Chapter Text
Gunnery Sergeant Elena Bobrov shoved her Corps-issue kit bag into the overhead luggage compartment with a sigh. It was easy for her to come and go: usually the bag only contained toiletries and a change of clothes while her wallet, civilian and military ID cards, and pocket notebook were all carried in her pants and jacket pockets. Bobrov closed the compartment hatch and sat down in her seat. Other passengers were reading magazines, watching movies on the screens in the backs of the seats, and stowing their carry-on luggage. It wasn’t first class on an Egret-class spaceliner, but Bobrov had travelled in more uncomfortable rides. She hadn’t travelled much outside of the military, given how little time her life allowed for it.
Looking out the window and seeing the rows of passenger craft arrayed on the New Norfolk Spaceport landing pads, Bobrov felt an unfamiliar longing to stay just a bit longer. The noon sun reflected brilliantly off the Sundark Sea’s surface in the distance, and the cove onto which New Norfolk clung framed it like a picture in a gallery. It was good enough for a Waypoint travel ad or a physical postcard.
That last thought reminded Bobrov of three extra items she had brought: a bottle of Alluvioan tequila and a share-size bag of breakwater reeds in her kitbag, plus a postcard from Tribute in her jacket's breast pocket. The bottle had a tag that read ‘To: My Bastard Kids, From: Gunny'. The card had the name ‘A. Merrington’ as the sender. She had only been back home for a short time, and even though she was still adapting to a world moving on, Bobrov didn’t want to lose it all over again. The two-week leave granted to all Zeta Halo survivors after the memorial ceremony on Luna was up; it was time to return to the Corps and her Bastard Kids, as Cornish had dubbed themselves.
The Banished are still out there. Alongside who knows what other nasties who want to pick up where that shitheel Escharum left off.
Bobrov’s hand tightened around the handrest. The fight never stopped, not in 2552, not in 2558, not in 2560, and even after Bobrov had endured the most harrowing ordeal of her life, even found a place to call ‘home’ again, she still had to fight to see that it wouldn’t be lost again. If that’s how the universe wanted it to be, then fine, it’d be a fight she’d see finished.
The sound of rustling canvas and someone hefting a heavy object around distracted Bobrov. She turned to the source of the noise and saw a young man in a UNSCMC khaki shirt with private’s stripes picking his kit bag up from the aisle, embarrassment written on his face. He finally hefted it over his shoulder and sat in the aisle seat next to Bobrov, kit bag in his lap. He looked to be in his early twenties, with neatly combed dark hair and grey eyes behind black-rimmed glasses.
The scene couldn’t help but make Bobrov smile. “You know there’s still room overhead for that, right?” She pointed up at the hatch.
“Oh, right. Yeah,” He stood back up and opened the overhead luggage compartment and rolled his bag into it, only for it to fall back out with a dull thud. The man knelt down, muttering apologies. “I just got my assignment this morning. I barely had time to pack,” He managed to get his bag into the compartment and sat down. “Sorry,” He said to Bobrov, adjusting his garrison cap before giving up and taking it off.
“It’s fine, Private. Just take your time next time.” Bobrov said.
“Thanks, but how did you-” He looked confused for a moment, then breathed out an annoyed sigh. “It’s the shirt. That’s how you know I’m a private.”
“Yeah, I can tell,” Bobrov remarked. “Oh, a good way to store that cap is to fold it underneath the shoulder tab. You don’t have to keep it in your pocket.”
The private fumbled with the cap a few times before getting it right. “You in the Corps too?” He asked.
Bobrov nodded, “Yep. You just signed up?”
“Yeah. Got laid off as a part of my work going bankrupt, and that means no money for college, so I’ll do a few years, then hopefully use the benefits to get an education.”
“What were you wanting to study?”
“Oh, theoretical physics. Both my parents are STEM majors too, slipspace math and stuff like that. It’s going to be tough, but it’s neat stuff when you understand it.” The man’s embarrassment disappeared, and Bobrov could tell that it was his passion, even if how FTL drives actually worked beyond the layman’s terms given to her in training made her head spin.
“My folks are worried sick, though, because apparently one of these Halo things was found again, and some guys were found there after being missing for several months. Rumours all over Waypoint.”
Bobrov’s face darkened.
