Despite his attempt to maintain mental control and clarity, Greg found himself pushing the Warthog faster than he should have as they finally closed in on Adamant. He kept expecting something to have gone horrifically wrong. Even though he heard no gunfire, saw no pall of smoke billowing into the air, and heard no distress calls over the airwaves, (he'd left his radio open and listened to the chatter as Adamant reached out with their newfound comms abilities, it was shockingly calming to hear that clipped radio chatter), he still was paranoid. But finally they cleared the last of the trees, and he saw Adamant, still there, still standing, still intact.
It actually seemed to be bustling with activity.
Greg announced his presence over the radio and then parked where they instructed him to. He, Izzy, and Ellis dismounted and turned the vehicle over to the local forces.
"I need to go check in with a few people. Thanks again for the save," she said, and then she hurried off towards the main building. Greg and Izzy followed in her wake, though more slowly. It was obvious that more people had shown up while they'd been gone, mostly Marines from the look of it. The relief that he felt as they entered the main structure was almost as good as finally laying down in a bed after a horribly long day or getting into a warm room after spending hours in the cold. As he and Izzy moved through the building, however, looking into rooms as they hunted down Becker, his good cheer quickly bled away.
Everywhere he looked, he saw something that reminded him of the staggering amount of devastation, suffering, and loss of life that had hit Wintermute. Injured civilians and Marines seemed to be in every room, sleeping or recovering or waiting to be tended to. But they were being tended to, he saw, and that only made the fact that he and Izzy and Larsen and Ellis had managed to recover that medical supplies much more satisfying. He only wished they could have done more, and he fully intended to do more.
They found Becker in his office, asleep in his chair. As they came in, he came awake with a start and knocked over a few empty cans of Monster Energy drinks. "Dammit! I wasn't sleeping," he muttered as he sat up and rubbed his baggy, bloodshot eyes.
"We're back, Sergeant," Greg replied diplomatically. Izzy snorted.
"I can see that." He picked up another can, this one of some kind of chilled coffee, shook it, grunted, then drained what was left. "Thank you," he managed after crushing the can and dropping it into a nearby wastebasket that was almost full of cans. "You did very good work out there. Those medical supplies are literally saving lives right now." He broke off and yawned. "Goddamn, I haven't slept in..." He looked at one of the datapads, then at his terminal, blinked a few times, shook his head and sighed. "I don't know. But you two have earned a break."
"Respectfully, Sergeant, you've earned a break. Why don't you get some sleep and let us handle things for a little bit?" Greg asked.
Becker opened his mouth, then hesitated and closed it. Finally, he sighed. "Yeah, I need to sleep or I'm going to pass out. I've dozed off like five times since you left and...dammit, all right." He sorted through the datapads for a moment. "We're actually to the point where we're fairly autonomous." He selected one of the datapads and handed it to Greg, who accepted it and began studying it. "There's a list of shit I was hoping to get done today. Wake me up if any decisions need to be made or if there's an attack, or if you hear from Command HQ. We're still trying to get in touch with them. But otherwise...yeah, I'm gonna go pass out in the closet there."
"The closet?" Greg asked, looking up as he stood and began making for the only other door in the room.
"Yes. It's just big enough to shove a cot in, which I did. Goodnight, afternoon, whatever."
"We'll take care of things, Sergeant. Get some sleep."
"Thanks."
He disappeared into the closet, though he left the door open. Well, at this point he could probably sleep through a marching band.
Greg studied the datapad. Most of it was basic stuff, the kind of work that just needed an actual, physical person doing something for a little while.
He looked at Izzy. "You ready?"
"Yep," she replied.
"Let's get to work."
They left the office, closing the door behind them.
* * *
Despite everything that could have gone wrong, and a lot of disaster scenarios ran through Greg's mind as they worked throughout the remainder of the day and into the night, things went pretty well. He thought he'd have to sidestep uncomfortable questions of why exactly were a pair of Corporals suddenly doling out orders, but either most people were too tired to question it, or, and this seemed increasingly more likely, stories about their survival of Polaris Island and their subsequent trip had spread among the local population.
Either way, it was nice. They told people to do stuff, and they did that stuff.
He and Izzy oversaw repairs to the perimeter fence, ensured maintenance was performed on the few vehicles they had left, at one point Izzy broke off to help perform repairs, or at least evaluations, on a pile of broken or malfunctioning weapons that no one had really had time to deal with, while he went to update the guard rotation schedule. After that, they'd run into Ellis again, and had helped her perform a sweep of injuries, mainly to change bandages, and then a reorganization of the two makeshift infirmaries they had.
They ran through a dozen other little tasks that ranged from really irritating to almost fun.
By the time midnight was on approach, they'd gone to check on the Sergeant, and found him in the process of waking up. He'd apparently had a nightmare bad enough to kick him squarely out of sleep, especially once he realized how much time had passed, and although he'd freaked out a bit at that, once they assured him that nothing had gone wrong and, in fact, several things had gone right, he'd calmed down. Though he'd insisted they catch some sleep. At that point, they were both exhausted, so there hadn't been much argument.
After a quick meal and a lengthy shower, made a bit lengthier after he'd gone to shave, and Izzy hadn't wanted him to, and they'd finally settled on him buzzing his facial hair, not his hair though. Not that it'd make much different. Despite how much he lamented having short hair in the frozen environment, too much facial hair bugged the crap out of him. Sandpaper stubble he could more than live with though, since he thought he looked stupid clean-shaven. Which meant he thought he looked stupid most of the time, given his career.
