Chapter 16 – Gratias Tibi
January 6th, 2552 - (11:30 Hours - Military Calendar)
Daedalus system, Ballast
Vallejo, Benicia Starport
Near Terminal A
:********:
Duncan sized up the bottle. It was small, white, plastic, easily able to fit in his pocket. He gave it a slight shake. The pills rattled around inside. He examined the labeling: 'Halcion'.
"Hope this works." He mumbled to no one in particular as he turned away from the medication shelf. He walked down the aisle, turned the corner and peered down along the ends of the convenience store's last few sections. Past the flight-line snacks packed on the last aisle, placed on the far wall was the refrigerated section.
He spotted the drinks inside and went over. He pulled out a water bottle and made for the front counter.
The store was decently packed. Around him, dozens of Marines, Navy airmen and Army troopers were ambling about, some wearing their gear, others like himself only sporting their basic fatigues. What made them uniformly united was not their uniforms but their duffel bags. Everyone had one. That was because everyone here was getting ready to leave.
The task force was going home, leaving Ballast and the rest of Daedalus for wherever their local unit headquarters were located.
The withdrawal was coming on the heels of two days of nonstop waiting for the enemy to return on Daedalus' doorstep. The Covenant had a tendency of quickly reappearing with reinforcements on the few occasions they were beaten back. However, no such response came. Still keeping an eye out, Hood had authorized the gradual withdrawal of the task force starting with those that had seen the heaviest fighting. While a sizable contingent would be left to keep watch, the rest would get the chance to leave.
Duncan was eternally grateful that the UNICOM brass placed the 7th Battalion at the top of the list for forces in Vallejo. They would be the first to leave for the day. That way, he wouldn't have to spend another minute on Ballast. Despite the fighting before, the last two days had been the most hellish...after what happened.
He made it to the counter but found a line of seven-strong in his way.
He waited them out until the last Marine took the family-sized bag of chips he was taking for the trip back. Duncan placed his two items on the counter. He reached into his pocket for his credit chip. The cashier, a freckled redhead somewhere in her late 20s, held out a hand to stop him.
"That won't be necessary, trooper." She playful saluted. "It's on the house."
"Huh?"
"It's thanks, for saving my home."
Duncan stopped, his mind going blank not for the first time that day. "Pardon?"
The cashier pointed to the personnel waiting behind him and those walking about the aisles. "You guys fought for us. You're the reason I still have an apartment to go back home to, and a family. So, it's all on the house."
Duncan started picking up on her reasoning but he could hardly think on it too hard, mainly because something else she said made his mind stir. Not wanting to hold up the line, he nodded in thanks and bowed out of the convenience store.
The hallways of the Benicia Starport were no less packed than they had been when the squad arrived earlier in the morning. The majority of passerby were Navy airmen, Marines and returning locals. There were a few Helljumpers around that he could identify thanks to the black shirt and gray camies they wore, just like his own.
Even though the ODSTs had arrived first at around 0530, three things were holding up their departure. One was the fact that many of the ships they came to Daedalus with were now floating debris in local space. Those few that were left were refueling at the ODPs after so long spent patrolling the system, incidentally turning the logistical basis of the withdrawal into more of a first come first served affair.
Second was that the local intersystem shuttle services were reactivated over the past day. Since Hood had announced that the planet was at least marginally safe, many of Ballast's denizens were returning in droves. Of the dozens of transports at the starport, most were civilian liners. Docking umbilicals connected to their passenger bays, allowing in a constant stream of colonists. Those that he passed he figured were probably waiting in intersystem space, following mandatory Cole Protocol procedures for ships fleeing a planet under attack. They were likely waiting there for news of the battle to reach them. It explained their speedy return, something they couldn't have done if they embarked on the regular colony-to-colony ticket. However, their arrival meant a delay for the ODSTs' departure since the air controllers were too busy managing the massive remigration.
