Chapter 7 – Pergensque
May 29th, 2545 (17:24 Hours – Military Calendar)
Hicetas System, Kholo
Hayth Township, The Hill
:********:
Much to every recruit's personal gratitude, Ambers decided to discontinue their training for a few hours because of the incident at the Grid. They would continue later in the day with vehicular extraction exercises when it was cooler.
For the time being, they drove back into Hayth and up to the Hill. The Hill was exactly that, a hill in the southeastern corner of Hayth overlooking the rest of the town. On its flattened precipice was a horseshoe-shaped arrangement of two-story housing complexes made of polycrete.
Duncan found his way to Gypsy's personal building where O'Reilly let him in. The inside proved to be more welcoming than he expected. Folks like Haskin and Palakiko were cooking lunch in the communal kitchen. Al and Thurston were busy at a holo-touch gaming station in one of the living rooms. Their setup was made even more surreal by the nearby windows granting a view of Kholo's ruined landscape. To think people could enjoy themselves on a dead planet was a sight whose profoundness went beyond words.
He and O'Reilly sat down in the couches with Quinn to talk about the explosion at Grid-19.
"Athena always has to be the one to tell him how to run his own tech." Quinn relented. "I swear, one of these days he's going to blow us up while we're pulling the plow."
"I'd rather not fly apart doing farm work." O'Reilly said, shifting himself into a better position on his side of the couch. "I've been through too much for that. At least let it be an Elite with those swords they like to wave around. It's cooler."
"And more painful." Duncan added from the seat next to his. "Don't forget those things might not kill you right away. They might just dismember you and watch you bleed out. What do you do then?"
"Bleed out?"
"Yeah, I prefer just blowing up. It's faster."
"But less cool. One second you exist. The next second you don't. What's fun about that? If a split-jaw splits my jaw at least my squadmates here would feel sad for me."
"Nah". Quinn remarked. "Not really.
"You're the one guy who I'd want to see cry, Q, if only to get you to stop being so serious. Who knows, maybe that hard heart of yours would actually manage a tear or two."
The three turned to the screen when a scream came out of the speakers. In the game set in a medieval genre of knights and other fantastical creatures, Thurston and Al were in a dungeon, dismembering the legs of a giant spider woman wielding a trident. The eerie creature screamed in pain, then was silenced by Al's knightly character leaping up to swipe his longsword at her neck. The head was bouncing down to the dungeon's stony floor.
Quinn shook his head. "Doubt it."
"One-minute, ten seconds." Al quipped, maneuvering his character to a doorway via the thumb-sized controllers in either hand. "That's my new record. I'll be keeping that there for Gonzo's guys to see."
"Hey now." Thurston chimed as his avatar followed Al's down a darkened passage, emerging into a chamber filled to the brim with gold treasure. "It's our new record. I helped you beat Ms. Spider-lady so it's not like you did it alone."
"King's Mistress is a foe too great for thine skill oh Lord Thurston." Al mocked in medieval English. "Thine betters hath softened her up for thee, and I finished her. Thus, the praise doth belong to me."
"I request that thou shut up and look at the screen. The spider brood is on the gold."
"Ah, dang, I forgot about those."
"Thine doth have a terrible memory."
"But a fine sword." Al's avatar leaped down into the chamber of gold. Thurston's jumped after him towards a group of horribly mutated spiders with children's deadened torsos attached to them.
Duncan kept watching for a while until he felt the need to think about something else; the smell of frying beef wafting from the kitchen. He peered over at the two men working there. Haskin was cooking up a sweat simmering a handful of beef patties on the stove. Behind him, Palakiko was handling the bubbling, greasy wrath of a batch of fries.
"You guys done with lunch yet?"
Haskin's dark eyes shot to Duncan's. "Listen new guy, don't be pushing that luck of yours that I'm cooking for you guys. It's done when it's done."
"Don't mind him." O'Reilly said. "He used to work at a World Cuisine. Turns out he was a good cook till he went full jarhead. Now he's just getting flashbacks."
"You shut it. I'm the only guy here with the skills for it. Any of you other goons like Quinn would just mess things up."
Quinn turned around with an irritated scowl. "Hey-hey, I'd have you know I'm gourmet-certified when I feel like it. I just don't feel like it."
"You never do. This isn't even really for you guys anyway." Haskin shuffled the patties around with a spatula. "Kiko, how's the fries?"
"Pretty fried."
"So, when are your folks supposed to be here?"
Palakiko stopped sifting his pan to check his wrist watch. "Should be right about..."
A knock drew their eyes to the front door. Several shadows stood on the other side of the decorative window designed into its center.
"Ah, hey Al, get the door."
Al gave an exasperated groan as he finished decapitating his seventh spider-human. "Why meeeee, why not Thurs? He's not doing anything." Thurston paused the game, showing the stylistically golden and bloodied title 'King's Wager' as well as its lower menu. He pressed down his thumb controls, saving and quitting their session.
Al quickly punched him in the shoulder. "Hey, why'd you-"
"You know how the boys are." Thurston got up, leaving his gaming partner to quietly steam by himself on the living room floor.
Duncan watched as the door was opened and four persons ambled in. At a first glance he knew right away that they were Palakiko's family, not just because of the pacific ethnicity, prominent cheek bones and straight hair, but because the kids really looked like their father. Two boys and a girl were ushered in by a woman whose slightly frazzled hair suggested she hadn't had the easiest time with them. Thurston welcomed her and the kids into the living room.
O'Reilly grinned. "Morning Mrs. Kiko. You're lookin' beautiful this fine evenin'."
"Get your own, Rile." Kiko barked. "That one's taken and I got three ways to prove it."
"What? Come on, I'm not making any moves...yet."
"Heard that."
O'Reilly bowed his head like a gentleman. "And how are you, Mrs. Kiko?"
'Mrs. Kiko' smiled with embarrassment while she took a seat on the last couch. "Good to see you too Riley. I've been good, though a little troubled thanks to...you know who."
The two boys made it obvious who she meant by jumping onto Al's back and trying to wrestle the controllers from him. "Hey-hey, Kev, stop it, stop-, hey put that down, that's mine. Dang it, Ron, put that down too, no you can't play it. Kev, no, what did I just-, aaaggghhh."
Duncan chuckled at how the boys just seemed to gravitate to the person closest to their age. At that moment something struck him hard. Seeing Kiko's kids hammered home how far away from home he was. The only way for his teammate's family to be here was that he'd proven himself in combat. So Stewards wasn't lying. He really could bring his family here if he proved himself. When he might get the chance to do that was the question of the day.
While Quinn, O'Reilly and Mrs. Kiko talked; the daughter strolled into the kitchen. Haskin eyed her as she passed, his hard face melting to a welcoming smile that she meekly returned. She went to her father and tugged on his shirt. He leaned down to let her whisper into his ear. She glanced at Duncan every so often. Whatever she said made her dad chuckle and peek over at Gypsy's newest member. At length he flicked off his stove to rake a pile of golden-yellow fries onto a large plate. He set them on a separate table hosting an arrangement of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, burger buns and sauces. Haskin switched off his stove then used his spatula to flick his burgers onto an available plate. "Alright, foods done. Get it while its hot, folks."
