"To the Helljumpers, Marines, Sailors, Infantry, and everybody else who's died in this war," Naber raised his glass of beer high into the air, almost shouting to be heard over the crowded bar. Almost every single colony was represented here, in this bar. It was situated just outside the spaceport, and refugees from every single glassed or threatened colony were constantly streaming on to the planet in order to find some safety. Rich, poor, vagrant, and everything in between stood clustered together in the throng, vying for a drink. Jennings raised his glass in a wordless salute; the two drank in somber silence.
"Hey man, remember when Joey convinced us to play a prank on the CO?"
"Ha ha! Yeah, we got all disassembled his car, and moved it piece by piece up to the top of the training barracks. Then re-assembled it hanging from the radio receiver."
"I have never seen a man more attached to a vehicle. Nor have I ever laughed so hard at the expression on his face."
"And it took them two weeks to get it down! They never did find out exactly who did it, though he did suspect us."
"I remember having the 'randomized' cleaning roster. We cleaned the bathroom for almost two months. Still worth it."
"Joey was a good kid."
"Yeah," Jennings said, both of them trying to put from their minds the day his torso had been ripped apart by a plasma grenade. He had been close enough to Naber that Naber had to find wipe his visor to remove enough blood to be able to see the battlefield. The two leaned back in their chairs, BS-ing about the friends they'd made and lost. Stories of heroic feats were passed between the two, shared with a sense of gratitude and awe, while remembrances of their dead companions to a somber tone. Hearty laughs filled the air, replaced the next second with tears as the two processed the constant fighting the two had been through in the past few years. This was the first time they'd had a chance to de-stress and relax, and they planned on using it to the fullest.
Jennings leaned back in his chair, letting down his guard for the first time since he'd joined the military. It was so nice to be able to just think about the good and bad moments. He finally had to reflect on his time in the trenches, fighting for every blood-soaked centimeter of ground, only to have it ripped away when the Navy overhead lost its fight. As far as Jennings was concerned, he had never lost a battle. Others had lost their positions and then recalled him from his position, but he had never lost. Glancing back up at his squad mate, he was glad to have come through with him.
Naber had always been there for him. They had met at ODST school, and the two had grown close there. Their brotherhood had been forged in the furnace of combat, and the two stuck together to pull each other through, when all odds spoke against it. The two had faced the down covenant hordes solo while Marines and Troopers fell at their side. Standing resolutely at the brink of death, the two had repulsed wave after wave of enemy troops, helped turn the tide in key battles, and battled enemies so vastly superior physically, that any attack seemed impossible. Yet, the two were survivors. They had the will to fight, and always fought to the last bullet. Once the last bullet was gone, they'd scrounge for enemy weapons. When they had been depleted, they always had their trusty combat knives.
"Jennings?"
"Yeah, bro?"
"I'd have never made it through, if you hadn't been there. You've saved me countless times. Thanks, man."
"Dude, don't worry about it. You've saved me a few times, too."
"Yeah, I know. It's just, there's been so many times we've cut it so close. We shouldn't be here."
"And yet, we are."
"What have I become, my sweetest friend, " Naber began, singing a song that had become popular among the war-torn soldiers.
"Everyone I know, goes away in the end," Jennings finished, both their eyes downcast onto the table in front of them.
"What now?" Jennings said, dropping his empty mug back on the table.
"Now, we go home. My home. My folks don't live too far away, and they're expecting me. Just wait until you have some of Mom's Apple Pie, you'll think you've died and gone to heaven," Naber said, suddenly brightening. He too, did not want to dwell too much on the past.
"Let's get a move on, then." The duo rose from their table, moving towards the exit through the throng of refugees. Jennings tripped flying forward and landing on the floor with an undignified flop. He immediately jumped back to his feet to see who had tripped him.
"Holy shit, Paul?" The offending figure said. It took a few seconds for Jennings to recognize his childhood friend.
"Sam?”
“Yeah! I haven’t seen you since we were rushed off of Harvest! How’ve you bee—you son of a bitch.”
“Pardon?” Jennings was confused. Evidently, there was some part of the coversation that he was missing.
“You became one of them!”
“An ODST?”
“You joined the UNSC!”
“Well yeah, they saved our asses.”
“They abandoned us to the damn Covenant in the first place!”
“What? No, they didn’t!”
“You just believe that UNSC bullshit propoganda, don’t you?”
“About what? That the Covenant attacked? Pretty hard to think of that as propoganda.”
“No, screw you. And screw your UNSC buddies. You’ve done nothing but make us miserable, and make us die!”
“You better cool it, Sam! Have you been on the front lines fighting Covenant for the last few years? I didn’t think so!”
“You uppity UNSC dogs think you’re so unique, so much better than the rest of us!”
“Who has ever said that?”
“You still won’t listen to me, huh?”
“I’d listen if you weren’t an idiot!”
