Arthur Walls looked over the sentences once again, his eyebrows slightly moving up.
"Not bad. Actually, pretty good, few mistakes, but nothing too serious."
Eleanor sat up a little bit on the couch and tried to hide her satisfaction.
"You've been a good teacher," she said in a failed attempt at modesty.
"I think you're smart, you've just never utilized it."
Ian's door opened, a stretch and a yawn following as he moved to the kitchen. He looked at the two and coughed.
"What are you up to?"
"Your uncle is teaching me ancient Greek."
"Attic and koine, to be precise," Unc corrected. "Her homework last night was translating the Anabasis' first few pages. She did pretty well."
As the former soldier poured boiling water into his mug before dipping a tea bag in, he nodded.
"Always was a favorite of mine. Xenophon trying to get his boys home in one piece."
He took a sip, slightly burning his tongue. As he blew into it and looked for the sugar, Unc moved next to him and got his attention.
"I got to be honest with you boy, she scares me a bit."
"How so, other than the augments, training, height, muscles-"
"I meant learning. It took me a few years to get where she has in only a few days."
"They did choose the best and brightest for the program."
"How old was she when they recruited her?"
Ian stopped stirring the tea and frowned. There were rumors, not particularly good ones, about the… methods that the UNSC acquired Spartans. War orphans, kidnappings, forced conscription, and those were a few of the nicer ones. He waved his hand and shook his head.
"Don't know, and she has no interest in telling us. So just keep teaching her that Greek and let's get on with our lives."
"Boy, I've heard the rumors. I have plenty of questions."
He looked back at Ellen, focused on playing with Artemis with a string she had found.
"I have plenty of gripes and questions about the methods, but it's just rumors. Let sleeping dogs lie."
Unc shrugged and took a piece of bread to throw in the toaster. Ian stepped away and looked out the window, seeing the harvested coffee trees with a sense of accomplishment. The last few had been plucked only a day or two ago, and now all they had to do was let the beans dry in those canvas bags they had wasted extra credits on before selling them off to whatever poor sod wanted them. But now that the harvest was over… There was a lot of free time. It used to be harder, when machines needed repair, hundreds of employees were needed to ensure the crop was irrigated, the soil checked, but with the advancements in tech and automation in the 26th century, farming was a breeze. And it was not like they were starving or needed bills to pay. It was cheap living in the colonies, especially when most of them were glass now. Ian's thoughts were broken as the familiar news reading voice of Micheal Bawden filled his ears.
"Riot police were deployed to the streets of New Harare last night as agitators from the Dzimban Liberation Front led protests and committed civil disturbances across the city. Nathaniel Bharu reports."
He turned to the screen, his face crumpling in disgust as the sight of burning tires and barricades flickered.
"Tear gas and bean bag rounds filled the air of New Harare as a protest against the recent proposal for federation with Saare and Ndako turned violent. As rumors of police informants and allegations of ONI spies filled the crowd-"
"What are they mad about?" Eleanor asked innocently.
"Bloody insurrectionists have a new angle now," Unc snorted. "Never liked the UEG, but the problem is we're a self-governing colony in all but name. Those other two they wanted to put us in federation with were corpo colonies that went bust. We're being forced to take on two duds and thank our Earth overlords for the privilege."
"But how does that help the insurrectionists?"
"Because it pisses us off," Ian answered. "Reminds us that we're still in some way being run by some of the dumbest people alive."
"-two counts of disorderly conduct, and three men were accused of murder, having necklaced a supposed ONI agent."
Eleanor's head tilted a bit.
"What's necklacing?"
"You don't want to know," Unc said grimly.
"Ian-"
"He's right. You don't."
"Tensions are not just high on the streets, but the higher levels of government, which has asked for calm, but has released a statement that the CAA was informed that the plan, if true, would force the hand of Dzimba to take "drastic actions that all would prefer to avoid." Whether this means independence or further restriction on imports or exports is to be seen."
The two men cursed at the last part.
"Told you boy. Something always goes wrong."
"There goes the coffee. Son of a bitch," Ian agreed. "Well, at least it can't get any worse."
"-we have also heard that the Prime Minister is preparing to mobilize the militia to defend and secure the colony should the current crisis escalate."
Ian sighed.
"Me and my big mouth."
Eleanor tapped her fingers on the couch as she tried to figure out where she would stand in the current situation. Of course, she would most likely serve the UEG's interests and support the UNSC should it try to retake Dzimba… but there were a lot of tricky questions and no good answers.
"I think we should watch something else," she said politely.
"Good call," Unc said as he turned it off. "Better we all do something outside or clean up a bit. Get off this nonsense. Speaking of calling, your mother wanted to speak with you."
"Oh joy. I'll get onto that. In an hour or two."
"See, at least my kids don't bother to call. It makes it easier.
"So how are things going?"
"Oh, they're just as good as last time."
Ian crooked an eyebrow.
"So terrible."
"Beyond terrible actually," Margaret Walls snorted. "Your former friends at the UNSC have made a real mess of our work. They've delivered the wrong bodies to the wrong families about ten times now."
"And how many bodies have you dealt with so far?"
"Six or seven thousand."
"That's a low number of mistakes."
"It should be zero."
Even light years from Earth, Ian could feel his mother's anger through the screen. He could not exactly blame her, she had only been doing the UNSC's job for months on end in recovering the dead for them at little to no cost, and then they would go and take her hard work and ruin it.
"We've had riots at some of the star ports over the entire Voi area and New Mombasa being little more than rubble. People want to go home, and there isn't one left. It's a real dog and pony show over here. How's the farm?" she asked while taking a sip of tea.
