Chapter 3 – Sepulcrum
January 4th, 2552 - (06:55 Hours - Military Calendar)
Daedalus system, Ballast
Vallejo, En Route to Kabord Dealership HQ
:********:
The city of Vallejo was about as quiet as a kicked hornet's nest. The clouds above the skyline of the central downtown area were getting swish-cheesed by outbound transports. A vast array of boxy cargo ships and sleek passenger liners flew from rooftop to rooftop to attend to crowded helipads. Wielding hastily packed suitcases and confused kids, hundreds of the city's denizens would pile inside the moment the bay doors opened. As they streamed aboard, dozens of Falcon patrols passed by. The pilots at the controls maneuvered around to varying sites in order to oversee the boarding process. All the while, the gunner pairs behind them scanned the world over their heads for any signs of enemy contacts.
Vallejo had been this way for the past three days. That was what the sergeant of the MPs currently escorting Epsilon had explained to them on their way through its cluttered streets. The local UNSC garrisons were forced to establish martial law the same hour that the information on a Covenant ship entering Daedalus became common knowledge. Duncan could see the evidence of all that for himself whenever he sighted up with his DMR or increased the magnification on his HUD.
The city really hadn't gotten much sleep in the last few days, not just its people but also its buildings. Vallejo itself seemed exhausted. The cylindrical, hexagonal and cuboid arrangements of glassy skyscrapers that comprised its downtown were sullen in their appearance. There was so little to their designs and generally silver or bronze tints that, compared to a place like Casbah, Duncan found the very idea of living here depressing. He was nearly cynical enough to think the Covenant were doing them a favor by glassing the place. He might have considered the notion were it not for the people out on the streets.
As the military police's convoy drove westward through an area that road-signs referred to as 'Lower Manchester', the plight of Vallejo's residents became plainer to see. The interstate highway effectively split major segments of Lower Manchester in two. This allowed for a kind of dissected view of the evacuation process, one not possible from most other streets. Thousands of civilians had formed long lines on the sidewalks that led into the scrapers to either side of the highway. It was clear the evacuation effort had stalled in many places overtime. The stagnation was made evident by the presence of many tents, sleeping bags and the all-too-common sight of people lying down on concrete.
"Things are breaking down here, real bad." Nova observed from the seat next to him.
"Yeah, even the burbs weren't this screwed." Zack said.
"That's the point. Everyone who was in the burbs was probably ordered to come here for pick-up. Looks like it backfired. Now there's too many people with too little ships and not enough space to keep them in the meantime."
"Wouldn't that make everyone here a better target for the Covenant, you know, since they're more concentrated here than they would be otherwise?"
"You're on fire today, Ep-7."
"So...no one thought that part through then?"
"Whoever handled the evac orders here obviously didn't. And now they need us to help them clean up the mess they made."
The Staff chipped in. "Chances are the military brass for this location either forgot to or decided to ditch normal evac protocols that require select transport times for each district. What ended up happening was a days' long jam-up."
Over the comms, Yuri grunted in disgust from sniffing the air. "I can tell you what else is jammed up; these sewers."
"It's not the sewers, Match." Hector answered grimly.
"What do you mean it's not-…" Yuri trailed off as the reality sunk in. Whenever they passed people, a mixture of rotten and profane smells infiltrated their helmet filters. Whenever they crossed over emptier intersections, the smell would waver or disappear altogether. Then they would pass a crowded sidewalk and the odor would relaunch its assault on their nostrils with a vengeance.
"These poor people." Renni lamented. "Can't we do anything for them?"
"We can hose them down." Zack chuckled. "Maybe that'll help."
"Wow, really? Honest to God, Ep-7, you're-"
"Actually," Duncan interrupted. "That's probably the best thing we could do for them. There's not much else we can try that could help things along. It would at least ease their suffering a bit. That's all."
Renni grumbled to herself. "Why don't we just brush all their teeth while we're at it."
Yuri was the next one to break out laughing. "Well, my mother had saying about that. She said, 'Yuri, never put your fingers in a hungry mouth'."
"Is that supposed to mean something?"
"Yes, you uncultured woman. It means don't try to help people when you don't have what they really need. Do it and they might bite you for your trouble. In your case, its literal."
"Well, that's-...did you just call me uncultured?"
Before the argument could fully materialize, the convoy suddenly made a sharp turn onto a northbound boulevard. The skyscrapers radically thinned out ahead of a distinguishable rise in the terrain, a remnant of the old hills that used to dominate the area. The MPs accelerated up the 70-meter incline, past luxury apartments and high-rises that railed the way up like massive steps. The further they went, the more they had to make quick turns around the long lines of civilians. The task only grew harder as civilians accrued in greater numbers towards the top of the hill.
Cresting the top, they drove onto a relatively flat but elevated terrain. The tree-line of apartments and high-rises turned into an architectural cul-de-sac of concrete corporate office buildings. These buildings in turn surrounded a terminus of asphalt with circumventing markers that signaled its purpose as a professional racetrack. Framed within the confines of the track were four square parking lots. Each was large enough to host several hundred vehicles of different colors and designs as they were now. They were only prevented from becoming one giant lot by the partitioning architecture of a cross-shaped, five-story building. Its concrete build was varied by an abundance of glass windows that showcased more vehicles inside. That much assured its purpose as a car dealership. The silvery title 'Kabord - Car Dealership HQ' on the rooftop helped sell the idea.
The convoy traversed down the lengthy decline of an entry lane that fed into the dealership's property. Between them and their destination stood a long metal fence and several main gates. The storm of evacuees were already lined up in lengthy queues. The human caravans dominated the adjacent sidewalks headed to the gates themselves. Platoons of MPs patrolled up and down their ranks, armed and wary. Those at the gates helping people through were just as on guard. A few machine gun nests were also setup whose owners maneuvered them from left to right.
Duncan momentarily wondered why the MPs saw a need to have such heavy weaponry leveled at civilians. Then he noticed something. Practically every MP and civilian that the convoy passed didn't even notice of them. They were too busy taking regularly glances at the sky. They were more interested in things that had yet to arrive from above than those that had just reached on the ground. A Covenant threat didn't start from the ground of course. It always started from above then worked its way down to everything and everyone else.
God help them all, Duncan thought, if they showed up while so many people were still this exposed.
The group of Hogs reached one of the gates. They were let through with little issue and used a road that brought them towards the front of the dealership's southern wing. The lots to either side of them were filled to the brim with those that had made it inside. A number of what appeared to be facility staff were going here and there, unlocking what vehicles they could to seat people inside. The strategy there had to be that the company was trying to make room for more people to come in.
