'm…sorry."

Duncan grabbed hold of his chair and squeezed the handle, attempting to relieve his anxiousness, or perhaps to try and push away the thoughts circling in his mind. "Riley, what happened?"

O'Reilly swallowed and looked him straight in the eyes. "He's dead."

Duncan felt everything in his body stop as his mind went blank. "Who?" He only realized how stupid the question actually was after it had already come out.

"Stanton." O'Reilly breathed. He held back sobs that Duncan could tell he had been keeping in for some time. Hearing it himself, he just felt a cold lump settle in his gut. The image of him, O'Reilly, Cosmo and Stanton posing for that picture on Nassau Station ran through his head. The memory turned bitter.

"H-, how did he go out?"

The question seemed to put O'Reilly more on edge. He squeezed his fatigues and recounted what he knew.

"He…burned up in his pod." The Irishman pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Cosmo found out first from his teammates and told me. It happened about two weeks ago. It was his first mission. His drag chute failed to deploy during the drop. His buddies had to hear him scream until his comms went off. He-, he never-" his frame began to quake. "All that time, all that training, and he never even reached the bloody ground!"

O'Reilly gritted his teeth and cried where he sat. On the other side of the screen, Duncan hadn't felt the hot tears streaming down his cheeks until they had dripped onto his trembling hands. He took in a shaky breath of air and stared up at the ceiling, asking himself why. He didn't even know what he was asking. They all knew the risks when they became ODSTs. But at the time they only understood it from a distance. Now it was up close, and it was someone he knew, had trained with, laughed with and graduated with. He thought of the time he saw the man throw up on the Head Instructor's boots and have to clean it up but still have the wherewithal to stay in the program. If any of them deserved a fighting chance, to be alive right now, it was Stanton. But he was gone. He wondered if he had been sleeping on his bunk in the Juno, training with the Stealth Pods or eating breakfast in the mess hall with the rest of Epsilon while his friend burned alive in his own pod.

The rest of their conversation was a blur for Duncan. Neither of them really knew what to say after that. When they tried talking about other things, the grief sitting in the corner of their minds would simply drown it out until there was nothing else to think about. In the end, they could only wish the other well.

"Listen Duncan." O'Reilly said, wiping his damp face. "You make sure you survive. You've still got that kid of yours on the way, and I want him to be able to see his own dad grow old, you got me lad?"

Duncan nodded. "And you make sure you live long enough to find that girl of yours. I want to be able to invite the two of you over to my place in case we ever have a barbecue."

Despite everything, O'Reilly managed a light laugh. "Sounds like you're inviting me to come live in Chicago."

"I am. Its way better for your health than Ireland is at least, remember?"

The two shared a small moment of humor. "I just might take you up on that offer." O'Reilly said. "…Take care of yourself out there, D. Let's hope that Leprechaun luck of yours stays true."

Duncan gave him a thumbs up. "Same to you, Rile."

O'Reilly's feed winked off, ending the conversation. Still it didn't end in Duncan's mind as he thought over everything that had happened in his absence. He held back the tears pulling at his soul and swallowed it down. He would have to deal with it later. There was someone else he needed to check on. He ran through his contacts again. His hand stopped over Stanton's. He forced himself to scroll up and pressed Erica's number.

A full minute passed before the call was answered. The confusion was immediate when Duncan saw the grizzly face of his Uncle Rick looking back at him and not Erica's. He looked like he was sitting in a white waiting room somewhere.

"Uncle Rick?"

Rick smiled. "Hey Duncan, how are you buddy?"

"Umm, fine. I hope you're good too. Ugh, don't mean to be rude but…where's Erica?"

Rick nodded, understanding his momentary confusion. "I'll give you a hint of what's going on, son. I had to take her to the hospital earlier this morning."

Duncan thought about it for a few seconds before the revelation slammed into him like a truck that had been waiting nine months to rear-end him.

:********:

The screen was a blur of movement for a moment as Uncle Rick came down a sterile hall and entered a room. Duncan watched him bring the device to bare, showing him a hospital room with three occupants, two of which occupied the bed. The first was a female doctor who turned and welcomed Rick into the room. The second was Erica who brushed her hair aside as she smiled down at the third occupant.