“Hey, you alright?”
“Yeah. I’m fine. It’s just that,” Bobrov stopped to choose her words carefully.
“You know something about all that?” The private asked, choosing Bobrov’s words for her.
“I was there.” Bobrov bluntly said, her voice low. “For six months.” Six months. Six months alone. Bobrov felt the memories gnawing at her at the edges of her consciousness, demanding to be relived against her will. She wouldn’t let them, not now. But they would be back. They always came back.
The conversation came to a dead halt. The PA came on, announcing the requirement for safety restraints as the spaceliner’s engines heated up and the crew began preparing for departure. The no-smoking light blinked on as the rumble of the thrusters whined into a low roar, and they were in the air. Bobrov saw New Norfolk shrink to the size of an ant within seconds as the blue stratosphere morphed into the deep black canvas of space.
The spaceliner soon passed one of Alluvion’s twin moons, the planet itself a blue blip behind them. Bobrov watched as even the blip that was her home eventually disappeared, and felt her heart sink slightly. At the very least, she knew that now it’d still be when she returned. The PA came to life again, declaring that they were now underway and that passengers could now order refreshments and remove their safety restraints. Bobrov saw the private from the corner of her eye, reading a travel brochure provided by the spaceliner’s agency.
You haven’t even asked him his name.
Bobrov had forgotten to introduce herself properly. Would it really matter? She’d likely never see this guy again.
Just do it, it doesn’t hurt and you damn well know it.
“I didn’t get your name,” Bobrov apologized, and held out her hand. “Elena Bobrov.”
“Amir Hogarth,” He shook. “Are you going to New Glencoe too?”
“Uh-huh.”
Amir folded up the travel brochure, “They told me I’m going to the 95th Marines. Apparently, they were short bodies, and there’s gonna be a big exercise soon. Tight-lipped about any questions I asked about the regiment, though.”
“That’s because,” Bobrov said, keeping her voice down, “95th is what’s left of the guys on that ring I was with. It was a mess. A lot of them have…” She trailed off and struggled to find the words to describe it.
Amir pushed his glasses back up his nose. “I’m sorry, you don’t need to explain. I just got here after all.” He scoffed at himself.
He was offering her an out. “Thanks, Hogarth,” Bobrov said. Hogarth was fresh out of basic, and he couldn’t understand how Zeta was. Really, the only way one could was if you were there.
The conversation died once more, and after nodding, Hogarth put on a headset and started watching a film. Bobrov turned back to the window, watching the Bhaakto system’s asteroid belt pass by. Bobrov knew a Spartan on the Infinity who was from Alluvion and had a similar surname to Hogarth’s. Horus? Hershey?
Horvath.
Spartan Horvath was from Kuyik, and Bobrov could tell because she could literally hear the accent from forty meters away. He and his fireteam helped Bobrov and Lieutenant Rojas Gomez, her commanding officer on the Infinity, out of a jam on Requiem; a company-sized force of Covenant backed by Promethean Knights had her platoon pinned in a gully, and Intrepid had dropped their SOEIVs onto them. They mopped the survivors up quickly. Horvath had asked if Bobrov was from Alluvion as well, given her own New Norfolk accent. They hit it off pretty soon after. They saw each other a few other times, but Bobrov hadn’t seen him turn up at the Mortal Reverie before its first destruction. She could only assume he met the same fate as so many others did.
That was just another part of Zeta that made it hurt. Given how the ring broke apart when they got there, it scattered everyone; UNSC and Banished. With each fracture separated by the airless void, one can only guess what was on one you weren’t on. Maybe Horvath ended up that way. Maybe it was what happened to Corpsman Lucas Browning too? The guy was from Alluvion, too, from Vaslo if Bobrov remembered right. Doc Browning had been at the Reverie, and like Munsey Zeta was his first trip to the big time. Always felt he wasn’t doing his job right even though he was. But after the Reverie fell, he disappeared too.
Bobrov realized none of them had ever mentioned going back to Alluvion after the war. Now, it was possible they would never, their CSVs forever stamped ‘Missing in Action.’ As far as Bobrov knew, there could still be God knows how many people left on Zeta Halo. If Bobrov was able to see her home again after so long, they deserved to see it too. Everyone who didn’t make it off of Zeta did.