Refugees

{|style="width:100%; color:#FFF;" July 24, 2552
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Near Visegrad, planet Reach

The refugees huddled under a makeshift shelter made of tarp as the cold wind blew rain sideways. The survivors of the attack on Visegrad were a motley, depressed lot, most of them still in shock over the fact that the feared Covenant had come to Reach. UNSC Army troopers supervised the group, offering them MREs and blankets to keep warm. It was a gray, wet, ultimately nasty sort of day.

Vera refused to sit, however. She stood at the entrance of one of the tents with her arms crossed, eyes squinted as rain pelted her exposed face. Inside she felt a little numb, a little overwhelmed, but mostly she was mad. Mad that the illusion of safety had been turned inside out and that her planet was being walked on by alien feet. Mad that she was too young and insignificant to do anything about it. She'd asked one of the Army troopers if she could help fight the aliens and he'd laughed like she was being silly. She hated him for it.

"Come sit down, Vera. Here, I've a blanket for you," her aunt coerced, beckoning. Being an orphan meant you had to go live with whatever family you had left, and for Vera that was her aunt, uncle and cousins. They were all sitting in a tight circle looking horribly depressed. Vera shook her head in negation and turned away, facing the outdoors. The Army troopers made a show of being confidant and calm, but Vera knew they were afraid. It showed in the way they glanced around, the way they kept one hand close to a sidearm.

One of Vera's older cousins was outside under the supplies tent trying to open an MRE and a boy from one of the other tents came over to help him. But her cousin yanked it away and growled. "Away with you, Maygar! I don't need your help!" he spat.

"Ivan!" her aunt gasped, appalled. "That's no way to—"

"Oh yeah? You think you're all that, huh, you filthy Koslovic?" the other boy snarled back, real anger in his hazel eyes.

"At least I'm not a dirt-poor farmer who smells like the backside of a mule!" Ivan retorted, his Russian brogue clearly different from the other boy's Hungarian accent.

"Hey hey, cut it out," a female trooper cautioned, separating the two teenagers forcefully. "I know we're all a little out of sorts today, but if you start fighting, we will restrain you." She let them go and they both glowered at each other, then the Hungarian boy loped back to his tent, casting angry glances over his shoulder as he went.

Vera just rolled her eyes and went back to staring at the far-off mountains. For as long as she could remember, the Russian and Hungarian settlers of Reach had always been at odds. The fact that the Russians had instigated a small Koslovic uprising ten years ago didn't make getting along any easier; there had been some nasty bombings during that time. While the Hungarians were primarily farmers, the Russians thrived on business and capital. Their ways of life were similar, yet totally different at the same time.

Vera wasn't political. She thought the Koslovics were stupid Communist pigs, despite her family's long-ago involvement, and that the Hungarians were just too paranoid of their Russian neighbors. Being Russian herself made her a bit biased of course, but she wasn't prejudiced against the Hungarians at all. Especially not today. They were all in the same boat; their planet, their very existence, was at risk.

She walked out of the tent and made her way toward the center of the camp, where bottled water had been set out for the refugees. The rain soaked through her plain clothes and plastered her hair to her neck, but she could have cared less. The coldness felt oddly good. A few of the Hungarians gave her odd looks as she passed, but she didn't respond. She picked up a bottle, twisted off the cap, then noticed that several of the Army troopers were looking past her at something that made them turn pale. She turned her head and nearly dropped her water bottle. Six heavily armored beings were approaching the encampment, accompanied by a young woman with dark hair. Vera took an involuntary step back, then remembered what she'd read about these titans in the newspapers. They were Spartans, humans with incredible strength and skills, given special armor to match the Covenant's best in prowess.

It would figure that Spartans would be around on the day Reach got invaded.

While the Spartans talked with some Army officers, Vera approached the young woman, who was quiet and trying her best not to be noticed by anyone. The Vera held up her water bottle, offering it, and the woman took it, taking a shaky sip. "Thanks," she said, blinking.

"I'm Vera," Vera said, gesturing at herself.

"Sára Sorvad," the woman murmured. Vera noticed that her eyes were red; had she been crying?

"Pah, a Maygar." Vera glanced over her shoulder and saw Ivan leering there, his dirty blonde hair sticking up over his ruddy face. "What's wrong, Covies burn your farm down?"

Sára's lip trembled and Vera kicked Ivan in the shin. Hard. "Bugger off, durak," she snapped. "You think you're so tough, why don't you go kill the Covies yourself?"

Ivan made a face at her, which she countered with a glare that said If you open your mouth again, I'll stick my fist in it.

As he stomped off, Vera gave a shrug. "Cousins. Can't hardly live with them," she quipped. She placed a friendly hand on Sára's shoulder. "Forget what he said. He's a lowlife. Uses narcs now and then."

Sára nodded numbly. "Az idegenek megölték az apámat," she muttered, her shoulders quivering slightly.

