Chapter 14 – Salvete

January 21st, 2552 - (08:00 Hours - Military Calendar)

Epsilon Eridani System, Reach

Csaba Mountain Region, Viery Territory

:********:

Falchion's streets were experiencing a greater burden of traffic than normal. Usually, the morning saw the early birds driving around, crews of ODSTs and transiting Marines intent on getting in their daily grind at sunrise. They were the type Epsilon customarily ran into on its way back from a hard day's work well before the day itself began. Outside of training, few troopers or personnel in general were interested in red-eyed workouts and runs in the middle of dusk. Epsilon's willingness to do so was what arguably made them even more exceptional among exceptional people. Besides keeping them out of trouble and in shape, it left them with a mind already trained for productivity and a whole lot of daylight hours to use it. That early morning lifestyle was probably why Duncan and Hector weren't nearly as frustrated as the other Hogs stuck in traffic. Those were people with places to be and things to do that could have been done if they loved sleep just a little less. However, the relaxedness of the two merely made their guest worried.

Riding shotgun, Lieutenant Baelson had places to be and things to do that revolved around leaving the planet on time. The high number of vehicles between him and the starport was making him tense. He didn't want to miss his flight, which was why Hector was doing everything in his power to high-tail it through side-streets and back alleys. Epsilon's expert driver showed off his emergency chauffeuring skills by ducking and weaving wherever possible. The way he was able to take advantage of empty sidewalks and parking lots without attracting the attention of patrolling MPs was a sight to see. Duncan took the opportunity to enjoy the ride from the troop section, even encouraging their passenger to do the same.

"No thanks, Iris." Baelson replied. "I'd rather not miss my flight. If I don't keep an eye out for when we reach, I could risk a few precious seconds."

Duncan waved away his worries. "How many are there from Eridani to Sol anyway? I'm sure there's tons. How big of a problem is it if you show up a day late?"

"Very big." Baelson insisted. "New postings always want their officers to report in on time. It helps keep up appearances. You'll understand once you're an officer yourself."

"If I ever want to be one."

"Don't knock it before you try it. It's a big responsibility but its meaningful. Also, you're looking really relaxed and it's annoying me. Doesn't the Staff keep you guys on your toes all day every day?"

"We're not relaxing." Hector corrected as he wheeled them left down an empty streetway and picked up some speed. "It's called tactical meditation. We make it seem like we're calling it a day when we're really staying alert, conserving our energy in case we need to use it at a moment's notice. Keeps us ready for any sudden emergencies."

Baelson thought it over. "Tactical medi-, that just sounds like staying on edge."

"Not if you do it on purpose, sir. Staying on edge is when you don't want to stay alert but you're forced to. We're doing it on purpose. What we've got going on is a whole new mindset."

"...Who taught you that?"

"Mito." Duncan said. "The Staff's the one who renamed it to make it easier to explain in public. Want to hear the original?"

Baelson checked the way ahead, searching for indications that they were nearing the starport. "Sure."

"'The Way of The Crouching Tiger'"

Duncan watched his superior's worried shell crack at finding out the truth. Baelson stifled a laugh. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Lovely, just lovely. Next thing I know you guys are going to be levitating when I get back."

"There's a chance of that. Who knows, he might enlighten us enough to fly around and kill Elites with our bare hands."

"For some reason I don't doubt that."

Hector turned them down another street with minimal traffic before hitting the brakes at a busy intersection. "It looks like it's getting down to the wire here. How much time until you're a no-show?"

Baelson ran the calculations. "Three minutes. If my Hog hadn't decided to break down, I wouldn't need to worry about any of this stuff, would I?"

Duncan leaned in from the troop section. "Think positive thoughts, sir."

"Like?"

"Now you know a little more about beliefs and customs in the far east. It might save you from a bad misunderstanding."

"Japan is not the same as Korea, Iris."

Duncan shrugged. "Same planet, right?"

"Same planet, different culture. You got any more positive thoughts for me?"

Hector searched for an opening in the traffic and finally located one between a pair of Mongooses. "I got one." He sped into the opening, bullying his way between the two smaller vehicles. Ignoring the annoyed honks from the drivers, he slipped further into a non-existent, albeit self-made middle lane. "You've got me as a driver." He swerved around oncoming transports and bus shuttles, always finding the right amount of wiggle room to move between the lanes.

Baelson shivered at an oncoming Hog that Hector waited until the last minute to dodge. "Um, anything else?"

Duncan reconned the way forward. Seeing a more compact area of traffic waiting for them, he sighted over to the right side of the street. There he located a solution in the empty construction site of one of Falchion's newest plazas. The L-shaped building had a courtyard. The open space was incidentally connected to the last thoroughfare between them and their destination.

"Heck, junction coming up on your right."

"I see it. You up for an off-road experience, LT?"

