Halo: Feet First

by MikeDice

Halo: Feet First covers the story of a team of UNSC Orbital Drop Shock Troopers of the 7th Battalion, 105th Shock Troops Division. The main character, Duncan Iris, faces the full horror of the covenant war effort against humanity as well as the brave retaliation of outnumbered and outgunned UNSC forces. However, he also witnesses the turning of the tides as the war progresses.

89. Kholo - Chapter 18 (Acceptio)

Chapter 18 – Acceptio

June 23rd, 2545 (13:04 Hours - Military Calendar)

In slipspace, Aboard UNSC Cape Horn

:********:

The ship's debriefing room was small and square, much like the one Duncan had entered with White back when they first met. Whereas that one was for a briefing, this one was serving the purpose of establishing what would happen now that his job was done.

Sitting in the opposite seat at the steel table, the commander extracted the last details of his mission; everything he'd done that he didn't have the chance to say over the radio. Before that, he apologized that the search team he sent out found no traces of O'Reilly. It came as a devastating yet not completely unexpected blow which Duncan hid behind a mask of reservedness. With that heaviness in the air, White continued.

Most of the discussion revolved around Operation TROJAN's three remaining loose ends: Dr. Schonberg, Stewards and the Mayweather. White made it clear that the threat they posed would be minimal now that the task force had effectively neutralized the AMADDS' base of operations. However, they would remain on the UNSC's watch list. They would be searched for and targeted just like the rest of their organization.

On the other hand, White believed that any past conversations he had with these high-value individuals would be most valuable. Duncan told him what he could. He provided details about his introduction to Schonberg and his 'conversation' with Stewards in the Mayweather's medical bay. The last one didn't seem to catch White by surprise at all. In fact, Duncan thought he looked to be expecting it. The commander promised that everything would be included in the psych profiles they were developing for the individuals of interest.

To wrap things up, White passed him a datapad with a digital document already on-screen.

Duncan looked at it. "These my divorce papers, sir?"

"Something like that." White passed him a small stylus. "It's your separation contract. Once you sign here, you'll be free of your obligations to ONI as our temporary informant. You'll be allowed to return to your unit." He pointed to a signature line at the bottom of the document. "However, you will also be required to keep any and all information pertaining to the sensitive topics section to yourself. Make sure to give it a good read before you sign."

Duncan read through it. "A gag order?"

"Think of it more as a request from us to you in good faith."

"I don't know how much faith I should have in that kind of request, sir, but I understand the secrecy part."

White's eyes narrowed. "You know, you're starting to give me the impression that you're used to this kind of thing."

"How so?"

"Usually, first time HUMINT assets tend to ask more questions about why we don't want them answering anyone else's. You don't, and I wonder why that is."

Duncan froze with the stylus hovering over the signature line. White eyed him curiously for a long moment.

"I-"

The commander shrugged. "I wonder, yes, but something tells me I don't want to know beyond my own educated guess. The tension between the sections is already serious enough as it is. I don't want to risk stepping on the toes of anyone higher up the totem pole than I am. The possibility is already sufficiently dangerous that I've used someone else's helping hand. I'll be just fine though if you maintain whatever gag order you're already under."

"...Understood, sir." Duncan took another cursory glance through the sensitive topics section, reading through it like a man would his own obituary. Then he took the stylus and signed his name. He slid the pad back across the table and White quickly pocketed the device.

"How's that wound holding up by the way?"

Duncan carefully reached for his left arm and took a look at the back. The scarring from the plasma burn was still there. One of Bravo's medics helped him get the damage under control using available treatments, applying various amounts of biofoam where the epidermis had been most severely affected. What was left was a minor burn scar, a miraculous feat given that he could have wound up a lot worse off had that plasma bolt been aimed slightly higher. "It's holding up, sir."

"Hope it stays that way. You've quite literally risked life and limb to bring down a monster like Kirkley. Because of you, the surviving elements of the Insurrection will be in disarray now that the last of their leaders is dead. Sadly though, you shouldn't expect any commendations from ONI. We're quite secretive about letting people know who actually did what and when, even if it's a good thing. This will be the most praise you can look forward to from us at least." White reached his hand over the table. "You did excellent work out there, Iris. For that you have my thanks, mine and everyone else's."

Duncan took a look at the hand and everything symbolically hidden behind it. He took it and shook firmly. "Thank you, sir."

White leaned back into his seat to examine him again. "I'm also recommending you not to work for ONI again. It's not very good for your health and longevity as I'm sure you've learned by now. That, and it's never good for a liaison to liaise too much and with different parts of the Office. Our people are protective of their secrets, even from each other. I'm sure you understand."

