Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn't odd for Captain Veronica Dare to do routine checks on Alpha-Nine before heading to bed. Though her on-again off-again boyfriend had called her paranoid the first few times (triggering an occasional argument), he eventually figured out it was just a normal part of the routine of an Office of Naval Intelligence officer. To Dare, security was everything. Buck could be the commanding officer who was your friend, but she was the commander who was your boss.

A lot of the schedule of the team was simple, however. Buck went to bed early after a long day. Well, what he considered a long day. Really it mainly consisted of bickering with Romeo and dealing with the brass. Dare always smirked when he complained about the latter. Though she wasn't allowed to disclose it to him, he hadn't really dealt with the highest-ups. She still shuddered thinking about the time she had been briefed by Margaret Parangosky's protegé, that Osman woman. But with Buck safely in bed, she could check up on the others.

If he wasn't on rotation for cleaning, security detail, or a session in the gym and firing ranges, Rookie would be passed out in the chair next to his bed. It was an odd quirk, especially given how many ODSTs dreamed about their beds when in their SOEIVs, but it only helped endear him to her. He didn't even budge as she peeked into his room, almost child-like features serene in their quiet state. A sort of maternal instinct passed over Veronica to ruffle his hair, but she brushed it off. Closing the door gently, she continued down the hall.

Through Dutch's door she could hear the sound of him laughing. The captain knocked, and he answered, data pad still in hand. From a glance, she could see he was in the middle of a conversation, a woman with bright blue eyes and blonde hair caught on hold in the middle of smiling. "Evening checkups, captain?" he asked amicably. 

"Yes, Dutch. How is Gretchen?" Veronica replied, gesturing to the pad. When he was on his own, Dutch could be rather pleasant to be around. Dare wasn't much for small talk, but the words flowed out easily with the religious soldier. It was only when he was with his squad that he became more jock-like, but she attributed that to the sheer testosterone of the team.

"She's fine, ma'am," he smiled. "Lord Mercy knows she wants me to beg you to have reassigned to something more active, though."

"Not in my power still, Dutch," Veronica half-lied. She could have easily pulled some strings, played the ONI blackmail game, but since joining Alpha-Nine she mused she might as well play it as by the book as she could. As much as Dare didn't like to admit it, the ODSTs' honesty had rubbed off on her.

"Alright. Good night and good rest, captain. I'll finish up my talk with Gretchen, say my nightly prayers, and head to bed."

"Roger, Corporal," she replied, and left his doorframe. Now came the part that annoyed her. While she got along with Romeo and Mickey well enough (she had to, they were a team), the sniper and the pilot were wildcards. Romeo's room was closer, and she was relieved to not find a sock on the door, for the first time in a while. 

She was displeased, however, when she knocked and he didn't answer. Checking the small keypad by his doorframe, it didn't have a note on whether he was out or not. Dare knocked once more before keying in an access code. She grimaced when he wasn't inside. That was gonna be a mark on his record.

Strolling to Mickey's room, however, explained the sniper's whereabouts. The door was slightly ajar, and inside she could see the two ODSTs, huddled around a small object.

She coughed, and the duo turned around, looking like deer in headlights. An ODST helmet tumbled out of Mickey's hands.

"So, what are you two doing?" she strode in. Before they could respond, she scooped the helmet off of the floor, and rolled her eyes. Several crudely drawn parts of the male anatomy were scribbled on it. 

Mickey shared a glance with Romeo. "We were just giving Gunny's helmet a little...makeover."

"Uh-huh. You realize this counts as defacing UNSC property, right?"

Romeo at least looked a little ashamed, but Mickey shrugged. "Yup."

"And that Buck's going to be pissed when he sees, right?"

"Yup," came from Mickey again.

"..."

"Want a marker?" Romeo asked, half-jokingly.

"...Yes."

Buck never believed that Dare had joined in the next day, even as Romeo and Mickey tried to defend themselves. Dutch rolled his eyes, Rookie fiddled with some game, and in the back of the room, Captain Veronica Dare had a catlike smile.