Their destination was the helipads. Dozens of the elevated platforms were established within clearings in each individual lot. The bulk of them were unoccupied. However, a steady flow of Pelican dropships was descending to each, turning about and lowering their ramps to embark a new batch. MPs stationed on the platforms helped hold back the swarms that risked swamping the craft. There were screams and frantic hands reaching towards each other as distance and the fading whine of fusion drives ultimately separated them. Duncan knew he was watching families being torn apart. He naturally closed his eyes off from such sights. He had to for his own sake. No one in the squad said anything about it either.
The convoy routinely slowed behind Warthog patrols that were making their rounds or Mongooses moving speedily down the roadway.
It took five minutes before they managed to get where they needed to. The front of the southern wing had become a forward operating base by dint of its centralized location in Vallejo. Duncan spotted a dozen surface to air missile or SAM sites setup along the main driveway. Thanks to their rotational gimbals, the domineering death machines twitched this way and that while they scanned the world overhead. There were military tents setup around the area closer to the doors; medical installations and ration distributaries were the norm. Marines were taking out packs of water and crates of MREs to provide to the civilians waiting in the lots.
A squad carrying a horde of such packs stopped to let the convoy through. They parked at the front steps which were themselves guarded on their flanks by a pair of Scorpion tanks.
"This is your stop, Helljumpers." The MP sergeant said. "Link up with 2nd Lieutenant Garza. He's the man in charge of things here. He'll be waiting for you at the front desk."
"Copy." The Staff said and signaled two fingers at the entrance.
The squad disembarked. The second they were out of the way, the Hogs wheeled about and drove back down the way they'd come.
Epsilon moved up the stairs to the front doors. A Marine pushed one of them open and held it for them. "Right this way, Epsilon."
The squad streamed into a wide lobby. The sheen of the marble-furnished floor was dulled by piles of spent MRE packs accumulating in the corners. On the other side was the front desk; a long slab of decorative granite just ahead of the first offices. Several Marines, officers by the looks of their caps and gear, stood around a portable tactical planner a fraction of the size of the normal design. They observed and manipulated varying holographic projections of different sections of the city, specifically of the crowds amassing on the dealership's immediate perimeter. One of them, an Iberian strongman with a full beard and the most visceral sideburns Duncan had ever seen stood at the head of the table. He spotted the squad coming in and hailed them over. "You came just in time."
Epsilon stopped just short of the planner. The Staff took a step closer and saluted. "I'm Staff Sergeant Atell. These are my guys."
The officer shook his hand. "2nd Lieutenant Garza, 81st Reconnaissance Battalion." He nodded at the projections. "I'm sure you got to see the situation here firsthand on your way in. Forget that though because that's not why I needed you."
He pointed to another officer who tapped a digital keypad on the planner. A new image resumed on one of the projections; a shift in feeds from one location to another. The view was from the perspective of a camera stationed close to one of the gates on the dealership's perimeter fencing. Aside from the usual influxes of civilians, there was actually an indication that someone was about to go back out the way they'd come. Half-a-dozen municipal transit buses were lined up one behind the other on the road that led to the gate. They were mostly covered in titanium sheets save for their windows; a well-known Marine tactic for armoring less defendable vehicles. A few squads of Corps of Engineers personnel were still using blowtorches to seal more plates into place. All the while, Duncan counted at least 200 men and women gathering at the buses, standing against the flow of the incoming civilians. Yellow helmets, black shades, orange vests and backpacks packed to the seams with equipment were what clarified their jobs as construction workers. More Marine officers were holding up at the doors to the buses. They spoke to the workers, checked their datapads then let them inside.
Garza pointed at the workers. "You see them?"
"Construction crew." The Staff said. "That's the job?"
"Your secondary job. After you've cleared your main objective, we'll need your help escorting them to Vallejo station where the rest of your comrades are. They'll need to get there in order to help your guys with the liftoff."
Duncan blinked in surprise. He caught a few surprised looks through the depolarized visors of the others. Even the Staff cocked his head quizzically as he asked the question on everyone else' mind.
"Pardon, sir? They're going to help us lift the station?"
"That's right."
The Staff shook his head. "Respectfully, sir, we were dispatched here under the impression that VOSPER's developmental divisions were already in place."
"They are." Garza affirmed. "Most of them. Vallejo station is a different story. Most of the construction and maintenance crew live in the area so they leave the station to come back here once their work hours are done. We had to spend the better part of yesterday trying to find them all. They were mostly mixed up among the civies, all trying to escape with their families. It took a lot of convincing to get them to stay and help, and even then, we still didn't find everyone. Nowhere near it. In fact, what you're looking at is little more than a skeleton crew of their division."
The Staff marveled uneasily at the feed as well as its ramifications. "Then...what you're saying is that there's no one at the launch site right now?"
Garza scratched the back of his head. "No one except property security, the MPs and, by now, your guys."
"...So, what do you need us for if that escort mission is secondary?"
"You're a real straight shooter, Staff. I appreciate that." Garza signaled to the same officer who typed on the planner's keypad again. The feed switched off. The projection winked back on portraying the frontal profile of a man.
Duncan sized him up. Blue-green eyes. Dark hair marred by the silver streaks of age. Angular jaw. Sharp eyebrows scrunched into a tight focus on whoever was taking the picture. No smile. Gruff, take-no-crap bearing. Duncan's deduction: the site manager. Yet there was also a smidge of familiarity there that he couldn't quite pin down.
The information that scrolled into place beneath the face made his earlier conclusion rock-solid:
'Name: Martin R. Ellsworth
Position: VOSPER Engineering Site Manager – ODP-#47719/Vallejo Station.'
"The title speaks for itself." Garza said. "This here is Martin Ellsworth, the site manager for the station you troopers are trying to deploy. We've been trying to contact him for a few days now. So far, he's not answered our calls. We also haven't found him amongst those we were able to pull aside to report back for duty. He's our high value individual, and now, your new objective." Garza turned to address them all. "He's absolutely vital to getting that ODP up. He knows how we'll need to organize everyone on those buses in order to get the job done. Find him and bring him in so we can transport him over."
Zack piped up. "Is this guy on the run from us or something?"
Garza shrugged. "Not quite. We're not sure on that front either though. We don't know why he won't answer our calls. We also don't know exactly where he is because from day-one we've been too stretched out over the city. We can't send out a squad for one person, not when we're already forced to use one Marine to manage a hundred people here. That's why I asked for your help."
The Staff scrutinized the profile. "Ellsworth..." He turned to Garza. "We'll need three things. His address, a couple vehicles and some time."
Garza looked to another of the Marine officers who typed furiously on his datapad. A moment later, Duncan got a Nav point update on his HUD.