Duncan did understand. For the sake of not being disappeared or getting a bullet in the back of his head he nodded in agreement. "No problem."

"Alright, that concludes our-"

"Can I ask you something else, sir?"

White raised a brow. "Questions? Alright, but I'll only say what I can."

"...What's going to happen to the people from Hayth? Where are they going to be taken?"

"They'll be sent to various refugee camps across UNSC-controlled systems."

"...Will the families be allowed to stay together?"

"That won't be possible, or at least not likely. The local immigration bureaus for each planet will have to vet them. We've had a history of insurrectionists forming action cells among refugees in these camps. A decent number were able to stick together because they claimed to be family. Those are risks I doubt the bureaus will be willing to take, and even if they are blood-related, there's no guarantee they won't be separated for other reasons."

"...I see."

White, possibly catching on to what he was really asking, leaned over the table and looked him straight in the eye. "I wouldn't worry about your friends, Iris. They'll be taken care of."

Would they?

Duncan didn't ask the question out loud as another took hold of his mouth. "Would you happen to know if the...New Carthage Badgers are on their way to the Galactic Cup?"

White cocked his head quizzically. "Why?"

"Just curious."

"I'm not much of a Gravball fan myself but I've heard that the Badgers are headed to the championships this year."

"I see. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Will that be all?"

"Yessir."

"Then we're done here."

White rose up first. Duncan followed him out of the debriefing room into the hallway outside. Then the commander bid him a final farewell and walked down the right side. Duncan turned left and headed wherever his legs would take him in search of the people to whom he owed a serious explanation.

:********:

The doors slid out of his way and Duncan walked into the ship's cafeteria. Many of the tables were occupied with troopers in their casual wear and onboard navy personnel chatting over lunch. The food was laid out buffet style along the walls with UNSC patrons passing by and loading up their plates.

He looked around. There was no sign of Epsilon among the ODST tables.

Someone slapped him on the back. He turned and, unsurprised, found Deaks leaning against the wall right behind him.

"Looking for everyone?"

"Obviously."

"Well, they're not here. They wanted to meet you somewhere more special."

"And where's that?"

Deaks nodded back to the doors. "Follow me."

Duncan followed him back out of the cafeteria. They didn't talk for a while as they navigated through the corridors. Then they reached a long passageway fitted on its right side with a rectangular viewing window that ran the full length of the walk. There was nothing to see beyond the glass besides the featureless void of slipstream space. The view would remain that way for the next several days before they returned to Epsilon Eridani.

"Hey," Deaks said as they walked. "Remember when I told you I wanted to talk?"

"Yeah."

"Let's talk."

"About?"

Deaks inhaled sharply, telling Duncan things were going to get serious. "That day when you came to me in the Dante Building, you asked me what I thought of the war. I figured I knew why you asked. What I didn't figure was what you'd do once I told you."

Duncan side-eyed him. "You think you're the reason I left?"

"That's the thing." Deaks drily laughed. "I don't know. I've been trying to figure that out since we found out you were missing. You had us worried, Irish. I admit, Nova was probably as worried as me up to now, just more murderous."

"Aww, you were worried?"

"Not about you exactly. It's more along the lines of me being worried that you actually listened to what I had to say and took it seriously."

"Deaks, I left because I was-, what do you mean 'took it seriously'?"

Deaks peered out the long window to their left as they moved. With a sigh, he said. "You remember what I told you that day, right?"

"Like I was saying, I left because I was asked to."

"'Asked'. As in you had a conscious choice in the matter. You weren't ordered to. Someone, for the sake of living a little longer I'm not going to say who I think it is, made the suggestion to you and you took it. But something tells me you wouldn't have had I not told you what I thought. You wouldn't have put yourself in this kind of position where you're working solo with mercs and Innies that wouldn't bat an eye at torturing you for intel, especially if they found out what you were really up to."

Duncan turned away from him and looked forward, trying to understand what he was going for. "So, what then? You're saying I was wrong to listen to you?"

"I'm saying that I was wrong for telling you in the first place. You were obviously looking for someone to encourage you and I-...well. Can I be honest?"

"Go ahead."

"I don't think I was the right person for you to talk to at the time."

Duncan suppressed a chuckle. "Well, that's obvious now but go on."

"Actually, when you came to me looking for my thoughts about it, I hated that you did that to begin with, reminding me about everything I was trying to forget. Basically, you touched a bit of a sore spot for me."

They turned right down a corner and walked down a passage with an elevated glass-view of the cafeteria.

"Wait, that doesn't make any sense." Duncan said. "You said you didn't want to do anything except leave the Covenant with as many scars as you could. You wanted that, didn't you? That's what you said yourself. How's that a sore spot?"

