Hello, I'm still alive. Here's the second part of this more than a hundred days later.
Spoiler
Commander Neil Mcallister sat stiffly in his seat as if at attention. The former NCO ODST was not a fan of his officer’s dress uniform, while it held a higher level of prestige and respect, it was scratchy and uncomfortable. No matter what he tried, washing, ironing, it never made a difference. His ex-wife had joked that it was the enlisted man in him screaming for him to take it off. He was at this point inclined to agree with her.
Past the pilot, Mcallister could see out of the front viewport. There docked to a repair station was the UNSC Resistance, Mcallister’s new assignment. The light frigate was beaten to hell with many plasma burns melted into her hull; but with all of the damages the designation ‘FFG-402 UNSC RESISTANCE’ was freshly repainted in a bold white.
Mcallister had heard of the Resistance and the troops he was going to be commanding. They were a specifically veteran unit, he liked that. Another thing he liked was the Force Recon Company of marines stationed on the ship; The ‘Mad Moas’ one of the most prestigious units in the entire battlegroup. They were a unit composed almost entirely of ODST washouts and dropouts, hence their nickname. Mcallister was looking forward to using the Mad Moas in missions to come, they had an unbreakable will which he loved, though the cases of insubordination were a bit concerning.
He pulled up his datapad and decided to learn more about the company, and what better place to start than with the CO.
Master Gunnery Sergeant Samuel Wendelin UNSC Marine Corps.
The picture showed a fairly big, broad shouldered man with dirty blonde hair shaved down to UNSC regulation in a crew cut, his face was heavily scarred, including one rather large plasma burn scar on the right side of his scalp which caused a bald spot. Mcallister could also make out slight discoloration on Wendelin’s lower jaw area making the skin look fake, he had a feeling it was. Wendelin’s expression was serious and stared directly into the camera with icy blue eyes.
Mcallister began scrolling through the file. He found that the marine had racked up as many accolades as he had. His career spanned back to 2495, and he’d seen at least three times more combat than Mcallister, his first major deployment being Operation TREBUCHET in 2513 as an ODST.
Wendelin had been assigned to the UNSC Resistance in 2525 after surviving the First Contact with the Covenant on Harvest, an assignment which had supposed to be where he could recover after losing his arm during Operation Trebuchet and been transferred out of the ODST’s. During First Contact, he had received major injury, a glancing plasma burn to the top of his head, and bilateral amputation of his legs by a grenade.
“Jesus Christ,” Mcallister quietly cursed, “The son of a bitch is more machine than man,”
In total, Wendelin had robotic or synthetic replacements for both of his legs from the knee down, his left arm, and his lower jaw. He’d also had a heart transplant, lost a finger on his right hand, and had his right shoulder blade replaced. It made Mcallister feel nauseous thinking about the sort of phantom pains the man must feel every day.
As the shuttle docked on the Resistance, and Mcallister disembarked, he continued to read Sergeant Wendelin’s file going through the various operations he had taken part in over the course of the war, he had been commanding the Mad Moas since their creation in 2531, and had done so admirably. As the Commander read further he noticed a slowly increasing pattern in the nature of Wendelin’s operations. He was growing harder to pull out of a fight. Mcallister couldn’t help but understand, Wendelin’s forces had gained victory in every mission they had undertaken yet every battle was lost.
Mcallister rounded a corner, his eyes still glued to the datapad. More than a few technicians and marines had tried to greet the officer but he didn’t seem to hear them. Finally one ODST in workout sweats grabbed hold of the Commander’s shoulder wrenching his attention back to his surroundings.
“Commander?” The ODST asked.
Mcallister looked around and finally noticed he had wandered himself into the ship’s gym.
“You alright sir?” the ODST pressed cocking his head to look over Mcallister.
Mcallister chuckled embarrassed and said, “Yes I’m alright marine, thank you,” he sighed, “I appear to have gotten myself lost, could you point me in the direction of Captain Tachibana’s office?”
The ODST nodded with a smile, “Aye sir, three decks up, aft of the infirmary next to the GCCO’s Office.”
“Hmm, my new office.” Mcallister thought, “Thank you trooper,” he turned on his heels and strode towards the elevator with full confidence, even with the eyes of the marines and sailors struggling to hold back snickers of amusement.
“Commander!” the ODST hollered.
Mcallister jolted to a stop and whirled around, “Yes trooper?”