Baelson didn't answer. He didn't get a chance to either. Hector maneuvered them off the street, taking a hard turn that caused a passing Hog to screech to a halt. They bounded through a gap in the perimeter safety nets that surrounded the site. Duncan felt an immediate difference in the texture of the ground as it changed from smooth asphalt to bumpy cobblestone. Hector arced across the courtyard. Doing so kept them clear of several dozen men in hardhats, a native construction crew that mostly kept to the building. Distance didn't stop them from voicing their displeasure at the intruding Hog. They shouted at them as the vehicle dashed around a pair of decorative fountains near the center. Duncan watched the crew curse them to the high-heavens, some so intricately that he considered writing them down. Too bad he didn't speak Hungarian. He only smiled and waved, oblivious to whatever it was they were actually saying.

Hector located another gap in the perimeter net in time to pass through it, reentering the next thoroughfare with ease. The street was far clearer than the last. At its end, the buildings of Falchion lessened ahead of a deforested dirt road. Said road was a straight shot to the base's starport.

"See that, sir?" Hector chided. "That is what you call tactical meditation. You get it now?"

Baelson nodded after he'd sank into his seat. "Sure do. Get me out of here now, Paulson."

"Roger that." Hector accelerated down the street.

Duncan squinted past the fast-approaching perimeter fence to the starport's interior. A handful of starships lay in wait on the tarmac. He singled out the one that remained in place. An increasingly shortening line of military and civilian passengers walked up its entry ramp. "Looks like you're right on time, LT. Want us to break the gates down too?"

"No, I-"

"You heard him Heck, floor it."

"Copy."

Hector slammed the accelerator, sending them lurching down the last 50 meters to the gate. Baelson grabbed onto the Hog's frame for dear life. "Woah! Hey-hey, slow down! Slow-"

A deafening screech sounded from the Warthog's front wheels as they locked up. Hector swerved right, drifting them across the last 10 meters of the road. The Hog's momentum carried it right up to the security checkpoint. It stopped a step short of the threshold before it settled back down on all four wheels.

Duncan looked past the dust cloud they'd kicked up to the two security booths, one on either side of the entrance. The MPs inside were slowly rising from where they'd crouched for cover. They were in awe of what to them must have looked like a suicide attempt. Next, he checked on the transport. The entire passenger line had stopped. Everyone on it had turned to see the commotion at the gate.

"Looks like that bought some time." He looked down to Baelson. "You might want to get moving, sir."

The lieutenant sat in silence. He had his hands still braced against the dashboard, staring blankly at the two troopers. He seemed to sober up once the realization hit him that he was in fact still alive.

He fell back into his seat and breathed in the morning air as though it were going out of stock. "Remind me never to ask you guys for a ride again, okay?"

"Sir, no sir." Hector grinned. "We love your reactions too much for that."

"Try that crap again and I'll-...you know what, forget it, that was actually sort of fun."

Duncan and Hector traded a knowing look and fist-bumped.

"It's a sendoff from us to you, sir." Duncan added. "We wanted to make it special."

Hector saluted. "It's been an honor, LT."

Baelson hopped out of the Hog and shook his head clear. "Don't say that. It makes me feel like I'm about to die, and I almost did." He held a hand out for Duncan to throw his duffel down to him and slung it over his shoulder. He stopped to take one last look at Falchion. His memories of the place brought on an exhausted but satisfied smile. He nodded off to them. "Iris, Paulson, be seeing you. Send my regards to the rest of the squad for me."

"No problem." Hector said.

As Baelson moved for the ship, Duncan hailed after him. "Have fun in Korea."

The LT gave him the thumbs up while he carried on across the tarmac. He reached the end of the passenger line, many of whom kept a wary eye on him and his entourage.

Duncan scratched his chin in contemplation. For him, the whole circumstance that saw the lieutenant temporarily transferred from the 7th made little sense. "Hey Heck?"

"Yeah?"

"Tell me something. Why would you pull a guy from the front to go train recruits in the rear? Why not pull some old DI out of retirement instead? It doesn't make much sense to me to get a guy who's doing good out here just to bring in new blood that's probably not as skilled."

Hector watched the lieutenant disappear up the ramp along with the last of the line. "He's pretty good. He's been a solid officer too. But you have to understand, he's a victim of the REE. There's no helping it if that's what's happening."

"The REE? Is that English?'

"No, it's economics. To be precise, it's a thing called Rear Echelon Economics."

"Wow, I didn't think it could but your explanation actually confused me even more."

The rear ramp of the craft lifted up and closed. Its engines went to work completing their warm-up sequence, creating a low-pitched whine that steadily rose.

"Okay, think of it like a long-term investment. The rear echelon doesn't have the people it needs with the relevant experience. We do. At the same time, we need fresh meat to keep the battalion rolling in the future. The rear has that. We take a handicap now, we get a benefit later. With Baelson, these recruits in Korea get a teacher with up-to-date experience and we get well-trained fresh meat later on. It's a tradeoff, see?"