The third problem was that the companies of 7th Battalion had not arrived at the same time. Bravo Company was the first to reach the Benicia. With half the company already deployed to Vallejo, it wasn't long before the other half on Anaheim station found a ride down to the city. While Charlie came in shortly thereafter, everyone else, Alpha, Echo and what remained of Delta were still on their way. Command wanted to send them all back on the surviving naval elements of the Reach QRF that they came on. That way, they would avoid the logistical nightmare that often unfolded after a battle; evacuating units in a frenzy without care for where they came from, then trying to disentangle a means by which to return them there afterwards.
Long story short, Epsilon had a little while longer to wait. It left them with plenty of time to think. So much in fact that Duncan had chosen not to use any of it consciously, hence his trip to the convenience store.
His return route led him through the upper bowels of the starport, down stairs and up escalators. As he passed through, he observed those around him. The hundreds of UNSC personnel he came across were mostly lounging about at bar tables over drinks, at cafés over coffee, at restaurants over food and at open seating areas over boredom. They talked, joked, played cards and watched the Waypoint broadcast, listening to the 'breaking news' on humanity's most recent victory against the Covenant. Only in those cases they focused more on the anchors, outrightly criticizing them for details they left out like the casualties or simply despising what they wore. For people who were well groomed and well-dressed that were in turn being watched by those who hadn't seen a shower in almost half a week, the latter criticism was the most common.
He could tell who was who as well. Their insignia patches helped. The golden-lightning bolt across the silvery shield of the 541st Expeditionary Marine Division and the scorpion tail attached to the skull of the 81st Reconnaissance Battalion, Lieutenant Garza's unit, were the most common. Members of the 21st Air Division, airmen carrying insignias with three swords flying on black wings, gravitated towards them. It was a typical scene. Advance forces and reconnaissance units, usually the first on the ground aside from ODSTs, didn't have the luxury troopers did of having a whole HEV to themselves. They therefore had to forge closer working relationships with the pilots that got them down to the battlefield. More so than the Army troopers of the 109th Infantry Division with their insignias of fierce grizzly bears bearing blood-soaked fangs, something that unnerved Duncan enough to do his best to ignore them. They mostly stuck to themselves. They usually came in on Class-L flash-docked starships as reinforcements. This time around they weren't really needed, hence why the wounded personnel lining the aid stations, lying on stretchers with IV drips in their arms and bloodied bandages on their bodies were disproportionally Marine and Navy.
He took special note of how they all interacted. It didn't seem to matter how much fighting anyone had seen. From the most grizzled to the least fatigued, everyone was busy having a conversation, filling the hallways with a noisy chatter that he quietly envied.
He moved onto a flat escalator that helped him along a lengthy corridor. Entering the starport's eastern wing, he passed scenes of personnel mingling with civilians in the seating areas. Many of the returning residents had stopped to enthusiastically thank them. Some offered gifts, souvenirs, credit chip transfers, whatever they had on hand. More often than not the receiving party turned down the offers, though not everyone was so noble. The gestures in themselves were like rays of sunshine in Duncan's eyes. He was glad to see civilians recognizing that there had been a cost to all this, that they appreciated them for what they had done. There was something refreshing in that, even more so than the actual sunlight that hit his face from places it wasn't supposed to. Aside from the windows, Daedalus' morning light shone through long gashes in the starport's ceiling as well as its walls where pulse lasers had carved through to the very foundations. Civilian engineers were busying themselves climbing scaffolding or shimmying up columns with security lines. They worked to apply what adhesive sealants they could to the molten wounds, some of which still sizzled.
Duncan imagined the rest of Vallejo was doing the same. The locals he saw rushing by kept looking out the nearest windows to the cityscape. They marveled at the damage. At the smoke wafting from buildings whose flames the UNSC had only recently put out. At the places where skyscrapers and apartment complexes were supposed to stand but no longer were. He wondered what was going through their minds when they saw it. He was genuinely curious. They were now in a very small minority of people that got to return to their world after the Covenant had attacked it. Were they thinking about their homes? About loved ones they were forced to leave behind? Or were they carrying the aftershock so common to those that saw the results of a Covenant assault for the first time? Whatever they thought, he hoped, for their sake and that of the confused children holding their hands, that they would get to stay in that minority.
