by Matt Forbeck
“You’re still you, aren’t you? Spartan or not?”
“I’d say so, but I don’t exactly have the full-on Engineer’s perspective. What do you think?”
I held out my arms as an invitation to examine me. They stretched farther now than they had for my entire adulthood, which still felt strange to me. Like I’d gone through some kind of second adolescence and come out of it a new kind of adult.
Maybe that’s why they tapped kids for the previous Spartan programs. It’s hard enough to go through those kinds of changes once. That way, they went straight from kids to superhumans.
With us ODST guys, we already knew how hard puberty had been. Becoming a Spartan as an adult is something like that, only far worse. This time around, you realize you volunteered for the experience, and you can only hope that you’ll recognize yourself when you come out on the far end of it.
I hadn’t been a Spartan for all that long at that point, and I’ll admit to still having a few butterflies about it. Veronica looked me up and down and gave me an approving nod. “You’ll do fine.”
I caressed her shoulder. “Too bad you’re still just a spook, huh?”
She punched me flat in the stomach, hard. Back in my ODST days, that would have doubled me over. The lady’s got a hell of a right hook. Now, though, I barely felt it. It bounced off my reengineered abs, and she yowled in surprise as she tried to shake the pain out of her hand.
“You’re lucky I’m just a spook,” she said. “Or I’d have no use for you at all.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’d think of something,” I said. “You’re one of the most resourceful people I know.”
“They taught you flattery in Spartan school, too?”
“Well, I already knew how to shoot.”
I couldn’t help needling her a bit. By then she’d already given me plenty of proof that, when it came to me joining the Spartans, she enjoyed the results.
She hadn’t been quite so supportive when I’d turned down my first chance to join them, two years earlier.
In fact, she’d wasted a lot of our remaining vacation time on Sundown trying to get me to change my mind.
“Just think of all the good you could do,” she’d said. She didn’t see why I’d passed up such a blessing.
“Would you have taken Jun up on that?” I asked. “I mean, if he’d asked you?”
“You’re damn right I would have.” More than a hint of jealousy colored her reply. “I wouldn’t even have waited for them to ask. If I was a soldier, I’d have tracked the new Spartan program down and camped outside of their door until they gave me a chance to beg for the transformation.”
She liked to think that all her badgering of me about fulfilling my responsibilities and living up to my potential had some effect. And maybe it did a little, if I’m honest.
But I didn’t decide to take the plunge and join the Spartans because of her, much as I might have let her think that sometimes. It happened because of another woman.
Sarah Palmer.
ELEVEN
* * *
You have to understand that I hadn’t seen Sarah Palmer for years after that rescue on Sargasso back in ’46. Hell, I didn’t even think much about her in all that time. I was too busy fighting the war, during which I lost far more friends than I care to think about. People who were much closer to me.
I didn’t have a lot of time to spare for soldiers I’d saved. I never felt like I’d done anything heroic. It was all just part of the job.
Back home on Draco III, when I was fishing with my uncle Lou, a member of our crew fell into the open sea. Fortunately, she’d been wearing the required safety line, but we all knew that didn’t matter much. As fast as our boat was moving, it was like she was water-skiing beneath the waves. There was no way she’d ever be able to pull herself back up to safety.
I grabbed her line, which was as taut as steel wire, and kept it from flopping around all over the back of the boat, which could have cut her loose. Uncle Lou took one of the cables we used to haul in catches and hooked it to the woman’s line. He started up the winch right after that, and soon we had her back on deck.
She was wet as an ice shark, and had stopped breathing to boot. I quickly leaned on her chest until she coughed up half the sea, and she then sat straight up as if a jellyfish had stung her in her rump. After that, Uncle Lou and I took her below deck and turned her over to the first mate. Then we went right back to work.
At dinner that night, I wanted to talk about it, but Uncle Lou just waved me off. Don’t make no big deal out of it, he said. Wasn’t nothing to it. You fell over, and she’d have done the same for you. Anyone on this boat would.
I looked around the mess and saw he was right. I didn’t know the names of half the people on board that fishing barge, but I’d have busted my ass to save any one of them. And I could count on them to step up if I was the one in need.
It was the same thing as being a marine. I couldn’t tell you how many people I saved over the years. Not in the glad-you-had-my-back kind of way, but in the I’d-have-died-for-sure sort.
But maybe just as many people saved me. There were lots of times I know it happened, and probably just as many more that I didn’t. When you’re in the middle of a firefight, you don’t stop to say thanks, and you surely don’t keep score.
Every time I went out in the field with Alpha-Nine, we covered each other as best we could. Most times, we all came back alive, and that’s when we knew we’d done our jobs well.
But not always. The times you blow it—or when you let one of your pals make their last mistake—those are the ones you remember. Doesn’t matter if it’s your fault or not.
That’s a long way of saying that, after Alpha-Nine saved Sarah Palmer on Sargasso back in 2546, I didn’t expect a word of thanks from her the next time we met. Maybe I’d get a grateful nod of acknowledgment, showing that she recognized me and remembered what I’d done. That was more than I’d figured.