"Well, I wasn't lying. I was only telling you half the truth."

Duncan was growing more curious. "And the other half?"

Deaks scratched his head in search of the right words. "There's a reason I was going on a safari that day. I wanted to blow off some steam. You had Erica and Noah to spend time with. Everyone else was gone. I made the mistake of staying thinking it would help me sort myself out. What ended up happening was that I got stuck with the thoughts that made me not want to go to Quezon in the first place. Singh and Ortega told me they would have a safari and I figured it was the best way to get my head out of the mire. Then just as I was getting over it, you show up and slap me in the face with the very thing I'm trying to ignore. So I gave you a piece of my mind, or where my mind was at the time."

Duncan stared at him for a while, trying to push through the verbal smokescreen to find out what he meant. "What are you really saying?"

"I'm not just some sore loser with an oversized butcher's knife and a chip on his shoulder." Deaks calmly replied. "I want to see us win this war, Irish. I really do."

Duncan stopped in his tracks. Deaks carried on a few steps ahead before turning back to him.

His gaze full of suspicion, Duncan marveled at him. "But weren't you the same guy that said we can't win? That we shouldn't expect to either?"

"Yeah." Deaks nodded. "Same guy. Different opinions."

"You think we don't stand a chance at the same time as you think we can win?"

"No."

"Mind explaining then?"

"Sure." He looked to the cafeteria at the many troopers and navy personnel walking or eating throughout it. "It's like wanting your favorite sports team to win but knowing they don't stand a chance against the other side, like watching the Badgers go up against the Grizzlies. You know what I mean?"

"...Yeah..."

Deaks started walking again. Duncan followed though he stayed one step behind.

"I want us to win, Irish. The problem is I don't know if we can. I've been in this job so long and I've never seen it. Sometimes I'm honestly jealous of the Staff. He got to see one of the times we actually won a fair and square fight against the Covenant back on New Constantinople. Those were better times to be alive and an ODST. Nowadays we win all the minor skirmishes and lose all the major offensives."

"And Actium? What did you think of that?"

Deaks slowed down by a perceptible degree, an obvious sign the question had caught him by surprise. He kept walking at a slower pace so that they were again side by side. "Before we went up that ridge in Sabat, I thought we might-... I thought we'd win the whole planet. We were doing so well up to that point, not to mention all the close calls we had beforehand. Being an idiot, I got my hopes up too high. Everything was going well, too well I realize. Then I looked over that ridge." His voice fell into a regretful grumbling. "God, why did I ever look over that ridge?"

"I don't mean to seem like I'm pandering, but it sounds like both of us thought the same way back then."

"You think so?"

"Yeah." They rounded another corner to come out onto a long corridor with a few doors near its dead-end. "Remember when we were at the Eden Mall, Ano Liosia? It was around that time that I caught the same idea. I guess eating quality food made me lose my common sense. Going to Sabat gave me one of the worst gut-checks in my life."

"Reality kind of came crashing back down on you, huh?"

"You know it."

Deaks glared at him. "Then why'd you bother going back with Reece and the others?"

Duncan didn't answer.

"You knew we didn't stand a chance there. Why'd you even do it?"

Duncan tried to remember what he was thinking back then. "Because the job was half-finished. I didn't think I could go back home without knowing I did everything I could to help us win."

"That so?"

"It's what I was thinking at the time."

"Hmph. I wouldn't try anything like you did, that's for sure."

"No. Instead you just bottled it all up."

Deaks' glare sharpened. "What?"

"Tell me I'm wrong. You've been balancing on a knife's edge between whether you think we'll lose or win in the long run and settled on the first option. Actium just hammered it home. You felt guilty that you held that belief in secret, then you felt even worse when you finally told someone and they might've put themselves in a dangerous position because of it. Is that right?"

Deaks looked straight ahead at a far door coming on their right. "...You told me to tell you you're wrong. Well, I can't because you're only half-wrong."

"So what's the right half?"

"That I felt guilty and was worried I convinced you to do something stupid."

"And the wrong half?"

"That I was balancing on a knife's edge in terms of what I think. Like I said, I want us to win but I know we can't. The only thing the UNSC seems to be good for nowadays is losing in the most organized way we can and then managing our losses. Once upon a time when I was a bit more naïve, I genuinely used to think we could do it, that we could pull off a victory. I just don't have that kind of faith anymore. We can have all the big wins we want. Harvest, Acadia, even Psi Serpentis. It doesn't matter if the closest you've ever gotten to the same thing personally is Miridem and Actium. In comparison to my own experience, all those other things sound like nice sound bites for UNSC propaganda reels. Even if they happened, they're not very real to me. What's real to me is that every place we've tried to save, we've lost. What I have to do now is go in accepting that we're probably going to lose, that all we're doing is buying time."

