Chapter 8 - Silentium

April 30th, 2545 (09:20 Hours – Military Calendar)

Zeta Doradus System, Onyx

Near Camp Curahee

:********:

Spring was in full bloom across the surface of Onyx. The jungle forestry was awash with red, yellow and blue blossoms. Trees were given a refreshed coat of emerald leaves that glistened like diamonds after a predawn shower. The foliage seemed to dance about in the grip of a passing morning wind. There was an earthy scent mixed with a sweet aroma in the air, a gift from the yellow evening primrose starting to grow in the underbrush.

Kurt hoped that the Spartans would have at least gotten to see all this before they left. To many of them this planet had been as much their homeworld as the one they left behind. Only, many of them might have been too caught up in their final training regimes to even take notice.

During the last three-step phases of stealth insertion training, Beta Company had successfully pulled off one expert landing after another, taking on whatever challenge was sent at them by the DIs and 731 personnel. Their proficiency as a company became more refined with each subsequent exercise they passed. He had a few more conducted to test the company from top to bottom, having them conduct long range reconnaissance missions as binaries and even pitting whole platoons against one another. Then came the ultimate competition to see who won top honors before graduation, as was custom. That last part had been a point of rivaling contention between Foxtrot, India and Zeta since the three top performers virtually wiped each other out near the end, so a three-way tie was decided.

Then they were ready.

Yesterday, Beta Company's graduation ceremony had been held in the main atrium of the UNSC Pioneer. He personally oversaw the process of insignia and rank distribution to the Spartans as they lined up to receive them. He felt pride welling up in his chest at seeing them all dressed in their ceremonial uniforms and their proud, overjoyed faces.

Then they were gone.

With no time to waste in this war, save for the few he had selected to take part in the Headhunter Program at a facility on the opposite side of Onyx, the bulk of Beta Company left Zeta Doradus aboard the Pioneer. On the very same day as their graduation, not more than a few hours later, they were shipped out to their first deployment orders.

All at once Camp Curahee became a much quieter place. The silence across the camp was something Kurt had had to grow used to in the wake of Alpha Company's departure. The transition period between companies was always a more tranquil time, one where he found both the clarity and time to think about what he had accomplished in the last seven years, what came next, and what he would do with the memories of the departed.

But they weren't the only ones that he felt left too soon. In their time here the ODSTs of Squad Epsilon had also established their presence at the camp. For one, they tended to socialize more with the Spartans during their downtime than the resident drill instructors. Sometimes they even ate with them in the cafeteria, despite that the DIs had their own to themselves. They were definitely a more soldierly bunch than he'd seen in a while, being willing to talk with the Beta Company candidates as though they were already part of the ordinary rank-and-file. That had gone a long way among the Spartans in giving them their first real feel for interacting with UNSC personnel outside the Curahee directorate. The result was a boost in morale among many of the teams and a detectable increase in their already heightened desire to fight on the frontlines.

However, time had crept up on the ODSTs in the end. Their preestablished end date for their service to ONI had come quickly, and on the morn of April 25th they packed their duffels. They came to the inspection yard where Kurt himself had personally thanked them for their service and wished them well. Mendez then took them in a Warthog convoy back to parade ground Sentinel. At approximately 0300 Hours the stealth prowler UNSC Falkirk had descended on the grounds to make their scheduled pickup. Under the quiet darkness of the predawn the ODSTs of Squad Epsilon left Onyx, leaving without saying a word to the still slumbering Spartans, and without asking to either.

The next day some of the Beta Company candidates had asked about them. They quickly pieced the clues together, however, and said nothing else on the matter. Whatever their feelings were, there was little room for them in their line of work. They quickly refocused their attention on the next exercise.

Still, Kurt found himself thinking on the troopers as well as the Spartans. In a way they were both cut from the same cloth of defiant humanity while different in other respects. One would return to its unit while the other became its own. One hadn't gotten to see the other leave while the other never got to see them graduate. Both would undoubtedly fight against the Covenant in their own ways, and both would likely never see or hear of the other ever again.

He leaned over the rails of the wide observation platform nestled in the titanic arms of one of the Banyan trees a short walk from Curahee. The high elevation helped him get a better view of the distant camp and of what potential lay in store for its future. So far, he had gotten some thoughts about what needed to be done to prepare for the next stage. Even so, his mind still felt clogged with the blockade of unaddressed emotions that were more than likely to secede on their own once he focused on a new priority, as always.