Chapter Text

Dutch swore to the good Lord as he spotted the Wraith. Checking his Spartan Laser, he was only somewhat relieved to find that he had a shot left. He debated with himself on whether or not save it, before taking aim. A single charged blast put down both the pilot and the gunner before he ducked back under the wreckage of a Warthog.

The war with the Covenant was over, officially speaking, but remnants like the Brute battalion he was currently engaged with still tried to take down human-held worlds, an example notable to him being Capella, the planet he was currently on. Though these Brutes (or Jiralhanae, as Captain Dare officially called them), only had a corvette without the glassing technology of larger Covenant ships, their presence was nonetheless a threat. Under normal circumstances, Capella could have easily shot down the ship with MAC cannons. However, the colony had been unsuccessfully attacked twice during the war, and a majority of the cannons were offline, leaving a huge hole the Brutes could slip through. Eventually the corvette was shot down, but enough dropships and pods had landed that they posed a serious threat.

Lucky for Capella, Alpha-Nine had been nearby.

"Dutch!" a familiar voice called over his communications device. Scanning the area, he grinned as Buck pulled up in a Mongoose, an Assault Rifle slung across the man's shoulders with an SMG on one hip and an alien Needler on the other.

"How ya doing, Gunny?" the heavy weapons specialist grinned, hopping on to the back seat. He winced as he exacerbated a nasty near-miss from a charged Plasma Pistol.

"I'm giving the order to fall back, defend the western front," the Gunnery Sergeant grimaced, beginning to drive. "The hell happened to your leg?"

"Same old, same old. Where's the rest of the team? Last I saw was Mickey and Romeo getting in a Hornet to provide air support."

Buck nodded. "Still up there, according to the Captain. She herself is already at the target destination. Where's the Rookie?"

Dutch leaned back and stared at him. "Last I saw him was when we dropped over an hour ago! And this is all farmland, so Lord knows he's not stuck 50 feet in the air again." Dutch clicked his comms to make sure. "This is Corporal Taylor Miles. Broadcasting for one Lance Corporal JD, also known as the Rookie. Where the hell are ya, kid?" Dutch half-hoped the Rookie would somehow break his muteness, though the Corporal knew it was medical. Nothing so much as a red light blinked on, however. "Not getting anything, Gunny."

"Shit. Did you see where his pod dropped?"

"About a mile from here...but in the opposite direction of where we're going. I vote we turn the hell around."

Buck didn't even respond, sending the Mongoose into a tailspin, before kicking the engine. "I'll radio Mickey, see if we can't have him follow us."

"Gonna need ammo, sir. My Laser's all out, and my SMG's only got so much," Dutch stated.

Nonchalantly, Buck plucked the Needler off his hip and handed it to Dutch. "Take this. I've got two automatic weapons anyways, and I can never figure out this damn thing's range."

Dutch checked the pink weapon's ammunition and fired an experimental shot as they whizzed by a clearly-confused Grunt. The crystalline needle homed in on the small simian alien before embedding itself through the creature's eye. The Grunt screamed before the needle, and thus its head, popped in a spray of blood.

"You really give me the good stuff, Gunny."

Buck resisted rolling his eyes as he focused on the road. "Just yesterday you bitched that I wouldn't share my tater tots with you in the cafeteria!"

"Times have changed."

"Go to hell, Dutch."

"Understoo-" the Corporal paused, and flicked on his VISR system. Though the light of his helmet's viewscreen combined with the natural daylight now hurt his eyes, he could clearly make out the green outline of a fellow ODST in a nearby barn...surrounded by a group of what was clearly Brutes. "Gunny, that barn, about half a minute to the southwest. Someone's in there, and I'll bet twenty credits it's our missing comrade." Dutch marked the building on his helmet's preprogrammed map, but his commanding officer had already begun to swerve. "Got a plan, sir? There's at least 5 apes in there."

"Yeah, get the hell off my Mongoose and circle around the front while I bust through the side. 5, 4," Buck began.

