The mess hall was dark as they walked in. One of them hit the light switch by the door, illuminating rows of metal benches and tables with scuff marks from eight years of daily use. The room had just closed down thirty minutes before, as the population of the compound ate dinner, cleaned up, and left for sleep.
Avery Johnson walked past the tables with the focus of a man who didn’t want to think about anything – but knew that was impossible.There was no ‘bar’ in Halsey’s Compound. No point, not with the kids around. Since most of them were about to be shipped off to OCS, maybe one of them would get converted, since only adults would remain – if anyone did. Maybe ONI would just shut this entire clubhouse down, kill it off. But there was alcohol in the compound. Strictly locked down, controlled about as thoroughly as the guns were. Nobody wanted to see what a drunk Spartan looked like, even back when they were just kids with attitude. So long as you satisfied that condition, the trainers could store their booze for their off-duty shifts, close off one of the mess halls, and boom, instant bar. Right now, there were no trainers in the room. It was just Avery Johnson, Franklin Mendez, Michael Stanforth, and Catherine Halsey.Earlier today, they’d arrived back in-system at Reach, and they’d all agreed to head straight back to Halsey’s little mountain compound for a ‘debriefing’ after their quick little business trip to Earth.
That was the official reason, anyway. The unofficial reason was that they’d just sprinted through a damn speed record, catching the fastest courier between the two star systems and spending less than forty-eight hours on Earth’s soil before they were climbing back into their cryo-pods for the return trip. It was a hard thing, and they all needed a drink to relax.Avery, though, had a different motivation to drink tonight. He didn’t listen to the words that were exchanged behind him, as he picked a table at random, close to the bathrooms, and sat down heavily at it. He didn’t look up when someone sat down next to him. He ignored each and every single sign of human presence until finally, there was the sharp rasp of escaping pressure as someone cracked open a beer next to him.“Drink,” said Catherine Halsey, holding out the can of beer to him. The Marine grabbed the can and started drinking. He didn’t stop until it was empty, and when that happened, he dropped the can without a care, letting it hit the table with a tinny rattle. He reached for another can, and Catherine gave it to him with a sharp-eyed stare. He wanted to drain the second beer just as fast – but something about the civilian doctor’s glare made him hesitate. He lifted it up, and drank more slowly. He still didn’t taste any of it, but at least he wasn’t going to get chewed out when he just wanted to turn his brain off.Aunt Marcille was dead. The woman who had raised Avery, ever since his parents had split apart. The woman who had painstakingly clothed him in real outfits, not just the mass-market pop stuff. The woman who gave him great classics to read, instead of whatever was on the best seller list. The woman who nurtured his soul – the woman who had been a better mother than any Avery could ask for.She was gone. He had been lucky enough to be at the funeral, to see his old pastor one more time. Even in death, Marcille had looked out for him, and pulled off one last miracle.
Their original assignment had been to report to HIGHCOM’s main office in Sydney, halfway around the world. Yet when they’d arrived at the Sol System, that assignment had been changed to Chicago. None of them had known why, but Avery had just been thankful that somehow, someway, he’d gotten this chance.And then he’d learned exactly why he had this chance – because of Marcille.Strangers were at Marcille’s funeral. Not just new members of the congregation, but white-suited UNSC officers. High-ranking ones. Admirals and Generals and the highest brass in the whole damn galaxy. Some of them had approached after the casket – after – after the casket was in the ground, and they’d told Avery that his aunt was one of the greatest women that they’d ever known. He wasn’t crazy, but standing there at her funeral, Avery had wondered if the stress had finally gotten to him and broken his mind. If he was locked up in some looney-bin somewhere, his arms wrapped tight in a straitjacket. But then he’d seen the same men the very next day: at the HIGHCOM briefing. A dozen or so of them, sitting in a secondary row of chairs. The older officers weren’t a part of HIGHCOM, that had been made clear. They were retired members who had been called in to consult and advise on the Spartan-II program.
Avery didn’t know how his aunt had managed to make friends with so many retired HIGHCOM officers, but she had – and thanks to her friendship with them, the Spartan-II program had been saved.
A dozen retired 0-8’s and higher stepped up to the plate on Avery’s behalf. They argued with their replacements, saying that in a time of uncertainty, the most reliable asset was high-quality personnel. The best officers, the finest enlisted, the real difference-makers that could multiply an entire army’s effectiveness… exactly what Catherine Halsey had trained those Spartans to be, and exactly the kind of men and women that shouldn’t be sent in, willy-nilly, just because HIGHCOM was scared of the damn Innies and the damn aliens!
His aunt had saved him, one last time. She had made friends at that retirement home with her stubborn refusal to roll over and give up on life, and those friends had come in clutch to ensure that the Spartans weren’t sent off to their deaths.
In the minds of anyone else in the world, that shouldn’t have mattered to Avery. He was a cold-blooded killer, an assassin, an Orion-I super-solder. Anyone would have thought that he was uncaring about such things… but it did matter to him. It would have broken his damn heart if the UNSC had sent those fifteen-year-old kids off to their deaths.