The sound of boots climbing over metal made him look back over his shoulder at the opening in the bottom of the platform. He quickly recognized Mendez as he climbed up the last few rungs of the ladder there before hoisting himself onto the platform. His face didn't look strained from the effort, despite that they were more than thirty meters off the ground. It paid testament to the fact he had aged well for a man his senior.

"Hey Chief," Kurt said. "Need something?"

Mendez simply shook his head as he strolled over. "Just looking for something." He stopped at the railing next to Kurt and looked out at the view. His hardened face softened somewhat. He slipped a hand into his pocket and pulled out a pack of his Sweet William cigars. Three had already been taken out. He took out the forth, planted it between his teeth and lit up the other end with his lighter, using his hands to cover the process against the morning winds until it caught alight. He breathed in the roasted-flavored smoke then let it out in a slow exhale. It relaxed him a little, as always. Reaching back into the pack he offered the last cigar to the Lieutenant Commander.

Kurt shook his head. "You know I don't smoke, Chief."

Mendez shrugged as he put it back in his pocket. "Figured you could use it."

"Why so?"

Mendez side-eyed him. "The last time you came out here without telling anyone it was right after Alpha's graduation. I ended up having to ask Eternal Spring where you'd wound up." He scrutinized the Spartan for a moment. "…They'll be fine, sir."

Kurt looked back out at the ocean of swaying jungle foliage around him, making the platform feel like a boat out at sea. "You think so?"

"We trained them ourselves, sir. We wouldn't have sent them out there if we didn't think they were ready for what they would find."

"…And how can we be sure?"

Mendez inhaled another dreg from his cigar as he looked Kurt over, only to abruptly puff out the same breath. At length he took out his cigar and examined it like a craftsman would his tools of the trade. "Permission to speak freely sir?"

"Granted."

"We brutalized them, toughened them, hardened them for seven straight years without end and they survived it, just like you and the rest of the IIs way back when. If they're not ready then they have no one to blame but you and me since we had those seven years." He pointed his cigar at the LC. "But I'm not blaming myself, and I'm sure as hell not blaming you sir, so I don't know why you seem to feel the need to point the finger at yourself before anyone's even gotten the chance to fight. The way I see it, what we accomplished here was nothing short of the impossible. Let the Spartans actions on the battlefield speak for themselves."

"My concern isn't if the Spartans are capable." Kurt said. "My concern is if their capabilities will be enough."

Mendez stared at him. "With all due respect, Lieutenant Commander, you're still thinking of what we saw back on the Point of No Return. You're saying we didn't learn anything from what happened to Alpha. Again, with all due respect sir, I think you're dead wrong. What we learned we implemented into Beta's training, increasing team cohesion even down to the cellular level with these Spartans so there'd be no repeats of the same event. With what they've learned here, there's no chance that TORPEDO will turn out the same way as PROMETHEUS."

"And how can we be so sure?"

Mendez glowered at him. "You asked that already, sir."

"Because we've done this already. Now, we're about to do it again, train another batch. I want to make sure that every single one of them has a good chance of lasting out there."

The SCPO gave a long, heartfelt sigh. He turned to gaze over the swaths of swaying trees as he seemed to remember something. "There was this young Marine Sergeant that I knew some years ago. When I went back to active duty after training you all in Dr. Halsey's program, I ended up meeting him. We fought the Covenant together on Harvest once or twice. He was a reckless kind of guy. He told me once that it didn't really matter to him how long he lived, only that he got to see some action, and that at the end of each day he got the job done."

Mendez gazed up at the blue morning sky, maybe even at where the Pioneer had once been in orbit. "I don't think it's about how long they live sir." He said. "I don't think it's about how long we live either. Take it from a guy who's pushing sixty, age doesn't make you a better fighter, it just makes it harder to be good at what you do best."

"Then what is it about?" Kurt asked.

"Its about what they do with the time they have and the job they've been given." Mendez turned on him. "No soldier ever got to decide when or how they died, only where and why. That Sergeant told me that. It's been that way since the dawn of time, for everyone else, for Alpha…and now for Beta."

Kurt closed his eyes to feel the wind on his face. He slowly let go of the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding to let it flow away with the breeze. "Can I ask, who was that Sergeant you met? Did he have a name?"

"Forge." Mendez said, putting his cigar back comfortably between his teeth. "John Forge."

"Sounds like he was one hell of a Marine."

"He was, maybe still is, wherever he is."