"Coffee's been harvested, we got a few weeks until we can do anything with them though. At current prices, we're looking at a million credits or so."
"Oh, only a million. I was expecting a couple hundred."
"Ha-ha. You know, my colonel once asked where I got my sarcasm and humor from, because dad was far too nice and honest to have me turn out the way I did."
"I wonder. I should be coming home soon; my time here is at an end according to the group."
"Are they firing you?"
"No, it's standard procedure to only be doing this for so long. May negatively affect my mental health according to the professional shrinks they have on payroll. Useless bastards they are."
"No comment."
He hated to say it, but he did miss his mother a fair bit, and not just because she was the main person in the house who cooked. Ever since his father died, he felt that as close as they already were, they had somehow gotten closer.
"Any timeline?"
"Of course not! I could be here another month, a few days, maybe tomorrow I leave. It won't make much of a difference though, it still will take what, a week or two of travel, even if we get on target?"
"Yeah. Well, I'll be happy when you get home. I missed you."
Margaret smiled.
"I missed you too honey. Anything else going on?"
"Not really. Unc's thinking about visiting the club tonight and-"
"Ian!" a voice called from the kitchen.
"Yeah?"
"Where's the salt?"
"Upper left cupboard next to the stovetop."
A few seconds of silence followed.
"Thank you!"
"Yeah. Anyway, uh, Unc is-"
He stopped as he looked at his mother's startled face.
"Mum?"
"Did I hear a woman's voice? In our house? And I'm not there?"
Ian's blood went cold as he realized the fatal error he had just committed.
"Uh-well, you see, it… dammit. Hold on a second. I can't hide anything from you."
He moved over to his door and leaned out. Eleanor was wearing the same T-shirt and BDU pants she seemed to prefer, noticing as he knocked on the door frame to get her attention. She crooked her head slightly and walked over to him.
"Lunch isn't ready yet."
"We have a bit of a crisis that we need to handle now."
"Oh?"
"My mother heard you and I need to explain things."
To his surprise, Ellen showed little shock or concern. He at least thought that the idea of not telling the woman of the house that someone new had arrived without her permission was more than a little rude… Well, she was a Spartan. Hell did she care?
"Alright."
"So, I'm going to tell her a bit about you, then you'll come in and introduce yourself. Any issues?"
"No."
"Great. I'll give you the signal, same as always."
"Got it."
He cleared his throat and stepped back in front of the screen.
"Mum, do you remember when I told you about that one soldier I was with a lot?"
"The Spartan?"
"I told you they were a Spartan?"
"Ian, you hardly ever shut up about her."
"That-that's not…her?"
"You're as bad as your father when it comes to secrets, she's there isn't she? Are they allowed to do that?"
"Y-yeah. They-she got permission."
He was dumbfounded, almost certain he barely ever mentioned or spoke about Ellen. Was he really that bad at being clandestine? Was it just with his mother? God, he hoped so.
"Well then I'll just bring her in since I already blabbed about it," he grunted before turning to the Spartan, making a clenched fist, and twitching his head.
She quickly moved to his side and faced his mother.
"Mum, this is Spartan-074, but her name is-"
"Eleanor?" the screen said.
Ian looked at his mother, then Ellen, then back in complete confusion.
"Hello Margaret," she responded kindly.
"You-you know her? You know my mother?"
"I met her while I was working in Kenya, I wasn't aware the one you were talking about was her."
"I… wasn't aware either. Uh, since you've both met, I guess introductions aren't needed. She's staying with us for a while, is that all right?"
"Of course. I enjoyed her company when we were in Kenya."
"Where are you now ma'am?"
"Afghanistan. Technically the Pakistani border. This one's a real mess. Kenya at least was orderly, and the locals were gone. These tribesmen are going to kill me, either because they don't like me and take a shot, or they'll kick my blood pressure to fatal levels. It's terrible here. But we're almost finished."
"Good to hear."
"I'll be coming back soon; I take it she has the guest bedroom."
'I haven't touched your room at all," Eleanor lied.
"Alright. Well, I have plenty to look forward to when I get back. And it would be nice to have another woman in the house, especially to offset Arthur."
Ian nervously laughed and nodded. A hundred thoughts ran through his mind all at once, none of them exactly happy.
"Well, since you both know each other, I guess introductions are not necessary."
"I haven't hurt your son or your brother-in-law, I swear it."
"Shame about that last part."
"Mum!"
"Well, it was good seeing you and knowing you're safe."
"You as well ma'am," the Spartan answered as she walked out of Ian's room.
"Oh Eleanor, one more thing!"
She turned back to the screen, hoping she would not mention-
"I like the hair."
"Thank you, ma'am," she sighed before leaving.
Ian waited a moment or two, and as the door closed he snapped his head back to his mother.
"Please tell me you didn't say anything-"
"I may or may not have told her some things involving the Spartan I thought was different from the one I spent a month with."
"Oh God. Any-anything else?"
"Just a few photos and memories of you."
He wanted to scream and punch something within reach, but he controlled himself, if barely.
"No kid pictures, right?"
"Of course not! I have standards. Sometimes. And why do you care?"
"I-it-look, I'm confused why she didn't say anything. If she knew that you were my mother, it just makes no sense."
"The UNSC seems not to, especially the Spartans. And who knows, maybe she didn't want to identify herself. Secrecy and all that."
"I… guess. If you didn't tell her anything too embarrassing, it can't be too bad. She's a friend, but I like a little bit of privacy."
"Define embarrassing."
He started to feel himself sweat a bit.