"If we're going to lose then what are we buying time for?"

Deaks shrugged. "You tell me."

"I think you're still only telling half the truth. I think you're scared."

Deaks laughed at him. "Me? Scared? Of what? You? The Covies? Tell me Irish, what am I scared of?"

"Getting your hopes up."

The corporal's laughter died off, leaving a deathly silence between them as they reached halfway down the passage.

"You're scared to hope because you're afraid you'd get hit with a disappointment that you already can't take. So, you protect yourself by saying you don't expect to win despite that you actually want to. That dampens the effect of the loss overall. That's how you've made it this far, isn't it?"

Deaks chuckled. However, whereas the first sounded like a denial of guilt, this one was much more like an admission of it. With a deep exhale that spoke enough on its own, he said; "Sometimes I'm at the end of my rope. I don't say it, but...I know the last thing anyone needs is an ODST that can't do his job. It's easier to do it if you don't go in thinking it'll make much of a difference. That way it doesn't crush you, you know? That's what I've figured out. It works. That's good enough for me."

His words made Duncan think back to their time aboard the UNSC Juno shortly after the bombing in New Alexandria. The Staff had pulled him aside. He wanted to check if he still had what it took to jump into the fight after getting his first taste of carnage. Duncan told him how envious he was at how unphased by it everyone turned out to be. The Staff then corrected him, telling him that there was no way he would know that they weren't affected. What he said next suddenly made things crystalline clear.

"Don't get me wrong. They're six of the toughest Helljumpers I've ever met. Some of them are so stiff necked that even an Elite would have trouble cutting through it. But as much as they're shock troopers, they're also still human. What you saw them do out there shows one of two things: either they've learned to hide it well or they've learned to harness it well."

Deaks hadn't been harnessing anything. All this time, he'd been hiding it. It was a strangely surreal moment, realizing that the one trooper in Epsilon most likely to pry teeth out of a Brute's maw while it still lived was also scared himself. Not of a Brute or an Elite or a Hunter. He was afraid of getting his hopes crushed.

So did hiding it make him able to handle more or was he wrong? Duncan couldn't tell which, but the fact the corporal could survive this long with a mindset like that gave some credence to the idea.

"Is that so wrong?" Deaks asked, practically reading his thoughts. "To be scared? If it keeps you alive, I'd think not."

"Alive for what?" Duncan asked back. The counter was something even he hadn't expected as someone else's words took over his mouth. "If you're just alive for the sake of living then are you really living for anything at all?"

Deaks blinked a few times at the unexpected question. He looked around the hallway, even to the upcoming door on their right. "...I-"

"If you're going to fight, you might as well fight to win. Otherwise, why are you fighting at all? At that point it makes more sense to just sit down and die." Duncan listened to what he was saying and he could see Deaks' blank-faced reaction as his words hit their mark. However, he couldn't stop himself now, because he wasn't only talking to Deaks anymore. "I went down on that dropship with Reece because I thought I could do more to help us get one last win back there. I didn't join the ODSTs to accomplish nothing. I didn't come here to die. I came here to win. I joined up so that the people I know won't have their lives cut short by a glassing beam. People like Erica and Noah, and now Epsilon, everyone, even you. That's good enough for me. How about you?"

Deaks stopped. So did Duncan.

The corporal looked like he was ready to throw a punch. "And what if dying and winning end up being the same thing?"

"They're not." Duncan declared with an equal adamancy. "Because I'm on that list of people I want to keep alive. I want to live to see a time where guys like us don't have the threat of the Covenant hanging over our heads, where we can live lives like what we might have had if there was never any Covenant at all. That's what I want." He nodded at him. "So what do you want?"

"What I want is to know what scares you, Irish."

Duncan stood still.

"What paralyzes you when you think about it? What keeps you up at night?"

Silence.

"I've been honest with you. Now be honest with me."

"...I'm scared that-...that I've made mistakes I can never undo."

Deaks' gaze tested him. Since he didn't waver, the corporal nodded in acceptance of the answer. His face hardened then carefully relaxed into something Duncan wasn't expecting. Empathy. Honest empathy. "Alright then. Want to know mines?"

"I thought I said yours already?"

"It's changed."

"To what?"

"Well, now I'm downright terrified that for a long time I haven't done everything I could have to help us win this war."