Kurt nodded. He had to admit, if not openly then at least to himself, that Mendez had a point. All soldiers eventually faced death. That was the way of it. But they didn't have to throw away their lives. He quietly hoped that maybe the time and effort he'd invested into them wouldn't be thrown away, that Beta Company would prove to be more than what their original purpose was intended to be, and that maybe they would excel past even his own expectations. A brief remembrance of the top performers like Foxtrot, India and Zeta left him with an unexplainable feeling that that hope, as far-reaching as it was, was not misplaced. It was just a feeling.

The holotank on the platform rurred to life. Deep Winter appeared a second later within an enrapturing blizzard that eventually wrapped itself into a cape at his back. "I hope I'm not interrupting but the UNSC Agincourt just arrived in system with the supply delivery we'll need for the incoming class. They've asked for our coordinates."

Kurt rose off the rail, life flowing into his towering frame anew. "Send it. Have them deliver the supplies via Pelican to parade ground Sentinel. We'll meet them there." He twisted his neck a little to remove a bothersome cruck and nodded at Mendez, earning a light but reassured smirk from the older man that his superior's mind was back on track.

Kurt turned and went towards the ladder with Mendez following close behind. "We've only got about a month to make the necessary preparations before Gamma Company gets here." His characteristic grin spread across his lips. "Let's get to it."

:********:

Duncan stood watching beside the rest of Epsilon as the ramp of the Falkirk hissed open. Bit by bit, the interior of the Trafalgar's Hanger Bay 4 became more visible. It hadn't changed very much in the last six months. Pelicans, Longswords, Broadswords and even a few Prowlers still occupied the landing platforms here and there. The one notable change was that there were much more hanger crew now and at least twice the number of starfighters than last time.

The moment the ramp hit their landing platform the squad grabbed their duffels and walked out into the open.

"Man." Zack said, slipping onto his hands and knees to touch the floor as though the ship itself were an object of reverence. "I never thought I'd miss this place."

"Save that celebration, private." The Staff said. "We're not back at Falchion yet. We still need a ride."

Commander Tarkovsky strode idly down the ramp with his hands in his pockets. He stopped to lean against one of the ramp's extension struts to watch them as they talked. One by one they stopped once they realized he was still there. He held a finger up to his lips. "Loose lips sink ships." He said in a singsong voice. "Remember, you are to tell no one of what you've seen or done while in our service, as per the agreement. If you talk, we'll hear. A simple slip of the tongue and you might find not long afterwards that you no longer have one." He grinned at them before turning and walking back up the ramp, waving over his shoulder at them. "But by then that would be the least of your worries. See you around, Epsilon."

The ramp rose back into the prowler. A moment later the Falkirk ascended off the floor, turned in the large bay and headed through the opening doors of a transitional tunnel. The craft slowly disappeared as its camouflaging technologies removed it from visible existence and the doors sealed shut behind it.

What was left was a quietness no one was quite prepared for. There was an unspoken tension between the squad that no one was willing to face, not just yet. But it would have to be addressed, Duncan knew, and most likely before they reached Falchion.

The Staff broke the silence. "Come on Epsilon, let's find a bird that can take us down."

The squad followed him off the platform and down a set of stairs onto the ground floor to search for a flight.

:********:

The ride through Reach's atmosphere was also deathly quiet. There was no other noise save for the roar of the Pelican's engines and the creaking of the several cargo crates tethered to the center of the bay.

Earlier they had managed to find a Pelican pilot about to perform a supply-run to Falchion and convinced him to let them tag along.

So far no one had talked. Their eyes remained partly on the floor, partly on their boots and occasionally on the reentry flames flickering over the cockpit window.

Duncan looked around to see if anyone would break, mostly because he didn't want to be the first to bring up what no one else wanted to touch on. No one showed any visible signs of cracking so he hedged his bets on Zack. It was a wise wager. The radioman gave in shortly after.

"So…" He began. "I don't know about you guys but between you and me, I actually kind of liked the Spartans. That Harris-guy was pretty funny I've gotta say. Cracked a few jokes with him that I wasn't expecting him to get and he one-upped me each time."

No one said anything for a moment. Then Rico spoke up. "Yeah…yeah, I guess they were all pretty chill."

"'Dren."

Rico turned on Deaks. He was sitting a seat down from him. "What?" Rico asked.

A knowing smile crossed the sniper's face. "Children. That's what you meant to say right?" He looked around at the others. "Children, kids, non-combatants…" He stopped at the Staff who kept to himself with his eyes closed and arms folded over his chest in thought. "Is that what we signed up for, sir? Because if so…I've got to say I love being in the ODSTs."