Al rushed out of the grip of the kids to escape to the kitchen. The boys and Thurston were close behind.
Duncan got up to grab himself a plate when Palakiko stepped into his way. His daughter was trying to hid behind his leg, shyly peeking out.
"Since you're new here, Iris, I have to give my family a little introduction to you. Hope you don't mind."
"Yeah, sure." He nervously eyed the food in the kitchen. He casually hailed the daughter. "Hey kiddo, my name's Duncan." He offered a hand to her. "Nice to meet you."
She slowly reached over to rest her smaller hand in his. He carefully shook it. The small interaction caused the girl's demeanor to warm into a rising smile.
Palakiko offered a hand to his wife. She got up and strolled to his side, embracing him close enough for a short and heartfelt kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck while he grinned proudly. "This is my wife, Alaina. You and everybody else have my permission to call her Lane but not Laney. Only I get to call her that." Alaina rolled her eyes as he snuck his face closer to hers and kissed her again.
Duncan felt out of place. "Ugh, you guys need a room?"
"No. I want you and everybody else here to see she's mine. This way you don't get any funny ideas about my Laney, even if I'm not there, alive or otherwise."
Alaine's amusement dropped to a worried frown. "Come on, baby, don't say things like that. You know I don't like it, especially in front of the kids."
"It's the reality I signed up for to make sure you guys were safe. I've got to accept that and so do you."
"Yeah, but I'd rather not think about it if you don't mind."
"Alright, alright, I'll stop. Oh, I almost forgot, where are those two critters?" Kiko checked around before spotting the boys in the kitchen haggling Thurston over fries. "Ah. Those are my boys. The one with the two missing front teeth is Kevin. The one with the squinty grin is Ron. And finally," He pulled his daughter onto his shoulder. "My daughter, Malia. Say hi, Mal."
"H-, hi, Mr. Duncan"
Duncan hailed back. "Hey Malia."
Kiko held her closer as if to tell a secret. "He's your new uncle."
That earned a confused wince from Duncan but a surprised squeak from Malia.
"You see, Iris, when we get a new teammate in Gypsy, I usually think about them being a guardian for my family if something should ever happen. You've got a kid of your own, right?"
"A son."
"Yeah, I can tell. You've got that feel about you. Which is why I'm making you an honorary uncle. Think you're up to the task?"
He didn't quite know what to say. He barely knew any of them that well. "Ugh, we'll see."
It wasn't the answer Kiko was looking for since his expression soured a little. "Ah, I get it, you need some time to think about it. Well, you do that. In the meantime, you should probably get your grub."
A footstep up above stopped the conversation. Another made the room go quiet. The steps headed one casual footfall after another towards the main staircase at the center of the building. Step by step, a man descended them, stealing everyone's attention.
It was Stewards.
The captain like everyone else was dressed in his tactical gear. However, there was a red cap on his head with the white caricature of a grizzly bear swatting at a ball. Duncan recognized it as belonging to the 'Grizzlies' Gravball team. It was a household name for many on Reach rivaled only by their best competition, the New Carthage Badgers. He was impressed that even all the way out here the sports rivalry between Reach and New Carthage still had a few embers of life.
The guys in the room saluted.
Out of the corner of his eye, Duncan saw Malia hug her father's arm tighter.
"At ease." Stewards said. He didn't take much notice of the food but took an interest in Ron and Kevin as they ran out to hug him, shouting "Uncle Stewards!". He gingerly patted them both on the head as he shared a nod with Alaine.
"Good to see the Kiko family back together again." He winked at Kiko then turned to O'Reilly. "Riley, on me. I'm heading out to a meeting and I need you to pick-up my order from Ms. Dennis."
"Does it have to be me, sir?" O'Reilly groaned. "I haven't even had lunch yet."
Stewards ushered the persistent boys into the kitchen and headed for the door. "Should've done that when you had the time. Now I need you."
"Can Duncan come?"
Stewards stopped in his tracks. He looked back between him and the person he wanted to bring. "Why?"
"Because..." O'Reilly trailed off to find a good reason that Duncan insisted wasn't there by shaking his head. "Ah, because he needs to get a feel for the place. He hasn't gotten that yet."
Stewards scrutinized them for a full five seconds. "...Alright, Duncan you're coming to. Let's go."
Duncan let out a long sigh. He gave O'Reilly a course glare which he replied to with a grin while they moved to the door.
"If I can't eat, you can't eat either, Sunny Jim."
"Don't you Sunny Jim me-"
A small hand rested on Duncan's shoulder. He saw that it was Malia's reaching over to him from her father's arms. Her wide eyes made him think she'd seen a ghost. Something had frightened her. She spoke in a muttering whisper. "S-, scary."
That caught him by surprise. He was going to ask what she meant but Kiko gently took her hand off of him. "Let him be, Mal, he has to go."
Duncan nodded his thanks before heading to the door.
"Don't worry, I'll save some fries for you!" Thurston shouted after him.
"Yeah, thanks!"
He got out onto the front porch for O'Reilly to push the door shut for him. They followed Stewards to the parking lot in the middle of the Hill.
On the way to a Warthog, he wasn't interested in the fact that he was going to get a tour of Hayth. He was still stuck on Malia. She didn't strike him as the kind of kid to connect with a total stranger that quickly, which was why he was confused at her grabbing his shoulder. Then he thought on what she said; 'scary'. Was she scared of something? No, he thought. That wasn't it. The way she said it, it didn't sound like she was calling some thing scary, but rather someone.
:********:
He was more assured now that Hayth was the wild west the second time around than the first. Each glass panel house or polycrete appliance store was akin to a modern take on the concept.
The entire atmosphere was homey. Whether he could pin the feeling on the people or the architecture wasn't clear cut. Perhaps a combination of both the simplicity of the buildings and the easy-going denizens made Hayth what it was. Here, everyone seemed snuggly secured in their own personal corner of the galaxy. Kholo wasn't the most secure planet by a longshot, but the insecurity was what made it safe. Practically every other place he'd been to had seen its defenses overrun. But who would be coming out here to threaten a world that according to the Covenant and UNSC, was no longer habitable? If someone ever did, it wouldn't be for a long time. But that was all theoretical. In the practical essence of things, both parties had washed their hands of Kholo years ago and hadn't seemed keen on bothering with it since.
The evening-lit streets of Hayth were mostly empty. On any other planet they would be facing after-work traffic. That simply wasn't the case here. The few trucks and cars they did see were sparse. Most of everyone were on the sidewalks. This time of day seemed to be when people decided to shop because he barely saw anyone not walking into a store or strolling out with a couple plastic bags. He guessed that they were getting what they needed to make dinner for their families. There were no corner-side Jim Dandies or World Cuisines like on every inner colony, only a sheer willingness to get what was needed for the next meal. That kind of spartan lifestyle was appealing for its own reasons but concerning all the same to a lifelong city boy like Duncan. He wasn't sure how ready he was ready for the rural life just yet. Then again, the AMADDS left for places that had those amenities all the time so maybe he didn't have to adapt.
Duncan thought it over as he reclined within the rear troop section of the Warthog. O'Reilly was relaxing to his left in the front passenger seat. Stewards was at the helm, casually driving them onto dirt road after dirt road.