The third drew Duncan's attention the very moment he spotted him in his mother's arms. He had feint-red skin on his unexpectedly thoughtful face that watched her blonde hair sway in front of him with hypnotic persuasion. He looked back at her with emerald eyes as she playfully brushed her hand over his tuft of dark hair.

Duncan sat speechless. He felt his mouth go dry.

Rick came over to the hospital bed and held the device so that it got Erica's attention. Much like her husband, her eyes widened with surprise and delight. "Hey honey." She said, sounding slightly weak. It probably came from the 7-pound payload currently playing with her hair that she had just delivered into the world.

"Hey baby." Duncan said then turned to the little one. "And baby."

Erica laughed drily as she turned to her newborn and held his blanket-wrapped body closer to her bosom. "Here he is."

Duncan's blue eyes locked with his son's emerald. He smiled, feeling a sense of paternal connection and fatherly pride that was new to him. He waved at the screen. "Hey little Noah. How's it going, bud?"

Noah stared at him for a second and a small smile crossed his tiny lips, earning even larger ones from his parents. A second later he was back to reaching for Erica's hair and trying to get it in his mouth. She did her best to keep it away, playfully scolding him for trying to eat it.

"Took him long enough to get out here." Duncan huffed. "So, when did he decide to finally move out."

"I think he's got a lot at least twenty more years before we kick him out." Erica corrected. She started bouncing him slightly in her arms. "Around 3 am the little guy woke me up by breaking my water. I called Rick to help get me to the hospital. Seven hours of hard labor later and here we are."

"Its about time honestly." Rick's raspy voice came from somewhere behind the screen.

Duncan looked Noah over some more. His innocent gaze stared at the room with a childish wonder that Duncan could only vaguely remember having himself. He felt for a second that he would give anything to be there, to pick him up and hold him for himself. For now, he had to settle with the fact that he had lived long enough to see him.

The three of them talked a little longer, the attention of their conversation always surrounding the new arrival to the family. Then Duncan noticed the time on his watch. The Staff wanted to meet up in a few minutes to head to the RTETC for a team-simulation session. He hated the fact that he would have to be the one to hang up.

"Hey guys, I've kind of gotta go now. My team needs me."

Erica blinked. She looked like she wanted him to stay for a bit longer. It pained him to see her sigh and accept it. "I know, I know." She said then perked up a little. "Just make sure to tell Sofi for me that she's an aunty now."

"I will." Duncan laughed.

"Watch yourself out there, Duncan" Rick chided. "Keep your head down and you'll keep it on your shoulders, alright pal?"

Erica gave Rick a look that made him chuckle, Duncan joining in. "Will do."

Duncan stopped to gaze at Noah. His son stared back and opened his mouth, letting out a cry that grew into a high-pitched whine.

"Looks like its feeding time." Erica said, bouncing him a little more to try and calm him down. She waved back at the camera. "I'll see you later, hun." She blew him a kiss.

"Right back at you babe." He said, doing the same. "And put one of those on Noah's forehead for me, will you?"

Erica's smile beamed with admiration. "Aww, look at you being all dad-like."

He shrugged. "I am one, aren't I?"

She threw him a flirty look. "Touché. Just don't get the bod and we're good."

Duncan pulled out his bicep and flexed the thick muscle. "Hitting the gym every day to keep the fat away."

Erica giggled. "Alright now, get out of here you big, sexy man. Its feeding time and I need to learn how this whole thing works."

She laughed when she saw him go red. He shared in the joy one more time and held up his middle and forefinger in a peace sign. She mirrored the gesture back at him. Duncan ended the call and watched the display go blank.

He leaned back, exhaling, allowing his new reality to settle on him like it did when he first learned about Noah. So much had happened in his absence and it was all coming down on him at once. Stanton was suddenly gone, Noah was suddenly here, and it left his emotions warring within him. He wasn't sure whether to cry tears of sorrow for one, or joy for the other. In the end he thought it best to do the last one.

He remembered that fatherly pride he felt when he saw his firstborn. It was strange to him. He wondered if that was how his own dad had felt when he was born.

Duncan got up, remembering he still needed to join the others. He left the communication's cubicle and headed out, knowing that while his own Father hadn't been there for his birthday, at least he had been there for Noah's. It was a small victory in the grand scheme of things, but it was big enough to keep the Iris family going, and it was one he knew he would need to draw upon in the days ahead.

Praemia - The Rewards