"Anything that I may have said about her to you."
There was an uncomfortably long silence before the screen froze up.
"Oh no, we're losing connectivity! Love you son, see you soon!"
"Mum? Mum! Are you-" he sighed and rubbed his face. "Love you too."
"Bye honey!"
For a second, he thought the quality was nearly clear, but given the distance and unreliability of non-military communication devices there was no answer. But there was something else that was bothering him. He went out into the kitchen and stood next to Ellen, looking at the boiling pot on the stove.
"Stew. Used some of the extra meat in the fridge."
"I see."
As bad as she was at emotions or reading most people, the two of them had been together long and close enough that she could tell something was on his mind.
"What's wrong?"
"Why didn't you say anything to me or mum?"
She was slightly taken aback not only by the question, but the slight anger in his voice as he asked it. Taking a moment or two to think, she shrugged.
"UNSC policy."
"You couldn't have at least said anything to her? And I called her when she was in Kenya, were you just not around?"
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"Ian, are you interrogating me?"
Now he was on the back foot, his face quickly melting from anger to embarrassment, and maybe a little bit of shame.
"No, it's just…"
He rubbed the back of his head and avoided her gaze.
"It would have been nice to know you were ok."
"I had bigger priorities. That and I really wasn't supposed to be anywhere near your mother."
"Really?"
"Having one less super soldier fighting and spending time helping civilians is not exactly the best use of resources. I got reprimanded for staying with her, actually."
"Oh."
Now he was completely embarrassed and finally looked back at her.
"Sorry. Forget I said anything."
He was halfway through the lounge before she stopped him.
"Ian, you're right, I should have at least said something."
"Don't worry about it," he grunted as he left the house, trying to find something to do.
She watched as he left, a slight twinge of fear turning to concern. Was he really all right? She had never seen him bothered about much before, even when they were in the thick of it and under fire. But there was something wrong with how he reacted. She tapped her fingers on the edge of the stove top before looking over at her datapad, which still had the psych report… Part of her wanted to just delete it, only reading the title page of it and finding it little more than a transcript of Ian's first and only visit to his Veteran Affairs provided therapist. On the other hand, who knew what was still there in the other half? She held her finger on the delete button before moving it away. She had no explanation as to why she was as concerned as she was, why she went to the point of violating his privacy, any of it. But she felt some obligation to do so, and it kept her from moving on. Moving to the first page, she was greeted with a summary.
Sergeant Ian Walls was a difficult patient. All questions were met with either sarcasm, cynicism, or irreverence.
She smirked at this assessment, finding it more accurate than any other description of him.
Given the circumstances and his service record, he is surprisingly stable, considering the high rate of suicide, addiction, and mental issues in his regiment, which has two or three times the average of the above issues of any other Army unit.
Slightly surprising but given the Light Infantry's constant deployments and use as a damage control unit, rushed in to salvage lost battles or units, it was not a terrible shock.
However, his mental health is at risk, especially when it comes to inter-personal relationships and dealing with some elements of the trauma he experienced during the conflict with the Covenant.
That was enough to keep her attention. She spent most of the afternoon reading the look into her friend's battered psyche. Especially if he did not want her to.
XXXXXX
"What're you reading?"
She nearly dropped the datapad in surprise, amusing Ian to no end. It had been more than a few hours after his mother's disastrous vidcall, and it was well into the afternoon.
"Just… some stuff."
"Alright," he said with little concern. "Unc told you about what's going on tonight, right?"
She gave him a blank stare.
"I'll take that as a no," he sighed. "He's going to join his hunting club buddies for dinner, and I'm going over to Piet's. You can stay here, or join one of us."
She mulled her options for a moment or two then sniffed.
"I'll join you."
"You do know what that entails, right?"
"Not really."
"You're going to be in a house with two civvies and three kids. I know you can handle the kids, but Piet and Annalie I'm not sure about. I know how bad you are with them."
"I think I can handle myself. That and I'd prefer not to be alone."
Ian nodded.
"I thought you'd say that, so they know the both of us are coming. If you need a crash course, it'll take about 5 or 10 minutes to get over to their place, and I can help."
"I think I'll be fine."
"I sure as hell hope so."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing, we can head out now if you're ready. I somehow doubt you need to get yourself ready."
"Give me a minute.
"I'll be in the truck."
Within fifteen minutes they were pulling down the dirt road toward the middle of the massive plaas.
"I don't think I've ever seen so many animals in my life, let alone cows," Eleanor said as she looked at the herds populating the fields around them.
"It's pretty much a whole village with the amount of workers and animals. Even with the automatic stuff, it still takes about forty or so people to manage, the De Vries included."
"Wow."
"The Walls' can barely handle beans, let alone animals, so more power to them. But I know this place pretty well, I watch the kids when their parents go out and do stuff."
"So, they like you?"
"Well, they tolerate me, so that's enough."
Ellen chuckled as they pulled up to a sizable Cape Dutch style house, whitewashed walls and thatched roof standing above the rest of the estate. To an Afrikaner like the De Vries, it was a dream home of the highest order. She seemed to have no opinion, finding the, for lack of a better term, spartan farmhouse that the Walls lived in fine enough. Three figures on the front veranda waited for the truck to park before rushing to it.
"Ian!" a few high-pitched voices called out as he stepped out.
"Oh no, you all remembered me!"
He was nearly tackled by three children, a flurry of dirty blond hair and Afrikaans all around him. He laughed as he picked the smallest and youngest one up and held her on his shoulder.
"My goodness, you've gotten bigger since the last time I saw you!"
"It's only been a few weeks onkel!" she said in thick accented English.