Believe it or not, that leads me right back around to what happened with the Rookie.
I know. It’s a convoluted tale. I’m a complex guy.
So, eight years later, in 2554, when Alpha-Nine was stuck in the legislative chambers on Draco III—with United Rebel Front Captain Ingridson holding a gun to the Rookie’s head—the last voice I expected to hear over the comm to shatter my concentration was Palmer’s.
“Gunnery Sergeant Buck? This is Spartan Sarah Palmer. I understand you’re having some problems. We’re here to help.”
“Spartan Sarah Palmer?” I couldn’t hide my surprise, but I didn’t have time for this. If we didn’t resolve this hostage situation fast and well, the Rookie was going to die.
I signaled Mickey and Dutch to slip out of the legislature’s main floor, get upstairs, and circle back around to the balcony where Ingridson was holding the Rookie hostage. They moved out as quiet as ghosts.
Romeo hung back with me. He hefted his grenades again, but I waved him off once more.
“New and improved, Gunny,” Palmer was saying over the conn. “My fireteam has a lock on your location. We can be there in under a minute and assist you with your situation.”
“Negative, Palmer. The op’s gone delicate on us. We got this.”
I don’t know why I turned her down. Maybe it was what Veronica said about the Spartans being a blunt instrument. Maybe I was afraid they’d barge in and get the Rookie killed.
I hate to think it had something to do with the resentment most every Helljumper has for the Spartans. That would be damn stupid. But I can’t rule it out.
“It’s your op, Buck. We’re on standby for you until we get the all clear.”
“Copy that.” I was about to say more, but Captain Ingridson interrupted me.
“This is not a negotiation!” the Front leader shouted. She removed her pistol from the Rookie’s head and put a bul
let into his knee instead.
The Rookie screamed in pain and twisted around like a lashed-down lion, but the soldiers holding him up didn’t loosen their grip.
“Come on out now, troopers!” yelled Ingridson. “Surrender, or we’ll kill your fascist friend here and now!”
Sick of waiting for orders from me, Romeo stood up and fired a burst at Ingridson. The rounds glanced off the almost invisible shield protecting the presidential balcony, ricocheting in every direction.
“Goddammit, Romeo!” I barked at him. “Knock that shit off!”
He dropped back behind cover, snarling with frustration like a caged dog who couldn’t quite reach a raw steak. I growled right back at him. We were going to have a short, brutal talk about waiting for orders when this was over.
Ingridson just laughed off the pointless attack. Like some kind of cheap video villain. And then she put her gun back at the Rookie’s head.
“I’m tired of playing this game with you,” Ingridson said. “I’m counting to three.”
I didn’t see any other route out. She had us cold. Even if I’d called in the Spartans at that point, the woman would have shot the Rookie dead the moment they burst into the place. I only had one call to make here, so I made it.
I stood up from behind the desk I’d been using as cover and held my hands up in as casual a way as I could manage. “No need for that.”
“Drop your gun!”
I let the pistol in my hand fall to the ground. I still had my M7S submachine gun magnetically latched to my back, but I had no chance of reaching that before Ingridson could empty her gun, and she knew it.
I gestured at Romeo to do the same. He complied, but maybe only because he knew how much I was going to chew him out later for jumping the gun on me. He stood next to me and dumped his weapon at his feet.
“I didn’t know the balcony was shielded,” he said with the barest hint of an apology in his voice.
“It’s the seat of a colonial government,” I replied. “You think we’re primitives?”
“I, for one, am glad to see one of you showing a little initiative,” Ingridson said before Romeo could muster an answer. “For the most part, you damn Helljumpers are all the same. You follow your orders like good little soldiers, never questioning who gives them to you and why.”
“It’s a living,” I said.
I don’t think she appreciated the joke.
“For you! What about the innocents you kill?”
“I didn’t think most of the bugs I killed were innocent.”
“That war is over,” Ingridson said. “Go home!”
That’s when I did something that surprised her. I took off my helmet.
“I am home,” I said. “My name’s Eddie Buck. I was born right here at Draco Mercy, New Albany, Lombard, Draco III. Lived most of my life in Karnak before I enlisted to go save humanity.”
That sure as hell shut her big mouth for the moment. I’m sure she had a whole speech of revolutionary, isolationist rhetoric ready to go, but my guess is most of it relied on making me feel guilty for invading this privacy-loving colony whose only crime was wanting to be left out of galactic politics.
“I know,” I said. “It’s hard to believe anyone would want to leave such a peaceful place behind.” I made pointed glances at the blast and bullet marks that scarred the legislative chamber.
“We’re trying to rebuild in the ashes of the war the UNSC started with the Covenant!”
“Ah!” I said, appalled but not surprised. “Is that the latest line of bullshit you’re trying to feed people around here? Can’t make them forget about how the Covenant glassed half the planet and then sent their infantry down here to feed on the survivors—so you’re going to blame all that on the UNSC instead?”
“The people need to hear the truth.”
“And so you deliver the truth to them with bullets?” I held my helmet over my heart. “I’m a native son, Captain. Give me your spiel. Convince me I should be standing over there with you rather than down here. Just—I want you to do it without hurting anyone.”
