“Now remember Linda, you’re not allowed to shoot the rifles,” Corporal Markov said, looking at her across the cab of the ‘rental car’, which was really an ONI-issued undercover vehicle.Linda Pravdin (and how strange that felt, using her last name again, rather than just being Linda) nodded, and tried not to let her emotions get to her.
She failed, of course. It might have been the logical decision, but she still felt disappointed. She hadn’t broken any rules. She hadn’t done anything wrong. She had been a model student at Annapolis, and she was nearing the completion of her first year.
There was one remaining weekend pass before the spring semester ended. Pretty much every cadet had abandoned the academy to get some fresh air before finals started.
Last she heard, John was heading up to Chicago with a list of museums to check out, Daisy was visiting a friend’s house in London, Anton and James were hiking the Appalachian Trail, and Otto and Jorge were cashing in a favor from an Army Ranger to go play with some heavier weapons in a proving ground somewhere up north.
By any reasonable judgement, she should have some leeway to have a little fun. Everyone else was, so why not her?
Unfortunately, the Office of Naval Intelligence did not agree with her, and they only barely approved of her plans to use her last weekend pass to travel to the hills of Tennessee.
Not because there was anything wrong with Tennessee – at least, Linda thought not, but she wasn’t from Earth, so what did she know? – but because Linda was going to a marksmanship competition.
Specifically, Linda was going to the Murfreesboro Convention, a National Rifle Match Championship that was being held in Murfreesboro, Tennessee. It was supposed to be one of the biggest shooting competitions on the planet, and some of the best shooters in the entire UNSC would be there.The only hiccup was that all Spartan-II’s had a requirement to run all their vacation plans past ONI before they were allowed to go on them. A security concern, they called it, just like the trainers that would sometimes accompany them. Linda didn’t think there was any problem when she sent in the request through Corporal Markov. She was already making a name for herself as the best shooter in the Naval Academy, freshman status be damned, so it made perfect sense that she’d be allowed to enter this competition. It wasn’t like she was going to shame the Navy with a poor performance!ONI thought differently. They said they were worried that she might win the entire event, and that would draw a little too much attention on her false identity – people would want to know who this new hot-shot was, and they might find some flaws in the faked information.
In the end, ONI allowed Linda to attend… but banned her from the rifle competition. Which was annoying, because Linda had been looking forward to it. Not just the potential of winning, but also the chance to meet other shooters and get to know them, just like how she’d made friends with the handful of shooters from the Precision Targeting Group, when they came to the compound a few years back.Still, it wasn’t all bad. She could still enter the pistol competition. That would be fun on its own, and then she could go watch the rifle competition afterwards.Of course, without any other Spartans there, Linda didn’t know how good the competition would be. Sure, some of them would be civilians, but the Psych Team had been civvies too, and most of them weren’t half bad. The best of the civvies (Doctor Halsey, obviously) could even keep up with Chief Mendez, so for all she knew, this might be a real workout.
Xxxx
“We’ll call you back when the last competitor finishes,” the judge said, after Linda had emptied her magazine and cleared the last round. “But honestly… I don’t expect the results to change. Someone’s gonna get close to you, but nobody’s gonna pass you. Damn fine shooting, young lady.”“Thanks,” Linda said, nodding to the man. The pistol competition was pretty simple, really. A couple of timed drills at various ranges, a couple of movement courses, and a variety of accuracy targets that got harder and harder. It was easy. Not just because Linda had done these kinds of things before, but because these days, Linda was closing in on a hundred and eighty centimeters of height and eighty kilograms of muscle. And that was before the enhanced eyesight and the steroids. The recoil of her ten-millimeter sidearm was so light that she almost wanted to fire it one-handed. Of course, as amusing as that thought was, it would have hurt her accuracy, so she kept things simple.She glanced up at the large billboard that had been installed over the pistol range.
