Out of the Ashes and Into the Fire

It had only been the second day since the prosthetic had been fitted, but Felix Martel wasn’t sure he would ever get used to the cold feeling — or lack thereof — in the place where his right arm used to be. The doctor who ran his rehabilitation sessions had certainly done his best in the past week, but it wasn’t the events of that traumatic night at the now-incinerated Martel farm that hung over Felix. Instead, it was one thing, one realization that permeated his every thought and waking moment, ever since Gladys Wilson had laid out the terms for him — he belonged to the UNSC now, and that wasn’t going to change as long as he had any desire to see his mother or brothers again. The prosthetic attached to his elbow might as well have been a metal collar around his neck for all the purpose it served him now.
A ripple of anger coursed through Felix, both biological and artificial fingers tightening around the charred, soot-stained clothes he had worn the night Colonel Thornhill had ruthlessly attacked his home, soon to be discarded along with the remnants of his old life. He wasn’t even sure who he was angry at anymore — Thornhill, the UNSC itself, or his brother Astor for thinking he could take them on. Did I make the right decision, dad? How the hell am I supposed to do this on my own? Teardrops spattered against the ruined clothes held in his shaking hands, and not for the first time, he wished he had been the one to drive the knife through the bastard Colonel’s eye. As satisfying as it had been to see the look on Astor’s face when Felix had said he would accept Gladys’ offer, a sickening sense of revulsion was now overtaking all his spite and bitterness once again. This wasn’t a tragedy to them. Even if they’d have executed Thornhill themselves, this is just another opportunity for them. They want to turn me into a weapon to point at the Innies? Well, screw them and screw the Innies too. They can burn each other to the ground for all I care.
Felix crumpled his tattered clothes into a ball and hurled it into the nearest waste bin with more force than was necessary before stomping out of the changing room. With no material possessions that hadn’t burned to ashes with his home, he made his way toward the hangar bay empty-handed, irately tugging at his fatigues in an effort to free the right-arm sleeve from getting caught in his prosthetic. The thing was already proving to be a pain in the ass and he hadn’t even shipped out for Corbulo Academy yet. As the sleeve came loose, the sudden image of a grenade flying at his head flashed in his mind without warning, and he gave an alarmed cry before instinctively ducking and raising a hand to shield his face. The memory of piercing agony overwhelmed his senses for an instant before he realized that the fingers he was holding up were metal and circuits, incapable of feeling anything akin to flesh and nerve. Gasping, Felix fought to steady his pounding heartbeat as he straightened to continue walking, doing his utmost to keep his erratic breathing from giving way to despairing sobs.
The hangar bay was mercifully just up ahead now, and he did his best to compose himself once the sliding doors parted to reveal the Pelican sitting on the landing pad. As he approached the waiting dropship, he nearly stumbled in surprise when he saw the occupant sitting alone in the passenger bay. It was Hector, Colonel Thornhill’s son and the sole reason Felix hadn’t lost his mother and brothers along with his father. But he hadn’t seen Hector once in the aftermath of the Colonel’s attack on the farm, and if anything Felix had expected the UNSC to quietly shuffle the other boy somewhere out of the public eye for the next while. I guess it makes sense that they’d want to send him to OCS too, after the way he fought. But why would he accept? They’ve got nothing on him now that he’s killed the Colonel.
Wordlessly, Felix stalked between the soldiers standing by the Pelican and clambered aboard to sit down across Hector, who looked lost in his own thoughts with his eyes downcast. From the cockpit, the pilot glanced back toward them before promptly shutting the hatch, hailing hangar control to clear them for takeoff before his words were obscured by the cabin door sliding shut as well. The dropship’s engines roared to life, filling the passenger bay with a low hum.
Felix cleared his throat a little, and Hector finally lifted his gaze as if registering his presence for the first time. Even after all they had survived together in the short time they had known one another, Felix couldn’t help but feel as if his friend never fully let his guard down around anyone. “Hey, I wanted to say... thanks.”
“For what?” asked Hector dully, his eyes still glazed and distant.
“Well... all of it. I still have a family because of you.”
“Your parents were the first people to show me kindness since I got here.” There was no emotion to his words, and yet it was clear that Hector meant every word. “But I don’t think ‘family’ is still the right word after all this.”
Felix’s mouth tightened. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t had the same thought for the last nine days, no matter how much he tried to push it out of his mind, but to hear it so unflinchingly made it feel like believing anything else was futile. Still, some part of him was relieved in knowing that he would not be completely alone at Corbulo. “If you’re right, then I really don’t know what’s left for me to fight for,” he sighed. “How am I supposed to get through two years of this shit?”
“Fight for yourself,” the older boy responded flatly. “You study, you train, you take everything they want to indoctrinate you with and learn it. Hone it. Use it. But you never let it use you, no matter how easy they make it for you. Don’t do easy, not when it comes from their idea of easy.”
With the words came a strange sense of reassurance, and it was then that Felix began to understand why Hector had accepted the deal. He set his jaw and nodded firmly, resolving to learn from his friend’s example in the coming days. I can do this as long as I watch him, do as he does. We’ll show them in the end that we’re stronger than they are. Stronger than anything they could ever make us into.
Whatever awaited Felix on Circinius IV, it would not change him. No might of the UNSC would forge him into their weapon, no hell they could cook up would burn hot enough to bend him. My old life is gone, reduced to ash, but this new life is mine. It always will be, and that’s a promise I’ll keep to myself.