But the idea brought up a sharp pain in his chest that had been haggling him since the flight back to Vallejo. These people would get the chance to stay, but not everyone would get the chance to go back home like they did. Not everyone was so lucky.
The sign 'Departures' saved him from his own thoughts. Soon he saw the overhead sign he was looking for: 'Terminal A'. He got off the flat escalator and headed to the seating area a short distance from the sign. The dozen or so rows of seats were filled to the max with a combination of troopers from both Bravo and Charlie companies, some with their armor, some without. They overwhelmingly wore the same bloodshot eyes of men and women that had not seen a bed, or anything remotely similar, in the last few days. Because there were so many of them, a number were forced to lie down on the ground, dozing off on duffels as pillows or sitting on them while they chatted.
He moved through the rows, stepping over lazy feet and sleeping bodies until he reached the row closest to the windows. Save for Renni, the rest of Epsilon was already there with a front seat to the boarding gate. Once their starship arrived, they would be the first to leave.
The squad was ready to get off the planet as soon as possible, not wanting to have to spend an extra second on it. He didn't blame them. He was of a similar mind himself. While a few like the Staff had dozed off, most of them were conscious enough to watch him as he took his seat. No one moved to ask where he went. They simply turned back towards the windows, watching with hollowed eyes as ships lifted off and landed, wandering which would be theirs.
Nova was the sole exception. As he sat down on the seat next to hers, she spotted the two bottles.
"Sleeping pills?" She asked, pointing to the pill bottle.
Duncan nodded. "Only if this takes too long."
"I see."
Nova returned to her vigil of the tarmac. Duncan did the same, laying the pills at his feet while he took a sip of water. He stopped to watch the myriad of freighters and a handful of Navy ships touching down on the starport apron.
The silence settled back in just as it had when they arrived. No one in the squad had any intention of breaking it either.
In the quiet, despite the general buzz of the conversations behind him, Duncan found his mind wondering again.
Though he was certain he stayed in his seat, he could feel himself running. He could see it all in visceral detail. Running up the escarpment, finding the Brute, finding Deaks, the fight, the bloody teeth in his hand, him telling the corporal that he wouldn't leave him, and that last look of understanding on his face, those words: "Alright...give me a minute."
He felt a hand shake his shoulder. "D, hey D, you there?"
Duncan snapped out of his daze. Nova was watching him with visible worry. She pointed to the water bottle in his hand. He was squeezing it so hard that its plastic middle was nearly crushed. He finally registered a cold feeling on his thigh and saw the wet spot on his pants. He eased his grip.
"Sorry."
Nova still watched him worriedly. "Try not to think about it, okay?"
"...Yeah, okay."
Without meaning to, he looked up to the star Daedalus. He saw light, felt heat, smelt something burning. The feel of the Covenant incendiary grenade, the last glimpse of Deaks before it detonated. Duncan was running now, running back down the hill, running away from a beast that wanted to end his life beneath its hammer. He was pushed down, saw death standing right in front of him, barely getting back up and barely reaching the safety of the Pelican before it took off.
He could no longer shake the feeling that he didn't deserve to be here. Not here in the starport or here with the squad, but simply being alive. It felt wrong somehow. Deeply so.
He was only still breathing right now because everyone in Epsilon saved his life by firing at that chieftain. He was fortunate. Deaks was not. The corporal had no one there to lend a timely hand. His fate was sealed before they even showed up.
Life had cheated him. Yet in the face of that, Duncan could not bring himself to understand how he was so relaxed in the end. Despite the blood loss, he was cognizant enough to talk, to think, to realize he was going to die. And in spite of that, he was able to lay his head down and drift peacefully out of life without a single worry to hold him back. In comparison, Duncan was having trouble keeping his eyes closed for more than two seconds.
How did he do it? What was the difference between them? His best efforts to deduce it ultimately proved useless. Hence the pills.
He picked them back up and examined the symptoms listed on the side. Ignoring the usual 'Headache' and 'Dizziness', one of them particularly caught his attention: 'Vivid dreaming'.