"And you two, boys already got a shoulder for rugby, and you sweetheart, are a spitting image of your mother."
The two laughed, but the one he was holding had gone silent. He looked up at her and followed her gaze to the woman in the passenger seat.
"Are you going to come out, or do I have to pull you out?" he asked humorously.
Ellen closed her eyes and took a deep breath before stepping out and going around the hood of the Spade, stopping next to him as he let the one down from his shoulder. All three children looked up at her in awe, the slight signs of embarrassment over their reaction flashing across her face.
"Now kids, this is Ellen. She's a good friend of mine, and you're going to be nice to her, right?"
They all barely paid attention to him, absolutely fascinated at the newcomer he had brought to their house. She was unlike anything they had ever seen, and even as young as they were, they could tell under the long-sleeved shirt she wore that something was different about whoever this was. The boy's face turned slightly red, but to his credit, he stuck his hand out and straightened up a bit.
"I'm Daniel," he said.
"Eleanor. Nice to meet you."
"These are my sisters Alette and Cornelia. She's the youngest."
"Nice to meet you," she responded politely.
Ian cleared his throat and looked at Daniel.
"Your parents inside?"
"The kitchen," the boy mumbled.
"Right. Well, let's go. She's never experienced braai before and your father is probably the best who's ever done it, far as I'm concerned."
"She doesn't know what braai is?" Alette asked, almost not believing what she heard.
"Ellen's not from around here, you can't find braai everywhere."
"I'm happy here then."
"As am I kid. Ah, Annalie, you look gorgeous as ever!"
"Such a charmer, Engelsman. I see you found the children; they missed you."
The two embraced before she looked over to the new arrival, her eyes widening and her mouth agape.
"I… heard that you had someone living with you. I was not expecting-"
"Eleanor," the Spartan quickly said.
"Annalie De Vries. A-a pleasure."
"Don't worry, you're hardly the first to react that way. I take it Piet didn't give you all the details."
"N-no, he did not."
"Bloody typical. Ah, pardon my language, I should know better, especially around the kids."
"It is alright. Daniel, kry jou susters en doen bietjie skoolwerk."
The boy's focus on Eleanor broke as he realized what his mother said.
"Ma!"
"Gaan voor ek jou pa roep!"
"Ja," he said dejectedly, taking his two sisters and dragging them into the lounge to do some schoolwork.
"I recognize your language, Janni spoke it quite a bit."
"Probably nothing repeatable knowing my brother-in-law," Annalie said firmly.
"Correct," Ian chuckled.
He knew enough Afrikaans to talk, but to his regret, he was fluent in insults and curses thanks to his fellow sergeant and their time together, since day one of his enlistment. Just as he was about to defend Janni, the door to the patio opened, followed by a thunderous laugh.
"Ian Walls! My bru! How are you, uitlander?"
"Quite well, you miserable Boer!"
The two grabbed each other, pounding their hands into each other's backs.
"You look good!"
"I'd say the same, but your face is still a right mess," Piet De Vries said with a grin, his wife gasping at the joke Ian took with no insult.
Pieter De Vries was a scion of the Afrikaner family that had left the Outer Colony of Goeie Hoop to strike out on their own. Ever since, they had conquered a large slice of the New Cashel valley. Tall, rugged, and handsome, the childhood friendship between him and Ian had nearly been soured more than a few times over women ignoring the Zimbabwean for the blonde and blue-eyed farmer. But as he looked at the new arrival, he had the good grace to realize he had met a worthy opponent.
"I take it you're Eleanor?"
"I am," she said quietly.
"Nice to finally meet you," he said, offering a hand which she quickly took.
Ian had a bad feeling she was already falling apart at the first hurdle, as she unfortunately had many times before. Spartans, herself included, could interact and be quite friendly with their fellow soldiers, but civilians were an animal they could not truly understand or deal with. He had seen her be perfectly fine at awards ceremonies, but the moment someone not in uniform attempted to engage or converse, she would lock up and barely mutter a word.
"Wine, anyone? From my cousin's estate in Riebeek."
"All the way from the GH? Impressive."
"He pays the import tax and everything. It's a good vintage, 2544. Excellent year."
"Not for me," Ian heard Ellen whisper.
"Verskoon my?" Piet asked in confusion.
"Nothing," she quickly answered. "I don't drink."
"Neither do I," Annalie said gruffly. "I made lemonade."
"That's fine, thank you."
Five minutes later, it was quickly apparent that Ellen was not going to be much of a conversationalist. Worse still, Piet and his wife were trying to force her to become one. Ian's spine almost collapsed into itself from the sheer pain he felt for her, and neither of the De Vries' got the hint that she was not going to budge. If she did respond, it was either a nod, a shake of the head, or simple one-word answers. She shot him a glare once or twice, as if asking him to save her from the agony she was undergoing. He did try more than a few ways to let her escape but failed in every attempt. Ironically, her chance finally came thanks to Piet.
"I take it the kids treated you alright?"
"Yes," she mumbled.
"You three know why you should be nice to her, right?" he called out.
"Because she's onkel Ian's friend." Alette answered.
"No," Piet said with a laugh, "It's because she's a Spartan."
The children's heads shot up at this information.
"Like Master Chief?" Daniel asked.
"Y-yes. I knew him as a… friend."
The three looked at each other and almost rushed towards her, their questions a mix of English and Afrikaans. How many aliens did she fight? What was Master Chief like? Could she really fight thousands and win? Was Master Chief as cool in person as the vids and books said? Ellen was quickly overwhelmed and tried to calm them down.
