Halo: Missing Shipment

Short story by Captain Aeon.

Set on Cadmus, a brief interaction between a local crime lord and an appointed planetary administrator.

Two Men and a Missing Shipment
Cadmus, downtown Lockout 40, 1230 hours, nine hours until the storm

The planet's administrator surveyed the concrete towers through the tinted, rain-splotched glass from the backseat of his car. A muted radio softly blared warnings of an incoming typhoon, warnings that seemed more and more credible with each gust of wind that buffeted the side of the car. Even now, the city already seemed to be shuttering itself down, glass windows being covered in sheets of steel to protect them, the heavy bulkhead doors of the buildings being closed and sealed to protect from the seemingly inevitable flood.

The administrator sighed, doing his best to relax as he folded his arms. It wasn't easy when nearly every street corner and every poster board was plastered with recruiting material. A few posters he knew, he understood, he was familiar with. "Avenge Harvest, stop the Covenant, enlist with the UNSC today!" Those brought him some measure of comfort. Most didn't.

Most posters were from a different source. "The Forty Clubs. Your home, your future." Emblazoned on each poster was a pair of crossed police nightsticks and the number forty in large, block lettering. Even where there wasn't a poster, it was tattooed onto the side of building with spray paint, or nailed or plastered on. Poles at bus stops and the backs of road signs weren't safe either, stickers bearing that same number covering seemingly every conceivable location, and giving a constant reminder of who was the true power in the city. With all the recruiting propaganda drowning everything else out, one might even forget that there was a genocidal war going on. The Forty Clubs weren't called Posters for nothing, after all.

The administrator kneaded his brow, releasing a tired sigh. It wasn't the first time he had been in territory that would sooner see him gone, he had that experience plenty during the insurrection. It didn't mean he would ever quite get used to it though, the sharp gazes and scornful looks were hard to get used to.

The administrator pressed down at a switch, lowering the sheet of privacy glass that divided him and the driver. He needed someone to talk to, someone to ease his nerves. With a shallow hiss, the glass slid away and the administrator flashed the driver a tired smile through the rear view. "You'd think with this weather that he'd be closing up shop about now. Halfway worried he'll cancel on me." His voice was deep and warm, trying to ease the formalities between them.