Work Text:
Prompt: Write about someone who is observing their own funeral from out of sight.
~
July 9, 2553
“…as we unite together and honor the fallen heroes from the recent conflict in Wendosa…”
Arlo Casille’s somber face filled the screen. On the wall behind him was an ornate and massive relief of a towering tree carved into shimmering limestone and gypsum: the iconic presidential seal of the Gao Republic.
His brow wrinkled and his tone faltered with grief, but Veta knew him well enough to detect the self-satisfied glint in his eyes. The sliding news ticker at the bottom of the screen read: Memorial service continues for stolen lives in Wendosa slaughter; President Casille vows Gao independence after attempted imperial siege.
Veta rolled her eyes. Typical BuzzSat sensationalism.
Still, she was grateful for the broadcast. She sat alone in one of the many lounges on Admiral Tuwa’s Marathon-class cruiser, in the middle of God knew where, en route to some remote ONI training facility as she began her new life as a Ferret operative. Three days after leaving Gao, she still felt whiplashed by the battle, the escape, the complete one-eighty of her life—and found herself grappling for closure, whatever that might look like at this point.
“…commend the work of our brave law enforcement officials…”
Casille’s face moved to the left half of the screen, while a live feed of the memorial service materialized on the right. The camera cycled through different angles of the Ministry of Protection administrative complex, where a large throng of civilians gathered in observance, laying candles, flowers, and ashroot palm leaves on the steps of the GMoP facilities. Someone was playing a solemn dirge on a peosa, a traditional woodwind instrument, and for a moment the sound transported Veta right back to secondary school when she had spent a hellish semester playing it in the junior band.
“…join me in remembering my dear colleague, Special Inspector Veta Lopis, lead on the case…”
Veta’s official GMoP photo replaced Casille’s frame as his fake lament continued. She stared at the birth-death date range below her picture, and felt suddenly caught in an alternate, surreal universe. She imagined her remaining aunt and cousins, everyone else who knew her, all watching this report and mourning her loss. She couldn’t take her eyes off the date range, barely listening as Casille mournfully recounted her career achievements.
“So. How does it feel to be dead?”
Veta blinked, and a begrudging smile tugged at her mouth. She twisted on the couch to see Fred-104 entering the lounge, dressed in dark blue fatigues. His Mjolnir was still a smoldering pile of ash on Gao, and she was getting used to seeing the Spartan out of armor. Somehow, it was almost more impressive than the Mjolnir.
It called attention to her own attire, a black pullover with a small ONI insignia on the breast. She scratched her arm and replied, “It feels kind of itchy, to be honest.”
Fred chuckled. “Welcome to the UNSC, Inspector, where comfort takes a backseat.” He gestured to the couch adjacent to hers. “May I?”
“Sure.”
Her gaze lingered on him as he sat, amused at how bulky he looked on the low-profile sofa.
“The Gammas?” she asked.
“Up on C deck, training. Said they saved you a bench press.”
She exhaled a laugh, still not able to believe how the Gammas had jumped into training exercises after their ordeal on Gao. Per Osman’s orders, she was supposed to spend this time getting to know her new young charges, preparing to lead them. There was also an endless amount of ONI introductory material waiting for her on a data pad in her quarters.
“I’ll head over there in a bit. Just wanted to…finish this.” She nodded to the screen. Clips from previous news reports were now playing, showing her shaking Casille’s hand when she was first assigned to the Vitality Center case. The investigation had been big news across Gao. At the time, she had been proud.
She knew she couldn’t go back—and if she was honest with herself, she didn’t want to go back—but she would miss that feeling, she realized. She would miss a lot of things.
Fred seemed to be watching the screen and her face equally.
“ONI may allow you to contact select family members,” he said gently. “Your mother, for instance.”
The comment surprised and confused her, before she remembered she had pretended her mother was alive back on Gao.
She gave him a shrewd side glance, fairly certain it was a genuine and innocuous comment, not some subversive test of her loyalties as she sat here watching her own funeral on her homeworld. But Fred’s expression was open, his blue-green eyes round and clear and striking—and she felt her shoulders relax.
As far as her mother went, though, she wasn’t ready to share that wound with him. Maybe one day, she found herself hoping, as she gave him one more look. But for now, Veta was content to live in a world where she was dead and her mother was alive.
She shrugged noncommittally, and was spared an answer when the broadcast shifted and Veta’s photo disappeared—and was replaced by images of her fallen GMoP team.
“…the dedication of Cirilo Atenas, Andera Rolan, Senola Lurone, Olinda Riost…” Casille continued.
Veta’s stomach dropped.
She could sit there for hours and listen to Casille feign remorse about her—but hearing him speak her friends’ names made her blood boil. The nerve of him, sitting there in front of that presidential seal, shaking his head in sorrow, when his actions caused their terrible deaths.