Her name was up there already: Linda Pravdin, score of one hundred and forty points, in first place. The next best competitor had ninety-eight points. Current third place was sitting at seventy-eight. Linda put her sidearm away in its case, and locked it with a quick button-press. She’d bring it back to the car and lock it inside, and then she’d head over to the rifle competition.
There was plenty of time left in the day, and she was looking forward to seeing what the big boys shot. There were military personnel here, since this whole thing was effectively a gigantic recruiting station and public relations event, but the rifle competition was open entry – civilians and military alike.
The gun convention was a strange environment, and Linda looked around quietly as she walked through the crowds, back towards the parking lot. This might have been an organized event, but it was so much more relaxed than any event she’d seen before. Not disorderly, but… almost casual, which didn’t seem to fit in Linda’s mind. She was used to these kinds of things being a matter of deadly seriousness.
Oh, the shooting ranges weren’t like that, sure. There were eagle-eyed range safety officers behind every single shooter, and nobody was crowding or goofing around. Even the civvies were taking it seriously, and Linda approved of their respect both for their fellow shooters and for the firearms themselves.
But the moment she stepped away from the shooting ranges, it was a madhouse. There were booths and stands set up all over the place. Throngs of people walked around, carrying gun cases, or food, or merchandise. Everyone was talking to each other, or waving their arms, or laughing loudly, so much that Linda kept her headphones on, even after leaving the shooting line.The sights were unusual. Bright clothes and banners and store brand names, clashing against the dullness of UNSC standard fatigues. Linda herself was wearing civvies, since she was on a weekend pass, and not here as part of an official duty, though she did put on the worn and battered Army Ranger ballcap that she’d taken from Sergeant Coburn years ago, as well as a pair of shooting sunglasses. They kept the sun off her eyes, and disguised her face.
Linda put her pistol case back in the car and locked it up. She looked around, but she didn’t see anyone else nearby.
Corporal Markov had told her that she had free rein of the place, and he was going to wander around himself. It was very lenient of him. But then, it made sense. Markov was not ONI – he was one of Chief Mendez’s trainers, a UNSC Marine that Linda had known for years. There was mutual trust there, and that was good for Linda. It meant she didn’t have to stay on her best behavior in front of an unknown ONI agent, suffering under his suspicions and hidebound professionalism.
The rifle competition was well underway as she returned to the firing ranges. The rifle range, curiously enough, had very little in the way of security measures. She walked right in and sat down on a bench behind the row of shooters. It was so sparsely populated that Linda felt comfortable pulling out her field glasses to inspect the targets. Most of the shooters were good. Probably not a surprise, but you never knew those things until you checked. Only a couple of them were truly excellent, however.
To Linda’s surprise, she recognized one of the shooters waiting for their turn: Jim Butler, an Army sniper who was part of the Precision Targeting Group. He’d come out to the compound to polish their skills. At the time, he’d beaten her fairly decisively, but that was his job, so Linda didn’t hold it against him. Now, however, with her better eyes and lightning nerves, Linda almost regretted that she couldn’t get a rematch today.
She checked everyone else out, both their targets and their shooting techniques. There were no other PTG snipers present, and nobody else was as good. Jim would take the crown today, she already knew it.
When Jim’s turn came up and he started walking to the line, his eyes strayed back to the viewing gallery, and he spotted her. He stopped dead, surprise on his face. Jim recognized her, clearly, even with her sunglasses. It was probably the hat that gave it away.
Linda’s lips twitched, and she nodded to him. Jim nodded back more slowly, and he seemed almost worried as he went to his station and started unpacking his rifle.
Soon enough, however, Linda’s mind started to stray. At first, she didn’t even notice, but after a few minutes, it started to become obvious. Even with the boom of firing rifles, even with the fresh shots to spot… she was getting distracted.This had never happened before, and it took her a little while to even understand what was happening. Why her eyes were starting to glide over the distant targets, and her mind was wondering what Maria and Sheila were getting up to down in Miami. I’m bored, Linda realized. But… why?Boredom was a lack of stimulation. She had plenty of stimulation right in front of her. A good field glass, some of the best shooters in the region, and plenty to observe. She could inspect people’s techniques, spot their shots, try to figure out where they would place.Yet, somehow, it wasn’t enough.