He did not like the sound of that.
He was just becoming able to live with the Beta Company nightmares. Now he might very well have fresh ones to look forward to. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He was too afraid to stay awake but he was too afraid to go to sleep.
Out the corner of his eye, he watched the Staff slumbering in his seat further down, arms folded, head back. He envied the man. No matter what, he always found a way to shut his eyes. He wondered how he did it, or how Deaks could do it knowing he would never wake up again.
Then the Staff stirred. His eyes cracked open and he turned to face the man walking towards them.
Duncan and the rest that were awake recognized him right away and stood to salute.
"Colonel Garrison, sir." The Staff said.
"As you were." The colonel stopped in front of them as they stood at ease. Wearing his own ODST fatigues, he was likewise accompanied by Lieutenant Baelson, sporting the same wear but not the same calmness. The latter looked tired, and not only tired but apologetic.
Garrison examined each member of the squad, even those that were just beginning to wake up and stand on their feet. "You troopers did well out there." He said. "For the conditions of the mission in which you were sent, your performance exceeded my expectations and even that of the folks at Ground Command. I know you're still under that ONI gag order from the Lieutenant Commander. Some big names from the Office also have my hands tied about what I can report to command or talk about in the open. Regardless, I don't think its classified, top-secret information that I'm about to ask of you." He sized them up again. "How are you guys? Keeping it tight?"
Duncan sensed the earnestness in the questions. Though the colonel was good at maintaining that distance between officer and enlisted, he always seemed to know the right time to bridge it.
"We're alright, sir." The Staff replied with the same level of honesty. Then he looked to the others, to their reserved demeanors. "At least we will be." He turned to Garrison. "We might need some time but we'll keep it wound tight."
"Not too tight I hope."
"Of course, sir."
Garrison peered over at the windows to the tarmac beyond, searching for something, his next words. He ultimately found them as he turned back to the squad with a long, heartfelt sigh. "The corporal was one of our best. He was a good Helljumper, a great marksmen and an even better human being for what he did. I want you to know that, that you can be proud of him."
"We know, sir." Duncan replied, not out of disrespect but out of his own genuine thoughts. Still, the slip of his tongue gained him a few cautioning glances from the others. Nevertheless, the colonel smiled at him.
"Good. You know it. Now remember it." Garrison nodded off to them. Then he turned away and went elsewhere.
Baelson took his place. He stepped in front of the squad, not hesitantly but not confidently either, less like an officer with the lower ranks and more like a man worried about his friends. "If you need anything, let me know, alright?"
"Will do, sir." The Staff said.
With that, Baelson motioned goodbye in a similar manner to the colonel and likewise followed after him. The squad watched him and Garrison head over to what was left of squad Lima.
Duncan appreciated the gesture. As Epsilon sat back down, he suddenly felt tired. It wasn't the pained exhaustion he had been suffering for the past several days, the kind that left him drained without giving him the urge to sleep. This time he could feel his eyes getting heavy. He was quietly relieved. It was almost as if breaking the silence had brought some measure of peace back into his life.
He was slowly beginning to drift off when he heard the Staff's voice: "Mr. Ellsworth?"
The name brought with it a surge of energy. Duncan sat back up and found the squad now had two new guests. Their plain clothes made it clear right away that no one would need to stand at attention.
Duncan recognized the first arrival immediately. It was Martin Ellsworth. The woman beside him who looked closer to his age was a new face. Or so he thought, until he remembered the pictures he found at the VOSPER site manager's house.
The rest of Epsilon sat up in their seats. The earlier exhaustion disappeared from their countenances, replaced by a joking familiarity.
"Hey troopers, nice to see you all again." Martin said happily. "Really, it's good to see that you're alright." He gestured to the woman beside him. "This is my wife, Elaine."
She smiled warmly at them. "Nice to meet you."
"We happened to be in the neighborhood and I figured you all would be here. We just wanted to say thank you in person for all you've done, having to search around for me after I went on the run and all that."
