Halo Spotlight: Satori

A personal mission of vengeance finally complete, Miranda Talavera is forced to face a decision based on her understanding of Riker-012.

Flames flickered across the base walls, their heat bearing down on Miranda as she continued to hobble towards the exit. She doubted there was a pressing danger of the base collapsing, but she’d never been one to take chances.

The sooner I’m free of all this, the better, Miranda thought to herself, I’ve been wrapped up in conspiracies and petty feuds for way too long...

Behind her, she heard several crates and vehicle racks thunderously topple over, a metallic thud following immediately. Miranda halted, casting her eyes back to find a far too familiar sight: crawling forward from a pile of rubble, wounded and armor missing, was Riker. She shouldn’t be surprised by this point - Miranda had seen Spartans come back from impossible situations with her own eyes - but the vision of Riker shuffling out of the growing inferno still rattled her.

Determined, Riker trudged forward, one leg clearly wounded and his arm mangled from the initial explosion in the base. His movements were sluggish, and Miranda wondered if he could still see with all the blood running into his left eye. Struggling to maintain his balance, Riker dropped to his knees, still forcing himself to push onward and evac. Soon, his crawling slowed and he slumped to the ground, staring through the bay doors out to the vast horizon.

Leaned against one of the base’s stone walls, Miranda watched Riker struggling, but couldn’t bring herself to move. You idiot, just die if you can’t make it, she thought, ''The mission’s over, your target is dead. Vengeance is served, blah blah blah. Just stop struggling; move on or quit.''

She realized, suddenly, that she didn’t know if she was thinking about Riker or herself anymore.

For decades, this Spartan had haunted her, appearing at the worst times to foul up her most important missions. Her life had been made even harder because of him, over and over, and there was nothing she had enjoyed more than watching him be laid low and humiliated these past few weeks. Finally, Riker would be forced to fall and feel just a taste of her suffering. The pure catharsis of it all exhilarated her.

Yet still, Miranda felt something she hadn’t expected. A tugging sadness as she watched him fight to escape this Hell hole. You don’t deserve my pity, she told herself, You’re a murderous dog; you deserve to rot in this graveyard.

A small piece of her whispered from the corners of her mind, You’re no better.

She tried to pull herself away from the sight of Riker. My friends died fighting for a peaceful dream, all because you crushed it. So did his...

''All those people, unable to run from the Covenant all because you blew up the spaceport. Those are on your hands!''

''And what about all the innocents you killed? What about the women and children dead because of your missions?''

''All this insufferable pain just to get back at single man! That betrayal didn’t have to mean a damn! You could’ve moved on!''

''So then why does Riker mean so much? You could’ve moved on just the same''

Miranda wasn’t sure who she was arguing for in her head anymore.

She was lost, and tired, and so very alone. Her right arm was numb, her face tingling, and her eye wouldn’t stop twitching. For years she had harbored boiling rage against this man, piling on hatred upon hatred, and as she looked down on him, pitiful and decrepit, all she could muster up was the one thing she never wanted to feel for him: pity.

He was just a man. As much as she hated him and wanted to think of him as some unthinking machine, these past weeks had taught her that he was a man, just like any other. He was a man, and he had suffered more than most could bear, lost more than most would gain, and struggled longer than should be fair.

Trying to turn and limp away, frustrated and angry inside, a faint croak gave Miranda pause. “Mir...anda...”

She grimaced, and turned to look down at Riker, discovering him on his back with a look of genuine regret on his face. He tried to speak, but his parched throat could only mouth a single word: thanks.

Without thinking, Miranda howled, releasing all her pent up emotions as she reached down and grabbed Riker by his wrists. She was tired and down by a wounded arm, but with primal strength she yanked and dragged him across the rubble, out into the blinding sunlight. It all became a blur to her, a whirl of motion and rage: across the concrete courtyard, through the dirt outside, towards the waiting transport, only for Gracen and Koel to appear at last and drag Riker up the ramp into the getaway ship.

Soon, the ship was in the air, streaking up through the atmosphere. Comfortable in her chair, Miranda wasn’t certain how either of them had gotten where they were now, but she didn’t care. Exhausted, she let out a yawn as she curled deeper into her seat, thankful her journey was finally over. And as she glanced at Riker on his cot, passed out with the threadbare medical rig monitoring his vitals, she caught the hint of a smile on his peaceful, sleeping face.

“Perhaps we’re not so different,” she murmured, “Maybe... we both just needed... to rest...”