Dutch's eyes widened. "Waitasec, Gunny-" he was cut off when the higher-ranked ODST made a move to push him. In one swift motion, Dutch leapt off through sheer instinct, tucking and rolling to avoid injury. He watched as Buck rammed straight through the wall of the barn screaming, and sprinted when sounds of gunfire erupted. Sprinting, Dutch made his way around to the front of the nigh-traditional red building.

Peeking over the doorframe, he saw that Buck had caught the Brutes off-guard and slammed into one, flipping the quadbike in addition to killing the alien. Buck was now ducked behind the vehicle, putting up a suppressing fire with his Assault Rifle as the remaining 4 Brutes took defensive positions behind some hay and pillars...positions that had their backs turned to Dutch.

With careful aim in case the Rookie was among the mess, Dutch fired several Needler rounds, catching the nearest Brute unaware. Seven shots were in the creature before it knew what hit it, the shards' explosions combining the utterly destroy the primitive alien. The one next to it was blown back, as the others stared.

"Hey, you alien bastards! My God says your gods suck!" the heavy weapons specialist called in a taunt he would later consider rather lame. The apes took a second before one charged at him...only to receive several bullets from Buck. The alien turned and roared at the Sergeant, now unable to make up its mind on who to attack, before Dutch killed it with a quick SMG burst.

There was still one uninjured Brute, and the one that had been burned by its squadmate's explosion was rising. Buck charged, smashing his rifle into the former's head. it was a mistake, however, as the ape easily recovered and slashed at the Sergeant with its bladed pistol. The blades cut deep into Buck's side, and he screamed, red blood flying out of his hip.

In a fit of pure panic, Dutch charged as well. Sheer adrenaline pumped him as he kicked off the ground, brought his SMG down on the savage's arm, and finished it off with a point-blank burst. He caught Buck as the commanding officer fell, and used the last of his clip to shoot the remaining Brute.

With the fight over, Dutch dragged Buck to a stack of hay and propped him up. "Lord have mercy on you, Buck. You're a fucking idiot. You'll live, but you're a fucking idiot." The younger soldier pulled a can of biofoam out his backpack and jammed it into Buck's side.

Buck hissed at sting of the foam as it filled his wound. "You call me an idiot, Corporal Miles, but I think you're forgetting about someone." He raised a weak arm and pointed behind Dutch.

Cursing, Dutch spotted the Rookie, barely peeking out of a stack of hay, head bowed. Making sure there was still a little biofoam left, he rushed over. Dragging the Rookie out of the hay, he held back a sigh of relief at the fact there were no apparent injuries. Pulling the kid's helmet off, he smacked the younger man's face lightly. "Hey kid, wake the hell up."

Rookie's eyes opened groggily, staring mildly at Dutch. Then he snapped to attention and saluted, before gesturing to Buck.

"Him? He'll be fine, just a nasty boo-boo." Ignoring Buck's middle finger, Dutch continued, "What happened to you?"

Rookie blushed and let out a string of signs. Was holed up under fire. Got tired waiting. Fell asleep.

Dutch stared. Buck stared. Rookie blushed harder before Buck broke the silence with a cackle. Dutch glared at the both of them.

"I'm stuck with a daredevil and a narcoleptic. I hope Dare tears your asses to shreds," Dutch grumbled as he dropped the Rookie. Together they lifted Buck and dragged him outside of the barn, spotting a Hornet in the distance.

Mickey and Romeo laughed the entire ride home with Buck, as Rookie got an earful from Dutch while they rode the Mongoose to base camp. Dare wasn't amused, and Rookie was the joke of the squad for a month. All in all, it was another mission for Alpha-Nine.

Chapter Text

Rookie started running the second Mickey put a gun to Dutch's back. From behind him he could hear Dare's confused yell and the dull thuds of pistols being unholstered and fired. That didn't matter however. The only thing left was survival.

Twelve minutes later, it was so far, so good.

The kid ducked around a hallway, and spotted Dare lying there. Checking her body for ammo, he paused, before swiveling and firing. Romeo grunted as a shot dropped him to his knees, then another hit his chest and knocked him flat. He was out.