Maybe it was because Linda wasn’t competing. There was no underlying tension of whether or not she would win, because she wasn’t allowed to win at all. And she already knew who would win in her place: Jim Butler, the PTG man.
Maybe if they were back at the Academy, or at the Compound, she could have offered advice to the other shooters when they finished up, but that would have blown her cover, and so she couldn’t do it.There was nothing to do. At a shooting range!
Linda sat there for a moment, blinking, not sure what to do with this new information. Efficiency would dictate that she go find Corporal Markov and head back to the airport for a lift back to Annapolis, but then what would she do with all of Saturday afternoon and Sunday? This was her last weekend pass before spring semester ended, and it felt like a waste to just sit inside and study for all of it.Surely there was something else that she could do? Not everyone here had come for the shooting. There were… booths. Entertainment. Food. Products. There had to be something interesting around here.
After packing away her field glasses, Linda left the shooting gallery with a strange feeling in her stomach. Guilt, maybe? She didn’t understand it.She ambled back through the crowd, moving slowly and steadily as her eyes scanned for anything interesting. It was hard, because this event was aimed at the civilian attendees, and she wasn’t a civilian. Some Army troopers were demonstrating standard-issue UNSC weapons, and allowing some excited civvies to shoot them, but Linda didn’t care about that, since she was already a qualified Expert in all of them.What was left for her to actually do, if she wasn’t shooting or training or studying?
She walked, and walked, going along the central corridor of the large exhibition. She didn’t have a particular target in mind, but that was just it – without a goal, she was walking for no reason. Reconnaissance, Linda thought to herself. That was what she was doing. She was just investigating the area for the sake of curiosity. That was all. It didn’t help the feeling in her stomach, but it settled her mind a little, at least.Shooting was still important to her, she felt. It wasn’t like she’d suddenly just woken up and discovered that she wasn’t interested in sniping. She would have happily shot all day if she could… but now that she wasn’t allowed to do it, she felt like she was lacking something.
Like… what else was she supposed to do to fill her time?
It wasn’t like shooting was all that Linda cared about. She was a straight-A student at the academy, and she had found most of the classes there to be engaging and important, not just for her career, but in general. She’d enjoyed the engineering courses, and she was thinking about picking up a specialization in civil engineering. There was something about the geology that was interesting. The way the soil would settle and shift, and how to counteract that with technology.During the normal school year, she hadn’t noticed any kind of… failure like this, despite the fact that she had been doing all sorts of non-shooting activities – so clearly, this issue didn’t just spring from a desire to shoot more. She had been happy the entire school year. It was only now, when she had nothing else to fill her time, that it had sprung up, undetected, like a bouncing betty that the point-man had missed.
The crazy part was that she might actually have to thank ONI for it. They’d banned her from entering the rifle competition, and if that hadn’t happened, then she never would have noticed this strange feeling, this lack.
Those thoughts kept bothering Linda as she walked through the large crowd. Maybe she’d be able to figure it out over time, she mused.