And it wouldn’t have been for any good tactical reason, no matter what two-thirds of those HIGHCOM officers had been arguing! They had wanted to send the Spartans against the Innies or the Covenant because they were scared enough to react on instinct, rather than thinking matters through.Sergeant Avery Johnson looked up from his beer as he polished off the second one, and looked around.Despite his clearly communicated desire to be left alone to drink by himself, the rest of the bench had filled up with the other members of the Spartan-II leadership – at least, the military ones, and Halsey. The other three scientific Team Leaders were at the Compound, he knew, but they were probably asleep by now.
Catherine Halsey was sitting by his side, nursing her own drink, staring into it like it had the answers to life, the universe, and all that crap. She looked almost as morose as Avery felt, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. The first set of ‘failures’ may have been rehabilitated, but the second set were going to go through their surgeries in a few months, and the third set were at least half a year out from their own surgeries. There were still fourteen lives left on the chopping block, waiting to see where the axe would fall – including her precious protégé. Michael Stanforth sat across from him, holding a glass of whiskey and drinking it slowly, but with big sips. He had his own problems, Avery suspected. The man’s dad was sitting on HIGHCOM, and Avery was willing to be that Stanforth Senior was asking a lot of very pointed questions about Halsey’s Program right now. Now, Avery trusted Michael, but being trapped between your friends and your family was a horrible place to be – one that Avery had avoided purely because Marcille Johnson had always been on his side.Franklin Mendez was next to Michael, and bluntly, Avery didn’t even know why he was drinking at all. The man was so professional that Avery sometimes wondered if he was a robot, or if he’d just seen way too much death in the Outer Colonies and become numb to it all. He could understand Franklin sitting there as a chaperone, making sure that none of them drank themselves into an unsafe stupor, but the man wasn’t doing that. He was sitting there with a glass of his own, sharing from the bottle of whiskey that Michael had brought out. He looked almost melancholy, which was a stunning difference in its own right.“Are you back with us?” Michael Stanforth asked, catching Avery’s eye. “Yeah,” Avery grunted, as everyone’s attention turned away from their drinks and back to him.“Good,” Michael said, nodding. “I know it’s hard right now, but you are not alone, Avery. If there’s anything we can do, just ask.”“A week at that resort that Catherine keeps booking,” Avery shot back, rattling the idea off from the top of his head. “With the best escort in New Alexandria.”“I’ll get you the week, but I’m not paying for the escort unless you explain it to Admiral Richards and Keeler,” Michael replied. Avery blinked, then squinted at Michael to see if the man was messing with him or not. To his dismay, he couldn’t tell. It wasn’t the alcohol – two beers was nowhere near enough to affect him – the man’s poker face was just that good.“You serious?” he asked, suspiciously.Michael chuckled. “I’m the new head of Special Projects,” he said. “If I want to authorize a week’s stay at Verdant Vale for one of the best soldiers in the UNSC, so that he can keep performing at his highest, that is a perfectly logical and sensible decision.”“Hear hear!” Catherine Halsey said, raising her glass to the sky for a moment. “To logical and sensible decision-making. May it always and ever be thus.”“Good luck with that,” Franklin muttered, sipping at his whiskey. “The announcement about Harvest is going to go out soon. That’s a lot of pressure for anyone to handle.”“HIGHCOM has experience with pressure,” Michael said, defending them for a moment, perhaps because of his relation on it. “But… well, how much more weight can they carry? No man is Atlas, to hold the world on his shoulders alone. We’re just mortal.”Catherine laughed at that, a harsh, sharp cackle. “True enough,” she said, setting aside her empty beer. “Here, give me some of that. It’s turning you into a poet, and we can’t have that. Let us share your horrible burden, o’ mortal man.”
“You crazy fools,” Avery said, shaking his head as Michael poured Catherine some whiskey. “You’ll back me on a budget request for a fancy resort, but not some companionship?”“Not for at least another year,” Michael said, with a soft smile. “Not until every single Spartan is at the Academy, where they are officially under someone else’s watch. I don’t want even a hint of anything sexual near those kids.”“OCS as a babysitter,” Franklin mused thoughtfully. “If only we could have done that years ago.”“That’s the real reason you’re so damn insistent, isn’t it?” Avery said, nudging Catherine with his elbow. “All that talk about keeping the kids alive, getting them educated, making ‘em officers… admit it, you just wanted some peace and quiet in your damn house after all those years!”“I refuse to answer the question,” Catherine replied, before slugging back her whiskey, draining two fingers and rapping the glass twice on the table for some more. “I would like to use my Fifth Amendment rights.”All of the men snorted at the historical reference, and Michael poured her some more whiskey. The bottle was already half-empty, split between three people. “Oh, what the hell,” Avery muttered, before tapping on the table as well. “Pour me some too, Mike. Feels wrong to be the only guy drinking beer when you’re all drinking whiskey.”
Xxxx
“…and I swear, I never seen a man jump so high in his life,” Avery finished, his words a bit loose, as the other three started laughing in drunken delight.“Nolan didn’ suspect you?” Catherine demanded, her smile wide.
“He didn’t suspec’ a damn thing!” Avery chuckled. “Serves ‘im right, though.”