"I...think so."

"No you don't."

"Nope. They should've just gotten somebody else. There's no telling when or where we'll be deployed next. Bravo will be scrambling to find someone to take his place before then. Let's be real, that long-term investment of yours might come a tad too late to do us any good."

"Maybe." Hector left it at that. The engines of the starship finished cooking, freeing the craft to begin its ascent. A concerted effort from the thrusters on its hull shifted the bow in the direction of the skies. The engines at the rear let out a flash of takeoff flames that Duncan was wise enough to shut his eyes against. Opening them again, he saw the ship rocketing off into the atmosphere where it blended and faded into the clouds.

"Well, that's that." He sighed.

"Yeah. We got some time before weapon's training. Let's swing by Matchstick and the others to-..." Hector put a hand to his ear. "Say again, sir.?"

Duncan peeked over. "Hey, who-"

"Staff. Earpiece." Hector swiftly replied in order to shut him up. "Sorry sir, that didn't come out too clear. Say again, please."

Duncan relented that he'd left his own earpiece back at the Dante Building. He wished he knew right away what was being said because it made Hector sit upright in his seat, glancing here and there, confused and excited.

"What is it?"

"Wait, Nova ran into them?" Hector chuckled, peeking in the direction of the Dante Building.

Duncan edged closer to try to overhear, not that proximity made much of a difference.

"No problem, sir. We'll be right over." Hector grabbed the wheel and began ecstatically turning them back towards the base. "Big news just dropped, D. Big."

"How big?"

Hector smirked at him. "Like '1st Platoon is a real thing again' big."

:********:

The Staff ended the call on his earpiece. With the elements he needed now on the way, he focused on meeting the new elements that he didn't remember asking for. It wasn't that they were an unwelcome surprise but that they certainly were a surprise to him.

He turned in his bunk to get another eyeful of the band of troopers calling themselves Squad Whiskey. The group were deep into the room and close to Deak's bunk. Without knowing it, when they came in, they passed right by another bunk. They journeyed on into the platoon quarters without realizing that the bunk's owner was still there. The Staff was in the middle of a nap when the sound of the elevator woke him up. The number of footsteps that came inside made him believe it was the rest of Epsilon. He'd let them off the hook for breakfast earlier in the morning after leading them on a rigorous PT run through the mountains. That belief changed the second they opened their mouths. Unfamiliar voices moving through the room made him keep an eye open. He stayed in his bunk and waited. His motionlessness left him unseen to the six new arrivals that came treading through the area, searching for a way out. Deaks' old bunk proved to be their best landmark for navigating the space.

It also helped Nova to find them before one of them made a big mistake. She had also stayed behind to rest. The strangers must have woken her up and just in time too.

The Staff flung his legs off his bunk and leapt down to the floor without making a sound. He casually approached the gathering, not wanting to disrupt the conversation as the newcomers introduced themselves.

"Sergeant Jaxon Dalton," said the older man too well-tanned to be from the British Isles like his accent suggested. His was in good shape for his age though with said age having relocated most of his hair from the top of his head down to his face. He named the rest of his gang in turn.

Viktoria Dasznow. Corporal. Her lack of confidence didn't need to be spoken for. The prior exchange the Staff overheard between her and another squad member made the issue pretty transparent.

James Langhorst struck him as the type that could smile away a bullet wound. His high-spirits were tempered by a subtle reservedness, the kind of restraint that one of his squadmates seemed to lack. It likewise clashed with what the Staff knew of Zack's wilder tendencies.

Tobias 'Toby' Berlin was the smallest ODST the Staff had ever seen. His height made him a match for everyone's shoulder. Despite his size, he demonstrated none of the inhibition the Staff heard from him on the way in. He offered Nova a heartfelt salute that earned him a look of adoration from Epsilon's engineering specialist. Yet unbeknownst to her another member of the squad was watching her in like fashion.

Frank Reznik looked familiar. The Staff swore he'd seen him before on a men's clothing commercial. Either that or the industry itself was too full of lookalikes to tell the difference. Seeing a man like him here was strange to say the least. What concerned the Staff more was how concerned he appeared to be with Nova. He was quick to realize however that what he was seeing wasn't exactly concern. Too bad for the new guy, Nova's concentration was fixed on someone else.

Sid Mackley was an open book by appearances alone, not that he was judging him by his cover but by the title written on it. A title which, if there were one, would essentially read: 'has disciplinary issues'. The trooper's attempt to touch the penultimate piece of Deaks' collection was already a red flag. Nova must have thought the same since she maintained a close watch on him throughout the introductions.

"That's about everyone." Dalton said. "Like I said, we're here to operate alongside your squad as part of 1st Platoon. On that note, can you introduce me to your staff sergeant? I need to report to him as soon as possible."

"No need, sir. He can introduce himself just fine." Nova gestured to the Staff as he walked into the circle, spooking everyone except the sergeant.

