Reinstated

Lieutenant Addison Feryl felt as if he were the one under investigation. The burly agent pressed one hand against his leg to suppress a nervous tic. He stretched his face into a stoic mask and made himself as comfortable as any man could under thirty pounds of body armor. Seated beside him, Commander Avril De Maes set her sidearm on the table. Addison’s superior looked utterly at ease beneath her own protective gear. She tapped a wrist-mounted communications device.
“Send in the prisoner,” Commander De Maes ordered. She shot a warning look at Addison. There was no hiding nerves from the commander’s eagle-sharp gaze. Addison knew he would get an earful once this interview was concluded. He folded his arms over his tactical plates and tried to look menacing.
The conference room door slid open and two guards in full combat gear marched inside. The Prowler Saint-Exupery had been augmented with two full platoons of Marines for this assignment. HIGHCOM wasn’t taking any chances with this prisoner. The Marines took up positions on either side of the room as an armored frame filled the porthole. The Spartan-IV—one of ONI’s five other insurance measures—scanned the room with his red-tinted visor. He nodded sharply to Commander De Maes and then stood aside to make room for two other MJOLNIR-clad Spartans. Addison felt his pulse quicken. Between two guards, manacled and clad only in dull prison fatigues, stood the cause of all this commotion: Commander Ryder Kedar.
Ryder had seen better days. His striking blonde hair was disheveled, his handsome face gaunt and weary. Life on the run had taken its toll on Addison’s academy classmate. Yet even stripped of his uniform and manacled between two Spartans Ryder still carried himself with that air of easy superiority Addison remembered so well from their time at the academy. As the Spartans shoved Ryder none too gently into a hard metal chair he offered them a smile as if in thanks. He rested his manacled hands on the conference table and inclined his head to Addison and Commander De Maes—as if he were their host and they were here at his leisure.
The Spartans took up position behind Ryder and drew their sidearms. The Marines tensed, rifles at the ready. Restraints or no, this prisoner was an augmented Spartan as well as a distinguished ONI operative. No one was taking any chances.
“You can relax, gentleman,” Ryder said with a weary laugh. “I have no intention of causing you any trouble.”
“Good to know,” the Spartan-IV team leader said gruffly. “But we’ve got our orders, all the same.”
“Of course.” Ryder nodded. “Keep up the good work. I just wanted to set your mind at ease.”
Addison couldn’t tell if his former classmate was being sarcastic. That was the Ryder he remembered so well from the academy. You could never tell just what lay behind that charming face. Something about this man threw you off balance—as if Ryder’s very presence played judo with your mind.
“Commander Kedar, if you’re quite finished exchanging pleasantries with my security detail…”
“Commander.” Ryder turned to face De Maes. He offered her a weary smile before nodding to Addison. “My apologies. Lieutenant Feryl, good to see you again. I didn’t expect to meet either of you again so soon. Have their been any changes to the charges leveled against me?”
Lieutenant Feryl. Even that set Addison on edge. Maybe Ryder was simply being polite. Or maybe Ryder was having fun with just how slowly Addison’s career had progressed compared to his own. Ryder had never been one to brag about his own achievements. Not blatantly, anyway. He didn’t need to. Naval Academy prodigy, Spartan-IV candidate, Naval Intelligence recruit—Ryder had collected more bullets on his CSV in just eight years than most officers attained across their entire careers.
And now he sat here, manacled and surrounded by guards, accused of high treason. Addison wondered if that could be considered a career accomplishment of its own.
“You already know the charges,” De Maes said sharply. Her eagle eyes held Ryder’s gaze. She, at least, didn’t seem affected by their prisoner’s charm. But she had gone out of her way to refer to Ryder by his rank, even acknowledging the brevet promotion to Commander recorded after the disastrous fleet action over Talitsa. Addison hadn’t missed that. Ryder hadn’t either. “However, given the circumstances of your surrender, I have convened this hearing to glean some additional details regarding this case before we reach our destination. Lieutenant Feryl suggested we give you a chance to address the matters at hand—in your own words.”
Addison caught the surreptitious glance De Maes sent his way. He suppressed a shudder. Yes, he had advocated for a fact-finding hearing. Did that put him under suspicion? He barely knew Ryder Kedar. He hardly liked the man. But the circumstances surrounding Ryder’s arrest were bizarre, to say the least. Addison owed his former classmate a chance to defend himself before some overzealous ONI tribunal made him disappear. And for all her posturing, De Maes had agreed to the hearing. She wouldn’t have bothered dragging Ryder out of the brig if she didn’t find some merit in Addison’s suggestion.
Ryder nodded thoughtfully. “Might I ask where our destination might be?”
“You might,” De Maes said. “You won’t get an answer.”