"Just sent it and updated your TACMAPs to help you find your way around." The Lieutenant said. "I've arranged two vehicles for you outside. As for time, you've got an hour before we have to move these guys to the station."
Duncan did some mental mathematics. By the amount of time given, he supposed that the address had to be relatively close, especially given the many clogged streets. It made him anxious. If their guy wasn't at his residence then there was a high probability that their search would require them to look elsewhere. That meant risking going overtime. Then an idea popped into his head.
"Can we get his personal career files too, sir?"
Everyone turned to him. "What was that?" Garza asked.
"His personal career files. If he's not at home then we'll need some way to track him down. To do that, we'll need a pretty good idea of where he might be or where he might want to be. His files could give us the leads we need."
Garza considered it. The Staff nodded in agreement, his way of affirming him for thinking ahead.
The Lieutenant ultimately nodded as well. "I'll send it to you. Your rides should be waiting for you now. Link up with them and do what you have to. We'll both need that HVI."
The Staff reached out and shook hands with him again. "Goes without saying, sir. We'll get the job done."
"Copy that. Good luck, Epsilon, and happy hunting."
The Staff gestured them back to the doors and the squad headed out.
:********:
"You know, this isn't exactly what I thought he meant when he said he got us a 'ride'." Hector groaned from behind the wheel.
Duncan ignored him. Tuning him out came easily thanks to the consistent rumble of the Dewmax's engines. As Kabord's flagship vehicle and its biggest breadwinner, the Dewmax van was of a good quality for seating and even better for speed. Its bulky yet compact form combined with its smooth exterior and shaded windows made it ideal for a limousine service. Plus the chairs were nice and soft, unlike their usual rides. But it was no Warthog. There was no turret or armor. The best they could hope for was that the aluminum alloy of its black-painted hide could take a bruising, if things came to that. Sitting in the passenger's seat, Duncan doubted they would need to worry about Martin taking potshots at them. However, even as the squad's two newly acquired vans passed through the streets of Vallejo, he remained on guard. Seeing the tenseness of everyone that watched them pass consequently made him tense.
He never told anyone very much about what he did with the AMADDS. That was on purpose of course after Commander White made him sign that little confidentiality agreement. Regardless, the absolute chaos of the free-for-all that he endured on Kroedis II still haunted him. After that mission he had hardly gone on any op with Epsilon without feeling wary around civilians. He accepted that he would have to deal with that gray area in his life eventually. Seven years later though and he couldn't help thinking that eventually really meant never. Nevertheless, everyone had their secrets. This was one he'd grown to believe that he might just have to live with.
Realizing he was drifting too far down memory lane, he returned his attention to the screen of the datapad that Garza had so generously donated. With one hand holding his DMR on his lap, the other thumbed up across the screen to bring the next line of information that comprised the site manager's career file.
He heard the rear-section window slide open. Yuri's voice came through. "Hey Heck, how come you're so naggy? This is limousine type van. I thought you were chauffeur back on Tribute. You should like these kinds of things, no?"
"I'd prefer a doom buggy to this thing." Hector replied, turning onto another intersection in the wake of the lead van. "They'd at least go faster even if there's less armor. Right now, we don't have time. As a general rule of thumb, if you don't have time then you need speed. We don't have that either."
As they turned, Duncan got the other van back in his sights. The Staff was pushing to a modest 65 kilometers per hour. He and Hector could effortlessly shoot to a solid 100 if they were given Warthogs. They weren't. The best they could do was what they were trying now.
Renni spoke up from deeper in the passenger section. "Look on the bright side. This way we won't risk running anyone over. If the Covenant's inbound, and they probably are, it definitely wouldn't help to put anyone at risk beforehand."
Duncan peered past the dashboard to the unchanging scenery of long evacuee lines stretching from street to street. "Makes sense."
Zack griped over the comms from the other van. "You know what doesn't make sense; that 2nd Lieutenant sending us in when he had those MPs right there. The fact is they were available. They had faster vehicles too. So why pull a whole squad of troopers for something a few police could do?"
"My guess is they didn't choose us because we were troopers but because no one else was available, not even the military police." The Staff said. "Those MPs were likely on their way to accomplish some other task. Hence why we were picked."
"Oh, come on. Really? Babysitting some old site manager? Is that really what we are now? Babysitters?"
Nova cut in. "He's not just any middle-aged site manager. He's the main guy we need in order to get that station into orbit. If he's not in place then our entire effort could end up disorganized. One thing leads to another and the Covenant finds us on the ground with our pants down. Then they can reach the ODP and boom, that's one less orbital they have to worry about."
"And more Covenant ships we risk getting through to the surface." Hector pointed out. "Yeah, I think I'm starting to see the big picture. This guy's that important."
"He's that important." The Staff echoed. "Which is why, Ep-3, you're on lookout duty. Find yourself a spot and stake out the area. We don't want any chances of missing our man."
Deaks' reply came slow and uncertain. "You...want me to put one through him if he makes a run for it, sir?"
"Negative. You'll keep an eye out on the neighborhood to make sure we don't miss anything, namely any sign of someone about to leave. Odds are high that he might not be answering calls from his UNSC benefactors because he's trying to avoid us. Whatever reason he might have, our main job is to secure him and find out afterwards."
"I think a nice run-n'-tackle will do the trick." Hector laughed. "Of course, only if he tries to run."
"Hey, weren't you a high-school football player or something?" Mito asked from the back of the same van. "Isn't there a risk of you going too far, like smashing into him so hard that you make him cough up his liver. I think I remember you doing that to a Jackal once on First Meridian."
"Nah-nah, he's an old guy. I'll be gentle."
"How does 270 pounds of gear and muscle be gentle?"
"Back on topic." The Staff said. "Ep-4, 5 and 9, setup security outside. Keep watch on the grounds. We'll need you to run interception if Ep-3 spots something."
"Yessir." Hector said slyly. "I'll keep an eye out."
"Da."
"We're on it, sir."
"Everyone else, we're running inside to see if he's home."
A round of green acknowledgement lights winked on over Duncan's HUD.
"Ep-8." The Staff called. "You already looked at his career files, right? Give me the rundown."
Duncan finished scrolling through the last details on the pad. He mentally laid out everything of note then broke it down into manageable chunks. "Martin Robert Ellsworth, 66 years old, turns 67 this upcoming April. Born on Earth, he maintained a few side hustles before finding good employment. He moved here on a work contract for one of Misriah's supply warehouses when he was 30. Four years into a 10-year contract, he gets married to a local named Elaine. They have two kids. Nearly to the end of his contract, he gets terminated with limited benefits following a mandatory downsizing by Misriah. That was of course thanks to that year's Orion-wide recession."
"The Insurrection?"