Mostly to distract himself from the monotony of changing traffic lights and the lowering image of Hicetas, Duncan thought up a question. "Hey Riley, how come you guys don't do a long-range food delivery service here?"
"We do. We have a few platoons that handle smuggling jobs."
"A few?"
"Probably six, maybe seven. Outside the greenhouses they provide us with the kind of stuff we can't grow here yet, like cattle. Meat."
"You guys steal from Sally Greens' too?"
"Anyone who's got what we need."
"What about trade?"
O'Reilly peeped over at Stewards as he pushed them across an intersection onto a small highway. The captain's eyes were on the rear-view mirror, locked onto Duncan like a school teacher ready to answer a question. "We have a couple of trade partners." He said. "I can't say much else."
"Is it because you can't tell me?"
"It's because I don't know. The major handles that." Stewards piloted them rightward into the middle of three lanes framed by glass and concrete neighborhoods with balconies and gardens. "Hayth wasn't built without outside help. Neither can it continue without it. I'm sure you met Dr. Schonberg during that whole flareup. He's there to basically make us more self-sufficient should anything happen to our suppliers. Eventually he'll be able to get us the farmland to raise the livestock we need. Cows, chickens, honeybees, you name it."
"Lamb." O'Reilly said hungrily. "Holy Mary, I can use me some lamb stew. You remember my girlfriend Duncan, the one I told you liked to smoke a wee bit too much. Well, she used to make the best, darndest lamb stew you could imagine. I might've kept her just to have a bowl of that right now."
"Hey, isn't that the same one that came at you with a knife?"
O'Reilly reached up his left arm and pulled back the sleeve to show the multiple scars there. "Which one? Unless you forgot, I seemed to have a thing for knife-wielding psychopaths back in the day."
"Ah, how could I forget."
"Yes, how could you? It's like we're not even friends anymore, like you hardly even know me anymore."
"Are you breaking up with me Rile?" Duncan pretended to reach into his pocket. "Hold on, let me find my cleaver."
"Oh, do hurry up so I can go runnin' to Ravenport to try to make something better of my life."
The two shared a knowing look then burst out laughing. They laughed until they were both well out of breath. Sucking in some air, Duncan slowly realized that they weren't the only ones enjoying the joke. He quieted at seeing Stewards laughing ever so lightly.
"Years apart and you two can still go at it." He said as he steered them onto the last lane on the right. The Hog slowed. "That's good to see. Well, we're just about here."
Duncan leered at the numerous storefronts they were passing. Judging by the rate of their deceleration, they were going to stop at the place two spaces down. It was a corner-side grocery store. The building, like those it was conjoined to, was mostly glass walls with some base-red and yellow accented polycrete. Through the windows he saw several stocked shelves on either of its left and right wings. The sign above the revolving doors read 'Dennis & Grandson's'.
The captain pulled them in at the sidewalk. "Riley, make sure you come straight to the Bastille, alright? I'll need you to be on time."
"I copy, cap." O'Reilly answered as he and Duncan hopped out. "No worries, I've got speedy legs and so does Dunc. We'll get it to you straight away."
Stewards pointed a finger at the store. "Don't let him delay you this time. Just go straight to Ms. Dennis."
"Yessir, yessir, that's why I brought..." O'Reilly elbowed Duncan in the shoulder, a suggestive hint that was somehow able to suffice for the captain.
"See you there." Stewards pulled off, going from 0 to 60 down the empty highway in less than three seconds. The two of them watched him disappear around a distant corner then turned to the store.
"What was that about?"
The Irishman shrugged as he headed straight for the revolving doors. "Don't have a clue what you're talking about old boy."
That was suspicious on its own merits. Duncan kept a wary eye on him while they pushed through the doors to the inside.
It really did look just like it did outside. However, the shelves were definitely less packed than he expected. In fact, they seemed close to understocked thanks to the evening grocery rush. He was grateful for the air condition though, a welcomed plus given that evening-time Hicetas was trying to bake him.
There was only one check-out counter a short walk to the back. On it were the basic trappings of a convenience store including a rack of assorted candies, tabloid magazines and pamphlets. Behind the countertop computer stood an elderly woman with all the keepsakes of a grandmother. She was wearing a working gown, hair white and short, skin decently wrinkled and blue eyes that were faded to a grayer pigment. She looked tired but determined to stay awake, especially upon catching sight of them approaching.
"Evening James, how are-" She stopped at glimpsing Duncan. "Who's the new guy?"
"Ah, good to see you too Ms. Dennis. This here is Duncan Iris, Gypsy's newest member. Duncan, this is Ms. Dennis. She's the little lady that runs the best mom-and-pop shop in town."
She waved a dismissive hand to hide her blush. "Stop trying to flatter me, Riley, it won't get you any more freebies." She offered a hand. "But you can call me Olivia."
Duncan took it and shook. "Nice to meet you."
"Same to you. Now then, are you two here just to compliment me or to buy something, because I'd rather that you did both."
"Both is good." O'Reilly barged in between them. He leaned in closer and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Actually, I came to get Steward's order."
The mention of the captain caused a shift in Olivia's countenance. Her eyes widened ever so subtly. "Oh...okay. It's in the back. I'll have to get it and go through the clearances."
"They can't have it."
The voice belonged to no one at the counter. It was too young and came from behind. They turned around to find a figure standing proudly in the isle between them and the front doors, hands on hips. The sunlight coming through the glass made them a silhouette, but whoever they were, they were small. A kid?
Duncan's question discovered the answer once the figure stepped closer. Then he saw that it was indeed a kid, one holding a soccer ball at his side. He wore a similar uniform getup to Olivia and shared her eyes as well, but his still had more of a balance between blue and steely gray. Jet-black hair helmeted his head, fringing from the front to the sides. He stood confidently, glaring at the two AMADDS.
"Arthur Liam Dennis, you better not have come out here to cause another scene." Olivia scolded. The kid she called 'Arthur' stood strong, regardless that he was half the height of the men he was staring down and probably less than a third their age. "No."
"What did you just say, young man?"
"No mam."
"Well...that's better but you're still being disrespectful to our customers."
"Those aren't our customers, Gran, not yet. If they want to buy something, they have to prove they're worthy of buying it in the first place. And they have to prove it..." He jabbed a thumb at his chest. "To me!"
It was almost adorable. His voice didn't lack confidence, merely the few octaves needed to sound more forceful. O'Reilly wasn't having any of it. "Listen, Arty, I can't do it today, alright? I'm trying to get this done as quick as I can for the captain."
"The captain?" Arthur said reproachfully. "You mean Captain Stewards, the same captain that thinks the Reach Grizzlies are better than the New Carthage Badgers? That captain?"
"Yes, look, he's got his opinions, okay? Even if you think they're wrong, he's allowed to have them."
"No, he's not. I haven't given him permission to have them."
"Well, I'll tell him that the next time I see him, alright?"
"No." Arthur brought up the soccer ball and slapped it hard so that a resonant PING echoed from it. "You're getting beat this time, Mr. Orange-haired man, or my name isn't Arthur Liam Dennis."
"...Yeah, let's not."