“Of course.” Ryder looked unperturbed. He carefully lifted his shackled hands and rubbed a welt on his temple. The Spartan-IVs had been none too gentle during his surrender. “How can I help you, Commander? What ‘additional details’ would you like to hear?”
De Maes tapped the case notes in front of her. A dozen recording devices around the room were analyzing Ryder’s every inflection and facial tic. “The location of your accomplices would be a good place to start.”
The ghost of a smile flitted over Ryder’s face. “Commander, the conditions of my surrender stipulated that efforts to apprehend Lieutenant Castillo and my crew—”
“Conditions of your surrender,” De Maes said coldly. “You’ve surrendered. There are plenty of people on this ship—in this very room—who wouldn’t mind terribly if you never reached a tribunal hearing. I suggest you bear that in mind before we proceed further.”
Ryder nodded slowly. He looked carefully around at the Spartans and Marines before facing De Maes once more. “I understand my situation all too well, Commander. But Spartan Team Phoenix and the crew of the Absalom were only following my orders. I won’t betray their location until I know they won’t face prosecution. If that costs me my life, so be it.”
De Maes made a derisive noise as she consulted her notes. “We can find them without your help. I understand certain parties have already given you and your new masters quite a bit of trouble already.”
“Certain parties.” Ryder fixed De Maes with a hard look. “You mean my chief accusers—Spartans who made it their life’s work to destroy my team. And as for these ‘new masters’ of mine, my loyalty remains where it has always been: with the UNSC.”
“So you persist with your plea of not guilty.”
“I do,” Ryder said simply.
“You say this knowing that we have a mountain of evidence—including live footage and your own testimony—proving that you betrayed the UNSC and sold your own task force out to the Created.”
“I don’t deny that I cut a deal with the Created,” Ryder said calmly. “I became their agent and brought the Absalom and my team along with me. But I didn’t betray the UNSC.”
De Maes leaned back in her chair. Her expression remained hard as battleplate but Addison knew his superior enough to recognize when her interest was piqued. Ryder’s humble confidence was breaking down her barriers. It was time to weigh in.
“You plead not guilty but don’t deny defecting to the Created,” Addison said. “You say you didn’t commit high treason. Explain.”
Ryder’s lip twitched into a small smile. He raised an eyebrow. “It’s simple, Lieutenant Feryl. After Admiral Mariani’s fleet was destroyed at Talitsa, I faced two threats: the Created and Shinsu ‘Refum’s Fleet of Cleansing Fire. I had no contact with High Command. My task force was isolated inside a hostile Sangheili fleet, surrounded by extremists and traitors on all sides.”
“A situation you chose for yourself when you separated from Admiral Mariani and the other Sixteenth Fleet survivors,” De Maes pointed out.
“With all due respect, Commander, what would you have done?” Ryder asked. “I could have limped off to hide with the other remnants. I could have found a save haven somewhere. I daresay I’d still be there now, instead of facing treason charges. Instead I saw an opportunity to continue doing my duty in the face of our new enemies. I gained Shinsu ‘Refum’s trust and discovered in him a deadly enemy intent on establishing a Sangheili-supremacist galactic hegemony. His brutal suppression of Created-aligned worlds only confirmed my suspicions.”
Commander De Maes picked up on the prisoner’s line of reasoning. “You mean for us to believe that your defection to the Created was just a ruse—you always intended to simply use them to destroy the threat posed by Shinsu ‘Refum. A rather convenient justification, especially given recent events. A cynic might say you just wanted to be on the winning side.”
A shadow flashed over Ryder’s face. He glanced down at his manacled hands and took a deep breath. “I can’t claim that level of foresight, Commander. My defection was genuine, in that I saw the Created and their methods preferable to Shinsu’s. My words and behavior were scrutinized at every turn. I could never have fooled them with an insincere conversion. I decided my career was a worthwhile sacrifice in exchange for Shinsu and his fleet—and that I would do less harm as a tool of the Created than a hostage of ‘Refum and his Covenant ambitions.”
Addison felt De Maes stiffen slightly. He adjusted his own notes and watched his commander carefully. Ryder was treading dangerous ground. Perhaps he didn’t know just how much evidence ONI had against him.
“Noble of you to sacrifice your career,” De Maes said icily. “Did you use that same line of reasoning when it came to the men and women under your command? Were they privy to your soul-searching?”
Ryder lifted his gaze to meet De Maes’s once again. “I took as much of Task Force Phoenix into my confidence as I could risk without alerting ‘Refum to my plans. I take fully responsibility for the lives lost, but I stand by my decision. I took efforts to mitigate loss of life as a result of my plans. Unfortunately, those efforts were… insufficient.”
De Maes tapped her datapad and spun it around to face Ryder. The names and portraits of over a dozen men and women flashed up at him. “A contingent of ODSTs under the command of Lieutenant Jonathan Davis was wiped out by Created forces during the fighting at the Gilboan Citadel. Combat data from that engagement shows that you made no efforts to call your new allies off. Explain.”