"You really didn't give us an easy time of it, did you?" Hector laughed.
Martin rubbed his neck embarrassedly, laughing all the while. "No. But hey, thanks. Not only did you come after me when I was needed, you still let me have my time with my kids. I've been thinking about that for a while now and I really appreciate that you did that for me."
"Not to mention fighting to keep him and everyone else at the station alive." Elaine added. "Rachel, Jake, Yohanan, Sammy, even Dominic and all the others, they're safe because of what you all did." She pointed out the window to the civilian freighters. "Them as well."
"Ah, quit it Mrs. El, you're going to make us blush over here." Zack grinned.
"If it helps, I'm glad to hear it."
"Same here." Martin said as he wrapped his arm around Elaine's waist. "You're the reason I was able to see my family again. Thank you."
"We're just doing our duties, Mr. Ellsworth." The Staff replied. "It's no problem."
"Please, call me Martin. And by the way, even if it is just your duty, I personally think you went above and beyond it for us. Plus..." Martin trailed off into his thoughts then came back with tentative confidence. "Plus, I know what it costs."
The building warmth Duncan felt inside began to dampen and freeze over. He saw it in everyone else's faces too that Martin was beginning to touch on something unsaid.
"Don't get me wrong. I'm no military man myself, but...my daughter, she was the one that taught me that. Since I'm not an ODST, I don't think I'll ever fully understand. But as a father, I think I get it just a little bit more than I would otherwise. Listen, I know I can't offer you any medals or promotions, and I sure wish I could because you more than deserve them, but sadly this is about all I can do."
Martin stepped up to the Staff and offered his hand.
The Staff examined it. The gesture birthed a rare sight on his face: a grateful smile. He took it and shook. "It's more than enough."
Martin went down the row, shaking hands with the rest of the squad. His wife did the same. When they were done, the couple waved goodbye to them as they moved to leave.
"You troopers take care, alright?" Martin said. "Hope you see more victories like this one wherever you go next."
"Will do." The Staff replied.
"Take care, Staff, Epsilon."
"Same to you, Martin."
The squad waved goodbye as the couple walked out of the seating area and disappeared into the stream of returning colonists.
"They were nice." Mito noted.
"Yeah, they were." Hector parroted. "Hope they'll be okay."
"I hope we'll be okay." Nova said, turning the squad's attention back towards the windows, and eventually, back towards the silence.
However, the tension from before was now thoroughly drained from it. The squad settled into their seats. One by one, they began to slip into the beginnings of sleep or a quiet contemplation, starting with the Staff.
Duncan took a second look at the pill bottle. Already feeling the tiredness tugging at his eyelids, he was glad that he hadn't bought it. If he had, it would have been a waste of money.
He pocketed the bottle, fixed himself in his seat and finally slipped through the twilight zone that stood between him and a fitful slumber.
:********:
Lieutenant Commander Cordova mulled through the details of her report in her head. Though she was finished with the basic writeup, she was yet to send it in, mainly because she wanted to be sure everything was airtight. Everything had to be when there was an impossibly high chance, if not a certainty, that it would be read by the CINCONI.
She could ill afford to leave any important details out. And who was to say what the admiral would consider important? Sometimes the small things were what really counted. In anticipation of all that, she wanted to make sure that everything that could be added was in fact added.
First, and most importantly, the Forerunner construct.
It was the centerpiece of her report and potentially the part that could land her a bullet in the brain, partly out of punishment and partly to keep her quiet. Though she was relatively new to Section 0 with a few years under her belt, her rank made her privy to some of the information in the upper wrung of classified intelligence reports. Working in what was basically an intelligence gathering agency within a larger intelligence gathering agency, she had access to a number of files from the other sections. Section III was the type most likely to have an encounter like the one she had experienced alongside the recovery team. Their black ops were the kinds whose files rarely ever saw the light of day. In this case, any files on this mission would reach the highest tier classification with good reason.
