As Brothers Do

“They’re in.” Callum watched over the displays like a hawk, hunched over as he watched the screens displaying location, biometrics, and a host of other ancillary information about his team now groundside on Farthest Point. He felt like he was being torn in two, one part of him sure he should’ve been groundside himself, the other worried about how the rest of Delta Company was faring under alternate supervision. The 37 Spartans he’d been given command over were clearly too few in number to be a company anymore, but they were the largest assembled group at this point, and thus bore the designation. They were his responsibility, just as much as Stallion. He should’ve been somewhere, just not on the bridge of the damned Corvette he’d spent months in.
“We should be in there with them.” Jacob-G043, both his XO and younger brother, spoke Callum’s thoughts into reality, and thus forced him back into the mindset of a leader. He agreed with his brother, but selfishly. Callum knew his value in this position, knew that he had to be where he was now, but he could not shake his discontent. So instead he buried it, and acted how Lieutenant Commander Ambrose would’ve.
“They’re alright. This is what they’re good at. If things go sideways we’re here and we’ve got another team on standby in-system.” More Deltas, more of his kids, sitting in the bowels of a ESW Frigate, no doubt bored out of their minds. Another part of him now wondered if he should’ve been with them too. 
“And we aren’t?” Jacob countered.
“They’ve got experience, we don't Jacob, either of us.” The younger Spartan gave now answer but a harsh scoff.
“Where was the last time you went out of armor long term?” Callum prodded, looking back over his shoulder and his brother who stood with arms over his chest and a slight scowl over his features. There was no response to give. Jacob hadn’t been cut off from the UNSC the way the rest of Stallion had, not really. From his post aboard a nomad Frigate, he’d operated with just enough ammo and equipment to get through his ops. It didn’t sound like he’d had it easy, because he hadn’t, but when compared to his peers it was a far more preferable fate. But that didn’t stop Jacob from pushing further.
“They still should have us groundside. Franklin and Shima sure, we can trust them on their own, but Andr-“
“Andra‘s got the most experience out of all of them for this. Hell, she’s our lead here Jake, I understand that you have your qualms with-“
“With her being Stray’s little pet? Yeah I fucking do. She has a goddamn innie brand Callum, how can you trust that she didn’t throw in with him?” Jacob stepped forward, and Callum turned to fully face him, flashes of anger and pain danced over his brother’s eyes. Simon’s stint in Philadelphia had cost him people, and he hadn’t let go of that, Callum knew what that was like better than anyone, but it was a problem all the same.
“I had to run with Stray for a bit too, you gonna ask how you can trust me?” Callum redirected the question, his brows lowering in frustration. “Andra had ever chance to run. A full set of MJOLNIR, dinged up but functional, a group that most certainly would’ve kept her on, and every reason to run. She came back, I trust her.” 
“She came back for Merlin. Who mind you was running with BDS and has that thing. If you wanna talk about a lack of trust-“
“Merlin saved my life. Dragged me halfway across the damn galaxy while my brain tried to shred itself.”
“Yeah until Amber’s nutcase doctor magically healed you.” Jacob cut Callum back off before his older brother could continue, speaking his words with incredulity rather than as a matter of fact.
“The fact a backwater brain surgeon can fix smoothers while the spooks still have you on a full batch should not have you pointing fingers at me of all people.” Callum snapped, almost forgetting they were still on the bridge of a UNSC vessel, and that insinuating his brother and his peers were being kept chemically dependent might’ve been an issue that warranted an unpleasant conversation with some ONI stooge. And more importantly, the removal of his command. So Callum bit his tongue, and kept himself from saying something he’d regret.
“Maybe you did spend too much time with Simon.” Jacob was sure to get in a final bite, matching pairs of eyes staring intensely back at one another as a slim deck officer made their approach, announcing their presence with an audible gulp.
“Uh, Spartan.” The pale ensign mustered.
“What?” They answered in unison, holding the bitter gaze with one another before Callum turned towards the woman. She seemed to shrink under his gaze, brushing a lose strand of her curly blonde hair back into place as her pale brown eyes darted anywhere but his own. She couldn’t have been but a few years younger than him. For ‘normal’ people, that meant they missed the war, but given the way she carried herself, he suspected her commission was of an even more recent vintage.
