User:Distant Tide/War Rages On

Lieutenant Commander Kallas swirled his luck-warm coffee around in its matte-gray mug, watching the swirling brown liquid slouch around. He considered taking a sip and raised the cup to his lips but froze as a woman’s eyes bore into him from across the table.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to stare, Petty Officer?”

Kallas’s subordinate, a woman with black hair and squinting-green eyes, tilted her head at the question. “No. I wasn’t aware it was.”

“They really didn’t teach you manners on Onyx.” He muttered, setting his cup down as he mentioned the destroyed planet that the woman once called Home.

The Petty Officer shrugged. “They taught me enough. Survival is more important than a lady’s etiquette.”

“And what a shame it would be if they did…”

“Well, may I talk straight with you, sir?” The Petty Officer asked, without touching her empty coffee mug. She had downed it as soon as he handed it to her.

“In my unit, only when around insiders,” Kallas responded, slowly raising his hairless eyebrows, taking considerable effort as they shook in place. “Be my guest. Otherwise, no.”

“Would now be ‘among insiders’?”

“That’s for you to decide, Spartan. Your teammates already agreed or turned down my offer in favor of the Spartan Branch. Either way, the SPARTAN-III Program is finished. And, with the way your unit is going: Team Talwar might soon see the same fate.”

I heard Vitor already agreed to your terms. The others, as you said told me they’d rather just go with the Spartan Branch or find some other purpose. At this point, I don’t think leaving Vitor alone with your group, not knowing what he’s getting himself into, is the smartest thing I could do.”

“You’re right. SPARTAN-G252 already agreed to my proposition. Didn’t take him long to make that decision either, surprisingly.”

“Well with a butchered face like yours, I don’t blame the rest of my team to choose the other option over you.” The Petty Officer, SPARTAN-G085, responded, scowling as she analyzed Kallas’s complexion.

“Oh? We’re speaking frankly now? Does that mean you accept?” Kallas asked, wincing as he attempted to increase the presence of his paralyzed, Glasgow smile.

“I did say leaving Vitor by himself is a bad idea, so, in some manner, yes. I will join your unit.”

“Alright, then this is a conversation between ‘insiders’.” The numbed smile on Kallas’s face did not wane.

“What happened to your face, to begin with, if I might ask?”

“Well, you’ll hear about it sooner or later. Jericho VII. It was 2524. I was a First Lieutenant then, still wet behind the ears and still just a year outta Officer Candidate School. Oh, and a freshly minted ODST on top of that. My unit and I were pulling early-morning security detail for a UNSC supply convoy when we started seeing explosions erupting from the ground on all sides and closing in with each explosion. It was over in mere seconds. Insurrectionists set an ambush using some old surveillance drones, which we walked right into. Most of my squad got lucky, died as soon as the artillery shells touched the ground. I survived with life-threatening injuries: shattered bone, punctured and lacerated organs, shredded muscle tissue, runaway internal bleeding. The whole ‘you should be dead’ situation.”

Kallas paused and looked at SPARTAN-G085 who winced at the mental image. Kallas’s smile slipped and the numbed agony from straining his muscles quickly subsided.

“I was lucky…or maybe I was unlucky, that a medical aircraft was nearby to fly me from the battlefield and get me to a hospital. Five more minutes or less and I would have bled out, though, I’m not sure it would have been much of a shame. They medically discharged me as soon as they stabilized me; with my wounds, I was as good as dead to the Marine Corps. My upper body was destroyed, the doctors were barely able to keep me together and because of that, I had to endure eight more surgeries before I had any use my arms again. Two years of rehabilitation. Partial paralysis to total paralysis in my face muscles. I’m constantly in pain. They had to put nanobots under my skin to numb it. It took them a year to consider me ready for facial repair surgery. Ultimately, I chose to do without it. These scars are all I have left of my friends who died on Jericho VII. Everyone told me I was crazy; maybe I am. Doesn’t matter. At least it leaves an impression.”

The Spartan petty officer across from Kallas sat in silence at learning of her new superior’s predicament. She blinked slowly as she stared down at the remaining pockets of the coffee mix in her mug. Finally, she looked up at Kallas, curiosity in her eyes. “So, why didn’t you take your leave? Clearly, you joined up with Naval Intelligence and you’re still an officer.”

“Health benefits for retirees isn’t very good, given the Insurrection and at the start of the Human-Covenant War. Continuing to serve as the best option, and, I enjoy serving. I wanted to do my part, even if I could no longer pick up a rifle and go on a long-range patrol like before. I still have my mind. To put it simply, I enjoy working instead of wasting away.”

“What about now? With the Covenant War now over?”

“What makes you say that? Who said the War was over?” Kallas asked, raising his naked eyebrows again. He paused for a moment, sticking his finger into his cold coffee to swirl it around. “And what am I to call you Spartan? G085? Petty Officer? Bless?”

“Petty Officer is fine. G085 works too.”

“Alright.”

“And the War is over. We signed the peace accords with Elites and the Covenant is dead. Seems pretty much a done deal.” SPARTAN-G085 grumbled, crossing her hoodie-wrapped arms across her chest.

Her Spartan generation never got the chance to fight in the War, Kallas wondered if he was detecting a hint of jealousy in her voice. Maybe what he said next would earn him some brownie points with her. “A piece of paper doesn’t mean a War ended.”

“But we’re not at War…”

“We wouldn’t have a need for Spartans if we were not at War. Look at it this way, just because we have a piece of paper with the Arbiter’s signature on it, can you really trust it? This isn’t an agreement between two nations on Earth in our species’ past. Humans aren’t even trustworthy with peace treaties if we consider our history. This is a ceasefire specified between two civilizations that know nothing about one another who just spent the last twenty-seven years trying to wipe each other out and we only got lucky because their bosses chose to wipe them out with us, or we wouldn’t even be here having this conversation. War could resume at the tip of a hat, literally, for all we know.”

“Okay. That’s fair, but my Company mates and I were unable to participate during the Battle of Earth. Now we’re in a state of rebuilding. The UEG is coming back into power, according to the news I’ve read.”

“The media is spoiled by the “We Won the War” honeymoon, just you wait, in the coming weeks, we’ll be back to the old ways. Think about it. What is the current status regarding rebel groups?”

The Spartan woman froze as her eyes flickered about; trying to remember something, she heard, read or watched. She finally came to answer. “Pacification Operations. They were mentioned inside a general ONI release briefing.”

Kallas amended the statement. “ONI wants to get a head start on crushing the illegal weapons trade and bring secessionists back in the fold after they took advantage of our absence. Mamore. Venezia. Gilgamesh. Gao. You Gammas are at the forefront I hear.”

“Okay. The Insurrectionists are still a threat. Nothing is new.” The petty officer agreed as a small smirk ghosted along the edges of her lips.

“And what of the other aliens? The news networks won’t report about Jackal raiders pillaging our furthest colonies because they simply spew out whatever ONI Section II deems appropriate. It’s still a dark and dangerous place beyond the Inner Colonies. One wrong move and the Elites or Brutes will be breathing down our necks…”

The Spartan drew a stink eye at Kallas as the pieces took full form in her mind. “We’re still at war, even if we say we’re not publically…”

“The War rages on…” Kallas confirmed wistfully and downed the rest of his coffee cup, letting the lukewarm, chunky liquid drain down his throat. His enemy was still out there, the Human-Covenant War wasn’t over. It never would be.