"Bullseye. He returns to doing a couple side jobs to keep himself and his family afloat. At the same time, the madman decides to apply to a technical college. He gets in, gets a degree in aerospace engineering and lands a stable entry-level job at Lethbridge Industrial. Works his way up to junior level technical assistant before reps for VOSPER Engineering sniff him out. They strike a deal and he ends up working for them at a senior level position. Get this, for whatever reason, he has a record of refusing any jobs that might take him off-planet."
"Away from home?" The Staff thought as he turned them down another corner that led onto a northeast bound highway. "Why's that?"
"It doesn't say. Somehow, he keeps getting administrative mercy to stay where he's at. That didn't sit well with everyone though. A bunch of officials tried four different times to get rid of him because of his 'lack of vocational versatility'. They tried getting him put under investigation too. They wanted to force him to resign from the position he had before he became site manager."
"Investigations?"
"Copy."
"Any sign he was ever demoted?"
"Nah."
"Criminal record?"
"Nada. This guy's clean. The only crime he seems to be guilty of is being too attached to home. At least that's how some of his associates chose to see it."
"Sounds more like a homesick puppy to me." Zack chuckled. "Well, he's leaving the planet today whether he wants to or not."
"Yeah." The Staff admitted. "But let's see if we can't convince him first. If those files are anything to go by then we might have our work cut out for us."
The rest of the trip passed within a preparatory silence. Over the course of minutes, the scenery around them changed from a densely packed urban center to the two and three-story residences of the northeastern suburbs. They skimmed around curving lanes of townhouses and navigated out of spiraling condos. Before long they came upon a long stretch of highway framed by regular household properties.
Duncan saw their target appear on his HUD as the Nav point drew closer. It was a gray and red-bricked two story with a pair of garages on the ground level and several skylights on a shingled roof. A classic 21st to 22nd century architectural trend that had only recently come back into style in the inner colonies.
The house quickly came up on their left. The Staff pulled in at the sidewalk. Hector followed suit with the second van.
Their sliding doors flew open. The squad filtered out with ordered precision across the lawn, securing the two driveways that fed into the separate garages. They stacked up against the garage doors, everyone except for Deaks. The corporal hustled over to a four-story townhouse of a lighter gray shade on the opposite side of the street, sniper in hand.
"How're you going to climb that thing, Ep-3?" Duncan asked with metered sarcasm.
Deaks didn't break stride. "I told you this before, D. Cracks, crevices and creativity. Leave the last one to me and you'll see where I'll be. Copy?"
"Copy."
Deaks disappeared around the back of the townhouse. They waited for him to get in place. True to his word, he reappeared 20 seconds later atop one of its broad roofs. He set down the SRS-99, laid out the bipod then shouldered the weapon into a steady left to right sweep across the neighborhood. "Greenlight on overwatch."
The Staff pointed two fingers at the front door between the garages then at Duncan, Zack, Nova and finally himself. They winked their acknowledgements. The selected troopers stepped over the lawn onto the cement of the front porch. Shotgun ready with his finger right above the trigger, the Staff grasped the door handle. He gave it a silent twist.
To everyone's surprise, there was a mild click.
The Staff stopped dead. He looked back to the others then raised the M90 to chest level. He carefully pushed the unlocked door open. He stepped in first. Nova went next, then Zack. Having switched to his M6, Duncan carried the rear.
The first thing to greet them was a lengthy hallway. There was a flight of stairs on the left side going up to the second floor. The Staff held up a fist for them to stop.
He switched on his external mic and his voice resonated throughout the house. "Mr. Ellsworth, this is United Nations Space Command. If you're here, come out. We need to speak with you."
Silence resumed for several long seconds.
"Mr. Ellsworth, this is United Nations Space Command. If you're here, come out. We need to speak with you."
Again, no response.
The Staff switched back to squad comm. "Ep-2 and 7, check upstairs. Ep-8, on me. Breacher teams, move in."
The squad flashed their acknowledgements of the order.
Nova took the lead up the staircase with Zack close behind. Duncan followed the Staff down the corridor. Several entryways came up to either side of them.
Duncan checked right. "Dining room clear."
The Staff checked left. "Kitchen clear."
"Pantry clear."
"Washroom clear."
They moved towards what Duncan could see was a living room at the hallway's end.
From above, Nova called in. "Bedroom 1, clear. Moving to bedroom 3."
"Bedroom 2, clear." Zack said. "Question, how come we're doing all this for a civie again? VOSPER manager or not, this guy doesn't seem like the type to throw a punch at a mosquito."
"A job is a job, Ep-7." Nova replied. "No risks wagered; no wagers lost. Now check that utility closet."
"No risks wage-, wha-, what does that even mean?"
Duncan listened in as the rest of the squad outside finally gained access to the garages, causing the doors to slide up with a pronounced creak. A heartbeat later Yuri comm'd in. "Garage-right, clear. No sign of any vehicles. Ep-9, help me with door."
Hector spoke next. "Garage-left, clear." He loosed a long whistle. "Sir, we've got a vehicle here. I'm looking at a black Überchassis. ID'ing it as a personal transport. Man, this is definitely the right house. You've got to be somebody with means to get wheels this pricy."
"Site manager, remember?" Nova pointed out matter-of-factly.
"Right...man, I'm in the wrong business."
Duncan and the Staff positioned themselves in the corners of the entryway to the living room. At the latter's nod, the two of them pivoted into the room. The space was wider than expected. It was clear except for a standard three-couch furniture set, a holoscreen projector and a sliding glass door on the other side through which the morning rays filtered past the blinds. They broke in opposite directions to check down the width of the room.
The face of a child stared back at Duncan through his pistol sights. It was a little boy. He was grinning from ear to ear, trapped within the picture that framed him.
Duncan lowered his weapon. He realized what he'd found was an arrangement of half a dozen pictures decorating the far wall. They were organized in an ascending step pattern. Coming over, he took a closer look at the boy. He wore a little red cape on his back tied at the neck. Moreover, he had many of the same features as Martin only muted by an age that could sparsely be more than four years. A son perhaps? Then Duncan noticed another person on the same image, a girl that looked maybe three years older and a bit taller. It was springtime. The two were standing in front of a tire-swing attached to a tree with the daughter leaning over the son, elbow on shoulder. Both were grinning at the camera with missing teeth, both visibly related.
There was something about the son that kept Duncan glued to him. It was his face. He knew he'd never seen him before. But for some reason he felt like he had. There was an air of familiarity with Martin too even though he'd never met the man, yet that feeling was stronger with the son.
He traced a path up to the next picture. It was of Martin together with his kids as well as a woman Duncan presumed to be his wife, Elaine. Seeing her features helped him better understand where the kids' jawlines and hair color came from. They were standing in front of the house that Epsilon was now searching; their home. Everyone was smiling and packed close together for the family photo.