When she reached the end of the long corridor of vendor stands, merchandise booths, and food stalls, Linda came to a stop, and she blinked in surprise at what she saw. There was a camping area at the far end of the shooting competition. It was far enough away from the actual shooting that the gunshots were much, much quieter now, so she supposed that it wouldn’t bother people as much… but the gunshots were still present, and loud. But despite that, it looked like dozens, if not hundreds of people were setting up tents and campfires, as if they were planning to stay the night.It made sense in a certain way, she guessed. The competition was going to continue tomorrow, so if you didn’t want to pay for a hotel, then camping was a cheaper alternative. It certainly made sense to Linda, since she and the other Spartans had practically lived outdoors for parts of the year to get them acclimatized to field work… but she was surprised to see civilians doing it, when they could have had air conditioning and hot water.She stood there near the edge of the campsite, and looked around. Even with her own experience camping, it was so different here. Civilians apparently brought all sorts of things that they didn’t need. Not just bigger coolers or better chairs, but tables, and books, and banners, and all sorts of non-essential accessories. “Hey there, you lost?” someone called. Linda turned, and saw that one of the nearer campers was waving to her. She was a little startled by it. She didn’t know the man, and she didn’t know why he was talking to her.“No, I’m not,” Linda replied, shaking her head lightly. She walked over to the man for lack of anything better to do. It would be rude to shout back and forth across the camping area, and too attention-grabbing besides.The camper looked doubtful at her reply. He was a middle-aged man about her height and weight, and he carried himself like a soldier, even though he was wearing civilian clothes. A veteran, perhaps. There were plenty of them around at the exhibition matches. Linda saw his eyes scan her, going from her feet to her head, and pausing briefly as he saw the faded Army Ranger patrol cap that she was wearing.“If I might ask,” the man said slowly, his voice drawling a bit. “Where did you get that hat? I don’t think they sell those.”He was fishing. The man had recognized the insignia – perhaps he was an old Army Ranger? – and he clearly knew that there was no reason for her, a teenage girl who clearly wasn’t old enough to be an active serviceman, to be wearing it.
Technically, it would have been a breach of classification to answer his question with the truth… but it was so minor that if she tried to evade, it would only make her look more suspicious. The actual truth, given casually, would probably dissuade his curiosity more.“It was a gift from a Ranger I know,” she answered. “Sergeant Coburn, 5th Battalion, 12th Brigade.”“Really?” the man asked, his expression lightening for a moment, before it was overtaken by a shy, almost apologetic look. “I’m sorry, that was a bit rude. I’m Don. Used to be in the Army myself. Brought my family out so they could get a little taste of what it was like, without doing anything too stressful on my kids.”“Linda,” she said, for lack of anything else. “I came for the competition. Just did the pistol course.”“Linda… Pravdin?” Don asked, eyebrows rising. “I think I saw your name at the top of the pistol competition. That’s no small feat, especially here. You have experience?”“I’m a midshipman at Annapolis,” Linda admitted. “I’m actually on a weekend pass right now, and I thought this would be fun.”
“Really?” Don asked, a smile spreading across his face. “A Navy puke, is it? Wearing an Army hat?”“It was a gift,” Linda said, repeating herself. Despite her best efforts, a touch of defensiveness came into her voice. Don laughed, and beckoned her closer with one hand. His campsite was larger than some, and he had nearly half a dozen people hanging around it. Some were sitting in chairs by a small campfire, others underneath a pop-up canopy, shading them from the sun.“Come on over,” he said, gesturing towards his campsite. “Any cadet is welcome here, even Navy kids. Especially Navy kids that respect the Army.”Linda hesitated. She didn’t know the man, and for all she knew, there could be something more malicious here. But… that didn’t feel likely. Everyone here at the convention had been kind and polite, and there was pretty much no theft or distrust or anything that deserved scrutiny and caution on her part. “Sure,” she said after a moment.Don smiled. Linda found herself a chair, and sat down next to the fire. It wasn’t cold, not this late into spring, but there was something nice about being next to the fire anyway. Don sat down by her side, and introduced her to his family – two sons, Michael and Morgan, and his wife, Marie. “Names beginning with M are a bit of a tradition in her family,” Don told Linda, chuckling. “Here, try some of the crack.”Linda blinked at the term, but kept her mouth shut. Don’s wife Marie extended a plate that was loaded with what looked like crackers, but a closer inspection revealed they were toffee and chocolate, broken into roughly square shapes. She took one politely and bit into it. It was good – just a little salty to mix with the sweetness of the chocolate. Linda found herself scarfing it down quickly, and she blushed a little at that.Marie laughed, and held the plate out again.“Help yourself, we made way too much,” she said, smiling easily as Linda slowly took some more. “How do you like Tennessee?”“I’ve only been here a day, but it seems like a nice place,” Linda answered honestly. “Everyone’s friendly, but also… relaxed.”Don and Marie exchanged a knowing look.“A slower pace of life can be good,” Marie said, glancing over at her two sons by the campfire. “Sometimes, people go a little too fast, and they can hurt themselves that way.”Linda nodded in agreement. That was one of the Doctor’s occasional lessons – perspective, and how much it mattered. Not just for military applications, but for anything in life.