Rookie tried not to take joy in it. It was especially disarming to him, as unlike half of his squad, he wasn't a soldier until after Harvest. Thus, Covenant came easily. He felt no sorrow firing on an Elite or Grunt, only pure instinct. Rookie rarely had to put down other humans, however.

The ODST used his quiet nature to his advantage. He slipped around vents and grates and back into the locker room where it all started. Spotting Dutch's prone form, he walked up, and gave a salute. He'd never figured the grizzled soldier to be the first to fall.

But, with the others out of the action, that just meant it was him and-

A shot whizzed by his ear, so close the Rookie almost felt his eardrum pop. He instinctively rolled, firing all the while. Mickey was faster, however. The sniper practically slid under his bullets, before speeding towards the smaller man.

Rookie tried to counter with an elbow, but Mickey caught his arm and flipped him. "Getting sloppy, eh, kiddo?" Mickey said.

Were it not for the heat of the moment, Rookie would have rolled his eyes at the irony of Mickey calling him a kid. He knew to roll with the punches, but in all fairness the sniper was younger than he was. Rather, he tried to chop at Mickey with the butt of his gun. The impact to his ribs stunned the younger man briefly in to letting go, but he then lashed out with a fierce low kick and knocked the Rookie's gun from his hand.

Pressing his foot into the disarmed man's chest, Mickey smirked. "I coulda waited an eternity for this." He pointed his pistol at the base of the Rookie's neck, right where his ODST uniform ended. "I'd ask if you had any last words, but I don't think it'd work with you."

Rookie silently sighed and stared down the barrel of the gun, waiting for the end to come. However, when he finally felt a thud against his clavicle, it was not from the pistol he was looking at.

"What the hell?" Mickey cried, before a Tactical Training round struck him in the side and he toppled over. "Gunny, that's no fair! You weren't even here when we started!"

Rookie grinned, straining his neck despite the hardened goo against it to look at their commanding officer, posed like an action hero with Veronica and Romeo at his side, both covered in hardened red paint. Across the room, Dutch was beginning to get up.

"All's fair in love and war, Mick," the sergeant replied, moving to help Rookie to his feet.

"Well, love and Shoot Shoot Bang Bang," Romeo grinned, scratching at the paint on his knee.

Buck rolled his eyes. "Yeah, that stupid name. But it's a good lesson, always keep an eye out for a new foe."

Mickey groaned. "Thanks, didn't know I was in bootcamp again. Hey Rookie, what the hell was with you saluting Dutch? You knew he wasn't dead, right?"

Drama, the mute soldier signed. Besides, at Dutch's age, anything could kill him.

"What's gonna kill us is cleaning this stuff off," Dare groaned. "God knows the techs are sick of us dirtying our uniforms like this, especially with state-of-the-art equipment."

Rookie pursed his lips. I'll clean Mickey's. He was met with several inquisitive looks.

Hey, the guy won fair and square.

Chapter Text

The mission had been simple, as far as missions assigned from ONI could be simple. Some moron Insurrection agent had been stealing captured Covenant weapons from a UNSC science base and selling them to the United Rebel Front. Once Dare had tracked the supply route, the rest of Alpha-Nine had been deployed to the base and destroyed it, along with capturing one Innie in case they had further contacts. Hitch was that the team had to wear signal dampers due to the sensitive nature of the job, so a time and place for exfiltration was pre-assigned, rather than called in.

Other hitch was that Mickey was stuck guarding a prisoner with a broken-legged, sleepy Rookie. A job he had a slight fear of, given his parents’ own role in the Insurrection.

“We’ll be back in an hour and a half,” Buck said as he, Romeo, and Dutch changed into civilian clothes.

“Why again?” Mickey queried between nursing a sprained wrist.

“Medical supplies. Between Rookie’s leg and your wrist, we need some ice.” Buck tucked his pistol in the side of a pair of cargo shorts and stuck his SMG in a backpack he tossed into the Scout Hog.

Romeo laughed as he flipped some shades down, completing an only vaguely convincing tourist disguise. “Hey, Mickey, maybe we’ll pick you up some beer! Can’t say it won’t get drunk for a week though!”