Apparently Izzy agreed with him, although she was at least nice enough not to say he looked stupid, just that she liked him with some face fuzz, as she called it.
Finally, after all that, they found themselves curled up in a stranger's bed together in almost total darkness. The only light came from a clock mounted on the wall and some from the window. All around them, they could faintly hear the sounds of activity as Marines and civilians moved about, doing whatever was needed to keep the outpost running. Greg thought it would bug him, but the sounds were actually deeply comforting.
"So what happens now?" Izzy asked, breaking the relative quiet that had fallen over them.
"I don't know...I guess we chill out here and help Becker run this place until...I don't know, he reestablishes contact with Command HQ, I guess. Then I'm sure we'll get reassigned. Or maybe we'll just get stuck here, helping run this place," he replied.
"Huh."
"How do you feel about that?"
"I don't know. Like...part of me would be cool with just hanging out in a place like this, because I feel pretty confident that I can deal with this. And yet, there's another part of me that feels like we need to keep moving, keep going, keep fighting, keep...I don't know, making progress. Almost like I hunger for it. I think that journey started a fire or something."
He laughed. "I know what you mean, actually. Well...whatever we do, I just hope we can stay together."
She was silent for a few seconds. "I hadn't considered that. I hope so, too."
He thought there was more she wanted to say. There was more he wanted to say, at least. But the silence played out, and very soon the dark, warm, comfortable room became too much for him, and he found himself falling into sleep.
* * *
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Walker! Serrano!"
Greg gasped and jerked awake and felt Izzy do the exact same beside him. A shot of adrenaline honed his focus in a picosecond.
"Sergeant?!" he called, sitting up.
"Relax, we're not under attack," Becker replied, his voice muffled but audible through the door. "Need you in my office. Ten minutes."
"Yes, Sergeant," he replied.
"Damn," Izzy muttered, laying back down. "Bastard."
He chuckled, trying to get his heart to stop racing. "I was having a really good dream," he muttered, then yawned.
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. You were in it."
She shifted closer to him. "Let's make that dream come true then."
Ten minutes later, they were walking into Becker's office, freshly showered and in new uniforms to boot, as they'd managed to find some in the bedroom. They found Larsen and Ellis in there as well. Becker sat behind his desk. He looked...relieved.
"What's happening, Sergeant?" Greg asked.
"Thanks to your efforts, we finally reestablished contact with HQ last night. I spent damn near two hours straight updating them on everything that's happened, and naturally you two came up. After the debriefing, a lot of new orders came down the line. One of them was that Command wants you two specifically, as well as my best medic, to grab a Warthog and drive to the UNSC Regional Headquarters. It's about a hundred miles away. Larsen caught wind of this and asked if you'd permit him to remain with you."
"You want to go with us?" Greg asked, looking at the scout they'd found panicking in the middle of nowhere not all that long ago.
"Yeah," he replied.
"Any particular reason?" Izzy asked.
"I...I'm not sure," he admitted. "I guess, it just feels like you two are onto something big, and I want in. I want to be a part of it."
"Onto something big?" Greg repeated.
"Yeah. I mean, Command wants you for something, obviously, something probably important. I don't know, I just know I don't really want to stick around here, and I don't want to go to Polaris, which, from what I understand, is what's next for most around here."
"Yeah. A big assault convoy from Command finally got here about two hours ago. They said they've basically paved the way from here all the way to the HQ, since that road out there you traveled along keeps on going all the way there. You should have a relatively smooth ride as a result. They've set up a series of outposts to act as waypoints along the road. To be honest, I have no idea what they want you for, but Larsen's probably right. Something important. The guy I talked to after I got done with the debriefing, Master Sergeant Gibson, was awfully specific that he wanted the two of you, he almost sounded excited. It seemed to be that he wanted you because of what you've done so far, your actions on Polaris and the road to here, but that could just be me reading too much into it. Either way, your Carrier Warthog has been repaired, stocked, and powered up. It's ready to take the four of you, if you do want Larsen to go with you," Becker explained.
He glanced at Izzy. Apparently, they were getting their wish to keep going, but this was weird. Ultimately, though, Becker was right: they had their orders.
"Larsen, you can go with us. Just don't complain when it turns out to be like latrine duty or something," Greg replied, which made him laugh.
"Deal," he said, grinning.
"Sergeant, it's been a pleasure," he said, stepping up to the desk.
"It honestly has," he said, and then he took the time to shake all their hands. "All of you have provided serious help to this place. Adamant almost certainly would have fallen without you all. Thank you, truly, for your efforts. And whatever it is you're doing out there, I wish you luck. I'm sure you'll kick ass at it."
"I sure hope so," Greg said. He looked around at the others, and they looked back at him. They seemed to be waiting for him. "Well...let's do this."
* * *
After another fifteen minutes, all four of them were mounting up in the Carrier Warthog. They'd all caught a quick breakfast and had taken the time to arm themselves appropriately, grabbing some ammo from the armory, given they had no idea what they might run into on the way out there. Someone, Greg saw as he looked into the back, had been thoughtful enough to give them a small supply of rations, ammo, and medical equipment. He and Izzy took the driver's and passenger's seats, while Larsen and Ellis settled in back.
All four of them were geared up and ready to go.
Greg started up the vehicle and hit the road, going southbound beneath clear blue skies.
It was time to see where this insane journey took them next.