"No, we will."
"Yeah, no." O'Reilly moved to continue his conversation with Olivia. The soccer ball struck him in the back of the head, cutting his attempt short.
Impressively, Duncan got to see Arthur kick it into the air then kick it again using a precise flick of his toes. He had good control for someone his age.
"Come on, Mr. Leprechaun." Arthur chided. "Or are you afraid your luck's run out?"
Duncan hadn't heard anyone call his friend that in a long time, and when someone did, it was usually him.
O'Reilly turned, annoyed, to face the kicker. He sucked in a sharp breath. "You're a sore loser aren't yuh, boyo?"
The kid jabbed a finger at him. "Sore enough to kick your butt."
The Irishman's hands became knuckles at his side. "Them is some fightin' words there, Master Dennis. You betters be ready to put some 'fight' behind'em."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Oh, I'm ready. I practiced."
The two stared each other down in a standoff that was just about as wild-west as Duncan was willing to get. He thought it wise to step in before things kicked-off, but O'Reilly did the unexpected by pushing him towards the soccer playing grandson.
"You do it."
"Huh?"
"Go at him for me. I'll take care of things down here. Afterwards, I'll come get you."
Duncan took a few steps forward but the kid didn't seem interested in him. He couldn't blame him either. "Hey, I'm Duncan."
"And I'm Arthur. Can you move please? I want the Leprechaun."
"Well, the Leprechaun is dealing with something right now. How about you take it out on me, huh?"
Arthur scanned him from head to toe, sizing him up. "Can you play soccer?"
"I can kick a ball."
"...You'll do."
He wasn't expecting the kid to rush up to him, take him by the arm and pull him along to the back of the counter. "Hey, where're we-"
"He'll take you to the roof." Olivia smiled apologetically. "Arth, please don't keep him up there too long. He'll have to go soon, okay?"
"I won't."
"Oh, and don't be a sore loser when he beats you." O'Reilly called as they slipped through the back door.
Wondering what he'd just gotten himself into, Duncan watched the door close behind him, sealing him into a supply room. Arthur led him past the additional isles piled to the brim with crates and wholesale packages. They headed into another passageway where he caught sight of several more rooms to the left and right. They passed over to another door.
"This way." Arthur said, opening it. On the other side was a staircase. They travelled up its steps to what was hopefully the last door and passed through into the light of day.
They came out onto the gravel-covered surface of the store's rooftop. Waiting for them there were a pair of empty crates lying on their sides, one to the left side of the roof and one to the right. They were wide enough for a soccer ball and tall enough to require a goalie.
Arthur rushed over to the left one "The right one's yours. You better hurry up before I score."
Realizing too late that the match had already started, Duncan ran for his goal. But Arthur delivered a solid toe-kick to the ball before he could get there.
Rather than be thwarted right away, Duncan leaned back so that he slid forward. He skidded between the ball and the goal at just the right angle to kick it away. Tracking its flight, he was suddenly worried that it would go straight into the streets, which was why he was relieved when the ball bounced off the meter-tall wall lining the roof. That reminded him that he needed to sort something out first. He caught the ball in his hand. "Hey, hold on a sec."
"Foul."
"Huh?"
"You can't just pick up the ball when you're outside the goalie box. That's a foul."
Confused, Duncan looked at his goal. "There's no goalie box."
"Yeah there is, see that line of pebbles right there?"
"...Look, I'm pretty sure we have to work out how many goals it'll take for one of us to win, right? It's your 'field'. So how much?"
Arthur didn't take more than a heartbeat to answer. "Five. The first one of us to reach five wins."
"Alright, and using hands is fine...behind the line of pebbles...right?"
"Basically."
"Okay then, let's-"
"First." Arthur came up to him and unceremoniously kneed the ball out of his grip to head-butt it back towards the center of the roof. "I'm getting my free-shot."
"What?"
As the older of the two opponents hesitated, the younger ran to the ball, reeled back and turned into his newest kick to increase the force behind it. The rubbery sphere sailed easily into the crate, knocking it back as it rattled inside.
"Penalty Goal!" Arthur yelled. "That's 1 for me, 0 for you."
Duncan lumbered over to the 'goal', reached in and took out the ball. He stared at the one who'd done the kicking. "How old are you, kid?"
"How old are you?"
"I'm 25 going on 26 soon."
Arthur winced. "A 25-year-old about to get his butt whupped by a 10-year-old? You should be ashamed."
"So, you're 10 then?"
"What I am is a kid scoring on a weak, old, blue-eyed man. That's all. Did you get that Mr. Weak Old Man? Or should I call you Mr. Blue-Eyes? Or just old man?"
"Old?" Duncan growled. He chose that second to toss the ball down to his feet and kick it diagonally towards the adjacent wall. Arthur scrambled straight after it. Duncan took off across the roof on a route parallel to its trajectory. When it struck the wall at the angle he wanted it slipped past Arthur.
Duncan reeled his right foot back as the ball met him at the point that he intended: right in front of the other crate. He kicked it straight in, knocking the whole setup back a meter. "Hah, goal!"
He turned to find a less than pleased Arthur glancing between him and the crate. "Hey, that's no fair. You stole that."
"Stole it?"
"Yeah." Arthur walked to the goal and set it back in place then grabbed up the ball. "That's what you AMADD-guys do all the time. You steal. That's your whole job." He trotted angrily to the middle of the rooftop and set it back down. "That's why I don't trust you guys whenever you come to the store. I make sure you pay for whatever it is you might steal that we don't know about."
Duncan arched a brow. "How?"
"Like this." Arthur made to kick.
Duncan saw it coming and ran for his goal. He intercepted the ball a short roll away from his crate by resting a patient foot atop it. "So, you don't trust us because all we do is steal?"
"Yup."
Well, he wasn't wrong. "And you don't want us stealing from you and your grandmother's shop?"
"Yup. It's all we got. I can't have anyone taking stuff from it without paying for it."
"Pretty sure Riley's paying. That, and..." Duncan reached into his pants pockets and pulled them inside out to show there was nothing in them, nothing except the thing he always carried. He squeezed his knuckles around it to hide the shape. "See, nothing."
Arthur pointed at his fist. "What's that? Gum?"
"That? Ugh, well that's a secret."
"It's gum. I knew it. Look, I'mma make you pay for that, okay-"
"No, it's- I'll just show you." He uncurled his fingers to expose the fullness of the Harvest rock.
Arthur's face screwed up. "You stole a rock from us?"
"No-no-no, this is...um, my dad got it for me as a birthday present."
The kid's face lightened up, then darkened by a perceptible degree. "So your dad gave you that?"
"When I was 6, he got it for me."
"Six?" Arthur whistled, running over the math in his head. "You're a pretty old man, Mr. Weak-old-man, so that must be a pretty old rock."
"Thanks." Duncan shoved it back into his pocket. "How about you? Did your dad-…" He stopped himself, coming to grips with the fact that he was probably prying into a matter that was none of his business. But Arthur replied to the part he didn't ask by shaking his head. The conflict written all over his face seemed to worsen.
"I try not to think about that guy."
That guy? Maybe it was one of those situations, Duncan realized. He didn't want to step on a potential sore spot so he tried to change topics again. "Okay, how about-"
"He up and left us here so he could go and die with guys like you."