Mickey grumbled and flipped his teammate the bird. “Just ‘cuz it’s still a week until I’m on-leave doesn’t mean I won’t break protocol to kick your ass.” He noticed their prisoner, handcuffed but silent, take a very long curious look at him. No one else saw.

“See ya, kids,” Buck joked. “Don’t throw a party while we’re gone.” The trio piled into the Hog and drove off.

It was silent for a few minutes. Rookie nodded off, as to be expected. Mickey polished the rocket launcher he brought, and snacked on a ration bar.

Of course, all good things had to come to an end, and ultimately the prisoner broke silence in an attempt to make small talk. “They don’t let you drink in the UNSC? Even during breaks?”

Mickey just glared, and he continued. “Then again, can’t expect that of the least inefficient force in the galaxy. No time for breaks.”

The glare continued, but with a tilt of the head. A sign of curiosity. “Oh you didn’t know? Given that I’ll be tortured anyways, whether I reveal something or not, you might as well know about one thing we recovered. All the UNSC money goes into ONI. Massive corruption. Let’s see...ah yes, a good three percent of the Office of Naval Intelligence’s budget goes into luxuries for officers. Aka a good three billion credits.”

Mickey’s brown eyes mirrored in the Insurrectionist’s own. The former finally spoke. “UNSC’s a big group.” As the words slipped out, he almost felt that he shouldn’t encourage the prisoner. But it was too late. And besides, the idea that the prisoner would be tortured even if he spoke made Mickey sick to his stomach. He wanted to disbelieve it, but a voice in the back of his mind said it was true.

Buck would say he listened too much sometimes. His parents, for all he knew of them, might’ve said he was smart to listen.

“Big enough to neglect mental health care?” the prisoner questioned. “Only 400 psychological staff on payroll for the UNSC Marine Corps. All listed to, you guessed it, ONI. Nothing like propaganda from the mouths of those you thought you could confide in.”

Mickey’s mind flashed to his own psychotherapist, a man by the name of Dr. Trepan. The more he thought about it, the more the good doctor had said things about making things safe that seemed empty in retrospect. “Say you’re right. Who can I trust in?”

The prisoner laughed, a scratchy sound, a little bit of blood and phlegm leaking from his mouth, a broken nose distorting it. “Your squad still takes orders from ONI, all ODSTs do. So not them. The higher-ups? Manipulated. The Spartan heroes-” a heavy tone of derision, MIckey noted, “-are brainwashed the most.” The prisoner stared at him hard once more. “If you’re curious, really curious, I’ve got an old friend, a doctor, by the name of Schein. Seek him out one day, if you’re curious.”

Mickey was about to ask where this Schein lived when Rookie woke. The older soldier poked MIckey in the chest, and gestured to the now silent prisoner.

Mickey smiled a subtly grim smile. “Hasn’t said a word,” he lied. He didn't regret it like he should have. “No big government secrets, no names, nothing.”

Rookie grinned before wincing at the pain. Nonetheless, he signed, Take a nap, I’ll watch.

Mickey laughed and settled in.

All he dreamt of was a web of spies, and thoughts of his parents.

Chapter Text

The first time Romeo saw her, he’d been getting his ass slammed to the floor by the Rookie. A quick piledriver from the smaller man made him see stars, but he’d seen even more as an extremely attractive woman passed by with a datapad, jotting down results across the sparring room.

“Alright, enough. Point for Rookie,” Dare sighed as Rookie attempted to haul the sniper off the mat. Yet Romeo stayed down, gaze transfixed on the gorgeous woman, now observing Sgt. Stacker’s group. Her hair was as brown as finely aged bark, and she was as muscular as a movie star. She held a steely determination in her gaze as she barked a move to Private Dubbo.

Rookie snapped his fingers in front of Romeo’s face, breaking him out of his trance. What, I knock you out? He signed, grinning.

Romeo got up, but kept staring. “No, but she did. Damn, Rook, I think I mighta found the one.” He pointed, losing all sense of discretion. Thankfully her nose was back in her datapad.