"You-"

Duncan would have asked him what he was getting at were it not for the smile that emerged on Deaks' face. It was one free of any sarcasm or cynicism. Honest. Understanding. "Y-"

"You haven't changed my mind." Deaks said. "I'm stubborn like that."

Duncan's rising spirit deflated a little.

"But...for the first time in a long time, someone's actually made me consider it."

Again, a smidge of hope for his teammate, for his friend was born again in Duncan. "Thanks for the consideration, I guess."

They returned to walking.

"Don't thank me yet. Everything you said remains to be seen. It doesn't mean I'll agree with you in the end."

"No, but it means you might."

"Heh, tell you what, we'll see. Nice speech by the way, Colonel Mentieth. Really roused me to action there."

"Thanks."

"One last question. Do you really think we can win?"

Duncan nearly stopped again. All his willpower was required to keep himself moving. He set his sights on the upcoming door. "I don't know. Like you said, we'll see."

The door sensor detected their presence and slid open. The room on the other side was completely dark. Deaks stepped in first. Duncan lagged behind. A feeling of apprehension told him he shouldn't go in. He ignored it.

Deaks' silhouette moved off into what Duncan guessed was a wide-open area surrounded by tall, latticed walls. He felt eyes watching him from the darkness. He was thoroughly chilled and ready to ask what was going on when the lights suddenly switched on.

Immediately he was given a better idea of where he was. The walls were actually tall shelves set all around him that were stacked with cleaning supplies and tools: a maintenance closet. He also found out why he sensed they weren't alone.

Epsilon was here.

Almost everyone was standing against the surrounding shelves with their focus settled firmly on him. They were all dressed in their casual ODST wear, or whatever casual meant in such an unusual meeting.

Rico was missing.

Duncan froze in place at what he correctly guessed to be the center of the room, and the center of Epsilon's formation. They were all staring at him so hard that it made him nervous. Even the Staff stood stoic in front of him. However, the person that worried him most was Nova who was a short stretch to the right of the Staff. She wore one of the most vengeful glares he'd ever seen from her. Even Zack was unusually serious. The final realization that this was all planned came when he saw Deaks settle to the left of the Staff.

Once he figured out that they were waiting for him to speak first, he summoned the wherewithal to do so.

"Hey guys, ugh, how've you been?"

They said nothing. However, he heard movement behind him and peered back. Hector had stepped in front of the door. There was a small bandage around his right earlobe that hadn't been there the last time he saw him.

Duncan was getting a lot more uncomfortable now. "Uuugghhh, can I ask why a maintenance closet?"

Again, no response from anyone.

Slowly he was catching on to the situation. They weren't going to respond to him until he came clean. He sighed defeatedly and held up his hands in his defense. "Okay, look, I'm sorry guys. Really, I am. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to get you involved. It was only supposed to be me. I didn't think-"

"You didn't think to tell us first?" Nova interrupted, ending the conversation's one-sidedness. "What kind of excuse is that supposed to be?"

"No, that's not-, listen, I wasn't given that much time to decide. It was either I agreed to it then and there or I didn't."

"And why did you agree?" The Staff asked, his gaze locked squarely on him, scrutinizing every uncertain movement he made.

Though he didn't say it outright for the sake of Mito and Renni's presence, Duncan could tell what the Staff's follow-up sentence would've been: "Didn't we talk about this already?"

The shadow of O'Reilly's face materialized in the back of his mind. "I was-...I-"

"You were trying to get self killed?" Yuri intruded. "What, you think you're more suicidal than me? Is that challenge, Irish?"

Irish.

As of yet, he wasn't ready to come forward the entire way.

"Erica's been worried about you." Nova said.

The mention alone earned her his full attention.

"You never told her where you were going, did you? Just for that I would have brought my M6 for you if the Staff didn't insist against it. You just told her you were going to revisit a friend in NA. Something tells me that's it. This friend you left to see, who is he?"

The face of his friend was no longer at the back of his mind but was pulled to the very forefront. He gave in. "He was-, maybe still is, a man I know from my graduating class. Other than me, he's the last surviving member of the fireteam we were part of. We stayed in contact for a while. Then...sometime after Miridem, I lost all contact with him."

He knew they would understand the suggestion of the period of time he was pointing to. "Later, after Actium, after you all went to Quezon, he contacted me again. It was the first time I'd heard from him in months. We met and I found out he wasn't with the UNSC anymore. He offered me a chance to work with him in the AMADDS. I refused at first. Not long after that, I received the mission that I was on for the last few weeks, although those details I'm not at liberty to give."

"Can you tell us the name of the man who offered you this deal, this friend of yours?" Renni asked rather perceptively.