"Staff Sergeant Atell, sir, it's an honor to meet you." Dalton said and held out a hand.

The Staff took it and shook. He was pleased to find the man's grip was strong. In his time he found that he could tell a lot about a man by how he shook hands. "Same to you, sergeant. You can call me 'Staff', it's easier than the full thing."

"Understood, sir." Dalton pointed to the squad. "These are-"

"No worries, I overheard." The Staff rounded on them. The group were standing at stiff attention. He immediately focused on Mackley; the sole individual willing to match his gaze. The Staff was willing to meet his challenge in an unspoken test of wills that saw the younger of the two turn away.

"So you guys are Whiskey?"

"That'd be us, sir." Langhorst said proudly.

"I see. And you're trying to be part of my platoon?"

"Not trying, sir." Mackley declared. "We are."

Langhorst spared his squadmate an elbow to the ribs. Nevertheless, the Staff saw the same thought process working behind the private's eyes like clockwork, waiting for the next instant to voice itself. He walked down the lineup.

"You want to hear something funny? I don't remember asking for reinforcements. Not personally. I'm guessing the colonel made the decision. That's alright. This is his battalion and he can do with it as he sees fit. However, this is technically my platoon. The colonel may see his choice with picking you all as a good one but as for me, I'm not totally convinced." He stopped in front of Mackley. "Not with all of you."

The bait was on the hook. The Staff patiently waited for his catch to latch on. He saw the same spark burn brighter in the private, watched him open his mouth and knew he'd taken a bite.

"We can prove it to you, sir. We're worth it."

"What was that?"

Dalton shook his head at his subordinate. "Easy, son."

"I said we can prove it, sir. Being part of this platoon, we can show you we're the best choice, better than anybody else, no contest."

The Staff took a closer look at him. "Is that right?"

"Yessir."

"Hmph. Tell you what, you've already proven something to me. You have a hard time figuring things out. There are rules we have here at Falchion. They're mostly unspoken because we figured everybody knows them." The Staff pointed to Deaks' collection. "For one, touching another Helljumper's belongings without their permission is a prime example of something you don't do."

Mackley caught on and tried to explain himself. "Oh that, I-, ugh-"

"Especially if that Helljumper is no longer living."

Mackley tightened up, eyes wide as he glanced at the bunk. He tried donning a smirk that only served to betray his nerves. "Well, that's-...that's just common sense, isn't it sir?"

"You're right. Common sense doesn't seem to be that common though, does it?"

The private's smirk vanished.

"We-, we're your reinforcements, s-, sir." Berlin stammered. "We're a little green but we-, we'll put in the work. Whatever you need us to do, we can get it done."

The Staff stopped to examine him, making him blush and stare down at his feet.

"You're about seven years too late to be calling yourselves my reinforcements, trooper."

His words made the young private brace himself as if in preparation for a blow.

"But late is better than never."

That had the opposite effect. Berlin peeked up at him, surprised.

The Staff scrutinized the resolve emanating from each trooper Whiskey had to offer. He looked to Dalton. It didn't take much to pick up on the greenhorn status of the first five. It likewise took little effort to figure out the veteran of the group. The man was old enough that he could have led people like Captain Harper in a squad of his own. Regardless, Dalton still had some fight in him. Living in the ODSTs for so long helped the Staff notice those qualities right away. He gazed upon the grizzled trooper with the respect due for an older brother in arms, one that decided to return to the fight. He also looked to him with a silent question, a request that the sergeant nodded his approval of.

"Nova, check with the rest of Epsilon. See if they're here yet. Tell them we're going to give our new friends a tour of the area."

"A tour as in a... special kind of tour or a normal kind?"

"Special. I don't want anything less than the best for our VIPs here."

"Uhuh. Heck or Yuri?"

"Surprise me."

"Roger that." Nova said with a good deal of nefarious enthusiasm. She walked off for the elevator, switching on her earpiece.

The Staff also moved for the elevator. "Whiskey, ditch your bags and follow me."

The squad, caught unawares, threw their bags down where they could. They hustled after their squad leader who was already right beside Epsilon's.

"Where're we going, sir?" Langhorst asked.

"On a little field trip. My treat."

:********:

Duncan wasn't sure what to expect. Close to a decade of a life spent with Epsilon alone was suddenly coming to an end. Without warning, this new crew of troopers was sitting in their room. Strangers as they were, the Helljumper brand ensured they weren't outsiders. The community was a relatively small one in the wider scope of the war. Their occupational specialty also made them close-knit, more so than any other UNSC force. Then again, he was pretty biased. Years of active duty in a specific niche of the armed forces tended to have that effect.

During the ride back to the Dante Building the questions still stood. How capable were these new guys? Could they adapt to their roles fast enough? Could they honestly replace those that came before them?

Probably not. Not yet.