Fred eyed her clenched fists, but he kept silent. She was grateful. The angry silence they shared was enough.
Her team’s photos shrank as the feed of the memorial procession continued in the foreground. Many civilians wore a black, braided band around their head, a traditional Gao symbol of mourning. The flowers and palm leaves piled up in front of the Ministry of Protection headquarters, while dress-uniformed officers lowered the administrative and national flags to half-mast.
“What are the leaves?” Fred asked, his tone still quiet.
“Ashroot palms,” Veta said. “They’re pretty remarkable, actually. They grow out of damaged soil after forest fires. They represent rebirth, the new beginning that death brings, stuff like that.”
“…and will cherish their memories. After I drove the hostile aliens and the UNSC from our borders, I knew our losses would be great, and I heard Gaos everywhere calling for peace. I vow to you now that I will defend Gao sovereignty with the resolute diplomacy befitting these heroes’ sacrifice.”
“Resolute diplomacy,” Fred mused. “Wonder how he’ll play off the nuke?”
“Oh, you mean the purely coincidental geological event?” Veta said darkly. “Or, no, I bet he’ll say he shot down a UNSC aircraft or something. He got exactly what he wanted: the chair in front of that seal. And he’ll do anything to keep it. He’s not about to go on national news ranting about nukes and risking open war with the UEG—as much as these BuzzSat cards want you to think. And I’m positive he’s bribing the other Ministers to lock down all those who were involved and know the truth.”
“It’s what ONI expected him to do,” Fred agreed, “and avoiding another Insurrection is certainly in their best interest as well. But still…your old boss? Kind of a jerk.”
“And my new boss?” Veta leaned back on the couch, one eyebrow raised sarcastically. “I guess Osman has never bribed anyone in her life, huh? Or allied with enemies to advance her cause? Gee, what should I get her for National Boss’s Day?”
Fred, unfazed, mimicked her casual posture and reclined indulgently. One arm took up most of the back of the couch. “Oh, I’m sure Osman’s record is squeaky clean. And I know she likes ginger snaps.”
“Oh yeah? How long have you known her?”
His smile had an odd shadow to it, and his tone sobered a bit. “Long enough to know she’s a capable commander who will give you missions that matter. She’s a good leader. Despite her questionable dessert choices.”
“Hm. And the Gammas? How long have they been on Blue Team? How long have you known them?”
“Thought your days of interrogating me were over, Inspector.”
Veta shrugged. “You can take the girl out of the GMoP…” She trailed off and looked toward the broadcast, one more time.
Casille’s voice drawled on in the background, and the news ticker scrolled with seditious glee, but she was focused only on the faces of Andera, Senola, Cirilo, the rest of her team. She knew Casille was to blame for their deaths, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she could have done things differently to save them. And now she was supposed to lead a group of Spartans? Her heart clenched as she suddenly imagined watching the funerals of Ash, Mark, and Olivia.
Fred cleared his throat and leaned forward, drawing her attention back to him.
“I’ve known Osman long enough to know that she’ll do anything to see a mission through,” he said. “I’ve known the Gammas long enough to know they’ll do anything to protect their team. And it took me just three days to see all of that in you too, Lopis. Even if it was sometimes at my expense.” They shared a smile before he added, “Don’t worry. The Gammas will always have your back. And you’re going to be a hell of a team leader.”
Her smile was small but genuine. “Thanks, Fred. That means a lot. Especially from you.”
He dipped his head, then hesitated. “You can…keep in touch, if you want. As much as either of us is able. I’m happy to help if I can.”
Veta stared wide-eyed at him, and she took another moment to marvel at her situation. Three days ago, she was in the bowels of the GMoP precinct with her team, poring over case files while inhaling Chinese takeout, pointing at Andera’s autopsy records with her chopsticks, fending off Cirilo’s flirtations between his witness reports from the Vitality Center murders, all while Casille buzzed on her comm pad for an update and Senola griped and griped and griped about the UNSC presence on Gao.
And now she was sitting on a UNSC flagship watching her own funeral, while a blushing Spartan-II told her to drop him a line sometime for advice.
“Thanks,” she said, finally. “I may take you up on that. If just to hear a friendly voice.”
The pink in Fred’s cheeks deepened. His eyes flicked to the time in the corner of the TV screen.
“Well, anyway. I should get going,” he said, getting to his feet.
“Yeah.” Veta followed suit with a long stretch. “I’ve got a ton of homework. And Mark was betting that I didn’t have the upper body strength to do a single pull-up.”
“Hm. Clearly he didn’t see you ride down a mountain on top of me.”
Veta laughed, and tried to keep her own sudden blush at bay. “That’s right. So I need to go to the gym and get my fifty credits from him.”
She stared at Arlo Casille’s face one more second, before she clicked off the broadcast, and left with Fred to go find the Gammas.