“Just the Lieutenant.” The officer clarified sheepishly, leaving Jacob to give his brother a final scowl before stepping away and giving Callum the floor. Even as his neural interface registered the officer’s information, Callum looked to the name on her chest, ‘Howell’ was stenciled out on the identifier, and the Spartan mentally connected the face and the name for future reference. 
“What is it Ensign Howell?” He tried not to worry, to assume the worst, but he couldn’t help himself. Was something coming? Had they missed some threat? Were they compromised?
“You’d asked for any updates from the frigate about Fireteam Palisade in particular, Commander Dahtri reported they’re running hand to hand combat drills in the hangar. She didn’t get clearance for it but,”
“That’s fine. Let ‘em work, make sure they know they’re buying anything they break.” Callum breathed a sigh of relief, and the Ensign seemed to have a mountain of tension lift off of her shoulders. “Anything else?”
The deck officer looked down at the data pad in her hands, and thumbed through a handful of screens for something of interest before turning her gaze back to the Spartan. “Just a freighter that slipped in, not even heading for our port.”
So all was going according to plan, bar the exchange proceeding this one. He gave the woman a nod as dismissal and returned to his console, checking the mission clock and the vital signs of his ground team. He sent a single flash of a status light, winking it yellow, and was answered by a single green flash from each. They were okay. It was all going okay.
Jacob stepped back towards the console, looking over Callum’s shoulder to find something to make a remark on, but as his brother folded his arms over one another, the elder brother knew his kin was satisfied. The silence between them bristled a moment longer as the both of them refused to break it. Thus it fell to Callum as a leader to be the bigger man.
“Was a stupid thing to say.” Jacob remarked, beating him to the punch just as his lips had begun to open.
“It was, doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have the same questions in your place.” The elder admitted, leaning over the screens before finally taking a deep breath and pushing himself away from the damnable console. The kids were in, groundside and safe, now they had to hunt. Franklin and Shima were good at that from what he was told, though their performance wasn’t quite what he’d been promised.
They were exceptional, but incomplete. Their reliance on their old fireteam had been absolute, without them, parts of them were simply gone. But Andra and Merlin, they could make up for it. They’d both spent the time that their peers had been hunting warlords in plainclothes on no small number of infiltration ops, then there’d been the Imperium to boot. The squad was more than fit for the long haul.
And he was there, Callum reminded himself. He, his brother, and another five-Spartan strike team. If anything went wrong they could be groundside in minutes, and then he’d take care of it all himself. He’d keep them safe. The universe had taken enough. It would not have them, not any of them.
An unrealistic goal, he knew, but one he swore by anyway. 
“This Lensky guy, if he’s here…” 
“He’s here.” Callum stated the assertion as fact, there was no space for anything else.
“Then it’s gonna take time to find him. And if they’re up to it like you say, then we have time to kill.” That took him aback, and he turned his head towards Jacob, finding the Spartan doing his best not to seem too pleased with whatever he’d devised. “Let’s clear a spot, run some drills. Mendez style.
That translated roughly to sparring with only just enough restraint not to harm one another, usually in armor. Callum shook his head as if to dismiss the idea out of hand, and Jacob raised up a hand before he could speak.
“Ensign Howell!” He barked, a visible chill running up to poor deck officer’s spine as she turned about to face the younger of the duo.
“Yes, Spartan?”
“Route any reports to the Lieutenants personal pad,” Jacob cut his eyes at Callum, smiling now. “And send ‘em silent unless it's a high priority, he needs to focus.”
The officer nodded, and returned to her station without another word, practically sprinting as if to avoid another debacle. If she was used to Spartans, it certainly hadn’t been any of the older generations. Jacob racked his shoulder with a fist, and Callum let out an exasperated sigh, casting one glance back at Andra and Merlin’s vitals, then Shima and Franklin’s positions. They were okay, he had to trust them, just like he’d asked them to trust him.
He turned and set his sights on teaching his little brother some humility.