Ryder stared at the faces of the dead ODSTs for a long moment. He sighed and shook his head. “Like I said, I take full responsibility. The assault on the shield world was chaos. I had ordered Lieutenant Davis to rendezvous with my team once the battle was joined in earnest, but he…”
He started to say something, then seemed to think better of it. “The ODSTs never reached the rendezvous point,” he said quickly.
De Maes inclined her head. She tapped her finger twice on the table. Addison knew the signal well. De Maes was on to something. Whatever it was, she’d finally brought Ryder towards the real thrust of her questioning—the reason she’d hauled him up from the brig in the first place. He took his cue and leaned forward to catch his former classmate’s eye.
“You’re hiding something, Commander,” Addison pressed. “Or at least, you’re avoiding the subject. Why were your efforts to safeguard Task Force Phoenix ineffective?”
“I take full responsibility,” Ryder said stubbornly.
“Commander, please answer the question.” Addison watched Ryder carefully. Ryder was dancing around the detail he and De Maes most wanted to confirm. Who was he trying to protect? “Why did Lieutenant Davis and his team fail to meet your rendezvous?”
Ryder was quiet for several long moments. He let out a deep sigh and met Addison’s gaze. “They placed themselves under the command of a Spartan attached to their platoon. He led them away from my position. I couldn’t reestablish contact with Davis’s team. The next time I heard of it, all but the Spartan were dead.”
“And which Spartan was this?” De Maes demanded.
Ryder worked his jaw. He looked to Addison, then back at De Maes. “I think you already know the answer, Commander. Why do you want to hear it from me so badly?”
“Why are you so intent on avoiding his identity?” De Maes countered.
“Because that same individual is one of three Spartans who made it their goal in life to hunt me down,” Ryder snapped, irritation finally emerging from behind his cool façade. “These Spartans are the chief witnesses behind the charges against me. Do you want me on record speaking against them?”
“We want your version of events.” De Maes leaned back in her chair, evidently pleased with the reaction she’d provoked. “I’ll ask you again: what was the name of the Spartan who took command of Lieutenant Davis’s team?”
Ryder’s gaze flicked almost imperceptibly towards the Spartan-IVs standing beside him. “Merlin-D032,” he said grudgingly.
De Maes nodded. “So in your view, Merlin-D032’s actions resulted in the deaths of your subordinates.”
“I never said that.”
“Consider your next words very carefully, Commander.” De Maes leaned forward once more. She tapped her datapad and dismissed the portraits of the fallen ODSTs. “SPARTAN-D032 and his compatriots have been vocal advocates for your capture. Perhaps a little too vocal. Some within Section Three question the veracity of their claims. I have orders to gather your testimony regarding their claims. That’s the only reason you aren’t picking your teeth down in the brig right now.”
Ryder looked taken aback. Addison couldn’t blame him. He knew De Maes wanted testimony on Ryder’s Spartan accusers. He hadn’t known she was under pressure from the higher ups. A lot of things were beginning to make sense. Addison suddenly felt justified in vouching for his former classmate.
“We aren’t looking for counter-accusations, Commander,” Addison said, slipping back into Good Cop mode. “We don’t have the time or the resources for a witch hunt. We just need to know what happened between you and three Spartans: Merlin-D032, Andra-D054, and Callum-B042.”
Those piercing blue eyes fixed Addison with a hard stare. “I was their commanding officer,” Ryder said slowly. “Like I said before, I couldn’t bring every one of my subordinates into my confidence. The chances of information leaking to Shinsu ‘Refum would have been too high. The Cleansing Blade would have killed every member of Task Force Phoenix if they even suspected I was acting against them.”
“But three Spartans would surely have been in the best position to hold your confidence,” De Maes said. “Given their activities since the destruction of ‘Refum’s fleet I can’t see any reason why they would have objected to a temporary alliance—out of expedience, if nothing else.”
“I wanted to keep them in the loop,” Ryder assured her. A new earnestness crept into the prisoner’s voice. “If I’d been able to trust them, more of my subordinates would still be alive. But I’d already been given reason enough to worry that they were compromised.”
“Compromised?” De Maes raised an eyebrow. “Explain.”
“Merlin was the most dependable of the three,” Ryder said. “A good soldier, through and through. But young, like the other Deltas. Inexperienced, impulsive. He took charge of Lieutenant Davis’s team and led them away from the rendezvous point. In all that chaos, even the ODSTs must have deferred to a Spartan’s judgement. I didn’t anticipate that when I paired him with them. But he already didn’t trust me—on account of Andra.”
“You’re referring to the Asphodel Meadows operation.” De Maes nodded. “You were the mission director. Andra-D054 was captured during that raid.”