That stopped Duncan cold. His mind froze up enough for his smaller, younger adversary to run at him and kick the ball out from under his foot into the goal.
"One more for me!"
"Hey, wait, that-, that didn't count."
"Heck-yeah it did. That's 2 for me, 1 for you."
"Oh, so I didn't steal my last shot then?"
Arthur considered it. "Oh yeah, sorry, 2 for me, 0 for you."
"No-no-no, give me back my point." Duncan bargained, trying to hide how caught off guard he was. Arthur started breaking from his serious demeanor to more laughter as he argued with him for the point. If he was trying to hide his emotions or was just that able to move on from such a heavy subject, it was hard to tell. What made him bring that up? The only possible reason was the mention of the rock. That was it. Maybe that had touched on something?
Duncan set out with two new strategies; to beat the kid to 5 points and to not touch on the subject of fathers again. The last thing he needed was Arthur's emotions turning on a dime, which he increasingly believed was him showing how he genuinely felt at that second. The 10-year-old didn't seem to have much of a filter on either what he was thinking or what he was feeling at any given point in time.
Over the course of the next 2 minutes, he focused on out-maneuvering him. Arthur proved faster and nimbler, but not stronger. For that reason, Duncan had to be extra careful with how much strength he put behind his kicks.
At the end of 2 minutes, they were looking at a 4 to 3 match, 4 for Duncan and 3 for the match's instigator. The two of them stopped to catch their breath.
"I'm...beating you." Arthur panted. "You watch."
"You've been...practicing. I can tell."
"I do this a lot on AMADDS that decide to show their faces here. I play by myself too."
"How do you find the time to practice? Don't you have to work the whole day?"
"Nah, I can do this whenever I want on my breaks." He grinned proudly. "I play at night too. One time I practiced all the way to morning."
"Wait, don't you ever go home? I'm sure your Gran doesn't leave you here overnight, right?"
Arthur shook his head, wiping his sweaty forehead on his sleeve. "We don't just work here. We live here too. It's not just a shop, it's our home. Our house. That's why I can't let anyone in that'll steal from it, like you and Leprechaun."
"...I see." So, they lived here too. "Why not get a house?"
"Gran says it's easier to live here after my...um..." Arthur trailed off again into what Duncan could see was a state of unwelcomed reminiscence. Another change in topic was due. Or was it?
"Did he used to play with you up here a lot?"
The question shook the boy out of it. "Who?"
"Your dad?"
Arthur blinked a few times at the quandary. After a short pause, he nodded. "Yeah...he did." The follow-up was an unexpected sideways kick from the inside of Arthur's heel that knocked the ball clear of Duncan's control. Rather than run after him though, he pivoted on one foot and swung the other backward so that he caught the ball with the back of his own heel, kicking it out of Arthur's control without having to move too much. He used his turning momentum to run past the kid and start the ball on a clear path for the goal.
He was about to make the shot when Arthur slid between his legs to kick it off course, then extended his own leg out so that it tripped his taller opponent down onto his knees.
Laughing, the boy ran after the ball, bouncing it between his heels towards the other goal. At the last four meters Duncan was again shadowing him. Arthur took his chance, rolled the ball back onto his right foot and lifted it into the air. With a jump, he connected his left foot to the airborne sphere, arcing it right into the crate.
"Ha-ha! That's 4 me, 4 you."
Duncan stopped again to catch his breath. He hadn't exactly recuperated from the day's earlier training. "You tripped me."
"No, I kicked the ball and you ended up falling on my foot. What, you gonna cry about it?"
"You know, you're pretty good at this." Duncan said, ignoring the jab. "What do you want to be when you grow up?"
The question paralyzed Arthur where he stood. He was thinking on it pretty hard. "Well, I wanted to be a Gravball player for the New Carthage Badgers. But..."
"But?"
"My dad decided to leave New Carthage for here and to bring me and Gran with him. This soccer ball is all I've got. So, I practice how I can for when I get to go back home."
Duncan didn't know how to break it to him that that last part probably wasn't happening. If he was brought here then he in all likelihood was never going back. Too many lines had been crossed. But he could never be a great Grav Ball player in a place like Hayth.
"Your dad was in the AMADDS?"
Arthur forced himself to nod.
It was getting easier to connect the dots now. A dead father, an impossible dream, a grudge and a lot of spare time. None of it was a mixture for anything good yet somehow the kid found a healthy outlet for it.
"Don't think I'm weak, okay, I know what I told you. That's 'cause I don't want you thinking I'm a sore loser like Leprechaun says. I can take a lot because I took a lot already."
So the kid definitely had a bit more cognizance of those feelings and how he was showing them than Duncan thought. It gave off the sense that he was someone that had to grow up fast. That might've explained why his kid self was still trying to catch up with the man he was trying to be. Though he felt like he was prying by now, for his own reasons Duncan decided to ask something more. Noah's face became stapled to the forefront of his mind.
"What would you do if your dad was here, right now?"
Arthur blinked a few times. His suspicion became much more palpable. "Why?"
"I'm curious."
"...If he was here..." Arthur straightened up. "If he was here." His hands balled into tight fists at his side. "I'd tell him..." His teeth gritted. "I'd tell him to go away!" He suddenly reeled his foot back. "'Because that's all he's good at!"
He kicked the ball with serious force but at an odd angle. Duncan flinched at the resonant PING of the rubber sphere as it screamed out from off the rooftop, flying high over the wall into the open air.
Neither of them had realized how close to the wall the shop truly was, or at least Arthur had forgotten in his second of rage. The place was essentially one building down from the western side of the 10-meter barrier. There were no guards on patrol there. No one save for them saw the ball arc over the wall and out into the world beyond.
Arthur quickly calmed down at seeing what he'd done. "Uh-oh."
"Ugh, you got another one?"
"No. I need that one back."
The kid moved for the edge of the roof in that direction.
"Where're you going?"
"To get the ball. Come on, I'll need a lookout."
A lookout? The truth that was becoming basically transparent was that Arthur had a few things up his sleeve other than just the heart he wore on it. Duncan followed him to the edge. There was a ladder there. They climbed down it and went into an alleyway between the store and another appliance shop beside the wall.
Sitting at the wall of the appliance store was a metal dumpster. Arthur braced his shoulder against it. A few strained pushes on his end only moved it so far. "Hey, can you help?"
Not sure what they were aiming for, Duncan cautiously put his back behind it. Their strained efforts earned a steady creak of movement from the dumpster. They pushed it until Arthur told him to stop. He found himself looking down at a hole in the ground. It was a dark abscess large enough for someone his size. He suspected it was an access tunnel.
"Don't tell Gran I showed you this." Arthur said then proved its purpose by leaping down into the hole. Of course, Duncan had to shuffle down after him.
It was indeed a long and dark passage, not uncomfortable but not ideal if it collapsed. They were both able to walk along the tunnel. They moved through the dark for 2 minutes, by which time he was sure they'd passed underneath the perimeter wall and into Hayth's outskirts.
There was no way that this could be anything other than part of the original city that existed before Kholo's fall. He wanted to ask how someone as young as Olivia's grandson had found this. Why did he know where it led to and where did it lead anyway?