They were pretty drunk by now. Avery had always had a good stomach for booze, but he had to admit that if he had been in a different situation, he would have been blacked out by now, completely sauced. That was the inevitable outcome.
His Aunt had been his only remaining family in the whole damn universe, and now he was alone. Of course he would have drunk himself into a stupor.But maybe he was wrong about being alone. Franklin shook his head, a rare smile on his face as he put the second empty bottle of whiskey away, and cracked open a third one. The man had loosened up around his tenth drink, and now he was participating often, though quietly, in their four-way shit-show of story-telling and conversation. He’d shared a particularly hilarious story about some Marine that pissed off his corpsman with late night demands that had nearly knocked them off their chairs.Michael, of course, had been trying to keep a good face on things. Officers just couldn’t lighten up. Avery knew that from experience. But even that stiff upper lip was twitching as the man fought a losing battle against comradery. He’d loosened the collar of his service uniform, set aside his hat, and had willingly agreed to open more bottles after they’d finished that first one. He was more casual than Avery had ever seen him, the walls of formality coming down.
Catherine, of course, was right by Avery’s side. She was getting pretty drunk, but she wasn’t slowing down, and they all trusted that she knew her own limits, so they let her. The doctor was a happy, mania-filled drunk, and she talked faster and faster, her hands waving as she tried to explain ideas that were far too complex for their current state of inebriation. All things considered, it was hard for Avery not to look at the three, and wonder if they were family, and not just friends. He remember what Marcille had said, years ago, when that ONI agent had stopped by the Seropian to recruit him for the Spartan-II Project.
That sounds like a good idea to me, Avery. You know I never liked the idea of people shooting at you.
Oh, don’t lie to me, boy. You’ve been in that Navy hospital three times in the last ten years. I know you’re doing the best you can, but… I worry, Avery. If you’re busy on some training camp far back from those terrorists… well, I know I’ll feel much better.
You love your Marines. And that’s why you should take this offer. Not for me. But for you.
His Aunt hadn’t known anything about the military beyond what he told her. She hadn’t known what the normal Marines were like, much less the Orion Project or its new successor. But she’d trusted that his assignment to this new program would be good for him… and she had been right.
Marcille hadn’t said anything about God leading her to that decision, or her faith telling her it would be best, but Avery was an Evangelical Promessic just like her, and he knew that had been on her mind. A new offer coming out of the blue, offering him respite and reward for his loyal service? It was almost biblical, and that appealed to her. Where she had seen the signs of a divine reward, Avery had seen the exact opposite: the hallmarks of a shit job, thankless and scummy, and he’d only taken the damn offer so that Marcille could have better care. But somehow, despite all logic saying that his knowledge was better than her blind faith… she’d be right, and he’d been wrong.
Avery Johnson shook his head, and glanced over at Catherine as she accidentally bumped him for the third time in five minutes.Catherine was growing more and more exuberant, and it was starting to bug him. He’d seen her drink at the party in Donovan’s bar, the one that Franklin had arranged… but there, she had only had one or two beers. Tonight, she had been matching them the whole way, and they were all ten, twelve, fifteen drinks in. Maybe it’s time to slow down, Avery thought to himself, as his own head spun from the liquor in his system. He glanced over at Michael and gave him a quick heads-up look, before tilting his head towards Catherine.
“You know, I never zought this vould ever happen,” Catherine said, slurring her words with a strange accent that Avery had never heard from her before.“Oh?” Franklin asked, his eyes flashing as he looked quickly between Avery and Michael. “What part? Us drinking, or something else?”
The Chief Petty Officer sat up straighter, clearly realizing that this was going a bit too far.“All of zis!” Catherine said, sweeping both her hands out in a grand gesture.
She knocked over the third whiskey bottle. Avery’s hand shot out, grabbing it, and he gave both the other men an alarmed, wide-eyed look.We should have slowed down earlier, he thought to himself, wincing in realization. Shit, I thought she could handle it! Shouldn’t she have known her own limits?
Across the table, Michael had frozen in place, his eyes locked on Catherine.“What do you mean, ‘all of this’,” the Rear Admiral asked her, his entire attention focused on her.“The program, of course!” Catherine Halsey said, smiling broadly. “I never expected ONI to hire us. It vas only a hypothetical. A thought experiment. Ve never thought anyone vould be insane enough to actually try it.”Catherine giggled to herself, clearly caught up in her own booze-filled emotions.
Avery and the other two men stiffened, adrenaline flooding through their veins as her words landed like MAC rounds slamming home.
He looked at the civilian doctor in stunned horror. She hadn’t just said that. She couldn’t have!“What-” Franklin started to say, his voice rising in alarm – but he cut himself off, abruptly, as Catherine suddenly went completely boneless, like a puppet with her strings cut.Thump! The woman’s head hit the surface of the table. Avery barely managed to slow her fall with a frantic grab for her, holding her shoulders back as she faceplanted.He looked up at the other two men, shocked at what Catherine Halsey had said, what she had revealed. Both Michael Stanforth and Franklin Mendez looked back at him, just as horrified.