Everyone looked at him funny. Even the Staff peeked a remotely curious eye open at him.

Seeing that he had their full attention he continued. "You guys seem tense. You've been like this since we found out about what Beta actually was. I figured we could finally bring this out into the open since we're not in ONI's backyard anymore. It makes sense, all of it, everything we did back there, so I don't see why you're all so quiet."

"And I don't see why you're so okay with training child soldiers." Nova said, leaning forward to face him from her opposite seat. "You are a weirdo, but I never figured you to be the type that would be comfortable with what we just finished doing."

"Oh, I'm the weird one. Okay, lets test that. What did we do back there that was so wrong, tell me? Come on, do it."

Duncan felt the battle that had been raging within his own conscience for the last six months suddenly given full manifestation in the form of the Specialist and the Corporal. He watched the back and forth intently.

"Alright, okay, lets try this." Nova began. "How about the fact that the only people that ever did that in human history were mass-murdering dictators and sadistic warlords that didn't care who they sent to die for their own personal gain. So what does that make us?" Nova stared the corporal down as he confidently grinned back.

"That makes us smarter than them." Deaks laughed. "More moral too."

Nova's brow angrily furrowed. "Explain?"

"See, that's a false equivalency. Those warlords and dictators you talked about, like you said, they fought for their own personal gain. The UNSC is fighting for the survival of humanity as a species. You can't get any more altruistic than that. We're not training the Khmer Rouge or the Red Guards, not the Koslovics or even the Friedens. We trained Spartans, supersoliders meant to protect our right to exist, something the Covenant isn't keen on recognizing."

"He's…got point, Nova." Yuri said hesitantly. "Sure, Comrade Stalin was mass-murderer and turned whoever he wanted into soldiers, but he never claimed that he wanted protection of every human being on Earth. Quite opposite."

Nova took in a sharp breath. "We…trained…children. Does no one else see how strange that is that they'd been there for years, training and no one knew. There were others too, that Alpha Company that they mentioned. And who's to say that that set we fought with on Miridem weren't kids once that were playing soldier as well? They should not have been forced to fight in this war."

"I think they have every right to fight in this war." Deaks said, straightening up. "I talked with some of them about their pasts, mainly Jonah. You know where he's from? Take a good guess."

Nova glared at him but couldn't know the answer. "Where?"

"Eirene."

Duncan knew of it. It was one of the worlds on the mid-rim during the Covenant's rapid push through the outer colonies.

"The Covies glassed it back in '35." Deaks said. "Jonah told me how he had a big family once, parents, brothers and sisters. After that he had no one. The Covenant killed them all. When recruiting officers from ONI came up to him outside his orphanage and offered him the chance, you know what he told them? He said, 'Just hurry up and sign me up before I shank you both.'" He stopped to laugh. "The kid was a soldier even from back then. And…for my own reasons, I don't see why we should stop them if they want to fight."

"Children should not be fighting." Nova corrected. "They're the ones we should be fighting for."

Deaks was incredulous. "Didn't you hear what I just said? Have you looked around? If you haven't noticed Nova, but a normal person like you and me can look at a kid and see just that, a kid. An Elite looks at a kid and sees him the way he sees you with a rifle. You're both the same to it: something its gods told it to kill by any means necessary." He leaned back in his chair and huffed. "Think about it. Since when did the Covenant care enough to only kill adults, huh? When they come across a human world, they don't see the individual human lives that live down there and their ages or sex, only something big for them to burn. If they don't care about distinctions and will destroy us all regardless, then why should we care about distinctions either? If we want to survive then everyone will have to fight. If those kids can do it, and hell lets face it, better than even we can, then let them. More power to them, because we need the manpower."

Nova continued to stare at him, troubled yet persistent. "I disagree. I don't think every single one of them is like Jonah who I'm pretty sure is something of an early-onset sociopath. The others could have been forced to be there."

"No, actually."

The objection hadn't come from Deaks' mouth, but from Duncan's. It had slipped out. The squad's attention shifted to him. He took in a shaky breath to steady himself. "I-…went out one night to speak with the LC back in December. I…asked him if there was a way for me to quit."