Time and skill would be the deciding factor. Epsilon would have to wait and see how Whiskey shaped themselves for the task at hand.

In the middle of a particularly heavy spot of traffic, Hector returned to his earpiece.

"Who's saying what now?" Duncan asked.

"It's Nova. One sec. Hey, what's up?" Hector sighted an upcoming three-way and angled for the exit. "A special? So who-…"

Duncan tuned out the blaring horns of passing vehicles to listen to the conversation. The murmurs from the earpiece were indecipherable. The same couldn't be said for Hector's mood. Nova's side of the chat was pissing off his competitive side, evidenced by how he bared his teeth at the rearview mirror like a jealous angler fish. "Alright, no problem. Let's hope he doesn't crash us into Csaba then. Be there in a sec."

"So what's up?"

Hector left the exit route and drove them onto a less congested road adjacent to the one that passed the company quarters. "The Staff wants a special tour for the new guys. He let Nova choose which of us is going to take the lead."

"I guess you didn't get picked?"

"Right. If not me, you know who."

"Oh." Duncan laughed to himself. "Do we really need to do that this early?"

"It's the ruling. We'll just roll with it."

"Or in it."

Hector grinned in agreement. He found the exit he was searching for and carried them down, turning them onto the last street. Duncan noticed two more Warthogs parked in front of the Dante Building. The rest of the crew were standing out on the sidewalk. The front doors of the ground floor were open and a new group of ODSTs were walking outside. Nova and the Staff were leading them over to the Hogs, their presence explaining exactly who they were.

"Those are our guys." He said.

"Copy that. Let's not keep them waiting." Hector hit the brakes and slowed, the scream of the wheels gaining a few curious looks from the gathering.

"Heck, D, get over here!" Zack yelled.

Hector wheeled around and parked behind the last Hog. The pair hopped out and headed for the meeting, sizing up what was supposed to be Squad Whiskey.

Duncan slowed. He sensed that he was also being scrutinized. The feeling came from none of the first faces he saw, most of them young. Then he laid his eyes on the source. Immediately his heartbeat picked up the pace. It sent a fiery sensation pulsing through his whole body which, acting on pure memory, forced him to salute.

His conscious mind slowly registered what he was doing. It was too little too late though and the whole group, or rather the whole platoon, was staring at him confused. All except one. The man he recognized as being the same one responsible for making him the ODST he was today stepped forward. He had a few more grays in his famous beard but little else that time had managed to change. His mask of stoicism broke as he observed him, becoming like that of a proud father.

"So it was you I ran into back there." Dalton said. "Iris, right? What was it, Derek Iris?"

"Duncan, sir. Duncan Iris."

"Right-right. Good to see you're still kicking out here."

Duncan couldn't help the shaky smile that arose from deep down. He eased his stance. "Good to see you too, sir. You're a sight for sore eyes."

"When he's not making them sore himself." One of his squad whispered. Dalton was swift to lock down the sentiment with a glower that brought too many memories to mind for Duncan to count. His time at selection was felt more than remembered. Against the old wounds left behind for Fireteam Charlie, it was like a breath of fresh air to see someone alive and well from his days at Ravenport.

The Staff stepped in. "You know him?"

"I do, sir." Dalton replied admiringly. "I trained him myself a few years back. It's hard to believe he's still going this strong, especially this far into the war." He returned to Duncan. "Proud of you trooper. I'm sure you've done some good work with these people."

"Thank you, sir." Duncan said. He felt pleased. He also felt odd. Despite his old instructor's disposition, he detected an underlying sadness in his tone that he almost missed. He wondered why that was when Zack gave him a congratulatory slap on the back.

"He sure has. He saved us a couple times too. Well, more than a couple. We paid him back plenty, trust me."

"I believe you, trooper. I'd like to know your names though if that's fine with all of you. So far I only know the one I trained."

"Alright, let's get to it then." The Staff said and commenced a who's who of the squad, working his way chronologically from Nova to Renni according to their callsigns. He gestured for Dalton to pick up the baton for Whiskey once he was finished. The sergeant called them out by name and callsign as well.

There was Dasznow, Whiskey-2.

Mackley, Whiskey-3.

Langhorst, Whiskey-4.

Reznik, Whiskey-5.

Finally, the unusually short Berlin, Whiskey-6.

"And I'm Whiskey-1." Dalton finished. "However, I'm willing to have our squad name changed if you need it to be. I'm aware of the 'E' naming scheme this platoon has. If you want us to adjust it in order to match, just say the word."

"That won't be necessary." The Staff said. "Whiskey's fine."

"How about Rum?" Zack interrupted. "Rum sounds good."

"Or Wine." Nova suggested. "It's more elegant."

"Come on, stop messing around you guys." Hector said. "We all know Brandy is the best name we could give them."

"No-no-no." Mito thought. "They need something more respectful. 'Sake'. You can be Sake-1, Sake-2-"

"Agua de Vida." Rico cut in. "Take it or leave it."