"No. Because of the classified restrictions I'm under, I can't tell you his name." He reconsidered it. "However, I can say that he was supposed to be the one to take the spot I occupy now in Epsilon. He was supposed to be the original Ep-8 until our deployment orders got mixed up."

No one responded to the explanation, no one except the Staff who looked past Duncan likely to that same distant memory. It was something only the Staff would know. After all, he was the one handling the registry process for the 7th Battalion back aboard Nassau Station. He was there when that mix-up happened with his deployment orders...and so was Colonel Garrison.

Then a thought struck Duncan so hard that it made him feel like an idiot, an idea he had never considered despite how obvious it was. Colonel Garrison was undoubtedly a man of means. If he'd in fact wanted to, he could have made that fateful encounter seem like an accidental mix-up. If he could then the ultimate question remained: had he?

"Accident or not, we're still a team." Nova said, pulling him back to the topic at hand. "You're still part of that team. We may have never met this guy but we met you. We figured we could trust you with our backs. I thought you trusted us to have yours too. So why go in alone?"

"Remember, I sai-"

"Not wanting to get us involved isn't an excuse. We're not squadmates for nothing. If you wanted to be a lone wolf you should have picked some other special forces, 'cause ODSTs don't work that way and I think it's time you figured that out."

"Yeah, we're like family." Zack proudly declared. "We fight together, eat together, sleep together, sleep as in actual sleep by the way, not the other one. The only thing we barely do is have kids and some of us could be a lot better at that than others. I'm looking at you, Matchstick."

"Shut up, Zack." Yuri deadpanned. "You're lowering everyone's IQs again."

"The point is, Irish, we don't really care about all that 'I don't want you involved' stuff. By being in the same squad, we're already involved. So don't forget that, man, because we didn't forget you. We came all this way just to find you and bring you home."

"And that's called being a squad." Nova finished. "In case you needed an example, here's one right in front of you."

The Staff walked forward to a few steps short of the man they all came to see. Duncan moved to apologize and he shook his head at him. "No need. We didn't come for apologies. We only want two things from you. One is to understand we're a team. A squad. If you told us what you were doing, we would've come to back you up. Don't doubt that. Because the moment you start doubting that, we start doubting you."

In the quiet that followed, Duncan was lost for words. He was awestruck and, for the second time that day, feeling the heat building up behind his eyes. He looked around to see that everyone shared that same agreement. They weren't even worried about the fact he'd worked for ONI again. They were worried about him. Just him. They would have ignored everything that came before and made another deal with the devil all for his sake.

He was truly lost for any words beyond a simple; "Understood, sir...thank you."

"Hold on, don't thank us yet because we're not done here. The second thing I want is for you to be honest with us. I overheard some of what you and Deaks were talking about before you walked in here. I've wanted to know this since our last chat at the Luna Alta. What do you call 'winning'?"

"Sir?"

"What's your measurement for winning? When I say that, I mean winning this war. How do you measure it for yourself?"

"I, um, think that-, I-." Duncan quickly gathered his thoughts from their conversation way back when. "I think of it as the bigger picture. If the navy doesn't lose battles in space, if Helljumpers don't lose brawls on the surface, if we hold planets against the Covenant, if we kill enough of them to make them want peace with us then we win. That's what I think it is."

After considering his words, The Staff shook his head at him. "I'm disappointed in you Duncan."

Duncan winced. "But that's-"

"That's not winning."

"...How?"

"Because nowhere in that did I hear you say anything about keeping people out of harm's way. That's why I'm disappointed. Everything I told you back in Mediolanum must have gone in one ear and out the other."

Duncan stood quiet. The Staff walked all the way up to him and jabbed a reproving finger into his shoulder while looking him straight in the eyes. "That's what you get paid for, isn't it? That's what you joined for, isn't it? That's what you said to Deaks, wasn't it?"

Duncan glanced at Deaks who appeared equally placed under the microscope.

The Staff pinned Duncan under his stare. "You know, what amazes me most is that you lived out that exact same ideal and you still haven't noticed it yet."

"I don't know what you mean."

"'Hayth'. That entire town would have gone up in flames along with the thousands of people in it had you not gone out there and showed us where it was. The Jackals would have killed everyone there no problem had you not been there to help. You ended up saving 5,000 people. That's five times the size of our entire battalion and nearly half the size of the 53rd Armored. You saved people, not a planet. And that's your problem." The Staff's accusatory finger fell away and instead rested as a hand on Duncan's shoulder. "Your definition for winning is way too broad. You're worried about what other ODST battalions and marine divisions and navy battlegroups are doing in every other system in the milky way while not even realizing what you did yourself. However you think on it, you pulled off a win in this war. You won. We won, because that's all we can hope to do, win the part of the war given to us to fight. Everything else is everyone else' business. Our business is dealing with what's right in front of us. What's kept me going all these years, loss after loss, is that small win. Even after what happened to Harper and Joels, I still knew we had a successful mission back there, that I had a team to go back to as well as tons of people that escaped with their lives because of what we did. That's satisfying enough for me. That's all we can hope for; to do the job to the best of our abilities, to come out alive with a few others that wouldn't have had we not intervened."