Vera cocked her head. "Eh?"

"Nothing." Sára rook another sip from the bottle and sighed.

Vera looked up at the gray sky and shifted her weight uneasily. Earlier she'd seen a Covie dropship skulking above the trees to the south; that had thrown everyone into a real panic, but so far no Covies had attempted to assault the little camp. But she knew deep down that they couldn't stay out of the line of fire forever. Either they would head for a big city, where fallout shelters could be found, or they'd evacuate the planet. The second option was not a welcome one.

She found herself studying the Spartans as they refilled their ammo cases and checked over their weapons. Each one's armor was covered in countless nicks, streaks, scars and dents attesting to numerous battles. The light blue one even had a robotic right arm. "How'd you wind up with them?" Vera asked Sára, jerking a thumb at the huge soldiers.

"I was hiding from some Elites, and they saved me," Sára said quietly. "I had no choice but to go with them."

"Big guys, big guns," Vera remarked. She was curious, biting back her urge to go over and get closer look. "Bet the Covies didn't stand a chance."

She nearly jumped as the one in dark blue and gray armor came toward them, stopping a couple feet from Sára. The helmet came off, revealing a rugged face with piercing cobalt eyes. "You're staying here," the Spartan said, his American accent hardening his words. "You'll be safe with these people; they'll have you evacuated in no time."

Sára nodded, accepting her fate, while Vera crossed her arms. She resented being vulnerable, having to rely on others for defense and protection. As the other Spartans came closer, grouping near the blue and gray armored one, she envied their weapons and armor. How she wanted to be that sort of warrior, wielding that much firepower. Then she wouldn't have to run away from danger.

One of the Spartans came up to Sára, towering at least eighteen inches over her. "Maradj biztonságban, hallod?" he said, looking down through the red-gold visor of his helmet. Vera could see her reflection there; straight black hair, pale skin, narrow brown eyes. It was more of a child's face than that of a woman, distorted by the rounded faceplate.

"Úgy lesz," Sára replied hesitantly.

Vera had no idea what they were saying, but apparently it wasn't anything hostile. She cocked her head, then decided to say something as well. "You are going back to battle, yes?" she inquired, unsure of how to address a Spartan.

"Where else?" another Spartan answered, somewhat scornfully. This one wore a different-looking helmet that had a demonic skull etched onto the glassy amber visor. "This ain't just an invasion, it's a war," he scoffed, not addressing her.

"Good," Vera replied serenely. "Then kill them all, if you would be so kind."

"Cocky," the skullfaced Spartan muttered, slinging his shotgun over his armored back and walking away.

Vera turned to Sára and cracked a smile. "My ancestors were bloodthirsty Red Army soldiers during the Second World War, and fierce Koslovic commandos during the Rain Forest Wars. If I could, I would kill the Covie svolochi myself." She looked up at the Spartan that had addressed Sára. "But instead that job is left to you people."

"Don't worry. We won't let you down," the Spartan rumbled. He gestured at Sára. "Watch her back, wouldja?"

Vera was surprised at this request, but gave a terse nod. "Sure," she answered.

As they both watched the Spartans leave the camp, Vera patted Sára on the back reassuringly. "As long as they live, the heart of Reach cannot be broken. I'm sure of it."

"Do you think we even have a chance?" Sára asked forlornly, hugging herself.

Vera was silent for a moment, then sighed, letting her hand fall to her side. "Us? Civilians? Maybe, if we're clever enough," she said.

"But what if Reach falls?"

The question cut like steel—not the way Sára said it, but the full meaning it entailed. Vera scowled and let her eyes linger on the armored backs growing smaller and smaller in the distance. "Then we'll just have to keep fighting, won't we?" she said softly, venomously. "We'll have our revenge, no matter what it takes."

She could see the faintest hints of sunset beginning to show behind the cloud cover, and as the cold wind picked up again, she walked Sára over to the tent where her aunt, uncle and cousins were situated. Ivan frowned upon seeing Sára, but Vera shot him a glare that would hopefully squelch whatever prejudiced words he had in mind. Her aunt offered Sára the same blanket from earlier, which Sára accepted with a nod, then sat down.

Vera took her place at the mouth of the tent once more, folding her arms and gazing out at the darkening landscape. Sára's question nagged at the back of her mind. What if Reach falls? She watched as the Army troopers scurried here and there, checking equipment, relaying information. They weren't as fantastically outfitted as the Spartans, but they had fighting spirit. It would be a shame if their efforts were in vain. A shame if the loss of our homes and neighbors and families is just part of a larger massacre.

"You never told me your whole name," Sára said, standing by Vera with the blanket draped over her shoulders like a cape. "Vera…?"

"Reznov," Vera answered, mustering a smirk. "Vera Alyona Reznov."

They both watched as the sky turned red and night began to descend upon Reach.

It would be a long, dark night for sure.