Epsilon turned their attention to Yuri. He scowled at them. "If you're expecting me to say 'Vodka', I'm going to give all of you black eye." He looked to Whiskey. "But it is good name though."

Dalton pretended to consider it. "These are good ideas. I'll need to write them down. What do you guys think?"

Mackley shrugged. "I kinda like Brandy."

"Rum sounds nice." Reznik pointed out. "Like we're a bunch of pirates."

The short one, Berlin, raised a hand. "Could-, could we do Vodka sir? It's one of the strongest drinks out there. I think it'll say a lot about us if that's what we're called."

The earnestness with which Berlin pondered it caused a round of laughs and howls to pass through the group.

"Even if Brandy's a gentleman's drink, I don't think we'll be calling ourselves that or any others for that matter." Dalton said. "Either way, thanks for the suggestions."

"Wait, Staff?" Zack queried. "We're a platoon now, right? Like, a real one?"

"That's about right. Why?"

"Doesn't that make you 1-Actual now? If it does, can I be Ep-1 now? I call dibs."

The Staff dismissively shook his head. "There's only one 1-Actual. In my estimation, she more than earned the title and more than deserves to keep it. I'll stick with Ep-1."

Zack sighed, surprising the rest of the squad that he actually thought his dream would pan out.

"While we're on that topic, Whiskey, load up. We're taking you somewhere where you can get to know you better." The Staff shared a flash of a grin with Yuri. Taking the signal, the squad as a whole moved for the Hogs.

"Um, don't you mean where you can get to know us better?" Daznow asked.

Her question was met with a smile. "No."

:********:

The drive through the base went smoothly. Leaving the Dante Building, 1st Platoon went on a genuine tour of Falchion. By then the morning traffic had calmed down and enough transiting personnel had caught their flights for the streets to be clear.

The Staff familiarized them with the base's important infrastructure. The commissaries, mess halls and hospitals among others were those Whiskey would be relying on in the near future. So was the Real Time Environmental Training Center or RTETC which the Staff made them take special note of.

The platoon navigated towards Falchion's southeastern extension. They pulled in at the very tip of civilization where dozens of helipads stood clustered together. Several were left occupied with Pelicans and Falcons. The platoon parked at the base of a pad occupied by the former craft. Duncan spotted the men that must have been the dropship's pilot and copilot talking near the rear bay door.

Yuri was the first to leap out. He hustled up the stairs to the top. The pilots saw him coming and hailed him over. The pair were good friends of his, part of the extensive network of comrades and connections he had in the UNSC Air Force.

Their conversation was quick and to the point. At the end of it the pilots walked off, waving the platoon goodbye as they strolled to a nearby maintenance hangar. Yuri strode to the pad's edge and yelled down. "Good to go!"

"Let's move." The Staff ordered.

The platoon dismounted and climbed the stairs. Up on the pad, Duncan felt the open air more fully. The wind was picking up. He checked the horizon for signs of a storm. There were none. The skies were healthy and empty besides the routine Pelican or Longsword squadron. The weather not being a factor, he examined the Pelican and found the true cause. Its fusion drives were active. The pilots left them on standby, prompting a continuous mini-hurricane to issue across the pad. They also left the aircraft itself open.

Yuri was the first inside and made a beeline for the cockpit. Renni, never one to trust him on his own, followed him in order to act as co-pilot. Duncan doubted she went after Yuri to help steer the dropship as much as to steer him. They would need some good guardrails on him despite how fun things were going to get.

Epsilon and Whiskey went in next. The former gravitated to the left side, the latter to the right. Both pulled their security braces into place while the drives became louder.

Yuri's voice sounded over the communications. "Okay, here's deal. Flyboys who gave me this said Falchion air control will think we're supply run headed to Lochaber. We'll ride out 20-Kilometers south, out of range of sensors, before we start special tour. In mean time, enjoy snacks from flight attendant."

"Yuri, we don't have a flight attendant." Renni argued.

"Yes we do. Why do you think you're here?"

Silence answered him. In the bay, Duncan watched as the Pelican began to ascend. The rear door stayed open.

They reached several meters off the ground and yet the door remained open. Duncan saw the play the Staff was going for and held his peace. Mackley did not. Like Duncan, he was the closest to the exit on his row.

"Ugh, hey, aren't you supposed to close the door before take-off? That's the thing you do when you're flying one of these, right?"

"The door stays open." The Staff declared. "Enjoy the view."

Duncan saw different degrees of worry manifest in Squad Whiskey. Worst hit was Berlin. The kid reached for his brace and grabbed the metal frame tight.

Epsilon was the opposite. They did just as they were ordered and enjoyed the spectacle of their new sister squad fidgeting about. Only Dalton was unphased. He seemed to understand exactly what they were up to. In that respect, he was just as comfortable in this situation as them.