Arthur answered that as well by stopping unexpectedly. He reached out and grabbed what Duncan made out to be a ladder. There was a blur of movement, then Arthur lifted the weight of a sewer cover off the top of an entrance. He looked around like a meerkat scanning for predators then scrambled out.
Not wanting to lose him, Duncan clambered to the top. As he expected, they had come out amongst a cluster of sparsely packed ruins and glassed desert. Hayth's wall was off some 100 meters back west. That confirmed they were in the outskirts. There was no one patrolling that part of the wall that he could see. Even so, he doubted anyone would spot them thanks to the arrangement of the ruins.
He watched Arthur strolling out towards the wall where the ball landed. While he observed him, he couldn't help thinking about the kid's last outburst before getting them into their current predicament. He wasn't sure why yet but it hurt to think about. So he tried thinking about something else, namely the tunnel that he didn't know was there before. Now he did.
Arthur came back a minute later with the ball in hand. "Thanks." He whispered. "No one saw me. Let's go back. And, ugh...thanks for playing with me."
"Don't mention it. I'm going to have to pay that price every time I come to your store?"
"Probably."
"Great. Got it."
"Oh, and I win by the way."
"...Sure."
Arthur cracked a small smile.
Duncan shifted aside to let him climb back down into the tunnel. Still, he stayed put for a second longer, looking between the western horizon and then the walls of Hayth, then at the horizon again. At length he lowered himself into the tunnel and slid the cover back into place.
:********:
The Bastille Building was the largest structure in Hayth. Standing at 14-floors of concrete, polycrete and bullet-proof windows, it was initially constructed over the ruins of an old water works building. Rather than managing municipal piping, it was serving as Hayth's center of government and the strategic headquarters for the AMADDS.
As both the Governor of Hayth and Commander and Chief of the AMADDS, Major Benjamin Kirkley was its main tenant. When he wasn't working on the legislative side of things, he was dealing with after-action reports from mercenary platoons carrying out jobs in different systems. It was very much a hands-on affair day by day. The 24/7 job was arguably what planted most of the wrinkles on his face that he loathed to admit were there.
Today he was facing the most recent round of diplomatic negotiations. Same as usual; underhanded deals and covert threats to ensure the longevity of those deals.
He sat behind his desk in his personal office on the 10th floor, trying to get across the dynamics of agricultural demand versus seasonal supply to his oldest trade partner. He'd known Governor Daniel Wagner long before he was the governor of Venezia, a rogue colony world in the Orso System now firmly under Insurrectionist control. Back in their youth, the two of them ran in many of the same circles and worked in some of the same terror-cells. He'd witnessed Kirkley's own turning from UNSC Major to Innie sympathizer, his being captured for interrogation by ONI for the first time, then was part of the subsequent rescue mission on Acadia that saved the major from being tortured for answers. They had a decent deal of shared history which split into differing ambitions and directions with the arrival of the Covenant and, by extension, the end of mainstream Insurrectionist activities. That wasn't to say they didn't enjoy a cooperative relationship. In late 2542, Kirkley had supplied Wagner with the additional explosive material and manpower he needed to blow up the local CAA building in the capital of New Tyne. That was what created the power vacuum for Wagner's own Venezian Militia to seize and centralize control of the planet, thereby cutting it off from the UNSC. In exchange, the other governor provided him with much of the equipment he required to supply the burgeoning ranks of his AMADDS. Because of that, they held amicable relations that made Venezia one of Hayth's most important trading partners, something Kirkley was trying his hardest to maintain at the moment.
"Listen Dan, I can only assure you of 50 tons of our agricultural run-offs per month. Any more than that and I risk dipping into our reserves for the citizens. Keep in mind that I've still got a population approaching roughly 5,000 by the end of June that need a consistent supply."
On the holo-screen set in front of his desk, Kirkley saw the governor considering his position. The man was sitting behind the desk of his own office with the crest of the Venezian militia posted behind him: a clutch of arrows branded on their tips with falcons. He was a broad-shouldered man who, unlike Kirkley, had gone the full way to baldness. A square jaw, a number of scars and a salt and pepper beard were what sold the impression of him as the strong and unyielding kind. Kirkley knew, however, that he could be made to concede given the right incentives.
Wagner at last shook his head. "I understand your position, Ben, but I'm looking at a population problem of my own."
"How much?"
"Try over 10 million and growing."
It was a dumb question. Kirkley understood they had equal predicaments conceptually but not in practical magnitude. "It's a lot but I doubt our capacities here would be sufficient to give you the extra you need for an emergency surplus."
"It's not like I need the whole basket, just a bit more than the run-offs. You of all people should know that cutting ourselves off from the UNSC also means cutting off trade, legal trade anyway. Smuggling operations might be able to do it for you at Hayth but the situation for New Tyne is different." Wagner leaned in closer to his screen. "Times are changing Ben, drastically. After Actium, I'm sure you felt which way the wind was blowing. We need more trading partners to sign on officially. Factions on Andesia, Hellas and Fumirole are trying to vie for our partnership as we speak."
Kirkley got the inference right away. If these other Insurrectionist strongholds got into Venezia's good graces, then there was a chance the special trade agreements between them and Hayth would become much less of a priority. Not that Hayth only made deals with Venezia, but they were one of the few Insurrectionist factions to actually have full control of both the planet they were headquartered on as well as its resources, making them an invaluable ally. Wagner was telling him to sweeten the deal now while he still could.
The major sighed. "Alright, what are your new terms?"
Wagner smiled. "We need 80 tons per month. In exchange, I'll up the monthly munitions deliveries by 2 and trade you the freighters Ariel, Dauntless and Telemunde."
"You mean those three you use for our June transfers, the parabolas?"
"Those same ones."
Kirkley weighed the options. "It sounds like a good deal...but..."
Perceiving that the major wasn't fully sold on the idea, Wagner pressed in. "Don't you need deuterium fusion cores to power that grid of yours?"
That caught his interest. "Yeah."
"How about it, I'll throw in 400 Deuterium Fusion Cores. You can use them to power up and expand your system and I can get more out of the agricultural surplus. Everyone wins this way."
It was a great deal now. Kirkley felt a degree more confident in that. He would get more weapons to arm and train more AMADDS and more transports to expand his own trading networks with cells across the galaxy. He might even finally recoup major financial losses he'd incurred early last year like the capture of the Omen and the loss of the Meleonich mining facilities. At least it was a good start to escaping the deficit that Hayth had been operating out of since then. Plus, throwing in the fusion cores made it impossible to ignore a 350+ increase of the normal shipment. He'd like to see how the good doctor would react to the potential growth of his grids into several new expansion zones working at the same time.
"It's a deal."
Wagner's smile brightened. "Great to hear. When can I expect that shipment?"
"Same time. One week from now, the Raven and Barbarossa will land it at New Tyne Airfield at 0700 sharp."
"Good man. We're set then."
Were they? There was still a question Kirkley wanted answered before they closed the deal. "Can I ask you something?"
"Certainly."
Kirkley clasped his hands together, taking in a breath to steady himself. "Where did you get those cores?"