Dare chuckled, batting his arm down. She did follow his gaze, and laughed. “Her? Really, Romeo? Think she’s actually in your league?”

Romeo nodded, and began to move towards the woman’s position. However, the Rookie grabbed him by the arm, pulling him back to the mat. Romeo tried to turn and glare, but was met with a swift left hook. Clutching his nose, he growled. “What the hell! Rookie!”

Dare laughed. “Round two started then. Lose this one, Romeo, and it’s 10 laps.”

An iced nose and a long run later, the woman was gone. Romeo wheezed his way to the Rookie’s quarters, and rung the bell. He was answered by a very tired younger man, who signed that he’d been taking a nap after their fight and what the hell did he want.

“Rookie, she’s gone. You restarted the fight, so you gotta help me find her!”

That’s no reason to help.

Romeo grabbed him by the arm anyways and dragged him out of his quarters. The smaller man wiggled but made no real attempt to escape. “You go lower decks, I’ll go higher decks. Avoid Gunny and Dare, and don’t tell Mickey or Dutch.” He began to run, leaving a befuddled Rookie behind. Unceremoniously, the remaining ODST paused for a second, then walked back into his room and locked the door.

Romeo tried to find someone he could ask about her, but they’d only been stationed onboard for so long and there was virtually no one who he knew to ask. Dejectedly, he finally settled into the lounge, sipping a soda and ruminating. A few squads were milling around, off-duty with him, when suddenly a grisled, bulky soldier entered.

“Oy, Hacksaw Squad!” the man barked, and immediately the heads of one team snapped to attention. “On-deck! Now! Mission handler wants you!” The squad hurried to attention, followed by Romeo at the words ‘mission handler’. Someone so tactical would surely know who he was looking for.

Leaving them behind at the locker room, the sniper made his way towards the bridge, finally arriving at the station of a serious looking giant with a shaved head. Looking up from a datapad, the man squinted. “You ain’t Hacksaw Squad.”

“No sir!” Romeo saluted. “Lance Corporal Kojo Agu on deck! I was hoping you’d help me find someone!”

“Ugh, fine. Just don’t last more than five minutes.” the handler grunted. He turned back to his datapad, and tapped open a crew list, muttering about how long squads took to get dressed on this ship.

“I’m looking for a woman with brown hair, about six feet. Brown eyes and built like a brick shithouse, pardon my language,” Romeo grinned eagerly.

The handler’s gaze snapped back. “Language, sir,” he growled threateningly.

“Sir.”

The handler peered at him further, but sighed as he spotted the absent Hacksaw Squad finally entering. Jotting down a message on his datapad, he grumbled, “I think I know who you’re talking about. Name’s Sarah. You’ll probably find her in the War Games room. I’m sure she’s got Scrugg’s ass in a headlock by now.”

Romeo ran off once more, legs now burning at this point, before screeching to a halt outside the elevator when the implications hit him. War Games was where Spartans trained. A high-tech facility, exclusive for Spartans.

Just then, the doors opened, and out Sarah stepped. She was even more beautiful head-on, but with a marked difference this time: a full set of MJOLNIR armor on her. And Romeo remembered who the hell Sarah was, and why the handler could pick her out out of the thousands onboard.

“Pardon...Agu,” she said, eyes snapping to his dogtags. Involuntarily, he moved aside, and behind her massive frame was one Veronica Dare.

As Sarah Palmer briskly moved away from them, Dare spotted his face and laughed. It was an odd sound to hear, something like a hyena, sharp and loud, but she drew it out for a long time. What could’ve been an eternity to an embarrassed Romeo later, she coughed into her fist. “Well, I see you found your date. Think she’s in your league now?”

Romeo would later bite back when he joined the Spartan-IV program.

Chapter Text

“So, Mick has the Rookie pinned to the floor when we all walk in the room, making a mean joke about how Rookie can’t have last words,” Buck rolled his eyes as he spoke. “Gun to Rookie’s neck, he’s got him beat, and I see my chance. I grab Veronica’s TTR mag, lock it into my pistol, and pop Rookie and then Mickey in short order. Mick was pissed, but man, the look on their faces was priceless.” He took a sip of his drink and grimaced at the swill the Sangheili were serving them before passing it to Linda, who downed the rest of it in one gulp, what would’ve have been a small glass in any normal human’s hands becoming a shot in the Spartan-II’s.