“Well, listen to this shit then!” Sam drew a handgun from somewhere within his jackets, firing two rounds in rapid succession. Someone from the crowd through themselves in front of Jennings, absorbing the bullets. Jennings flew forward, breaking Sam’s wrist in an instant. The handgun clattered to the ground. A quick twist sent Sam flying into the corner of a table, knocking him out cold. Jennings turned back to the stranger who had saved his life, in order to thank him and provide first aid.
And the last shred of his sanity died.
“Jennings! Never… stop… fighti…” Naber’s words faded as the last of his blood gushed from the severed aorta.
“Naber,” Jennings said, still in disbelief. “Naber! Damn it! Why did you do that you stupid sonofabitch!” He dropped to his knees next to his friend, his knees splashing blood everywhere from the extensive puddle. He was used to combat, and there was always a distraction. Things to shoot, missions to accomplish. He wasn’t sure what to do when there was just the body of his only friend. There was nothing he could do. He glanced around, more out of habit of looking for that one extra bad guy, then out of any idea of what to do next. While people had scattered at the first gunshot, a crowd had formed around the site of the gunfire. The onlookers looked upset, scared, many looked sick to their stomachs at the sight of close and personal death. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“What?” He snapped, sounding sharper and more irate than he intended. The man that got his attention retrieved the handgun from the floor, raised it up and executed the unconscious insurgent.
“It sure is a shame he committed suicide,” he commented, tossing the firearm towards the corpse. Heads started nodding in the group, many people voicing the same sentiment. The man walked away, disappearing into the crowd. Jennings turned his attention back to his dead comrade, his mind going blank. He had no idea how long it had been until he heard sirens approaching. The New Mombasa Police Department moved people apart, clearing the body of the crowd. One policeman tried to forcibly remove Jennings from the scene. He would be waking up in an hour or two.
“Sergeant, if you could go over what happened,” one of the officers questioned Jennings. Jennings responded in turn.
“Not much to tell. I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in years. He got pissed that I was in the UNSC, and tried to shoot me. Naber jumped in front of the gun. I took the gun away, knocking Sam unconscious. Naber bled out. Sam killed himself.” The officer scribbled viciously on his pad of paper, noting what Jennings said, how he said it, facial expressions, tonality, and various other things that may have been used for an inspection later.
“Any interaction with this ‘Sam’ recently?”
“Nope. Haven’t seen him since childhood.”
“Any idea behind his motivation?”
“He blames the UNSC for the Covenant’s destruction of our colony.”
“That’ll do it.”
“Look, do we have to do this now? I’d like to think about something other than the death of all my comrades for a few seconds.”
“Sure, do you have a place to go?”
“Nope. I’ll find a hotel somewhere. Or I’ll sleep on a bench.”
“Not like that you won’t. That’s a sure way to get picked up by police,” he said, gesturing towards his civilian clothes, now stained heavily with the blood of his comrade. Jennings mentally smacked himself for making such an obvious oversight.
“Is there a clothes shop around here?”
“I doubt anyone would sell anything to you like that. I’ll see if someone on the force has their civvies in their car. I’ll get you something.” The cop walked away, asking other policemen if they had a change of clothes. Jennings looked back down at Naber’s white face.
“Sergeant!” How much time had passed? When did the officer get back? It was obvious by his impatience that he had been there a while. Was this what it felt like to be a civilian? Where death was not commonplace, and people could actually process death?
“Yeah?”
“Here’s a change of clothes, I hope it fits.” When Jennings changed, it was quite obvious that the previous owner of the clothing had been quite a bit shorter and wider then Jennings. “Alright, that’ll do until you buy some new clothes. You might want to wash your face, next chance you get.” The officer motioned with his left hand towards his face, pantomiming where areas of dried blood were on Jennings’ face. Jennings wiped his face with his sleeve, only succeeding in wiping off flakes of the blackened blood.
“Thanks,” Jennings said, perhaps ungratefully. He walked out onto the dusty streets of New Mombasa, noting immediately that night had fallen. He had to find something to do for the next few days.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
He hadn’t introduced himself to Naber’s parents yet, it was just too much for him to handle. And yet, somehow someone had contacted him and asked him to give a eulogy. What was he going to say? He was terrified, and he’d faced down hundreds of aliens before. Now, a few dozen unarmed people were making him quiver in fear.
He pulled his collar together, fastening it tightly. The military in its infinite wisdom had chosen a rather uncomfortable, high-necked uniform for its dress uniform. He glanced at himself in the mirror double checking that every piece of his uniform was starched, shined, and aligned correctly. Giving himself a nod of approval, he grabbed his Service Cap, tossing it under his left arm, before striding out the door with a stiff professional appearance culminating from a closely-tailored uniform and a practiced body posture.
Stepping onto the sidewalk, he pulled his cap on his head, the short brim shading his eyes from the blazing sun. The brilliantly lit day characterized the polar opposite of his mood at the time, and he refused to even grant the oblivious teenagers causing a raucous down the street a casual glance. They had no idea what was going on outside their sheltered world. Jennings hailed a taxi, the automated driver asking in its robotic voice for a destination. Jennings relayed the name of the gravesite. Odd, he could have sworn that the face emblem for the AI looked—sorrowful? Sad? He must have imagined it, because the green circle with white dots for eyes was back to normal, now.