Wagner's smile lessened. "Why bother asking? It's obvious, isn't it?"
"No. It isn't. How did you get your hands on that much deuterium? It's not like you have the AMADDS working for you."
He watched Venezia's Governor clasp his chin and examine his desk in a 'how do I phrase this delicately' fashion. Following a few seconds of thought he re-met his trade partner's eyes. "Jackals."
That sent a shiver down the major's spine. "What?"
"Don't worry, these are the pirates among them. They operate separately from the Covenant. These Jackals we're trading with started warming up to us about six months ago. They've approached us seeking trade opportunities in good faith and we've answered in good faith."
"Good faith? Dan, have you even considered where they got the materials? The Covenant don't exactly make those for us."
"Even if they stole it, it likely wasn't from anyone we know." Wagner winked. "Things balance out that way."
Kirkley's tone changed from cordial to warning. "Dan, be careful. You remember what happened to the Rubble don't you, the setup those folks from Madrigal had in 23 Librae, and how that went to hell when they started dealing with Jackals?"
"...That was a long time ago."
"The principle stands. I'd rather not have to escape my own system in an asteroid hurdling out into the middle of nowhere. That's why I don't trust them."
"Venezia is not a ram-shackle amalgamation of hollow space rocks and docking umbilicals, major. We have our own defenses. Should anything go wrong, we'll be more than prepared to handle it."
"Will you?" The two stared each other down for a few seconds. Wagner broke the dead-lock by holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture.
"Either way, the deed's already done. Now, do you want the cores or not?"
"...I'll take them."
"Good to hear. Thank you for yet another fruitful meeting, major. And I do so hope for many, many more like it."
Kirkley nodded off to him. "You take care of yourself, Dan."
"Same to you, Ben."
The major watched the governor's feed flicker off. He got up and walked out his office into the hallway in an attempt to burn off some steam. Jackals trading with his most important trade partner was the last thing he needed to hear. But he wasn't about to start imposing sanctions. He was in no position for it and that was a tact more accustomed to the filth of the UEG and their puppets in the CAA.
For the time being he chose to refocus on the meeting he was going to have with his captains, at least the ones currently off-duty in Hayth. For an organization close to 1,000 strong with 300 stationed at Hayth at any given time, its leadership was remarkably small and centralized, as he'd intended. The size made it a lot easier to manage everyone and avoid the bureaucracy that so plagued the larger UNSC. That was because he'd entrusted the bureaucracy to the one man he knew he could always trust: himself.
Turning a corner, he came into a hallway with a holo-pedestal. Standing on it was none other than Athena but not as her Rose the Riveter persona. Today she was an Amazonian woman wielding long braided hair beneath her helmet, a shield, a spear and a majestic red robe blowing around in a virtual wind. Now she literally looked like the Goddess that was her namesake. She always did like to change costume depending on the task she was carrying out. If it was helping ordinary civilians around Hayth or even Doctor Schonberg at Land Control, she thought it best to be Rosie. If it was helping the AMADDS with security measures or acting as a personal assistant in the Bastille Building, she would be the goddess of war and wisdom, Athena.
Her avatar flashed next to him and floated with him down the passage. "How was the meeting, sir?" She asked despite having the omnipresence to have overheard it.
"Athena, when you see the Ariel, Dauntless or Telemunde landing at Starship Row, I want you to scan their cargo before its disembarked for any tracking devices. Prioritize the deuterium fusion cores."
"Is it because of the Jackals?"
"It is."
She nodded in agreement. "Understood sir, I'll have Captain Eddis's platoon perform pre-landing sweeps."
"Good. Is everyone in place?"
"They're all waiting for you now in Room-10."
They turned a corner onto the passage leading to Room-10. A pair of AMADDS were standing guard outside its double doors wielding MA5Bs. They saw him coming and quickly saluted as they each opened a door to let him through.
The room beyond came with an oval-shaped table made of a burnished mahogany. The dozen or so chairs set around it were all occupied by platoon captains each with a datapad set on the table in front of them. They saw him and immediately rose to salute.
"At ease." He watched them settle back down, looking to him expectantly. They were all faces that he knew. There was Captain Ruedell, a woman with intimidating tiger stripes cut across blonde hair to match perfectly with several long shrapnel scars running down her face. There was Captain Gonzo, a tanned man with the scaley image of a red and green Chinese dragon tattooed onto the left side of his visibly bored face. Then there was Stewards, the one he knew best out of everyone and the longest of anyone here. The captain was sporting his Grizzlies cap which he usually wore on special occasions. That and his infamously honest smile of someone perpetually amused by their surroundings. Yet he looked paler than normal.
These were the batch that were on rotation at Hayth for the week. Today, they'd come for their newest deployment orders.
"You all did well last week, exceptional even. Your assignments have been accomplished across the board with the level of professionalism I expect of you. Now, praise aside, I want to keep this session short."
He put his hands behind his back to provide himself an air of greater dignity. "I am announcing a change in our overall strategy. Due to the way the war is progressing, we will no longer be focusing on the outer-colonies for job opportunities. Beginning today, we will instead focus exclusively on the inner colonies."
He saw right away their surprise, eyes widening or jaws falling loose. That much was to be expected. Had even someone like Stewards looked not the least bit thrown for a loop then he would have been worried. They'd spent much of their efforts in the outer systems, which was why this would be such a radical change.
"Let me explain. Before now, the AMADDS were able to get by on saving materials from outer-colony worlds. We had the insufficiency of UNSC forces stretched too thin to offer any assistance to thank for those opportunities. That was our opening. But we can't stay there. With the vast majority of the outer-colonies now glassed, we are facing an increasingly diminishing pool of work. Moreover, many of the UNSC's remaining assets in the outer-colonies are being pulled back into the core worlds. It's an initiative by HIGHCOM to protect them after the Covenant nearly gained greater access to the inner colonies via those staging grounds on Actium. The fact the Covies even tried it has the UNSC running scared. This means the outer colonies are now officially like Kholo: behind enemy lines. The result of this industrial pull-back is expected to affect us soon. Knowing that the Covenant will push this war more onto the inner colonies, we're going to capitalize on that chaos. Any jobs we take in the outer worlds will be of less fiscal and material value to us than the inner. I do hope you will understand. Are there any questions before I hand out your next deployments?"
A hand was raised. It was Gonzo's. "We're cutting our losses, sir?"
"In straight terms, yes."
"I assume the other platoon captains were informed of this decision already?"
"You all were the last batch I needed to tell."
"...Understood sir."
The next to raise their hand was the inquisitive Captain Ruedell. "A lot of the folks here at Hayth were people we managed to save from outer colonies, places and people the UNSC abandoned. If we stop going, whoever's left out there really will be on their own."
"We can't save everyone, Ruedell. Not everyone. The fate we're giving them is our own, they'll have to survive out there by themselves, which is no different from what they've already been doing over the last two decades. I plan on reestablishing contact with the remaining outer colonies once this war is over and things settle down. Until then, we focus on the big spenders."
He was waiting for a certain someone to ask his question. But when Stewards did raise a hand, it drew everyone's attention. The exposed forearm was deathly pale and its dark-hued veins were visible like creatures hiding beneath his skin. His arm trembled, as did his body although he did a better job of restraining the latter and maintaining his composure. Still, a few of the other captains stole uncomfortable glances at him.