The discovery of an entirely new form of artificial intelligence, and by extension, an entirely new alien civilization possibly older and more advanced than the Covenant was too massive for any one ONI agent to handle. Nevertheless, it was her job to get to the bottom of what was inside the Sarcophagus. That was why her superior had pulled so many strings to get her on the team working at the preserve. So the failure not only to recover the alien intelligence, but to let it fall into the hands of the enemy, was sufficient to have her death warrant signed with a smiley face at the end.
She knew for a certainty that the AI known as 'Offensive Bias' had fallen into the hands of the Covenant because of two glaring realities. The first was that the residual Covenant battlegroup that stayed behind ultimately managed to escape the UNSC. Hood's reinforcements had arrived far too late. By the time they came, the corvette that assaulted the preserve and its escort cruisers were already clear of the exosphere. Additional reports from the system's remote scanning outposts confirmed their slipspace exit vectors shortly thereafter. Three escaped ships. Three massive problems.
To make matters worse, a special black operations team from Section III was dispatched to the location to investigate. Though it located the subterranean chamber itself, the commander in charge reported no sign of the AI. Its dais was empty. For Cordova, it was like being in a closed coffin, hearing someone coming and hoping they would find her, only to hear the sound of them hammering in the last few nails.
If she wasn't careful, she could wind up dead in a variety of ways. None of them pleasant, none of them a suicide. Not that ONI's special assassination cells couldn't make it look that way. Or worse, Admiral Parangosky might personally send her to the one place that the few in ONI who knew about it feared to go: Midnight. At that point, death by any means would be a preferrable alternative.
By contrast, there were two things she was holding onto that might very well save her life. One was that she was able to save six of the project's leading xenoarcheologists: Doctors Strawson, Sorvad, Madeira, Benson, Ransburg and Carson. Their survival was possibly one of the main reasons why her fate wasn't sealed as yet. If they were to have died, she would have done herself a favor by putting her M6 to her temple. Instead, she managed to keep them alive. Not only that, but she was able to have all of their research over the past several decades condensed into Dr. Strawson's datapad. The same pad which she currently kept sealed in a special compartment of her officer's fatigues. She wasn't about to let it out of her sight.
Then there was Epsilon, the next best thing that, much to her surprise, might be what saved her life rather than put it in jeopardy this time around.
The ODSTs' BDUs came equipped with built-in recording software. The moment they stepped into the chamber, Epsilon and the rest of the recovery team commenced HUD recordings across the board. Their helmet feeds provided her with multiple angles of the interior, of the interchange with the AI and the rise from the floor of Lake Ladoga. It would be a treasure trove for ONI academics. If she played her cards right, it could also prove to be her alibi.
Those recordings were kept on her personal pad, separate from the one she requisitioned from Strawson. As for the ODSTs, she had the original footage wiped from each of their armor's BIOs storage. Then she placed them under a strict gag order which included the extraction team. Those that were never in contact with the AI were still in a position to hear about it. That was sufficient to warrant a general order of silence.
With the personal testimonies of the rescued xenoarcheologists, the footage of the ODSTs and their sanctioned silence, she might yet survive this. And if that failed, she might actually have to consider what Renni was telling her as they walked through the starport's passageways together.
"So you won't even think about it?" Renni asked. "It worked for me. Considering your situation, it could work for you."
Though she made sure not to show it, she was amazed that her sister's perceptiveness had not dulled whatsoever in the years since they last spoke. Renni was always good at gauging what she was thinking.
"We're not all so lucky, Ren. Some of us have to stay. If we all left, well, what kind of position would that leave the Office in?"
They turned a corner and moved onto a flat escalator that carried them alongside an inactive Maglev rail.
"I'm not asking for the Office. I'm asking for you and your sake."
"Well, my sake doesn't matter as much at a critical time like this."
Renni glared at her. "To who?"
"To the Office." Cordova answered, maintaining her practiced calm. "Agents are a means. The missions are the ends. If we can keep the Covenant from finding another world, or find a new way to beat them like we might have very well done at Kassarina, it's worth it. I thought you would have known that better than anyone by now."
Renni's jaw locked and shifted as she mulled over what Cordova knew to be a rebellious reply. That perceptiveness applied both ways.