It was also pretty obviously a lesson that Don and Marie’s sons had yet to learn. The two boys were trying to make s’mores, but they were too hasty, sticking the entire marshmallow into the fire and then bringing back a burnt crisp, rather than a nice golden-yellow.She wondered, abruptly, if she was lacking in perspective… and if that strange feeling in her gut was because of the sudden influx that she’d started to gain, here at the gun convention. “Are you sticking around for summer classes at Annapolis?” Don asked, as he reached down into a pocket.Knife.Linda’s eyes locked onto the blade as soon as it came into sight. She didn’t move her head, didn’t so much as twitch, but she watched that knife like it was a landmine.“No,” she said, keeping her voice as smooth as possible. “I’ve got a family re-union I’ll be going to, off-world.”“Oh, that’s nice,” Don said happily, not noticing the tension that had filled Linda’s body when he brought out the knife. “Hard to do, these days, with the traffic problems… but, well… there is a war on.”The man’s voice dipped a bit towards the end, but he shrugged, and reached out with his other hand for a piece of spare wood.She watched carefully as Don took the knife and started to cut into the wood. He was whittling away at first, shaving off the bark with gentle motions that betrayed how sharp the blade was. After that, he frowned, and started turning the piece this way and that, inspecting it.“What would you like?” Don asked, a bit out of nowhere. “A cat? A dog?”“I’m don’t understand,” Linda said, shaking her head softly.“For a carving,” Don said, holding up the de-barked wood. “I do a little woodcarving as a hobby, and I thought I’d make one for you. Something to remember us by, I guess.”Linda stared at him, and pursed her lips so that he didn’t get weirded out by her face not moving. She wasn’t sure why the man would go to any effort like that, and it bugged her. Was this some kind of ritual that was normal out in this area? Was something that she had to accept or risk insulting him? Or was it just a pro forma thing, where everyone was expected to decline.“Thank you, but you don’t have to do that,” she replied after a moment.
“I insist,” he said, looking back at Linda. “You looked so lonely. Between that and the family reunion you mentioned, it sounds like you’re away from family for the first time in a long while. If I can make that easier on you, then I should.”Don smiled, and Linda begrudgingly gave him a small smile back.She didn’t correct his mistaken assumption. There were twenty-four other Spartans at Annapolis. Even with ONI’s requirement to keep to their cover stories and not obviously associate too much with each other, Linda still saw plenty of them. Plus, they were all connected on a private server of the planetary network, deep inside ONI’s own secure housing. But despite that, she didn’t really want to refuse. Not just because it would have stood out as strange, and attracted attention… but because it felt nice, somehow. “Okay,” she said. “With one condition.”“Sure,” Don said.“Teach me,” Linda said.
Xxxx
The s’more crunched in Linda’s hand as she bit into it. Gooey chocolate, warmed marshmallow, and the plain graham cracker tasted good together. Not delicious, but… savory. Warm. Like she eating bites of the campfire itself.She looked around, and smiled gently at the sight of all the people scattered around the camping grounds. Everyone was happy, and food was being shared among total strangers. Corporal Markov was off to the side, chatting with another group. He had found her sitting with Don and Marie and their kids nearly an hour ago, but he was giving her space, not interrupting in her private time. The Corporal knew where she was, and as far he appeared to care, that was good enough. ONI’s restrictions could go to hell.The two young boys, Michael and Morgan, were napping on fold-out cots. It was still the afternoon, and not too dark, but the two boys had worn themselves out by chattering to Linda nonstop, asking her questions about the academy and how good she could shoot, and all those kinds of things. They seemed too old for naps, by Linda’s understanding of such things… but they didn’t appear to care.
