Red Letter Days/Interlude Chapter One


 * Somewhere in space 
 * UNSC Frigate Furious Five
 * Private 1st. Clast Leonard Schaeffer 
 * Recovering

Schaeffer sat in the medical bay, as he had been sitting there for the week. He'd be kicked out soon he knew, the medbay was packed with survivors, almost two thirds of those who made it off the planet. The ship's medics, who by now were looking so tired they looked more like the ghosts of the damned, floated around the medical bay. The haunts stared with lifeless eyes at the wounded arrayed around them, dull irises slowly drifting over wounds as if they were looking at displays at the store.

They stitched, bandaged, disinfected and amputated. Schaeffer had been drugged senseless so many times that he couldn't count, and only caught a few words like 'infection' or 'surgery' before drifting back into the haze of sleep.

He was awake now, and his eyes darted back and forth between the various doctors who were pretending not to notice him as they did presumably more important things. Schaeffer had woken up with a start, remembering screaming and pain and only woking up to more of the same, squinting at the too bright lights as the smells of the dead reached his nose.

After some time, he slowly began to sit up, ignoring the numbness across his entire party, and a medic quickly took note and drifted over. His attempt to shy away from the needle failed, and Schaeffer was soon back into the haze, in the void. Images of fire, mushroom clouds, drifted through his vision and he was sure he was screaming, and after what felt like eternity he found himself snapping back to consciousness like a fish out of water.

And then Schaeffer found himself rising, out of a bunk in a bedroom. His eyes slid across the room in seconds, darting between every nook and cranny for any sign of monsters. There was nothing but a series of bunks built into the wall however, eight in the room in all, and only one with any sign of inhabitance (a small pile of clothes laying on the undone sheets).

No ghastly doctors or screaming amputees, and Schaeffer realized that for the first time in what felt like a long time he was alone. He stared at his hands, then at his feet, and then he thought of the events that had transpired on Second Base, and then decided he didn't want to be alone anymore. He didn't want to face his demons, and with a slight groan as his freshly bandaged everything told him to start resting again, Schaeffer found his feet.

He popped open his footlocker and found fatigues inside that didn't quite fit him, but Schaeffer didn't rightly care. After dressing, he was walking into the hallway of the ship, a passing man, most likely some refugee, not even acknowledging him as he pushed past down the hall. Schaeffer's eyes followed him before he began walking towards the way he came, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his new fatigues.

Walking down the hall gave him little reprieve from his thoughts, memories of seeing the piles of dead civilians, the Marines they left behind at Fort Darkat. He swallowed and found a sign listing rooms nearby, and slowly began walking towards the ship's mess hall. On the way to the room, he passed the hallway to the medical bay, and saw bodies lining the halls, writing in pain. He blinked as one of them began to burn lightly, the smell of burning rubber filling his nostrils, and then continued on.

The ship was otherwise quiet, far too quiet for a normal naval ship. Thoughts kept working their ways back into his head, bouncing around his mind and forcing him to think back to the day. He was relieved when he heard voices speaking softly as he walked into the mess hall, and quickly began moving towards the only table with people at it, several Marines sitting at it and talking softly. They all looked sad, as if talking was just to fill in empty time. They stopped and looked up at Schaeffer as he walked up, and then went back to their conversation.

"I heard that aliens didn't only hit Second Base, but Earth's under attack too, and we're flying back to go help," Masih said, wringing her hands and glancing around. Busy shook his head and rubbed his arms as Schaeffer sat down next to him.

"Impossible. Even if they did... no way we'd know. We'll only find out when we drop out of slipspace," the older Marine said, giving a half nod to Schaeffer. Chaplain, who had used to be 1st Platoon's corpsman, slammed his fist on the table angrily, the sound louder than any words that had been spoken. Schaeffer flinched at the noise before looking at his legs.

"Where the hell are we even going anyway," Chaplain demanded, looking around the room as if he was expecting to see a window with their destination in it. Hooch, the final member of the group, looked up to answer,

"I used to know one of the bridge officers, he told me that we did a random jump to make sure we weren't followed, then we'll go to New Madrigal." Busy nodded and Chaplain cursed, leaning backwards.

"It'll double the damn trip. We've already been out here for a week."

"Then we'll be out here for a few weeks more, if not months," Hooch answered. Schaeffer absorbed the words and after a few moments, filled the silence,

"The whole war will be over by then." The Marines looked between each other.

"Second Base is right between Green Hills and Harvest..." Chaplain said, frowning. Busy looked at him and one of his eyebrows rose,

"And past Green Hills is New Madrigal. If they had come from Harvest, they'll hit Green Hills and then we'll be on the chopping block again."

The Marines didn't know what to say and lapsed back into silence. Schaeffer himself couldn't begin to believe what he had seen could happen elsewhere. Slaughter, massacre. There was no hope if those... things attacked elsewhere. He could already picture burning cities across the UNSC. Harvest, New Madrigal, Earth... Skopje. Before he knew it, his fists has balled up, and he closed his eyes as he felt despair begin to grasp him yet again.

"If they come to New Madrigal we’ll fight them there. If they come anywhere we’ll fight them. I’m not going to sit by and let them burn another planet." Schaeffer said with more gusto than he really felt. The assorted Marine’s nodded.

"I’ll god damned volunteer to be the next one on the line," Busy said.

"You’re all crazy. I’m not getting back into that shit," Chaplain countered, also receiving a few nods of agreement.

"It wouldn't be any of your choices," a new voice said, and they all stopped talking as the lieutenant walked in.

"Attention on deck!" one of the Marine’s shouted, but they only got half way out of their seats before the lieutenant ushered them down.

"Stop with that shit. I’m here because the officer’s mess is empty since apparently the better part of our chain of command is gone, this isn't a time for formalities." There were a few mutters of apologies but for the most part, the Marine’s sat in silence.

"Any idea where we’re going LT?"

"New Madrigal. My best guess is that they’re then going to split us up and send us back out."

"Assuming they even let us go. Maybe ONI will shush us up," Hooch said.

"Don’t be a conspiracy theorist," Busy countered, giving Hooch a slap on the back.

"They used to say alien’s aren't real either," Dread slowly began to mount in Schaeffer again. He wanted to go fight aliens. Protect humanity. Would he even be given the chance?

Would he even live long enough to try?