The Pelican rotated southward and soared ahead on a steady flight path. For the next few minutes, the newly formed platoon got to experience the peacefulness of the air. The world a full kilometer above the ground was free of Falchion's normal clamor. In its place was left the closest thing to pure silence Duncan had heard in months. However, a constant flow of wind from Viery's westerlies was able to howl into the bay. It ruffled hair and face alike in a cyclical stream of inflow and outflow.

The scenery was good too. Viery's lush green tracks of land, ice-capped mountains and craggy valleys made for the ideal background of a picture. He could have added it to his list of places he wanted to explore during his first year in the 7th. He never ceased to be amazed by the fact that so much time later and he was still taken aback by it. He closed his eyes and started to genuinely enjoy himself.

Yuri's voice returned over the communications. "Attention passengers, we've reached the 20-kilometer mark. However, please remain seated as we are experiencing turbulence."

And the enjoyment was gone.

The faces of Whiskey, once mildly tranquil, grew wary at the news.

"Turbulence?" Mackley questioned. "What's he talking about? There's no-"

Without warning, the Pelican shook violently, causing Mackley to knock the back of his head against the side of the bay.

"See?" Yuri said. "Turbulence. Buckle in, people."

"We're already buckled in!" Mackley shouted as he rubbed his hurting dome.

The dropship tilted by a few degrees, inflicting a secondary blow on the unluckiest member of Whiskey.

"I'm going to ascend to altitude with less of turbulence in five seconds. Please brace yourselves."

With Dalton being the sole exception, Whiskey grasped their braces with white-knuckle intensity. On the opposite side Epsilon was calm. Duncan was beginning to enjoy himself again at seeing Whiskey's reactions, struggling to hold in a laugh at the whitening cheeks of Berlin and Reznik. He counted off a second in his head from the five Yuri proposed, only to feel the fusion drives flare. He flexed the muscles in his neck just as the Pelican shot up into the sky.

The drives roared at triple their previous speed, pancaking Whiskey against their own seats. Duncan felt the elevation before he saw it. The bay radically shifted from horizontal to vertical. He looked to the rear door and saw the world. It was at an angle he was used to seeing it from in a pod right before hitting the ground, except now they were far above it. Nothing other than their security braces kept them from tumbling out of their seats and free-falling more than a kilometer to Reach. The audible strain from the drives accompanied the rapid ascendance that increased that distance many times over.

The bay was filled with screams. Shrieks of shock and horror poured out of the new squad like a flock of seagulls. They screamed at their new predicament and clutched their braces with such strength that Duncan was almost worried they were going to break them.

"HEEYYY!" Lang shouted to the cockpit. "SHUT THE DOOOOR!"

"Please relax back there." Yuri said with a cool that defied the situation. "We're doing best we can. Please remain in seats and enjoy our complimentary rearview."

Duncan saw Renni peek out from the co-pilot's seat then just as quickly dip back, probably to make sure no one had fallen out yet. He checked on the rookies. The group's reactions were as diverse as they came.

Dasznow was on the verge of tears.

Langhorst kept screaming for Yuri to shut the door.

Mackley was simply screaming.

Reznik's eyes were rolling into the back of his head as he prepared to pass out.

Duncan wasn't sure if Berlin was still alive. The young ODST looked to have suffered a premature visitation from the reaper, drained of blood and hope at the sight of the distant, unrestrained vastness of Reach.

"Hey, is he okay!?" Duncan yelled.

Lang heard him and stopped screaming long enough to shake his comrade by the shoulder. "Hey! Hey, Berl, you there!?"

Berlin slowly returned to the land of the living. The color in his cheeks was restored as he looked around the bay, bewildered, then straight away disappeared upon seeing the five-kilometer fall awaiting him below. He screamed long and hard.

Duncan scanned further along the row to Dalton. The sergeant was the polar opposite of his men. Calm and collected, Whiskey-1 exchanged a knowing smile with the Staff.

The outside world shifted and the Pelican steadily returned to its proper orientation. The screaming ebbed. The blueness of the sky came into view as the bay angled up and up and then sum. Soon the craft was again slanted, this time towards the clouds. They were so close that Duncan considered reaching out for one.

"Hey, you guys like rollercoasters?" Mito asked the shell-shocked squad.

"No." Dasznow hissed. "Why?"

At its terminus, the sound of the dropship's drives flickered, dulled and diminished altogether.

Mito grinned. "Because this is kinda like one."

The moment of peace passed and the Pelican arced down into a sharp descent. This time it dove headfirst through the clouds, slowly at the start then with a building speed that rattled the craft like a tin can. The screaming resumed in kind.

Yuri came in again, feigning alarm. "Attention, passengers. We're experiencing technical difficulties. It seems power to fusion drives just ran out. I'm going to work on getting them back online. In meantime, enjoy glide to surface."