"Actually dear, why are they doing homework, they should be outside having fun, eh? Me and Ian barely spent any time learning and look how we turned out!"
His wife shook her head and let the children rush outside. Piet was about to make a joke before the patio door opened again, Cornelia sticking her head out.
"Ellen, do you want to play four-square with us?"
The Spartan blinked, looking at Ian as if she needed permission. He grinned and waved her on.
"Just don't hurt them. As big and tough as you are, I'd hate to get on Annalie's bad side."
"He's right on that," Piet giggled.
Ellen nodded and headed outside, joining the kids as they headed down towards a dirt patch with lines dug out. Piet took another sip of wine and raised his eyebrows.
"Is that the one you and my boetie served with?"
"Yeah."
"He said she was funny. And talked a good bit."
"It's… different, when she's around guys like us. Or gals. When she's around soldiers…"
"Ag, I get it. Still, it was like talking to a wall."
"Big, unbreakable, and stopping anything in their path. That's a good way to sum up Spartans, innit?"
"Ha! So now that the adults are alone, can I pick your brains a bit?"
Ian shrugged.
"I'm up for anything."
Piets face turned grim.
"What do you think about this situation with the Colonial Authority?"
"Politics, really Piet?" Annalie said with more than a bit of disappointment.
"I'm with her," Ian sighed. "Can't stand talking about it."
He tapped his fingers on the wine glass before he whistled.
"But if you want to know my honest opinion…"
"Ag nee," Annalie groaned.
"Ellen!"
She hit the ball with ease, knocking it into Daniels square, which he missed by a finger length. Cornelia yelled out in joy as he flopped on the dirt with a hard thud. They had split into pairs, Cornelia in a team with the Spartan against her two older siblings. It was at first meant to make the game a bit fairer for their younger sister, but they quickly came to regret it.
"Ons wen!" she said, much to her sister's annoyance.
Daniel lay on the ground, a grunt of pain being the only response he could give. Ellen quickly moved next to him, kneeling as she touched his shoulder.
"Are you all right?"
He pushed himself onto his knees, his hand over his nose. Blood was trickling over his fingers, and Ellen quickly reached into her pants pocket, pulling out a paper towel she had gotten earlier.
"Here," she said, gently taking his hand and pressing the towel to his nose.
He was staring right into her eyes, his face getting redder with every moment. The bleeding had stopped, but she was concerned what his mother would think. Even with the jokes from Ian and her husband, she could tell that Daniel's mother was a formidable woman, one she had no interest in getting into any kind of conflict with. She patted his shoulder and gave a slight smile.
"Your mother can probably help you better than I can. You should go get her."
"O-ok," he stammered before standing up and rushing back towards the house.
His sisters called after him, following him back. Ellen stood up and looked at the four squares, surprised that she enjoyed the last hour or two as much as she had. When was the last time she had fun? Well, the definition of what was fun differed from most people than to her, so that was a bit of a dumb question. She had enjoyed plenty of moments in her life. She sighed in resignation at the end, not bothered. When was the last time she played four-square? It had been a long time, that was for sure. In fact, the last time she remembered was… she froze up, blankly staring out into the fields of grazing cattle.
That day. When the woman came and asked her questions. Her skin became clammy, her mouth going dry as the memory came back to her. She had not thought about that moment in a long time. A part of her wanted to never visit it again. The next time she saw that woman was on Reach, the bright room she had visited countless times and had never been comfortable in, despite the years and experiences she had been through. Her thoughts became a confusing blur, never quite making sense. She tried controlling her breathing, trying to get focused again. She heard her name multiple times and started to worry that she was going crazy before she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Ellen?"
She turned to find Ian taking a step away from her.
"You all right?"
"Hm?"
"I tried getting your attention a couple times and you didn't respond."
"Oh," she said, rubbing the back of her neck. "Headache. Thinking."
"We can't have you doing that, can we?" he said with a chuckle. "I saw Dannie had a bit of a bloody nose."
"Four-square's a lot tougher than you would think. Especially with kids."
"I'll take your word for it. Foods ready, tables set and everything. I'm sure you'll like it. Sausage and beef ribs."
"That first one sounds interesting."
The two walked to the patio, finding two chairs open, one next to Piet, the other next to Cornelia and Alette.
"You want to sit next to them, or should I?"
"I think I can handle a couple girls, Ian."
"Your funeral."
They both sat down, looking at the stacks of meat in the middle of the table, drinks already placed and ready. Ellen reached a hand out to take some, but saw Ian quickly motion her to stop. She did so in confusion before looking around the table as Piet cleared his throat.
"Cornelia, you want to lead the prayers?"
"All right papa."
"In Engels."
"Papa!"
"You need to practice your English more. You can not spend your life speaking just Afrikaans, especially nowadays," her mother gently chastised.
The 6-year-old nodded before bowing her head, the others at the table except for Ellen doing the same. She figured she should do so as well.
"Heavenly Father, we thank you for this food, and for being able to enjoy this harvest with family and friends. Amen."
"Amen," the others said.
Piet reached for a piece of meat before Cornelia spoke up again.
"Wait, can I say something else, papa?"
He moved his hand back and nodded before everyone bowed their heads, Ellen a bit irritated at not being able to eat but hiding it.
"And thank you for keeping Ian and Eleanor safe and allowing them to be with us. Amen."
Another amen and Piet finally took some food.
"That was very sweet of you Cornelia, thank you," Ian said.
Ellen seemed to hesitate for a moment before leaning over and whispering something in her ear, eliciting a giggle from the girl. Ian gave an inquisitive look to the Spartan, who placed a single finger on her lips before smirking.