"Go ahead, Stewards."
"AMG Transport Dynamics and Lethbridge Industrial had plenty of their factories in the mid-rim colonies. Are we abandoning those too?"
"Those were deemed too at risk after Actium and were for the most part withdrawn to core worlds. Though we won't ignore them if sufficient opportunities arise, they're no longer a necessary factor."
"Understood."
"Any more questions?"
The captains looked between themselves. No one moved to say anything more so Kirkley continued. "Alright, pay attention to your datapads. I'll go over your missions. Athena will provide you with the files for further details."
On cue, the datapads switched on courtesy of Hayth's resident technological deity. The captains took them in hand to watch the operational info appear as the colonel discussed each in turn.
"Ruedell and Carlton, I need Tiger and Grizzly Platoons co-oping the extraction op on Adelaide. Basic asset acquisition and transfer between corporations under mild peace-time conditions. Schmidt, Diamara, you're handling long range reconnaissance into Area-43 to Hayth's northeast. Nomad and Hunter Platoons have to scout and secure the place. We'll need it for Grid-20's expansion zone. The Paradise Falls op goes to Dawson and Styves. I need Outcast and Punisher Platoons working offensive security. Expect hostile ground activity that'll need clearing out. Noland, Repo, you're taking Scorpion and Viper to New Harmony for the reactor change-outs at the main nuclear fusion facilities." He eyed the last two mission recipients closely. "Stewards, Gonzo, you're getting the rawest deal out of everyone here. You're taking Gypsy and Gator on a vacation to the frontlines. Kroedis II will be hot the second you land so keep your eyes up out there. That should be it. Last chance for questions."
The captains stayed quiet as they examined the details of their respective missions.
"We're good then. Captains, you're dismissed. Brief your men and acquire the gear you'll need for your tasks. Let's get these jobs done right. Who knows, at this rate we might soon find ourselves running extractions on Reach."
The crew got a laugh off of the unlikeliest of possibilities as they got up, only to silently think about how possible it was becoming nowadays.
"Stewards." Kirkley called.
The captain, singled out, stopped. "Sir?"
"Got a minute?"
"...Yessir."
The two stayed put while everyone else left, Kirkley standing on one end while Stewards sat on the other. Neither moved to speak until the last person was out. Since they both knew what this would be about, neither seemed ready to address it first.
Kirkley finally cleared his throat. "So, how are you handling out there, soldier?"
Stewards shrugged. "Gypsy's still effective sir, nothing's changed."
"Right...I mean you specifically."
"Same goes for me. I can do my job just fine."
Kirkley was relieved to find out he was handling himself, but the paleness of the man's face seemed to deepen and his characteristic smile fell somewhat. That was a cause for worry. "You're still taking your medications?"
Stewards took in a deep, weighted breath. "I do. Not recently though. I ran out so I had to get one of my men to get it for me. I was running late and came here first."
"Is the pain still..."
"Yeah."
"How do you manage with that every day? I've been wondering how you keep it up."
"Honestly, sir, I'm freer than most people I'll ever meet. There's something genuinely relaxing about knowing how much time you have left. It helps you get a proper gauge for the day, to appreciate it while it's there. With respect sir, most people like yourself are too busy looking ahead to future hopes of the way things might be to actually enjoy the day as it is. I don't have that. That's why I can enjoy today."
Kirkley marveled at him for a moment. "We'll find something for you. A treatment, a cure. It's out there, I know it."
"I wouldn't worry about me if I were you, sir. I haven't been worried about me for some time already. It'd only be a waste of your time. Besides, I accepted that I was a lost cause a while ago." He finished his sentence with a pained grin.
Again, Kirkley was speechless. Discerning that he wouldn't find any way around the man's reasoning, he shook his head. "You're dismissed then."
"Thank you, sir." Stewards got up and headed for the doors.
"And Stewards?"
He stopped at the threshold. "Sir?"
"Don't kill any more than you need to, understand?"
Stewards quietly considered it. Replying with a silent nod, he left the room with his datapad like everyone else, leaving Kirkley to himself.
The major exhaled out the last of his worries for his longest serving subordinate. Regardless, there was a tinge of regret that wouldn't go away. There was no real way around it either. For the man that was more a son to him than a subordinate, Stewards was doing admittedly well for someone enduring enough pain to make the average person pass out. Kirkley did his best not to show the favoritism that was actually there in worrying for him. This time he was simply too concerned. He forced himself to let go of the matter and walked out, bound for the next task of managing internal security affairs.
:********:
Stewards didn't dare stop during his descent down the many flights of stairs leading down from the 10th floor to the ground floor lobby. Stopping once would cause him to register the sensation of a thousand needles stabbing into his organs from the inside-out.
Coming the last flight of stairs to the lobby, he sighted a familiar dragon-faced compatriot. Gonzo was waiting for him there, leaning against the nearby wall.
"Hope you've been taking your meds." He grinned. "You certainly don't look it though, like you're ready to keel over."
Stewards walked past him. Gonzo came in beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder; a move which worsened the pain immediately. "I just wanted to remind you to take those meds of yours when we're on the mission, alright? Don't need you passing out when bullets start flying."
Gonzo patted him on the shoulder then let him go. Stewards didn't care to see where he went. He headed straight through the front doors to the outside.
Evening was now setting in with a hazy orange-purple color in the sky. The building's front venue was unoccupied except for several armed guards patrolling the fence. That, and the presence of the two people he was actually relieved to see.
O'Reilly and Duncan were chatting a short way from the doors, the former holding a plastic bag. They saw him coming over.
"Hey, I got the stuff." O'Reilly hailed.
"Good to hear."
He wasn't lying. The Irishman reached into the bag and handed him a vial. The glassy tube the size of his thumb was filled to the brim with a translucent, blue fluid. He didn't bother undergoing the formalities of hiding it. He pulled up the sleeve on his right arm, revealing the port of the small catheter planted in the joint between forearm and bicep. He inserted the vial into the catheter's small holding socket. A quantity of the liquid hissed into his veins as the auto-injector went to work. Despite that the pain didn't immediately vanish, the refreshing cool feeling that rushed through his body was relief enough.
Slowly the color began to return to his skin. The visible veins gradually receded.
Breathing out, he rounded on the two and nodded to the parking lot a short walk away. "We've got a new mission boys. Kirkley's saying it'll be hot so expect the unexpected. I'll run over the details back at the Hill. You copy?"
"Ay sir." O'Reilly replied.
There was a palpable hesitance on Duncan's part. It seemed that the two of them had switched places. The recruit was now the one who was pale, shocked even but struggling not to show it. Stewards made a mental note to explain himself later.
"You copy, Duncan?"
He at last stood at a shaky attention. "...I copy, sir."
"You're finally getting your chance to prove yourself. Don't waste it."
"...Yessir."
"Good." Stewards said, feeling exactly that at having the sensation of the pain dull to the levels he was used to. He sensed his satisfied smile return to full bloom. "Come on. Let's go home. It's been a long day, and we've got an even longer one waiting for us."
Pergensque – Going Forward