Minutes later, he stepped out of the Taxi, many onlookers staring at his uniform in awe. It wasn’t often that battle-scarred, highly decorated soldiers bearing the distinctive red and orange epaulets befitting ODSTs visited this particular area of the world.
A crowd was already forming around the gravesite of his friends; chairs lined up in neat rows with a perfectly centered aisle bisecting the arrangement. Apparently they were waiting for him.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, please find your seats.” There were supposed to be three speakers. Jennings was the third to go. The first was Naber’s father. It was obvious the gentleman was barely keeping it together, as he reminisced about Naber’s youth. Things they had done together. How he watched him grow up to be a man. His qualities. His virtues. How proud he was when he joined the Marines. How much prouder he was when he graduated ODST school. He concluded with a simple phrase.
“I’m going to miss you, bud.” He then sat down, tears brimming. Jennings didn’t even hear the second speech. It probably had something to do with the circle of life or some BS. All he knew was suddenly he was being prodded to go up to the mic. He walked up there, his practiced precision and discipline beginning to fade. He didn’t stand as straight or walk as stiff as he normally did.
“Um, hi. I think most of you are expecting a speech about Marines, hoorah, let’s blow stuff up.” Heads were nodding in the audience. “Well, I can’t give that speech now. Maybe I’m not as tough-as-nails as you think I am. Mr. Naber, I met your son at ODST school. You mentioned being proud as you pinned ODST wings on your son. Well, I was the Marine to his right, your left when you did that. And then we went off to fight. Naber, myself, and a few other fresh graduates went to serve in the same unit. Naber and I were put in the same squad, and immediately shipped out. We went to the outer colonies first. Our squad always won. We always won. We always fought to the last. In fact the last thing he said to me was…” he stopped, his words catching in his mouth. “Never stop fighting.” Goddamnit, he was crying now. “We used to say that in our unit all the time. ‘Never stop fighting for what you love’ was the whole phrase, but we shortened it to NSF. In fact, we used it everywhere. We yelled ‘En-Sef’ in battle, and every place we ever served had the ‘NSF’ spray-painted somewhere. We even put it on our armor,” he stopped wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Because that’s what we did. We fought. We were fighters. That’s what we were paid to do, and that’s what we did. And we were the best at it. And Naber… he was the best of the best. On the toughest days in the toughest environments, we stuck together. We fought together. And damnit we were unstoppable. There could have been hundreds of Covies, and we’d come through. We just got back from Epsilon Eridanus, where the rest of the squad died. We survived that together, too. We made it all the way back here, and one rogue gunman had to go…” He had to stop for a second.
“Someone once said that every person has a bullet with their name on it, and you have to live your life without ever meeting the guy who has your bullet. Well, I met him the other day, the guy with my bullet. And Naber took it for me. He’s already saved me a thousand times, and he had to go and do it again. Why’d you have to do it again man? Why did you do it?” Jennings dropped his head, crying quietly.
“Naber was a true hero,” he said finally. “He was the kind of man every person should strive to be. He never thought about himself, he only cared about the guy next to him. Damnit Naber, you’re the best person to have come out of ODST school. I don’t know if I can be a Trooper without you. I depended on you. You were my best friend,” he said stepping back from the mic. When he was far enough back that it couldn’t pick him up anymore, he muttered “you were my only friend.”
“Ready, fire!” Seven rifles fired at the same time, sounding as one.
“Fire!” Jennings saluted the casket as it was lowered.
“Fire!”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Jennings stayed by the gravesite until the headstone was placed, long after everyone else had left. They had been battle buddies, and he wasn’t leaving a man behind.
“Sergeant, is there anything I can help you with?” a groundskeeper said to him.
“No, I’ll be going shortly. Just saying my final goodbyes.”
“Alright, well if you need anything, just holler.” Jennings walked over to the gravesite, standing in front of the headstone.
“Well man, this is it. I messed up. It was my fault. I should have seen it coming. Damn, I’m a shitty soldier. But seriously, why? That bullet was meant for me, damnit! It was my day to die! You could have lived! You had a family, I’ve got nothing! Not a damn thing! Why would you do this?” He shouted, trying in vain to shake the headstone. “I’ve got nothing left, man.” He turned, walking out the graveyard, plopping down on a nearby bench to think. And maybe cry a little, too. He cast his gaze skyward, hoping magical guidance would fall from above. Various lights twinkled high above. During the day? What is up there? His phone rang; he picked it up reluctantly.
“Jennings.”
“Sergeant? This is Captain Meckley.” His CO? What did he want?
“Sir, don’t you know where I am?”
“I know Sarnt, but we’re sending a Pelican to pick you up. The Covenant are attacking.” Well, that explains it. “Higher is putting together a high-risk mission. Near suicidal. Our unit is going back in.”
“Suicidal? Sir, that sounds great about now. Sign me up.”
“Pelican will be there in less than five, get ready to jump.”
“Feet first, sir.”
Everyone I know, goes away, in the end