"Well, let's eat!" Piet said with another laugh.
XXXXXX
As the hours passed and the sun set, Ian was halfway through his second beer of the night, never going anywhere close to dangerous since he had to drive home. Him and Piet were sitting on deck chairs, smoking cigars in a rare slip of his firm stance against tobacco.
"Janni told me about the exercise you guys did. Really showed the ODST's."
"We had home advantage," Ian said humbly. "I think their recruiting pool is also a bit laxer than before. We're back to the volunteer days in the military, better or worse."
"Hopefully better, considering all the rebels, Innie and Covie."
"It'll take care of itself I bet. Not my problem unless they come this way, and I doubt they have enough ships at this point."
"And the Innies?"
"Hopefully when the UEG has elections again we can vote in moderates."
"I think you're being optimistic, bru."
The veteran shrugged.
"Not my problem, as I said."
"It'll become your problem one day. Then what?"
"Do what I always have," he said as he took another swig of beer. "Shoot my way through and hope for the best. Worked for the last six or so years."
"Ha!"
Ian looked at the house, seeing Annalie washing dishes while Ellen was somewhere entertaining the kids. He felt a slight twinge in his heart looking at Piet's wife before looking away. There was a time when he had wanted her more than anything, but her English-hating father and the fact that she never cared for soldiers or war meant he had to accept defeat when she went after his friend. He had gotten over it, but sometimes the bitter taste of defeat filled his mouth. He realized there was a silence between the two men and felt something was wrong. Piet let out a puff of smoke before sighing.
"Ian, I met with Reggie Hall yesterday."
"Piet, are you kidding me?"
Reginald Hall was the leader of the Dzimban Action Party, who held a quarter of the seats in the Colonial Parliament, and more importantly, were the loudest voices for non-violent, politically gained independence. In the aftermath of the federation proposal, their statements were almost on par with the Insurrection movements in their extremism and opposition to the UEG.
"Ian, if they go through with this plan, we're blery ruined. Not just the farm, everything."
"They're not total idiots, so the CAA will probably back down in a few days. And if they don't, we both know the Unity party has barely any sway, and the other parties will form a coalition to oppose them and tell the Administration they won't approve."
"Probably, but you can only vote for the Liberal Party so many times before you realize they just want to keep the status quo."
"And they have the most seats in Parliament and have so for as long as you and I have been alive. Maybe people are happy with our agreement."
"It'll only last a few more years, when the UEG starts coming back because the war's over, our gentlemen's agreement is dead. This is the first step."
Ian sighed and finished the beer, looking up at the star covered sky. He briefly wondered if he had fought near any of those dots.
"We're not arguing about this. I got enough on my mind as is."
"Ian, they're thinking about calling the militia to arrest pro-Earth people and securing the military outposts."
"I bet Rebel Reg would love that. But he's a wannabe revolutionary prick, so he'd say anything."
"He was told that by Benjamin Hamis."
Ian sat up in surprise, taking a nervous puff.
"The PM wants that?"
"And Archie Spencer couldn't talk him down. From what I heard, and you can't repeat this, they already have targets, and mobilization plans ready at Militia HQ."
"God, everyone's going crazy."
"I saw Janni too, and he told me about your new living situation. And it did come up-"
"What did?"
He looked at the house and scratched his cheek. Ian looked at him in disbelief and a few seconds later shot up from his chair, the cigar falling to the ground as he pointed a finger right into his friend's face.
"No! Absolutely not!"
"Ian, one Spartan can change a war, and we need all the help-"
"If you think I'm going to let her get involved in this nonsense, you're wrong. Is this why we're here? Because you wanted to see for yourself?"
"No, we all wanted to see you, and meet her, I will admit! But if you can convince her-"
"You'll need to convince me first, and that's never going to happen! Do your friends at the Action Party know what will happen if the UNSC finds out that the rebels have a Spartan on their side?"
"No, I don't either."
"So, you have no idea and still want to go through with it? Jesus Christ Piet!"
The Afrikaner winced at the use of the Lord's name in vain having been brought up in a strict Calvinist household, but it hammered the point across of Ian's outrage.
"It was only a suggestion."
"Well tell your rebel friends to shove it. Not happening. And if I have to warn her about you boys and your ideas, no one is going to be happy."
"Alright, ontspan asseblief."
Ian shook his head and sat down, grabbing the cigar and crushing it in the ashtray between them.
"I fought at her side for three years, bled and killed. We already have independence in all but name, and I don't want myself or her getting killed over some old men's pride at wanting to have that little comfort. We already got what they want, they just want the accolade."
"Drop it, I won't bring it up again, jammer."
The two sat in silence again, neither of them sure what to say.
"Can I ask you one thing Ian?"
"Yeah?"
"If she did join us, what would the UNSC do?"
"If a Spartan went rogue, I would guess the fist of God would come down on all of you. Armies. Maybe more Spartans to catch her. Any advantage she'd bring would be wiped out by the sheer might of the UEG trying to get their super soldier back."
"I'll tell them that."
"Please do."
"Well… I can see why you'd want to keep her."
"Hm?"
"She isn't that bad of a looker. And you've always been into tall chicks."
"Don't start."
"Well, you aren't the only one caught in her spell here."
"What do you mean?"
"Have you noticed how Dannie's been acting today? He thought he had girls and everything figured out, and you bring a Spartan and throw his world off its axis."
Ian laughed, grabbing at his jaw in pain.
"Is that he was acting funny?"
"Oh, he's completely over her."
"Well, the De Vries men always did have taste."