“Why is it that every new story you tell about your old squad is stranger than the last one?” Tanaka asked from across the firepit.

Were it not for the mix of Spartans being in full armor, an aerial view of the group would look like any normal campfire. A campfire taking place on the homeworld of a species that had been poised to wipe out humanity only a decade prior, but a campfire nonetheless. They were all but marooned on Sangheilios, and as the supposed command element of the ragtag group of Spartans convened in the Arbiter’s tent, the other five had decided to swap war stories and sip drinks, the native Elites leaving them be.

Buck scoffed. “Oh come on, that’s weirder than ‘an Engineer absorbed New Mombasa’s AI and managed to get me and my ex back together’? Or how about ‘the Rookie took a nap to dodge Brutes’?”

Kelly chuckled, downing her own drink. Buck wondered if IIs could get drunk. Hell, he wondered if the Sangheili drink was actually alcoholic, or just really, really bad tasting. “I mean, compared to any story any of us have, I think John’s got us all beat.”

“Yeah, but that’s just unfair. He’s the goddamn Master Chief.”

“I mean, if you think about it, me dying and coming back to life is really more my story than his,” Linda commented, pouring herself another drink from the receptacle they’d been provided. Vale, meanwhile, spat hers out.

“You died?!”

“Oh, yeah. Fall of Reach put a few nasty plasma shots in me. I was basically dead while John was off saving the universe. Halsey put me back together after we found her on Reach’s remains.”

Buck figured he might as well ask the elephant in the room. “Well, what was the afterlife like?” Everyone leaned in.

Linda smirked. “I don’t die and tell.” Everyone around the campfire groaned and fell back.

Tanaka turned to Buck. “You know, I thought your stories were outlandish, but on the other hand-” She pointed to Linda and Kelly, who began cracking up, “Spartan-IIs are literally ungodly.”

“No wonder they call us Demons,” Kelly gestured around, catching some stares from the Elites.

Buck stared into his hands, thinking. “Yeah. Well, to be fair, I think a squad of ODSTs fighting their way through a city, hijacking a Phantom, saving an AI is pretty special.” To his right, Vale put her hand on his shoulder. “We weren’t exactly the greatest squad. Dutch was getting old, Romeo was a womanizer, Rookie was all but a narcoleptic, Dare hid things, and don’t get me started on Mickey, but each and every one of us was Spartan material. And sometimes I wonder...if we had been Spartans, would Rookie have survived? But then I quell it with the fact that he knew the price, and he just got unlucky. He went feet first into hell like a goddamn ODST.”

They sat for a while in silence at that little monologue. Buck thought.

He thought about Dare, who had her secrets, but also was able to grow as a person and reach out to people honestly.

He thought about Dutch, who was old but wise and loyal, always willing to lend a hand when things got thick.

He thought about Romeo, who despite his faults with women, was a good soldier and an even better best friend.

He thought of Mickey, locked up somewhere for selling out to the Insurrection, and how he’d always been a bright mind and still deserved to be a Spartan.

He thought of the Rookie, who was lying at the bottom of an ocean on Draco III, and how his quiet, kindly nature had provided people with a sense of comfort when he was around. The last death Buck hoped he’d ever have under his command.

Linda finally broke it with, “You know, you guys deserve respect. I know John tends to get into fights with you all, but for god’s sake, ODSTs ain’t suited up in invincible armor and pumped full of drugs. ODSTs do the work of a Spartan in the body of a normal man. You’re soldiers.”

Buck nodded. “Thanks. Well, it seems like we’re facing impossible odds now. So, let’s hope that John and Locke and everyone have a good idea for what next.”

“Speaking of,” a voice interjected as Palmer strode into the clearing. Behind her followed John, Locke, the Arbiter, Fred, and Dr. Halsey. “We have a plan.”

Buck smirked to himself and thought two words.

Feet first.