"I know that." Renni admitted. "I just wish I didn't." She leaned in and lowered her voice. "What I'm saying is that soon enough ONI will start getting desperate. They'll start holding lives like ours-, like yours as cheap. Things might get so bad one day that they won't mind throwing hundreds of people away just to buy us an extra day's worth of time. And I'm worried you could end up being one of them."
Cordova held her stare. "I already am one of them, Ren, and so were you once. You're free now. I want you to use that freedom wisely for the both of us, alright?"
Renni quieted down. Cordova could tell she was less than pleased with the way the conversation was going. Halfway along the escalator ride, Renni exhaled and relaxed a bit. "I'm sorry for going at you like this. It's just-..."
"It's just that I haven't gotten to see you in so long." Cordova said, finishing her thought.
Renni looked out through the nearby window strip to the starship-filled tarmac. "That, and I've had some time to think."
"Oh? On what?"
"On what could happen. I think the only one keeping you there is you, Ria."
A flash of anger shot through Cordova. She quickly cooled herself down before she spoke. "Don't you remember? The reason you were able to find a way out was because you found someone higher up the ranks that was willing to file the paperwork."
"...Yeah, I remember."
"And who was it that did that for you again?"
Renni met her gaze, looking increasingly dejected. "You."
"Right. I could do that for you because of rank, because I wanted you to do what you wanted to for the first time. There's no one like that for me."
A burst of an idea flashed into Renni's eyes then dimmed just as quickly. Whatever it was, she let it pass.
"The best I can do is what I'm already good at." Cordova explained, patting a comforting hand on her back. "And the best I can ask of you is to keep doing what you've already gotten good at."
"You could still do the same." Renni said more in protest than as a proposal.
Cordova gave a loving shake of her head. "It's alright, Ren. I'll be fine."
"Will you?"
They passed under a sign marked: 'Departures'. Shortly after, they reached the end of the escalator and walked off down the rest of the corridor.
The number of passerby increased, both civilians and military. A question came to Cordova's attention. She made sure they were far enough from earshot before she leaned over to Renni. "Can I ask you something?"
"What?"
"A few years ago, a special offensive intrusion software was reported to have been used by UNSC forces in High Mediolanum during the action on Actium. No one in Section II knows how Colonel Mentieth got his hands on it." She looked her in the eyes. "That was you, wasn't it?"
Renni looked away, her earlier dejectedness evaporating before a playful smugness. She shrugged. "I can neither confirm nor deny my involvement in that."
"I knew I should have checked your sticky fingers before you left."
Renni smirked at her. "It saved lives, didn't it?"
Cordova smirked back, arching a disbelieving brow. "And you're certain you're not involved?"
"Like I said, I can neither confirm nor deny-"
"Good job."
Renni's smile fully returned. "Thanks."
A chime went off over the starport's PA system. An automated, feminine voice spoke. "May I have your attention please, may I have your attention please. The boarding process for outgoing UNSC personnel is now underway. Presently, 7th Shock Troops Battalion, Bravo and Charlie Companies are requested to leave first at Terminal A, Gate-5 for departure aboard the UNSC Highlander. All Bravo and Charlie personnel, please report to Terminal A, Gate-5 for immediate departure."
The message stopped and then repeated. There were a few disgruntled outbursts from Marines, airmen and Army Troopers at having to endure another wait. Cordova tuned them out. "That's you."
Renni nodded. "That's me."
"We better hurry."
They maneuvered through the crowds. Passing into Terminal A, they found the seating area in front of Gate-5 already packed. Troopers from both companies were on their feet and were filing into four disorganized lines, each aimed at one side of the two front counters. The clerks were working quickly, typing through interfaces and confirming identities by running them through service number ID databases. Those that were cleared were sent into the umbilical.
Near the back, Renni and Cordova looked around for Epsilon. They spotted half of them; Paulson, Mastovich, Iris and the Staff standing at the front of their line. As Paulson walked up, Mastovich also spotted them. With his own duffel in one hand, he raised Renni's with the other and aggressively mouthed the words "Hurry up".