He found himself struggling to finish his sentence. He swallowed and summoned the full force of his will to speak. "I couldn't take it. I really couldn't, what we were doing there I mean. Take that as you might. There was something the LC told me about the Spartans. He said they chose those candidates specifically because they were orphans whose worlds were destroyed by the Covenant. They took no one from intact worlds, none. Even then they didn't 'take them' as much as ask them all if they wanted to join the program…and they said yes. Everyone we trained there was there because they wanted to be, but I didn't want to be. I didn't want to think what would happen if my…kid…." He faded off.

A measure of empathy eased Deaks' gaze as he looked at him. "I was wondering what you were thinking. I figured you might've been worrying about Noah the whole time. Listen, I'm not saying we should just start signing up anyone and everyone's kid to fight. What I am saying is that this war isn't like any other. Humanity never faced anything this existential since the Cold War because we were all stuck on the same planet with nukes. Now we're not safe no matter where we go. I'm saying that anyone who needs to at the very least should be allowed to know how to defend themselves, because everyone has a target on their back so long as their human."

Hector breathed in and let out a long sigh. "I really hate this war. Did I ever tell you guys that? I've got no big opinions in that part of the existential department, but maybe that's the biggest opinion there is."

"Amen." Zack said under his breath, his comedic fervor long gone.

Nova became more resigned while still maintaining her adamancy. "I still believe that we should be the ones to protect them, not themselves, because if they're the ones forced to do it then what good are we?"

"We're good enough to show them how its done." Deaks bit back. "Good enough to hold the line for the next generation to learn how to fight, if they have to. That's just my-"

One by one the squad began catching on to the fact that the Staff's eyes were open and he was staring pokerfaced at Deaks, the latter being the last to take notice.

"Are you done, Corporal?"

There was a hardness to his voice that made Deaks flinch slightly. He gave back a slow nod in return. "Yeah…I'm done."

The Staff looked to Nova. She nodded as well and looked away. He scanned them all, testing them with his gaze. "Understand something here and now troopers, whatever your morals are, whatever your case may be for or against what we did on Onyx, you are not to speak of it to anyone outside this group of eight right here. In fact, don't talk about it at all if you don't need to, not even for debate. ONI may be keeping an eye on us for some time. We don't want to be involved with them again if we can help it. Until we're no longer on their radar, however long that might be, keep…that information…to yourselves." His steely eyes locked on Zack in particular. "Am I clear, radioman?"

Zack nervously swallowed. "Yessir."

The Staff looked to everyone else in turn. They responded with the same: "Yessir."

Duncan knew it wasn't fear of the Staff that made them answer. They respected the man, but it was for their shared fear of ONI that they agreed to silence. The question remained that if the Office of Naval Intelligence had something to the magnitude of the Spartan III program running for years in the war's background, then what else were they doing that no one knew about? He accepted that he would have to live with that question now for the rest of his life, however long that might be. He hoped at least that it was long enough, or perhaps short enough to never find out.

His thoughts went to his family. He thought of his dream of that Spartan carrying Erica out of their burning apartment, only to respond when he called his son's name. Maybe there was some truth to what Deaks had said. A generation had already largely passed that was the first to fight the Covenant, and they had learned from them how to do it. What was to stop the next generation from doing the same thing. Still, that dream, that nightmare haunted him. If he could help it, in some way, shape or form, he would make it so that his son, Erica or anyone he loved never had to fight in this war, and whatever it required to make that a reality he would commit himself to wholeheartedly.

The rest of the trip went by in silence. However, the tension from earlier was finally gone. Everyone had said what they had to say after half a year spent avoiding the topic. It was a welcomed relief. Perhaps that was why the Staff chose to let Nova and Deaks go at it for a while before he intervened, to let them blow off some steam first then set the ground rules just before they returned to normal life.

After ten minutes Duncan felt the Pelican level out into a regular flight path through the atmosphere. Another half hour and the dropship's speed decelerated, then the craft rotated and began a final descent. A gentle bump confirmed their landing.

The French-sounding pilot came in over the intercom. "This is Monsieur Cordégo to Epsilon, we have arrived at Falchion Base. Opening the doors for you to disembark in three."

The ODSTs got on their feet and hefted their duffels onto their backs. The bay door creaked open and the light of the noonday sun leaked inside more and more like a breaching dam. Eventually, the ramp came down fully, allowing the afternoon breeze to wash over them, dispelling the quietness of the interior.

Duncan took in the cool air and felt it refresh his lungs. As he walked out into the sunlight of Epsilon Eridani with the others, he felt what he had expected to feel at that moment but to an even greater degree than what he'd imagined: the joy of coming back home.

Silentium - Silence