The Staff let him go. "I get that you're a fan of Cole. But I genuinely believe if people stopped focusing on big things like Harvest or Psi Serpentis then they'd see what good they've already done. It's the little wins that make up those big victories, its everyone doing their job that causes that. Focus on the smaller picture. Leave the bigger one to someone higher-up, because it doesn't make any sense for you to worry about what everyone else is doing while you don't even see how you yourself helped. I say that because, in my opinion, the only thing that could be worse than losing is never even realizing when you've won."

Duncan stayed silent for a long while. Inside he was awestruck. The last time anyone ever touched so many different pressure points within him in one conversation, it was his uncle. What haunted him more than anything was how similar their words were; "People don't need another hero like Cole, they need more grunts like you and me who are willing to grab a rifle and hold the line even if we know that we can't do it forever."

The Staff, perhaps without knowing it, made things abundantly clear to him in ways he hadn't thought to expect. He suspected the rebuke carried more weight to it than he would ever be able to fully unpack in his life. Still, he felt that he'd just been given the key to something massive, a small key but effective regardless.

The courage to open his mouth came ten seconds later. He cracked a sarcastic smile though his eyes were now watering beyond his control. "Are you saying it's okay that I went off on my own then, sir?"

The Staff's expression mirrored his. "I'm reprimanding you for going without us. But I'm congratulating you for what you accomplished in the meantime. And this," The Staff took a few steps back. "Is our way of rewarding you."

Duncan didn't notice how everyone was slowly advancing on him until it was too late.

He was shocked as they ran towards him all at once. They grabbed his arms and pulled his legs out from under him to force him down to the ground. Those who didn't have a hand on him cheered from behind the others. Duncan struggled against them. "What're you-"

"Just shut up." Nova said as she kept his left arm pinned with Deaks taking care of his right. Someone out of sight had his legs so he couldn't kick them off either. Hector came and held him down by his shoulders so that the most he could do was frantically move his head.

He saw the Staff standing over him with arms folded and a smile on his face. "Rico, its time."

"Si, jefe."

Duncan heard the mischievous voice before he saw its owner. Rico walked out from where he must have been hiding behind one of the shelves. He was armed with an evil grin and a long metal pen-like tool with an ink reservoir at the end. He slapped it against the palm of his freehand like a club as he came over.

Deaks pulled Duncan's right sleeve all the way up. Rico kneeled down on his right. He patted him in a congratulatory manner before he leaned in.

Duncan bared his teeth against the sticking pain of the needle as it sewed intricate patterns across the skin of his right bicep. Rico bit his lip in determined concentration throughout the minute-long process. He maneuvered from left to right and up to down as if he were writing with an actual pen. Then he put on a few finishing touches.

"And...you're all done."

The others let Duncan go so that he could sit up. He gaped at the outer side of his arm and the new tattoo freshly printed onto his skin there. To him, it looked like a pair of apostrophes, a duo of quotation marks as well as a pair of slanted number '7's. The first digit was bisected along its upper line and halfway through the lower one while the other digit could easily pass for an upside-down letter 'Y'. The Japanese kanji was written in red ink and wreathed in a visceral depiction of yellow-orange flames. Everyone looked on with a sense of pride at the mark as well as the man that earned it.

Duncan stared at it. As he did, he recalled when he first saw the tattoo. It was back when he was getting to know Epsilon in that magma vent pool back at Falchion. Practically everyone had one save for Zack. He remembered the Staff's response after asking how long he had to fight to earn it, that it wasn't about how long but about how much. The man never told him what the marking meant beyond a cryptic explanation: "By the time you get it, you'll know what it means."

Now he did.

"Badass." Mito read aloud. "Nice."

Duncan gaped at them all, glancing between the tattoo and them. The heat behind his eyes grew to an overwhelming burn.

Everyone stepped aside for the Staff to stand in front of him. He was brimming with a fatherly pride. "You earned it, Iris. Well done." He offered him his hand.

That was all it took to push Duncan over the edge. The tears poured out before he could stop them. He tried to cover his eyes. He gritted his teeth in a smile as a fire burned in his gut. He started to cry right where he was on the floor.