"WHY'RE YOU GUYS TRYING TO KILL US!?" Mackley half-protested half-cried over the rushing wind. "WHAT DID WE EVER DO TO YOU!?"

"Does anyone want to answer that!?" The Staff asked.

Zack took up the opportunity. "You guys are guilty of making the biggest mistake you could've made out here!"

Whiskey looked among themselves, equally confused.

"WHAT!?" Mackley cried. "WHAT DID WE DO!?"

Zack smirked. "You joined 7th Battalion, Bravo Company, 1st Platoon!"

The answer stunned Whiskey-3 into silence. In response, Epsilon laughed their heads off at the expense of their newest comrades, the bulk of whom were left dumbfounded.

Zack gave them the thumbs up. "Consider this your official welcome!"

While Epsilon were enjoying themselves, Whiskey looked amongst themselves in a mix of terror and regret. They were reminded what they should have been doing when Berlin broke out screaming again. The rest of the squad were on task shortly thereafter.

The Pelican continued its high-velocity nosedive. The kilometers passed quickly as the clouds grew farther away. Soon Duncan was able to see the tops of the mountains again. He wasn't worried in the least. Part of the reason was his plentiful time spent on HEVs. The other part was trust. Yuri knew what he was doing. Duncan suspected he would take care of things right about-

The drives flickered, burbled and reactivated with a vengeance. The blast of their propulsion was enough to send a new burst of wind surging through the bay, silencing the cries of half its occupants.

The dropship pulled out of its dive at a point where Duncan could see the tops of trees swaying from the pressure-wave. They were now flying a meter above the ground, soaring through a deep valley. The bay leveled out a short jump above a river that wormed through an area of dense forest.

Yuri weaved them left and right, maneuvering around riverbanks covered in tall pines and oaks. The trees would have otherwise been a barrier to a less experienced pilot.

Mackley fiddled with his brace.

Langhorst reached out to stop him. "What are you doing!?"

"Getting out of here, that's what!"

"Civilization's nowhere near here." The Staff said. "You sure you want to risk rucking it with no supplies this far out?"

"I'll take my chances, sir-"

Mackley was thrown back into his seat at the Pelican's next nosedive. The unexpected change in direction granted them a new view, showing them where the river became a waterfall. The bay came close enough for the rear ramp to make contact with it, sending a spray of water splashing inside. Those at the rear received the biggest dose. Duncan got a good baptism that was more akin to a shower compared to the bath that knocked into Mackley, ensuring the trooper stayed put.

In the middle of their descent Duncan realized they weren't flying through a valley at all but more of a hanging valley. The water from the higher elevation fed into a large lake at the base of the waterfall. Gaining some distance on it showed him that they were moving into a substantially larger valley.

Yuri repositioned the craft to soar a stone's throw above the lake. The exhaust from the drives split the surface into a zipper of frothing liquid that peeled apart in their wake.

The dropship dipped closer and once again a spray of fresh water was sent flying into the bay. Whiskey and Epsilon were soaked from head to toe. The former sat dazed in their seats. The latter whooped and hollered, screaming for more. Yuri obliged them. He tilted the Pelican left so that that part of it made more contact with the lake. Another surge was greeted by Epsilon with a hearty chuckle. Then Yuri tilted right, sending an unwelcomed surge at Whiskey. It was greeted with groans and tired sighs.

Yuri did it again, giving everyone an equal dousing before pulling back up into the air.

"Okay everyone, turbulence is over." Yuri announced. "So sorry for inconvenience. Feel free to move out of seats. As we complete our trip back home, we hope to see you again soon on Matchstick Airlines."

None of Whiskey looked ready to take him up on his offer. They remained where they were, grasping at their security braces or lying slumped in their seats.

True to Yuri's word, from there the flight resumed on a gentler course that turned them in the direction of Falchion.

Dalton, like always, remained the exception in his squad. He managed to stay rock-solid throughout the whole experience. Duncan hadn't expected him to crack either. His sturdy spirit made him one of the hardest instructors to surprise or impress back at Ravenport. That seemed to change as he looked between his own troopers and Epsilon with quiet admiration.

"Thank you for that, sir." Dalton said.

"For what?" The Staff replied.

Dalton nodded to his exhausted squad. "I know they still need some work. I'm glad you made it so they can see it too."

The Staff examined Whiskey as well as its leader, the first with concern, the second with palpable respect. "No problem. This was just a little shock therapy to see where their heads are at. I want to test out their unit cohesion tomorrow. For now, they can take it easy. After that, we'll teach them what it means to roll with us."

"Got it. I'll have'em up whenever you need'em."

"0430's our usual time."

"Sounds like a plan." Dalton said, fully pleased with the idea.

Duncan thought him eager to get to work on their rougher edges. Watching the squad, he almost felt sorry for them. He decided not to be. Whiskey was going to be feeling sorry enough for themselves in a day or two.

Salvete - Greetings