Michael was the older of the two, and he had happily told Linda all about how his father had taken him out deer hunting. Linda already knew how to hunt animals, even if she hadn’t gotten too much practice back on Reach. It was a vital survival skill, and thus the Spartans had learned it. Yet the way that the boy had talked, Linda wondered if she had missed out by getting it from the military. Michael might have talked mostly about the hunting itself, but it was obvious to her that the most important part of the process was the fact that he had done it beside his father, as a coming of age.Morgan was the younger one, and he was so innocent. Not sheltered, or foolish, but almost pure. His eyes seemed to grow wider than was humanly possible, and he soaked up Linda’s awkward explanations like they were the most precious things in the whole world. It was Morgan who had insisted that she share s’mores with them, and put her in the most comfortable chair, and had tried to make her feel the most at home.‘At home’. What a loaded phrase for this experience. Linda knew what the average expectations were for a host – or at least, she’d thought that she knew, right up until Don had decided to take a nap in a reclining chair next to her, in total violation of those expectations. Don’s family had hosted Linda for two hours now, but they acted like they had known her forever, even when asking her questions. There was no polite distance, no respectful boundaries. They talked about anything and everything, and Linda was very glad that Doctor Halsey and Chief Mendez had arranged for her to visit her homeworld of Verent, because otherwise she wouldn’t have been able to keep up. And just as much as they’d asked about her, they’d shared stories of themselves. It was strange to be so open with a total outsider. They were simply… relaxed. Comfortable. They didn’t appear to realize that Linda even was a stranger at all. They’d chatted with her, fed her, asked after what she was interested in. Their table, their fire, their chairs, they shared it all with her.They treated Linda like family, despite only knowing her for a day.Comradery wasn’t unfamiliar to Linda, nor was trust. She’d already had plenty of experiences meeting totally new people at Annapolis, and trusting them based on their rank and competence. Servicemen had a shared culture, in that way, no matter what planet they’d come from.But this was something different.It wasn’t just that they were friendly, or kind. That could have easily been disguised via an excess of extroverted gregariousness. It was more that they were, themselves, comfortable with Linda. They weren’t trying to make her comfortable, but to share their own comfort with her. Their campsite was near the edge of the large camping area, and it was surprisingly peaceful to just look at the trees as the afternoon wore on. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t have to watch duty, or a training exercise, or studying to do. She could just… relax. The shooting started to fade into the background, and Linda spend nearly thirty minutes just watching birds in the distant trees, fluttering around as close as they dared get to all the noise.Linda glanced down at her lap. She had a carving knife on one hand, and a wooden puck leftover from some earlier project of Don’s. Carefully, cautiously, she went back to carving the thing circular slice of wood. She didn’t have the skill that Don had, to make a three-dimensional model, like the deer carving that he had gifted her earlier. Instead of anything complicated, she was carving a much simpler project: the Spartan-II project insignia. An eagle, wings spread, clutching a bundle of arrows in one hand, and a lightning bolt in the other. With the combination of her own lack of skill at wood carving, and how close it looked to old American government iconography, it was almost unrecognizable for what it was. At the very bottom, she etched her name: Linda Pravdin. It was a dumb idea, and one that Corporal Markov probably wouldn’t have approved of – and ONI definitely wouldn’t have approved of. But Linda thought that it was the right thing to do. Don and his family had trained Linda, in a way. They had given her a fresh perspective, and taught her how to appreciate these quiet moments in life, when she didn’t need to do anything. It was something so obvious in hindsight, but completely shrouded until the last few hours. And, well, as silly as it was, Linda wanted to repay that favor. She couldn’t give them money, or property, so instead, she’d repay them in the same way that all those trainers from the Army, and the ODSTs, and the Air Force, had done: with a unit badge. Improvised, perhaps, but still a sign of her appreciation.Marie wandered by, and quietly placed a cookie on Linda’s armrest, smiling gently at her. Linda looked up, and smiled back in thanks.