“Athena hasn’t spent a moment in her office in years. If anywhere you’ll find her on the bridge sir,”
“Athena? Interesting nickname.” Mcallister nodded, “Thanks for the tip trooper.” He continued on into the elevator and pressed the third deck button, he had no doubt in what the trooper had told him, but Mcallister’s instructions from his new CO were clear.
‘Upon arrival onboard the UNSC Resistance, go to my office - Captain Tachibana.’
Mcallister shook his head, “Damn offic… oh right, I’m one of those damn officers.” he put his datapad into his pocket feeling the edges of a photograph. A comforted smile formed on his face, “You’re always right with me.” The elevator shook to a stop and the doors slid open. As Mcallister took a deep breath the potent smell of burned human flesh and medical cleaner filled his nostrils, causing a wave of memories to flash by in his head. He faltered for a moment but regained his posture and pressed out of the elevator.
The halls of UNSC spacecraft were never all that spacious, but these were even more tight quartered as the walls were lined with gurneys, each bearing a wounded marine or sailor. Many of them had signature plasma burns, but while such wounds caused the unbearable stench, it was the needler wounds which were the most visibly horrifying. One marine was restrained to the gurney, and there was a large bandage over his stomach where through and around the bloody dressing, Mcallister could see the soldier’s entrails.
Finally, Mcallister made it past the infirmary to the two offices at the end of the hall, one door on each side.
The first read ‘GCCO’ and had a name freshly scraped off.
The door across from the first read ‘CAPTAIN Nanako Tachibana.’
Mcallister straightened his uniform removed his hat and knocked on the door.
“Welcome Commander Mcallister,” an artificial sounding woman’s voice crackled over the speaker just above the door, “I am Pelagia, the AI of the UNSC Resistance, if you would be so kind as to wait, Captain Tachibana will be with you shortly.”
The door in front of Mcallister slid open and he was hit with a cloud of dust. The ODST hadn’t been kidding. As it appeared, he was the first one to enter this office in years.
Mcallister looked around, in the center of the room was an old mahogany desk, and three chairs surrounding it. One large leather chair behind the desk, which Mcallister assumed was the Captain’s, and two smaller cushioned chairs.
“Feel free to take a seat.” Pelagia offered.
“That’s not good…” Mcallister thought, he’d been in the military long enough to know when a superior or their aide made an offer to take a seat, it typically meant that things were going to take awhile.
Mcallister swept the dust off of one of the guest chairs with his hand before sitting down. Not wanting to be rude, and knowing the AI was still watching him, he refrained from taking out his datapad. Instead Mcallister opted to look around the room in more detail to try and get a sense of his new commander, or at least his commander a few years ago.
The desk was immaculately organised, but wasn’t without personal touches, including a small figurine of a cat and a picture frame facing away from Mcallister. The walls were at first glance relatively bare aside from a couple of paintings, but upon closer inspection, he spotted close to a dozen children’s drawings pinned to the walls. One of them in particular caught Mcallister’s attention. By the skill level of the drawing it seemed to be one of the latest of them. A manga styled sketch of a little girl hugging a woman in a navy uniform, and written above the drawing in popping 3D lettering was ‘Best Mom Ever.’
Mcallister smiled as a warm feeling bubbled in his chest. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the photograph he carried with him everywhere. It was a family picture taken shortly after he was awarded the Colonial Cross. It was the last photo taken of him in his NCO uniform, and it was the last photo taken while he and his now ex-wife were married. His arms were wrapped around his wife and his older boy Tom. In front of the elder members of the family were Mcallister’s two younger children. His daughter Julia was making a comedic mimic of his go to stern stare he made when he was photographed for work. His younger son, Barry, was hugging him.
“Is that your family?” Pelagia asked, her voice coming from Mcallister’s shoulder.
His eyes shifted to the left periphery where he found a hologram of the AI sitting on his shoulder, her appearance matched her voice, she had the appearance of a beautiful ancient greek or roman woman with flowing dark hair.
“Yes it is,” Mcallister nodded. He folded up the picture and put it back in his pocket, “So if you don’t mind me asking, how long will I be waiting in here?”
Pelagia hopped off Mcallister’s shoulder onto the table, “Well…” She contorted her face as if she was thinking of an answer.
There was a moment of silence between them.
“If this is some sort of test, then I would ask that it be cut short. I’m not much for unnecessary formalities, I’d prefer to just get to work if that’s possible.”
The AI raised an eyebrow, “Eager to get something done huh? That’s a first in a while… What do you think Captain?” Pelagia flicked her finger to her side bringing up a holographic screen.
Mcallister’s expression sunk as he shot from his seat into a salute, “Captain Tachibana Sir.”