Palmer spoke to me then over the comm in my helmet. “How’s it going down there, Buck?”
I didn’t dare answer. I was sure Ingridson couldn’t hear Palmer from where she was, but I’d either have to put my helmet back on or shout into it to get any kind of message through.
She was a professional though. She wouldn’t dive in without my say-so—not like Romeo had. I hoped.
But Ingridson didn’t get to call herself a captain in her Front cell because she was an idiot. She knew what I was doing.
“Quit stalling,” she finally said. “Bring your other armed thugs out to join you, or I’ll not only kill this man . . .” She pointed her gun at my unhelmeted head. “I’ll kill you, too.”
Romeo snorted. “Doesn’t that force field work both ways?”
I glared at him. “Do I look like I installed it?”
Ingridson squeezed off a shot at Romeo. It caught him in his faceplate and knocked him to the floor.
I don’t know how that particular one-way force field operated. Maybe it was constructed so things could pass through from one direction but not the other. Maybe it was rigged to blink off and on at the pull of a trigger inside the balcony. Maybe she just poked the barrel of her pistol through it before she fired.
All I know is that she could hurt us, and we couldn’t return the favor.
I went to help Romeo up and instantly thought better of it.
“Fair enough,” I said, turning back to Ingridson. “You’re holding all the cards. What’s your play?”
“Get off our planet.”
“Our?” I arched an eyebrow at her.
“The people here need loyalists like me to look out for them, not traitors like you.”
I ignored the jab. “I get it. You think you’re doing something to help the people of Draco. This isn’t the way to do it.”
“And the UNSC has a better way?”
“Buck?” Palmer said through my helmet. “We’re detecting more hostiles closing on your position.”
That meant Ingridson was using the same tactics on me as I was on her. She was playing for time until her own reinforcements could reach us, but she’d called me on my stalling to keep me from getting suspicious about hers.
In other circumstances, I could have grown to like her.
I flashed her a winning smile and shrugged. “We saved the galaxy from the Covenant. I’d say that’s a point in our favor.”
“For all the good it did the people of Draco.”
That stung more than I cared to admit. I’d been angry about the fall of Draco III, too, but I’d known whom to blame for it. “The UNSC didn’t invade here. You’d blame the victim for the crime?”
“I blame the filthy racketeer who promises protection and isn’t around to supply it when you need it most.”
Okay, that tore it for me.
I launched into that self-righteous coward, stabbing my finger at her to punctuate every accusation. “And where the hell were you when the Covenant burned this place to glass? Where were you when they sent their soldiers to hunt down my family and friends? Where were you when those unholy bastards ate my sister and her little kids?”
My red-faced rant sent Ingridson’s blood straight to her cheeks. And for just a distracted moment, she lowered her gun.
“Gunny?” Dutch said over the comm. “We’re in position.”
I shouted right into my helmet. “Alpha-Nine! Go!”
I dove to the left, jamming my helmet back on my head as I hit the ground.
Ingridson started to empty her pistol at me. One of the slugs caught me in the arm, sending me spinning into the desks and chairs arranged in a semicircle facing the balcony.
My armor took the worst of it, but a chunk of the bullet found it
s way through the protection and buried itself in my shoulder. The impact felt even worse, like getting kicked by a Brute.
“Clear!” Dutch said over the comm while the bullets were still flying. An instant later, an explosion at the doors leading up to the balcony interrupted Ingridson’s furious barrage.
I grabbed at my shoulder and guessed by the fact that I could still feel it that I might survive. “We’re hot, Palmer!” I said into the comm. “Cover our backs?”
“Already engaging the incoming Front troops,” the Spartan said, calm as ever. “Wouldn’t leave you hanging.”
I leaped to my feet, unslinging my SMG as I went. As I stood, I saw Mickey charging onto the balcony. He brought his rifle up to bear on Ingridson and shouted at the top of his lungs, “Hold it right there!”
The Front leader already had her gun back at the Rookie’s head. I’m sure the way she saw it, she had only one play.
Even if she managed to survive this encounter, we’d capture her for sure. Her life as a rebel was over. The best she could expect was a long prison sentence punctuated by intense periods of interrogation.
I can’t say she would’ve been wrong about that.
In her mind, she wasn’t getting out of there alive. By choice. That wasn’t the kind of life she wanted.
And if she was going down, then she was taking as many of us with her as she could. Even if that was only one.
She pulled the trigger on the Rookie, and his brains blew out of the back of his skull in a fine red mist that scattered all over the legislature’s floor. Then he crumpled backward, tumbling over the balcony’s railing. His body slammed right on the podium from which Draco III’s legislators gave speeches to the rest of the world. It splintered under his weight.
Mickey could only stand there in shock and gape at what Ingridson had done. While he stared in horror, Dutch spun in behind him and opened up at the rebels with his shotgun. In close quarters like that, it hit all three of them at once.
Captain Ingridson took the brunt of the buckshot in her chest. She went flying down after the Rookie, landing on the marble floor just beyond him. She skidded a couple more meters, leaving a bright red smear behind her.