Piet let out a roar of laughter and pulled another two beers out, one of which Ian failed to refuse.
From the kitchen window, Annalie watched her husband and friend as they drank a bit more. She disapproved, but that was expected of a good housewife, was it not? She started cleaning the last few plates before hearing loud footsteps approach. She turned to find Eleanor standing next to her, the plastic cup she had been given earlier in her hand.
"Could I get some water, please?"
"Of course."
She poured some from the tap and handed it over.
"Don't worry, it's well water and we got a purifier. It tastes decent and it doesn't have those chemicals they use at the water plants."
"Thank you."
She looked over and saw colorful threads on the Spartans left wrist and smiled.
"I see Alette gave you something."
"Friendship bracelet. She was very insistent."
"She loves making those things."
"Your children have been very kind."
"You are very good with them, and they like you, I can tell."
She finished another plate and set it aside to dry before moving back to the sink.
"You would be a good mother."
She heard the plastic cup hit the floor and turned to Eleanor, who looked at her in bewilderment before quickly grabbing a towel and wiping some water off the floor.
"I-I wouldn't say that I've only been around your kids a few hours-"
"And I have spent ten years raising them, eleven if you want to count from the very start. I think I know a thing about kids and who should raise them."
The Spartan finished cleaning up the mess and meekly handed the towel back to Annalie, who hung it over the sink's edge.
"I should get back to Alette and Cornelia."
"Could I ask you something before you go?"
She received a blank stare that unnerved her a bit but continued.
"Ian normally watches the kids when Piet and I go out for a day, but… if you have the time, I think the kids would love to have you babysit occasionally. If you are ok with it, of course. This Friday we were going to see a show, and Ian already was up for it, but if you want to take it, we would not mind."
She received no answer, not too surprising, and simply went back to washing dishes.
"Ma'am?"
"Yes?"
"What time on Friday?"
"Normally 8 AM to 8 PM. We can leave food, or you can get something."
"I know how to cook."
"Excellent. Thank you, Eleanor."
She headed back towards the kid's bedroom as Annalie finished the last plate. She grinned, thinking that a woman like her was definitely a good one to have around. She looked up at the window to see Ian standing in front of Piet, holding his hands as if he was describing some old war story, her husband laughing so hard his face was red.
"Jy is 'n gelukkige man Ian," she said with a chuckle.
XXXXXX
"So let me get this straight, I can't get you to wear a unit t-shirt for nearly two years, but you get handed a friendship bracelet by a ten-year-old and fold like a house of bloody cards?"
"I knew you were gonna bring that up," Ellen sighed.
They were driving back to Avon Fields, having finally gotten away from the De Vries, young and old. Piet was near plastered, and Annalie practically had to pry her daughters away from the Spartan.
"I couldn't say no. It would break her heart."
"It broke my heart you wouldn't wear the shirt."
"With all due respect Ian," she turned to look at him, and he took his eyes off the dirt road for a moment to reciprocate. "They looked like shit."
Ian kept a straight face for a few moments before stifling laughter and nearly hitting his head on the steering wheel.
"Yeah, they did. Thank God dad was dead when they made them, if he knew his regiment was being represented by some African tribal contemporary art, it would have given him another heart attack."
Ellen shook her head as they pulled to the front of the house.
"I see Unc's not back yet. Hunting club always feeds and wines them right. God knows it doesn't help him."
The two got out of the truck, getting on the veranda before Ian stopped and looked up into the sky again. Ellen stopped and waited for him, but he seemed bothered by something.
"Are you all right?"
"Can I ask you something? It's a bit personal."
"Depends."
"Do you ever regret being a Spartan?"
In a day full of surprises, this one was the biggest. No one had ever asked that, or if they did, she never answered. She took a breath and thought for a few moments before saying anything.
"I… don't. I've thought about it before, you know? All I went through, the fights, the recruitment, all that. But you want to know what I realized?"
"What?"
"What would I be if I weren't a Spartan? I probably would have been some scared conscript or civvie who got turned to glass when the Covenant hit my home. I got to make a difference. I got to be somebody. It came at a…"
She pulled her sleeve down, massaging the surgical looking scars on her arm as if they were in pain.
"Great price, but in retrospect, I paid fairly lightly for it."
Ian nodded but stayed put.
"Did it hurt?"
"What did?"
"Becoming a Spartan?"
He heard no response, still looking at the stars, and thought she was not going to answer.
"You know what-"
"It was the worst pain I've ever felt. I'd take a grenade landing next to me, plasma burns, taking a gravity hammer to the head, anything. It-it felt like-"
He turned to her, a haunted expression on her face as her voice started to warble a bit. He could not tell, but she was remembering the medbay, feeling like her bones were being pounded to dust by sledgehammers, her veins filled with fire. But that was not what she instantly remembered. It was the boy in the bed next to her, the one who always snuck food to her, laughed at her jokes, always listened to her when she felt like she let her comrades down. He was screaming as blood poured out of his mouth, and then having to watch his coffin drifting into the emptiness of space when the procedure was done. She… she could not remember his name. She could remember his face, his laugh, even his voice, but his name! What was it?
"Ellen? Hey, hey, are you good?"
She snapped out of it and shuddered.
"It wasn't pleasant," she answered quickly. "And… I lost all my hair in the process."
"I bet that devastated you."
She nodded slightly before she smiled.
"Not as much as Cal."
"Who?"
"Another Spartan. She had the prettiest hair of any of us, blonde to the point it was silver, and for the rest of her life, I swear it's the truth, let it grow to the point it went all the way down to her back. I think losing it traumatized her more than a bit. You would have liked her, shy and a bit quiet, but always willing to be in the front of the fight."