Then the third photo. The family was together again in a park somewhere around fall. The kids looked maybe two years older. However, the boy had visibly changed the most out of everyone. The rest of the family appeared a little less happy than before as they stood around the wheelchair in which he sat. He didn't look more than six-years old and yet the boy had the bearing of an old man heading to a hospice. Not even his casual wear could disguise his veiny and abnormally pale face. Despite all that he was still trying to smile.
Then there was the fourth photo.
Martin was standing with Elaine under the shade of a tree. He held her close to his side while he kept a hand on his daughter's shoulder out in front. It was springtime again. Though the atmosphere was vibrant, those in the picture were dressed in all-black, their faces sullen and downcast. The son was missing.
Then there was the fifth. It was clearly taken years later since the parents had more grays in their hair. Plus, the daughter was not only more mature but dressed in the identifiable camo uniform of the UNSC Marines. This time they were standing in front of a starport terminal with the daughter holding onto a duffel bag. All three were hugging each other close. Regardless of the smiles, there was a repressed sadness behind their eyes that he noticed right away.
The last photo was of Martin and Elaine. Just Martin and Elaine. Their oldening looks indicated it was the most recent in the lineup. They were standing in front of the entrance to a sports stadium. They were surrounded by masses of people dressed in different Gravball team paraphernalia. All of them were headed excitedly in the opposite direction of the pair. In sharp contrast there was little if any excitement on the couple's faces. What was there felt forced. That sadness from before remained. If anything, it had become much more pronounced.
"Ep-8."
Duncan turned back to the Staff who was already slipping back the blinds on the door to check the backyard. On the other side was the tree from the first picture, although the tire swing was gone.
"Photos aren't people. Get your head back in the game, trooper."
Duncan nodded. "Yessir."
"Alright, backyard's clear. Ep-2, how's upstairs?"
"Upstairs is clear. Nothing of note except the main bedroom looks disheveled. Clothes scattered here and there. My guess is Martin left in a hurry."
"How long?"
"I'm thinking a few hours."
"You think he knew we were coming?" Zack asked.
"I'm doubtful anyone would expect ODSTs to be knocking on their front door." Nova answered. "Anyone not up to trouble at least."
"Oh. Attic's clear by the way."
"Good." The Staff said. "Ep-1 to Ep-6, any basement?"
"Si, jefe. Already cleared it."
"Good. Ep-4, 5 and 9, you should be checking the sides now. Anything?"
All three returned red acknowledgement lights.
"Right. Neighborhood watch, I need a sitrep."
"Got nothing, boss." Deaks answered. "This place is dead. Unless pigeons count?"
"Negative."
The Staff let out a sigh. "Looks like we missed our window. Clearly, he was here earlier. If he was then we need clues as to where he might have gone."
Nova and Zack slipped into the living room.
"Radio traffic's abuzz with different HVIs trying to contact search and rescue teams to pick them out of the lineups." Zack said. "It'll take a while to pinpoint who's who in all that-..." He trailed off as he caught sight of Duncan, or more specifically the pictures behind him.
Nova stepped up. "I've got no idea as to where our manager could have run off to. There's just too many options. The best I can say, especially with the evidence of everything sprawled out in the main bedroom, is that he took his wife and booked it. They were in a hurry too. There's no way they were trying to run from us. More than likely they were trying to run after something else."
"Maybe trying to catch a flight out?" Duncan asked as he watched Zack approach the pictures. The radioman's visor depolarized so that his scraggly face could be seen. He scrunched his eyes between the image of the boy on the second picture and the one of him on the wheelchair in the third.
"Hey, D." He looked to Duncan and nodded back at the photos. "You-, ugh, you recognize this guy?"
"You mean Martin?"
"No-no. I mean the kid. The little guy." Zack went back to scrutinizing the one of him sitting in the wheelchair. "I'm sure we've seen him before...right?"
Nova walked over to them. "What're you going on about?"
"The little tyke, doesn't his face look familiar? Well, even the dad looks kind of familiar, but its more so because of the resemblance to the kid. I know I've seen him before. I just can't place the name."
Nova scrutinized the image as well. After a while, she shook her head. "No. I don't think so."
Zack kept looking anyway. Nova, however, drifted past Duncan to the fifth picture that showed Martin with his wife and daughter. She stared at it hard.
"Hope you found something worth the time we're still wasting here." The Staff said.
"Actually..." She turned back around. "I think I know where we can find our guy."
The Staff depolarized to raise a brow at her. "How's that?"
Nova glanced back at the picture, at its background. She switched off the tint on her visor to flash Epsilon's leader with a genius smile. "Photographic intuition."
:********:
Martin Ellsworth wasn't the type of man to give in to someone else's priorities, especially when those priorities tried to supersede his own. Whereas someone else's goal might be restocking a Misriah warehouse, giving in project reports to a professor at a technical school or building an orbital defense platform, at the end of the day his main priority was to one thing alone. Even if that 'someone else', say the UNSC wanted him to stay put in order to help them launch that very same orbital platform, his priority remained the same: his family, or what remained of it.
That was what his every thought centered around as he drove around the parking lot, trying to find a spot. Simultaneously, it drove him mad with worry. In his anxiousness he regularly glanced through his window up at the four crescent roofs of the Benicia Starport, and beyond to the civilian transports periodically lifting off into the atmosphere. Whenever he did so he would catch the concerned gaze of his wife Elaine who sat beside him in the passenger seat of their Huciv Fossa. She was sad. He could see that. Nevertheless, there was a love there that he couldn't unsee. It was there when their family was whole and remained there when it was back to the two of them again. She was silently telling him not to worry. That was one thing he found difficult to do given that he was on the run from not one, but two great powers.
The instant the Vallejo authorities informed everyone of the Covenant's brush with Daedalus, Martin feared the inevitable was finally coming to pass. It was always a matter of time with an enemy like that. Every colonist with a shred of honesty would admit that at the back of their minds existed the ever-present worry of when it would be their turn. From Harvest to now, from one Waypoint broadcast of a burnt world to the next, the obvious conclusion was that things would be no different here. This was expected. The unexpected part came with actually experiencing an evacuation protocol for the entire world. He learned firsthand how big the difference was between oral reports of what these events looked like and seeing everything for himself. Panicked crowds surged to evacuation zones, overwhelming any strategy of organization on the part of the authorities through sheer numbers and desperation. Others, deciding to take their chances, flooded into supermarkets to suck them dry of any good they could find. What remained was left to bleed out onto the streets as flying plastics and empty boxes. Martin was somewhere in the latter category. His intention was to make sure that his wife was in the former.