The others laughed, not at him but with him. There was no difference between the two sounds. They were all echoing the same feeling together as a team.

It was a moment that burned itself into Duncan's memory. Though it lasted no more than twenty seconds, he might as well have sat there crying for an hour. He couldn't stop himself from being amazed at how far their view of things was from his own, and how much better. His cries eventually became a hardy laughter that melded with theirs.

Right there, sitting on that floor, he was home again.

Once he was able to, he took the Staff's hand and was pulled up.

"We planned to give it to you earlier when we got back from Quezon." The Staff said. "After seeing you were willing to go through that hell to help Mentieth with the nukes, and how you wound up afterwards, I knew it was time. Now you've gone and given us a whole new reason for why we needed to do this. You're the real deal, trooper."

The Staff took him by the shoulder and directed him on a path for the doors. The rest of the squad followed laughing and shouting. He got more than a few smarting slaps on his tattooed arm in celebration. He grinned the whole way through. "Thanks guys."

"Thanks guys?" Rico asked offendedly as he came up next to him. "What about me? I'm the one that did the tat."

"Gracias." He laughed.

"De nada." Rico laughed back.

Nova walked out in front of them and pointed a warning finger at him. "I'm being merciful this time. Just know if you ever do something like this again, Noah's going to wonder why his dad's missing both his toes. You get me?"

"I get you."

Nova grinned as well. "Good."

"Now let's get some lunch." The Staff said. "We can catch up over what ONI's allowing you to catch us up on over some hot food."

"Copy that."

The doors slid open for them and they walked out. Waiting for them there, leaning against the wall of the corridor was none other than Colonel Garrison himself. He got up and turned to them in a manner that told Duncan he was expecting them.

"Is it done, Staff?" Garrison asked.

The Staff nodded. "Yessir."

"It's about time." He reached out a hand. "Iris, bring it here."

The group stopped to let the two of them shake hands. The firmness of his grip caught Duncan off guard. So did the pride obvious in his superior's demeanor. "Well done, son. Well done."

"Thank you, sir."

The man's look of pride deepened to that of one recalling what could only be better days, times when things were far different than they were now. "I have no doubt that your-... well, that your team are proud of you. This company, hell this whole battalion is proud of you. I'm proud of you. So, you better be proud of this moment for yourself, understood?"

"Yessir."

Garrison nodded and gestured for them to carry on. As they saluted and went past, Duncan glanced back. The colonel was watching them leave. For a second, unless he was mistaken, he was sure Garrison was going to say that someone else was proud of him, or would be proud of him, and changed his mind at the last minute. He came to the conclusion that he was overthinking the encounter. Then he thought back to his earlier question of if his mix-up on Nassau station had really been a mix-up. He glanced at the colonel one last time before carrying on with the others.

They headed for the cafeteria. Soon the doors were sliding open for them. The troopers and navy personnel inside turned to face them. Almost immediately they rose from their seats, from their meals to cheer him on. And not just him. Deaks was getting praised as well.

Everyone must have known or at least guessed at the role he'd played. He hadn't counted on them spreading the word amongst each other though. They might have very well waited a whole week for this.

His face flushed, Duncan felt more honored and more humbled than ever. He nodded to those cheering for him as the squad passed through the aisles. He received pats on the back and more congratulatory remarks than he could count as Epsilon headed over to the food stalls. He knew there would be a lot of questions asked, and for what it was worth, he would do his best to answer them all as honestly as he could.

:********:

Back in the corridor in front of the door to the maintenance room, Colonel Garrison listened to the ecstatic shouts echoing through the ship from the direction of the cafeteria. It served to strengthen his satisfied smile; an expression he wished he wore more often.

He mentally punched himself for coming so close to saying the truth to the young ODST and one of the two men of the hour. Nevertheless, this was a part of his own life that he wanted to remember for as long as he was alive, which was why he told Duncan to do the same.

He whispered to himself as he walked along, listening to the far-off shouts. "It took a while but he's finally earned it, Sarge. He's earned it. I just wish you could have been here to see it."

He noticed Hayes walking along an intersection further down. The two spotted each other and the other colonel waited for him to catch up.

"I was just thinking I'd be headed back to base to enjoy some downtime." Hayes said. "Next thing I know someone's throwing a jubilee up in the cafeteria. You know what's going on?"

"Yeah. Some ODSTs are finally getting their due."

"Oh really? Well, I wouldn't mind dropping by to catch some of that myself, maybe get some real food for the first time in a week. Want to tag along for some lunch?"

"Sure." Garrison replied and tailed after him to the cafeteria. "It's about time anyway."

Acceptio – Acceptance