"How did she fit all that hair under her helmet?"
"We never figured that out," she said with a laugh. "And I never got to ask her, I'm afraid."
Ian bit his cheek before asking.
"MIA?"
"2544. Heian. Working with ODST's."
"That's why you said that about the wine."
"I lost a couple friends that year."
Ian nodded and sighed. He was about to walk inside before she put her hand on his shoulder.
"Did you ever regret being a soldier?"
He looked at her and seemed to be just as conflicted about his answer. He looked away, back to the fields of coffee trees and leaning on one of the veranda posts.
"Someone had to do it."
"True."
"I… you know what bothers me? After all this time?"
"What?"
"I was in a unit that was in constant danger for six years. Always rushing from place to place in the worst situations, on the verge of death every moment on the ground, and I came out perfectly fine. Maybe not all there up in the head a bit, but…"
He sighed and shook his head.
"There was a kid in Selous. James Ndiweni. Good kid, smart, always got picked on by his friends because he was too bright. African that Africans wanted to point to, had everything going for him. Got a degree in bloody engineering. Every time I would come home on leave, he would talk to me and ask about the war and all that. Got conscripted into the engineer battalion of the Dzimban Regiment in October of '52."
She watched as his eyes turned slightly red.
"He served for one month before a bridge he was trying to keep up fell on him. Died instantly."
He gently hit his fist on the post and rubbed his face.
"I was in the worst of it for years and I'm alright, still living, and he gets a rear duty job for only a month, and he dies. Where's the justice in that? It's not right!"
"Life isn't fair."
"Yeah, but why am I still here? He was just a kid, I…was ok with going, especially towards the end. I lived and played hard; I wouldn't be too bothered if I went out then. But I got to stay here, and he's gone, left his mum, dad, three sisters and two brothers, and I, the only child of the Walls' get to stay around."
There was anger in his voice as he told her the story, trying to rationalize and understand what he saw as a cosmic injustice. But as he poured his heart out to her, Ellen's concern about him, already at fever pitch from reading most of the report, hit a new level and quickly tried to right him.
"Ian… have you ever thought your mind was making the wrong conclusion?"
"Oh good, Unc's been teaching you philosophy."
"Yes, but the point stands. I think you're finding the wrong answer to your question."
He turned to her, unsure of what she meant.
"Your question is, why am I still alive, but you only thought of one solution: that you're being punished, or it's unfair."
"What's the other answer?"
"Maybe there's a reason you're still here. Maybe you were supposed to survive all that, you just don't know why."
He opened his mouth to respond but mulled it over for a minute or two.
"I… never thought of it that way."
"I think you're too hard on yourself sometimes."
"Maybe."
He tapped the post and straightened up.
"Well, the only place they're going to remember us is-"
He stopped and clenched his fists.
"Son of a bitch!"
"Ian?" she asked, utterly confused.
"The goddamn statue dedication, I totally forgot about it!"
Ellen frowned as he turned to her.
"They're putting up a statue and memorial wall for all the fallen DLI men in New Harare and I'm supposed to do a speech. It's next Monday, but I got to get my dress uniform ready and write some feel good garbage. Dammit!"
"You have plenty of time."
"I don't want to go at all," he hissed, rubbing his face.
"I can come with you."
"No, this is my problem. You should stay out of this."
"Are you sure?"
He hesitated before shaking his head.
"Only thing I'm sure of is I need some sleep."
"Good call."
The front door opened, Artemis greeting them both as they headed to their rooms. Ellen picked the cat up and took her away, much to Ian's amusement.
"Good night, Ellen."
"Good night, Ian."
She stripped down to her bra and boxers, laying on top of the bed as Artemis jumped up and cuddled alongside her. After petting her a few times, she nervously looked over to her datapad and took it, going back to the part she left off on.
Sergeant, I have a question for you, it's about the one soldier you've discussed at length.
What about them?
You've spoken little about them, but you've mentioned them quite a bit. I think you and this individual were a lot closer than you think.
Oh really?
Yes. More importantly, you said that you had no real goodbye or farewell, correct?
No.
Do you wish you had that?
*Subject did not respond for at least a minute while showing signs of emotional distress.*
I… yeah. Do you want to know something? I never told anyone this.
Certainly, if it can help you find peace of mind.
I would kill someone, legitimately, if I could hear her voice one more time. Even if I never heard from her again, just once. But she's dead now, so…
You mentioned this individual by she or her a few times, was your relationship romantic?
*Subject laughs.*
No, and I don't think she had the ability to do so.
Why not?
Can't say for secrecy reasons. ONI and all that shite.
Did you care about her?
She paused, the words at the bottom of the digital page. The rest of the report was boring, almost useless, but this had caught her interest, and she had no idea why. She thought about stopping there, but curiosity might kill Artemis, but it would not be as easy for her. She tapped the page.
Yeah. And I miss her. A lot.
*Subject became emotional and refused to speak on this any further. Should go further into this on next visit.*
Now, what about your time on Epirus?
Ah, bunch of nonsense.
She lowered the datapad to her chest and looked up at the ceiling, the day already being a roller coaster of… emotions. And feelings. And this was just another loop. She was more confused than astonished, but some things were starting to make sense. His anger that morning from not being contacted, for one. Why he had been willing to let her stay. So many questions, so few answers. And as she tried to make sense of it all, a room away, Ian was trying to fight the visions of having to fight UNSC personnel to defend his home, and having to possibly see Ellen dragged into it.
Neither of them got much sleep that night.