He wanted Elaine safely away. He also had a job to do that would prevent him from tagging along, a fact that was confirmed when many of his work buddies started calling him. They told him that the UNSC were rounding them up for transport back to the station. The result was obvious. They would come for him next. Anticipated or not, Eliane wasn't happy about it and she begged him not to leave her. She wanted him to come with her in outright rejection of their newfound reality. He argued with her about it for days, getting nowhere while they waited for their chance to escape to the starport.
The Benicia was the same port no less where he had said his final goodbye to his daughter two decades ago, not knowing but perhaps sensing that it would be the last time he would ever see the last of his children. That same premonition was haunting him as he finally found a spot to park. The relief was immediate after having spent half an eternity navigating around packed lots and blockades of people that were lining up towards the few entrances.
Slipping his key out of the ignition, he looked around, wishing to high heaven that Benicia's Terminal C might miraculously grow more than the handful of doors it had. Better yet that the company of Marines guarding sandbag positions at the choke points might see fit to blow a hole through the wall. Even better; to blow up the entire wall, anything that could help him get Elaine out of here.
He unlocked the doors. "You ready?"
He turned to her and was immediately paralyzed by her stare. Her green-gray eyes were hazing, her lips frowning. Her face, wrinkling like his, twitched at the behest of the tears she was holding back. The heat welled up behind his own eyes. They both knew the gravity of those passing seconds. It pulled them in and they kissed deeply.
Martin savored the feeling. Coldness from the sadness of their parting. Warmth from the love that she was leaving behind with him.
They pulled away reluctantly. She cupped his face. "You'll come back to me." She said as her voice grew shakier. "Promise me. Promise me that, please."
Martin grasped her hand in his own and shook his head. "No."
He saw the wound of his words arise on her face until he healed it with the next. "You'll come back to us. I promise."
Despair turned to understanding, then to a hopeful smile. The tears came out for her, and then for him. They kissed again.
When they were done, they both took in shaky breaths. They opened the doors and stepped out of the car. Martin peered over its sloped roof at the closest entry into Terminal C. A couple of the Marines there were manning clerical counters at the nearest entrance. Others were going around asking certain people questions, typing away on datapads then taking them out of the line to escort them through the doors. That confirmed his suspicions. They were using government databases to extradite the process by finding out who was here that was important to the UNSC. Civilian contractors were the VIPs of the day. Martin was one of them. Elaine wasn't. That wasn't going to stop him either.
Elaine arose with her purse shouldered and a small suitcase trailing behind. The benefit of it was that she could move fast. She would escape fast too if they were lucky.
The pair started out in lockstep. They headed down the space between the two lines that carved out their section of the lot. On the way they received their fair share of suspicious glances from the crowds. Suspicion quickly turned to envy as the couple approached one of the Marines that was patrolling the line with pad in hand.
Martin got him to look up from his screen by pulling out his VOSPER ID card. "Excuse me, sir. I think I meet the criteria you're looking for."
The Marine held out a hand for the card. Martin passed it over. The Marine maneuvered it beneath the camera of his pad and Martin's information blinked onto the screen. A cursory examination prompted a relieving answer. "Follow me please."
"Wait, if it's all the same with you, I'd like to bring my wife with me."
The Marine looked to her next. He nodded. "Sure. This way."
Martin shared an uncertain look with Elaine whilst they followed their new escort to the doors. Nearly there, he caught sight of another Marine sitting behind a clerical desk near the threshold. He was manning a UNSC portable computer. He wore a look of alarm at a red-light that flashed onto his screen.
Martin felt his heart drop into his stomach. His steps quickened. He waited until they reached the safety of the entrance. The moment their escort was inside, he turned to Elaine and stopped. She stopped as well.
Without warning, he hugged her tight and whispered into her ear; "I love you." Then he let her go. Her expression was sadder now but firmer, more resolved. She understood what he had to do.
Their guide turned back. "Please try to keep up, sir. We're operating on limited time here."
Elaine walked inside. Martin stayed put.
"I forgot something in the car." He said. "It's important."
"Come on, sir, it can't be that important-"
"It is. Just-, just take my wife for me. I'll be right back."
"Sir, I-"
But Martin was already turning away. Mid-turn, he saw the Marine at the clerical desk. The man was staring right back at him in confusion, like a hunter that wasn't expecting its prey to appear so suddenly in front of it.
Martin ran. He heard the commotion behind him as the guy called for him to stop. He was halfway to the car when his pursuer figured out that he wasn't about to listen. Instead, he called on other Marines to stop him. They reacted too late.
Martin leaped back into his Fossa. The key slipped into and twisted in the ignition. The car rumbled alive. He pulled out of his spot and sped away as fast as the coalescing crowds would permit. Piloting around them was difficult enough without a growing band of UNSC Marines beginning to give chase in his rear-view mirror. He gave thanks that he reached the exit route before anyone could stop him. He quickly accelerated down the highway that would take him back into Vallejo.
He set his mind on the last place he needed to go before he turned himself in. There was still one last promise he needed to make as well as keep to the rest of his family.
:********:
Duncan found himself being both frustrated by and growing a respect for the resourcefulness of Martin Ellsworth. He'd been able to avoid being apprehended by the UNSC even when he was right under their noses. He hadn't met the man yet and still he felt that he understood him better in his absence. A man trying to make sure he got his loved ones to safety. How could he not respect that? However, he didn't appreciate that it came at the cost of 30 minutes of Epsilon's already limited time. Those 30 minutes were now wasted in the eyes of the rest of the squad who had driven to the Benicia starport from the Ellsworth residence. All that merely to discover that they'd missed him by a few minutes...again.
Nova's hunch had been right. It simply wasn't timely.
The squad was waiting near a Marine position in front of one of the doors to Terminal C. They patiently scanned the crowds for any signs of an HVI that in all likelihood wasn't there. Meanwhile, the Staff was talking with the sergeant that had discovered Martin's presence. From what Duncan overheard, the tip-off came when one of his men scanned Mr. Ellsworth's ID card which incidentally triggered a 'Stop and Apprehend' alarm in their database. They'd noticed it too late to stop the man himself though.
Duncan listened in to the dregs of their conversation.
"The last we saw was of him splitting the scene down Interstate-41." The sergeant said. "Our Hogs were too busy patrolling the interior to man that position. I'm sorry we lost the guy you were after."
"No worries." The Staff said dismissively. "Can you bring his wife back out here for me? Maybe she can tell us where he's going."
The sergeant sucked in an uncertain breath. "We...questioned her a little. She says she doesn't know. We didn't want to hold her in place and risk backing-up our operation here so I had one of my guys take her over. She should be boarding a transport by now."