Ryder nodded, his face grim. “I should have known she’d resent me for what happened. I deserved her blame. But she escaped and made her way back to Task Force Phoenix. I thought that was a sign of her capabilities, her ability to adapt and overcome. I was wrong. I overestimated her fortitude and played right into his hands.”
“Into whose hands?” De Maes interjected.
Ryder’s gaze darkened. His manacled hands balled into fists. “Simon-G294.”
Addison suppressed a groan. He should have known. Ryder Kedar’s vendetta against the renegade SPARTAN-G294 was well known. Other agents had predicted that Ryder would lapse into vengeful accusations against his nemesis and they’d been absolutely right. This wouldn’t get them anywhere.
“We are not here to discuss Simon-G294’s activities,” De Maes said. Her tone dripped with contempt. “We are hear to gather testimony regarding accusations of high treason. Don’t waste our time with irrelevant speculation—”
“It’s not irrelevant!” For the first time since he’d been escorted in, Ryder’s anger bubbled to the surface. He rose slightly from his chair, ignoring the pistols the Spartan-IVs swiftly leveled at his head. “He was behind all of it, right from the start! Simon and the Kru’desh! Who do you think gave Shinsu the coordinates for that shield world in the first place? I knew he was a threat! I gave Andra strict orders to assassinate that treacherous psychopath! And instead she fell for him! He charmed her, got inside her head just like he did with G006! I was a fool to trust her anywhere near him! I should have killed him myself. If Andra had just done her job I wouldn’t have needed to join the Created in the first place!”
A shocked silence, interrupted only by the Prowler’s humming engines, hung over the conference room. The Marines gaped, not knowing what to make of the sudden outburst. Ryder’s eyes bulged. He seemed shocked by his own burst of passion. His face fell and his shoulders slumped. The Spartan-IV team leader lowered his pistol and gently pushed the disgraced agent back into his chair.
Addison looked at De Maes and was surprised to see a faint smile flash across his superior’s face. With a start he realized that Ryder had just given her exactly what she wanted. What game was the commander playing here?
“I’m sorry,” Ryder muttered. “This vendetta of theirs has cost me a great deal. So many good people are dead because… it’s no excuse, but…”
He trailed off, struggling to regain some vestige of his lost composure. He sank deeper into his chair and rubbed his face.
“Let’s wrap this up,” De Maes said. She rose in her chair, as if feeding on Ryder’s disorientation. “According to you, Spartans D032 and D054 are young and impressionable. What about the older Spartan, Callum-B042?”
“What about him?” Ryder jerked his head dismissively. “He was deliberately unhelpful when he was under my command. He didn’t even try to integrate into my command structure. When the fighting at Gilboan Citadel got hot he fled the first chance he had. I got the impression he wasn’t entirely stable, let alone fieldworthy. No doubt he’s been my chief accuser this whole time. Typical.”
Ryder shot a bitter look at De Maes. “I didn’t want to say any of this. You wanted my opinions, you got them. Are we done here?”
“We are indeed.” De Maes collected her datapad and nodded curtly to the Spartan-IVs. “You will return to the brig, Commander Kedar. I will see you again at the hearing convened when we reach our destination.”
The Spartan-IVs escorted the dejected commander out of the room. At a nod from De Maes, the Marine security team followed them out into the hall. The porthole slid shut behind them, leaving Addison and De Maes alone in the conference room.
“Was that really necessary, Commander?” Addison turned to De Maes. He kept his tone respectfully level. “There’s already a mountain of evidence against Ryder Kedar. Did you really need to provoke an outburst like that just to gather more material to present at his trial?”
“On the contrary, Lieutenant.” De Maes leaned back in her chair, her posture far more relaxed than when Ryder had been in the room. “Commander Kedar had better thank me personally at his reinstatement.”
“Reinstatement?” Addison’s brow furrowed. Whose side was De Maes on?
“I didn’t expect him to defend those Spartans so stubbornly,” De Maes continued. “But I wasn’t lying when I said that Callum-B042’s been stepping on some toes trying to get Kedar convicted. More than a few of our superiors were already wary about the charges he brought against Kedar. Those questions about B042’s stability might be all HIGHCOM needs to hear in order to exonerate Kedar.”
“They won’t really exonerate him, will they?” Addison felt as if he were three steps behind. “Not with all the charges being brought against Created collaborators. Commander Kedar himself admitted to the treason charges.”
“Circumstances, lieutenant,” De Maes reminded him. She stared at the porthole thoughtfully. “There will be an extended inquiry, of course. Kedar will be reprimanded. Probably demoted. But we can’t afford to lose assets like him. Not to frivolous accusations, anyway. That outburst of his may have just saved his career.”
Two decks down, sitting in the Saint-Exupery’s brig, Ryder Kedar turned away from the security cameras and allowed himself a small, self-satisfied smile.