DT 2021: Roland Tries

“You missed a chance to go see Blue Team. I thought IIIs looked up to the IIs?”
Andra-D054 grimaced from atop her bunk. Nothing but the emergency and night lights glowed in the darkness of her team’s former accommodations. All except the golden hue of some ghostly World War 2 pilot.
“Roland,” Andra muttered at the Smart AI’s projected hologram without her usual bite. “I’ve got enough on my plate right now. Merlin’s missing. Joshua’s dead. Can’t I mourn in peace?”
The ancient fighter pilot shrugged his shoulders, “Look. I know you’re going through a lot right now. The galaxy is upside down. You’re grieving. You’re lost and confused. I understand. I feel it too. I lost a lot of friends in this mess too…”
Andra’s watery irises zeroed in on the AI, the glow revealing pink and puffy characteristics to her often-shadowed complexion. She pulled her comforter further upon her body.
“Who did you lose?”
Roland’s avatar gave a faraway look, staring through Andra and past the UNSC Infinity’s bulkheads into the endless vacuum of space. “There were more than a few Infinity staff on shore leave when Cortana declared her Reclamation. We left them behind. Who knows how much falling debris killed civilians in population centers, or the lives lost when the power went out across the colonies? But me personally… I lost the trust of my crew. Maybe not fully. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow. But I’m losing their trust.”
The Spartan remained silent, giving the AI room to echo what was beginning to seem like deeply-reserved emotions.
“Little by little. There’s less crew willing to play a game of chess or cards right about now. That number is going up too. People frown more when they see my avatar. I’ve had more than a few technicians ask for schematics on systems they usually delegated to me. And they break down everything so they can understand it all without my input. I’m being locked out of my job, my family. Despite your fear of Althea, and I know it was fear, I appreciate you don’t ask me to not come back. It’s nice to have somebody willing to keep putting up with me day after day that isn’t the captain or the bridge. Even if our interactions are rather icy at best.”
Andra gave a morbid chuckle, confirming all of Roland’s assessment.
The AI continued, “All I want to do is be a comfort where possible. Let’s be honest. I’m not good at this sort of thing. Aine, the previous ship director got along with the crew on that front. She seemed more human than me, I guess. Not really sure how to put it into words.”
Andra looked at Roland incredulously. “You’re an AI and you don’t have a way with words?”
“I did come from a human once. Let’s call it a human thing?”
The Spartan shrugged but offered nothing more on the presumption.
“I just thought maybe seeing the Chief and the other IIs might cheer you up a little. You’ve never met them, right?”
“Right… Or rather, I was told he died twelve hours before this fuck-up of a situation came to form.” Andra grumbled.
“RUNIT DOME?”
The Spartan nodded. “We didn’t really have time to process it. Merlin and I were face deep in captured Innie station schematics to really have the news or whatever click. The ship crew certainly felt it. But the Marines with us? Us Spartans? Something about it never felt right. It just didn’t make sense.”
“It does go against Directive 930 of Naval Intelligence policy. No Spartan shall be declared KIA. Only MIA. And yet the ONI Press Corps announced his death across all Waypoint channels. I guess when I consider that, it never made sense to me either.”
“And he’s alive now. Walking around S-Deck or doing a visitation with that cafeteria thing I overheard yesterday?”
“I think he’s training right now actually, but yeah, S-Deck according to his coordinates.”
“So how did 117 get declared dead, and then live in the course of 48 hours?” Andra asked, pushing herself off the far wall to lean forward in mild interest.
“It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time to hear it,” Andra remarked. A rare smile of encouragement gracing her lips.
Roland’s camera suites locked in on that. Despite the morbid subject matter, seeing the girl smile seemed like a victory to him. He’d like to see it more often.
His story began with Prometheans and Jul ‘Mdama’s forces duking it out on an ice ball world, and a SPARTAN-IV team in the right place at the wrong time.
Andra hung onto every word for the next six hours.
Category:The Weekly
Category:Short stories