The Staff's exasperated sigh spoke for the rest of the squad. "Alright, I don't see a point in that then. We'll leave her be and I'll leave you be. Keep up the good work, sergeant."
"Ugh, thank you-, sir. Will do."
Duncan watched the Staff stride back to them. He wasn't sure if the 'keep up the good work' part was sarcastic or not because he couldn't see his face or decipher that dry tone of his.
The Staff shook his head. "We'll have to follow the same path. With the time we have, we can only hope to stumble into him."
"He really does seem to want to avoid us." Nova noted.
"He does. No one does what this man has without having a good reason. We just need to figure it out. Maybe then we can know where he's going next."
Duncan slipped off into his own thoughts on the manner. The Staff's idea repeated in his head, that they needed to figure out why he was still running even with his wife now safe. Maybe then they would-
His mind flashed back to the Ellsworth residence, to the first picture of Martin's kids. The connection became visceral like a lightning bolt of logic, mapping together his care for his family into a solid deduction of his whereabouts. "I think I know where he is."
The squad turned to him.
"Hey, is this another one of those photographic inhibition things like what Nova had?" Zack asked hesitantly. "If it is, why don't you try thinking a couple steps ahead of that because we're not so bueno on time right now."
"It's something like that."
Zack sighed explosively. The Staff made a slashing gesture at his own throat, indicating for the radioman to shut up. "Alright, Ep-8." He said. "Let's hear it."
:********:
The northern limits of Vallejo were utterly abandoned. To Martin, driving past one empty neighborhood after another gave him the feel of being the last man on the planet. Everyone else had left him behind here. Whether that was actually the case or not, that was fine because he wouldn't be alone for long.
The emptiness of the streets made them more manageable to navigate. The trip was quick. Soon, he was turning onto a long road that wound its way through the sparse houses of Vallejo's northern outskirts. The route was made to almost fully encircle the gated grounds of a cemetery. Being among the largest in the city, the Teresa cemetery was a hill that at its peak rose to 10 meters tall. Driving around its outer edges allowed him to view the rings upon rings of gravestones that had found their final resting place on its grassy slopes.
He reached halfway around its circumference when he found the parking lot he was searching for. No one was there. Not one yet, he suspected. He whispered a quiet thanks for the aloneness of the occasion. That way he could do everything he wanted to without disturbance.
Martin parked inside the lot. Exiting the Fossa, he looked left then right. Still no one on the streets or around the surrounding buildings.
He started walking. His walk across the lot turned to a jog across the street then slowed back to a brisk trek at the gated entry. There were no bars to stop him from ascending along a gravel path that arced up to the hill's very plateau. He spotted more graves on the way up. They belonged to fellow colonists like himself. Many had been here on Ballast longer than he had and thus had more claim to it as their home, both now and forever. Much to his lifelong dismay, there were also others here who were too young. They shouldn't have been here, he thought. Not before him.
And yet life had other plans.
With a labored groan, he took the last step that pulled him onto the top of the hill. There were no less than a hundred graves waiting for him there in line after line; a minor fraction of the amount that guarded the slopes.
He scanned the stones bordering the route that passed through the middle of the gathering. His attention gravitated towards those with 'E's in their surnames. Soon it was 'EL's, resulting in a smaller grouping near the opposite side of the hilltop. Eventually, he found them.
The single gravestone stood in the far corner of the row that it was on. To Martin, it always seemed to be at a distance from the rest, a solitary existence on the hill.
The closer he got to the stone, the sharper the morning wind felt on his skin, the heavier his steps became. It was always like this whenever he came for a visit.
He took a knee in front of the stone. A cool gust rustled green grass, ruffled graying hair and moaned off the surface of the marker. He summoned the strength to pull his gaze up to its surface. The writing of the engravement stared back at him:
'Fae Ellsworth
March 5th, 2508 - February 10th, 2531
Beloved daughter, sister, friend and Marine. Our little warrior.'
'Frederic Ellsworth
April 3rd, 2511 – January 15th, 2518
Beloved son, brother and superhero. Our little champ'
"I'm back."
The wind answered him with a sharper howl. He brushed the hair out of his eyes. "I-...I came to tell you two that your mother's safe. She'll be coming back in a bit. I need to make sure things back here are taken care of first."
The wind died down.
Martin exhaled. "So listen, kiddos, I've got some bad news. We've got some guests coming to the planet. Fae, I know you wouldn't like'em. I know they wouldn't like you either." He smiled proudly. "And I'm going to do everything I can to make sure they hate me."
The wind picked back up into a low gust.
"I won't lose you two again, you understand? Or your mother. You keep taking care of each other for me. When this is over, we'll all be back here together." He reached up and laid his hand lovingly atop the stone. "I promise."
The morning wind slowed to a low whisper, then silence. He squeezed the stone tighter. He stayed there, utterly motionless for a full minute. At the end of that minute a feeling of calm washed over him. He stood up, accepting the answer.
"Thanks for respecting the silence." He said as he got up. Having readied himself, he turned to face the band of UNSC shock troopers standing a short distance behind him.
He'd heard them coming up in spite of their impressive stealth. His ear was too attuned to every sound that regularly occurred on the hill to miss their arrival.
The eight ODSTs stood near the way he'd come up. Unmoving and unresponsive, they were gravestones in their own right. One of them stepped forward to break the mold; a shock trooper with red-highlights on his mostly black armor and a shotgun on his back.
"Martin Ellsworth?" He asked in a way that told Martin he already knew the answer.
Martin nodded.
"We need you to come with us right away."
Martin took one last look at the gravestone lying above his son and daughter. At length, the sight of them gave him the strength he needed to turn and start walking towards the troopers.
:********:
Duncan wanted to congratulate himself for being right. Simultaneously, he wanted to punch himself for the impulse given the setting in which they'd found their quarry. A high five from the others would have also disrespected the atmosphere of the occasion. They were probably aware of that too. As a result, no one spoke as they descended the hill with their HVI.
The Staff had taken the lead with Martin Ellsworth right at his side. The former was moving briskly while the latter had his hands buried in his pockets, looking here and there among the rows of stones.
Zack ambled up to Duncan's side to whisper. "Who do you think he buried here?"
Duncan shrugged. In truth, he knew exactly who Martin came to visit. He also was aware that Zack's question was so dumb that he wanted to smack him for it.
"You looked at the pictures, right? You're a smart guy. Figure it out."
Duncan walked ahead before Zack could give a half-thought-out response. He came next to Nova and opened a personal comm-link. "Why do you think Ep-1 gave him the extra time?"
Like himself, Nova shrugged in reply, her attention affixed predatorily to the back of Martin's head. "Who knows. I'd have to ask him, or you could."
