Observance

ONI Agent Jacob Morrison stood watch outside the door of a quaint and secluded room aboard the UNSC Vegas. There hadn't been many visitors in the past half hour, and judging by the lack of traffic, he didn't expect many more people to come through in the next hour. Regardless, he would stand guard and keep a log of the visitors. Morrison momentarily looked away from his data pad and glanced back to into the room. It was small classroom type setting, however it had been re-purposed for this particular event. In the back of the room was a table covered with a gray tablecloth. On top of it were two candles surrounding a stone plaque, on it read:

SPARTAN 131, CAIN

KIA 09 JANUARY, 2560

Morrison thought the whole ceremony felt horribly pathetic, based on what he could read about the SPARTAN. He supposed maybe it was because most of the information on her was still highly secretive. Or maybe it was to help quell feelings of sadness among the visitors. Either way, he concluded it was a shitty way to honor someone.

The agent's attention was brought back to the outside, where he heard footsteps coming closer. Two tall men in Navy dress whites approached the door. Morrison saw the shiny grey bar of a LTJG on the uniform of the man on the right, and hastily presented a salute. The other man on the left looked to be an enlisted man, but Morrison wasn't sure exactly what rank. The two men stopped at the door, and the officer returned the salute before heading inside. Morrison noticed that both men had definitely seen their share of battle – both had some unique scars on their faces. Morrison already knew who they were, and checked their names off the list on his data pad after they entered.

Morrison took another glance back at the room. He noticed that the officer in the group was incredibly tense – his hands were locked in tight fists and his jaw was clenched. Morrison couldn't tell if the officer was angry or upset, but whatever he was feeling, the man held his composure pretty well despite the circumstances - Morrison knew that the officer was Cain's team leader. The two SPARTANs in the room talked lowly, the officer uttered only a few short sentences back to the enlisted man. The officer then reached into his pocket to retrieve something Morrison couldn't quite see, and walked up to the table to place it next to the plaque. Before he could identify the object, Morrison heard some more footsteps coming closer and turned his attention to the sound.

Two armed ONI agents flanked on either side of an old man in an orange jumpsuit. The man was on his last legs, hooked up to an oxygen machine that he clutched in his left hand, while holding onto a small arrangement of flowers in his right. This was the director of the DEMOPHILUS program, who Morrison was briefed about the day prior. Morrison was surprised the doctor would care so much about the kids he abducted - but he figured a life sentence in prison gives a person plenty of time to feel guilty about their actions. Morrison checked Doctor Schmidt off the list as the doctor and his handlers entered the room. The doctor walked straight to the table and placed the flowers next to the plaque, but before he could utter even a sentence, the guards motioned him back out the way they came. Not even five minutes later, the doctor and the guards were gone. The doctor got his wish, and that's all.

However, the two SPARTANs were still in the room, still conversing among themselves. After a few minutes, the enlisted man turned towards the door, encouraging his officer counterpart to depart with him. The officer waved him off, crossing his arms as he took yet another look at the plaque. The enlisted man left the room quietly, leaving just the officer to observe, alone. The officer stood in silence for a few minutes, before Morrison could hear him mutter his disbelief in the situation multiple times. The officer then put his arms by his side, his hands still in fists, and turned to walked out the room. The officer, Colin-142, passed Morrison, hiding his sadness under a stoic expression. He walked down the hall and out of sight.

And with that, the room lay empty. Morrison took a look at his watch. 15:22. The 'ceremony' was going to be packed up soon. Only seven visitors for the whole two hours – it was absolutely dismal, and the thought left him feeling pity and shame. Morrison turned and entered the empty room, taking another look at the plaque on the table. Sure, SPARTANs were secretive by nature, but surely such a dedicated warrior could get a better send off than this. No 21-gun salute, no commemorative speech, no medals – just some plaque with a name and a number. It was shameful that ONI would treat its best soldiers like this. He hoped that Cain-131 would be remembered in the sands of time, for he knew the SPARTAN sacrificed her whole damn life for the UNSC and Humanity. If ONI didn't want to do anything about it, perhaps he could...

Morrison took a look at his data pad, then back to the plaque. Even just an obituary - that's a good start, he thought to himself. The Chaplain entered the room to collect the items and blow out the candles. Morrison got one last look at the plaque before he turned and left the room, reading through reports on his data pad.