Rather than waiting their way through, Cordova decided to force her way through. She made sure her rank insignia was visible on her fatigues. She took Renni by the shoulder and guided them both through the gathering.
Most of those that were looking saw her rank and quickly stepped out of her way. A few resistant ones saw her coming and still stayed put, thinking she was trying to skip them. She solved that problem by pointing out the pyramidal ONI insignia beneath her bars. She held in her enjoyment at the way officers and non-coms would have the blood drain from their face upon seeing it, along with any strength to keep standing in front of her.
The pair reached Epsilon right as Paulson headed down the umbilical. Mastovich handed Renni her duffel before taking his turn at the counter. The latter took her place between Iris and the Staff. She secured the bag's straps around her shoulders. Rather than focusing on the umbilical and the Paris-class heavy frigate that it led to, Renni turned longingly in the other direction. "You're sure you won't ever reconsider?"
Cordova, the one the question was meant for, smiled at her. She walked up to her and wrapped her in as loving a hug as she could manage. "Stay safe, Ren."
Renni returned the embrace. "You too."
"Who knows, maybe we'll get to see each other again before this is all over."
"Hopefully."
"And don't worry about me." Cordova let her go. "I'll be alright. However," She rounded on the Staff. "Staff?"
"Yes mam?"
"Take care of my sister for me. And yes, that is an order."
Renni marveled at her, and so did the Staff who nodded in answer. "Will do, mam."
The two sisters shared one last smile before it was Renni's turn at the counter. Once her ID was confirmed, she walked down to the end of the umbilical. There, she turned about and waved back one more time.
Cordova waved as well, then watched as her sister disappeared around a corner. Iris and her squad-leader shortly followed.
She really did hope that they got to see each other again. She felt their chat was nowhere near as long as it should have been after almost a decade spent apart. All the same, Renni was an ODST and she was with ONI. They were on two different schedules and two different spheres of the war. It couldn't be helped. That was the reasoning she tried telling herself when she felt the heat welling up behind her eyes. It didn't work.
Cordova blinked away the first traces of her tears and left the seating area. She came to a nearby corridor with a lengthy window view of the UNSC Highlander. There, amidst the commotion of those passing behind her, she watched and waited.
Half an hour passed before the boarding process concluded and the umbilical disengaged from the hull. Ten minutes later, the ship commenced its take-off. The clamps of the docking platform on which it lay released their hold on its underside. Simultaneously, the ship's anti-gravity generators kicked in. It slowly lifted off from the ground and into the air.
Half a kilometer up, it was safe for it to turn and orient its rifle-shaped bow towards the east, away from the starport. Then its fusion drives kicked in. Flames and exhaust belched out of its ports with a subsonic boom as it shot into the skies. It accelerated away through the clouds until it was lost from sight.
Minutes after it was gone, Cordova was still looking at the wake it left through the noontime clouds.
She sucked in a deep breath and walked away. Headed down another corridor, she noted the 'Exit-3' sign not that much further down. She pulled out her datapad, scrolled through her contacts and pressed on the one she was looking for. After a few seconds spent securing the call with end-to-end signal encryption, it went through. "Boss?"
"I'm assuming you're done seeing Renni off." An all too familiar voice replied. "Are you still at the starport?"
"I'm leaving now."
"I see. Try not to drop off the grid like that again please. There's still work to be done here. Make sure to use Exit-3. I already have a ride waiting for you outside."
Cordova ignored the fact that her superior knew exactly where she was. She had long ago learned not ask those kinds of questions in ONI. "We're still meeting at the same place, right? Same time?"
"The rendezvous hasn't changed, Riat, but this war may be about to. So hurry up. This will be important."
Cordova sensed the subtle concern in his voice. "No worries, sir. I'll be there."
With a press of a button, she ended the call and made her way towards the exit. Nearing the door, she spotted one of the starport's cameras high above, slowly angling on a seemingly pre-programmed rotation. She smiled at and playfully saluted it before walking out.
Gratias Tibi – Thank You