"No thanks." He replied. That was territory he didn't necessarily want to tread into given the Staff's no-nonsense stride. It was a slightly wider gate than his usual form that told anyone around that their time was up. "Maybe later."
"Scaredy cat."
"I'll wear that title with pride if I have to. I can piece it together on my own."
"Yeah, you do that."
Duncan did try to piece everything together. He got to see the names on the grave the moment Martin stepped out of the way. 'Fae Ellsworth' and 'Frederic Ellsworth'. The daughter and son from the pictures. They were obviously buried together. He also happened to glimpse the dates. One had died very young. The other died somewhat later though also relatively young. What were the causes? And why had their guy gone through all of this just to see them?
He held onto those questions for the time-being. The squad left the cemetery and returned to their vans parked in the nearby lot.
Martin made no move for his Fossa. Instead, acting under the Staff's instruction, he went straight into the Kabord that Hector was driving. A wise man, Duncan thought. He could definitely read the room. Yes, the squad was respectful about the occasion, but no one enjoyed thinking on how much time their little side-mission on top of their initial side-mission had cost them.
They loaded back into their vans. A burbling roar of engines signaled the beginning of their return trip to the dealership.
From inside the passenger section in Hector's van, Duncan fought the growing temptation to ask some questions. One in particular.
He held it in for the better part of five minutes. Afterwards, he couldn't hold it any longer. From his seat directly opposite to Martin's he decided to break the silence.
"Excuse me, Mr. Ellsworth?"
Martin looked up at him, possibly the first time he'd looked directly at any of them. "Yes?"
"Whose grave was that?"
The others in the van straightened up as probably did those listening over the comm. It was the same dumb question Zack had posed. However, the intention wasn't the same. Duncan already knew who. Now he wanted to know why. Why avoid the UNSC? Why visit the cemetery now of all times? This would be a more indirect way of putting it.
Martin's jaw shifted around in search of words that didn't come.
The small slide window to the front section slid open. Yuri spoke from the other side. "Hey Ep-8, don't you think that's a bit too direct for-"
"My kids."
The expected answer held a tonal weight to it of both explanation and justification.
Martin leaned forward to rest his chin on his knuckles. "Both my son and daughter are down there. That's why I had to see them." His eyes narrowed. "That's what you're really asking me, right? Why it is that I came out here and led you all on this goose chase?"
He sure was perceptive.
Nova leaned in from the seat next to Martin's. "Well, since you're so talkative, yes. That's a question I'd like answered a little better than that though. Not to be cruel, Mr. Ellsworth but you're goose chase could very well cause thousands more to end up on that hill, if not millions. I'd hoped you factored that into your whole reasoning but it doesn't seem like it."
Duncan was left floored by his comrade's bluntness. Yuri was even unsure what to say. "Uuuuggghhh, hey Ep-2, that's a bit-"
"Harsh? Yeah. Reality's harsh. Our situation is harsh too, so I'd like to understand the way a man thinks who makes that reality more difficult unnecessarily. We went to the dealership. You weren't there. We went to your home. You weren't there. We went to the starport. You weren't there. Finally, we caught you at the cemetery. I have an aching feeling you were up to a bit more than visiting family."
Yuri was tense. "Ugh…"
"It's okay." Martin insisted. "I expected to have to explain myself."
"Yes." Nova said, leaning in even more. "And?"
With a deep exhale, he spoke. "You're right about all that. You deserve to be told the truth here after everything you went through to find me. Well...as I told you, my son and daughter are both down there. If you went to my house then you might have seen their pictures. I lost my son first. He was only six when his health suddenly started failing. His diagnosis was Huntington's disease. He didn't last long after that." He paused for several sharp inhales to stabilize himself again. "Years later, my daughter joined the Marines. She was killed in action on Arcadia. Me and my wife, we decided to have them buried together since the two of them were inseparable when they were alive. My wife's all I have left. I wanted to make sure she was safe, and it took this long for things to be cleared up enough to do it. I figured the UNSC might send someone after me so I decided to see the rest of my family before you took me away. I honestly don't know if this will be the last time I'll ever see them. That's why."
Duncan sensed a soft spot being tugged on his heart. "...But...they're already gone."
Martin's gaze flitted up to his. "You have kids?"
Duncan swallowed. "...One."
"That makes you a parent. But they're not here with you now. Does that not still make you a parent?"
No reply came.
"You don't stop being a father when your kids aren't around." Martin's head lowered under the pressure of some unseen weight. "They're just not around. That's all."
Duncan stared at him.
"What were their names?" Nova asked, her ire cooling down to sympathy. "Your son and daughter?"
"Frederic and Fae."
Against the haze in his head wrought from the site manager's words, Duncan's subconscious finally brought to mind the memory of the face that he'd been struggling to recall. It was a much older version of the boy he saw in the wheelchair. By contrast, it was stronger and covered in strange scars. He'd only seen it once. Once was enough when someone who was a relatively normal person got to see the face of a Spartan.
He recalled him taking off his helmet back at the High Mediolanum Police Department's HQ on Actium. If only briefly, Duncan remembered that he and Zack had glimpsed his face as he sat down among his fellow Spartans within the rows of lockers. The Spartan had more metal in his resolved demeanor than most frigates had in their whole hulls. Spartan 104, 'Fred' as the members of Blue Team called him, was inspecting his helmet. The two ODSTs were incidentally passing by on the way back to their squad. It was right after the Master Chief's run-in with Reece. By pure accident, they saw 104's side profile, then more of the front as they rounded the gathering.
To Duncan, he was the spitting image of the man currently sitting in front of him, albeit half his age, perhaps in his early to mid-30s. But that couldn't be who he thought it was. Clearly, Martin's son was dead, buried beneath his sister.
How then could that be him?
How could that living 'Spartan' also be that same frail little boy in the wheelchair?
A vein spasmed. Duncan's head hurt. Logic dictated that it wasn't him. But he looked so much like him. He let common sense rule out the impossibility of his imagination. Still, it troubled him to think that such a coincidence could exist.
"You need me to help you launch that ODP." Martin said more firmly. "My main reason for helping you is because I don't want the Covenant to separate me from my kids. Not again."
Duncan understood. If the Covenant glassed the planet then no one on its surface would be spared, neither living nor dead.
"You'll get your chance." The Staff said from the seat right next to Duncan. "Until then, prepare yourself. There's no telling when our enemy might arrive or who they'll target first."
Martin nodded. A small grin arched the corner of his lips, containing the right amount of anticipation and malevolence for anyone to guess it's cause. A desire for revenge.
"You got it, Staff Sergeant."
Sepulcrum - Grave