Traitors

He hadn't counted how many bars there were on the Infinity, but he suspected that he'd tried all of them at least once.

This one, named The Black Hole, was his favourite. Because this place, this got the state of things. Dim lights, hard beer, and no food except peanuts, walnuts, and staknuts - a type of nut that had been grown on Markoff II before the Covenant had glassed it in '39. Its genome had thankfully been saved beforehand, but it was said that people just couldn't get the flavour right. Taking a handful of nuts from the bench in front of him, he gave them a munch.

Hard. Stale. Tacky. Though that was more an inditement on the status of the Infinity than the types of nuts it served. Though it didn't stop him from asking the bartender, "so are these the real deal?"

The bartender, a woman in her fifty-somethings, looked up at him from the glass she was polishing.

"These actual staknuts?"

She gave him a withering look, before returning to the glass.

"Like, not saying they are or they aren't, I'm just wondering. Because I'm eating nuts, and I'm nuts, and we're all nuts, and the universe is nuts, and-"

"One more word about nuts and you'll be kicked in them."

He fell silent. He wasn't too worried about nuts, whether they be the kind in his mouth, or the kind between his legs, usually protected by layers of MJOLNIR armour. But considering the barkeep had a Helljumper tattoo on her right arm, and she most certainly knew who he was, he decided to fall silent. Bar Girl went back to polishing glasses, and The Black Hole returned to silence.

"Nuts," said a voice.

He put some more staknuts in his mouth.

"I could get the drinking, but nuts?"

"Might want to lay off the nuts Vee, Bar Girl doesn't like them."

"Right." Captain Veronica Buck nee' Dare sat down beside him and looked at Bar Girl. "Whiskey. Dry."

Bar Girl smirked. "High taste, eh captain?" She looked at the Spartan-IV she was sitting beside. "Or maybe not."

He put some more staks in his mouth. "Nuts," he said.

Bar Girl looked ready to kill him, but she obliged the captain's wishes. He hoped against hope that Veronica would take her drink, find a table, and sit down. Or better yet, bugger off to join the rest of Alpha-Nine.

"So how are things with you, Crespo?"

Alas, he didn't live in a perfect world. In a perfect world, starting from '53, the UEG would have decided to not like a bunch of imperialist fuckwits. He wouldn't have spent three years in a space station's brig A UNSC AI wouldn't have decided that it would out-imperialize its creators, and put the galaxy under the Pax Cortana. In a perfect world, he wouldn't be on this damn ship at all, eating nuts, and wishing that Captain Dare would leave him alone.

"Fine," he grunted.

Alas, the world hadn't been perfect for a long, long time.

"Yeah, okay," Veronica said. "You know, we've got counselors on this ship, but they've been working overtime for the past year. So as long as you're in my squad, you're my responsibility." She took her glass of whiskey, and took a sip. "So…oh…oh boy…"

He smirked. "Too strong, eh cappy? I think there's some Grunts who got hold of it. Used it as an ingredient in their explosives."

Veronica managed to compose herself, and much to his regret, didn't head elsewhere to nurse her drink in peace. "Duly noted. But Grunts aren't my problem."

"Actually, since Balaho is under Created stewardship, they kinda are."

"Again, noted. But..." She sighed. "Okay Crespo, fess up."

There it was, he reflected. Veronica Ann Dare, on the warpath. The point where her nuts started to show. As to whether those nuts were in her head or between her legs, the answer was yes.

"Ever since WOLFE, you've been avoiding the rest of the squad."

"What can I say? I like to be on my lonesome."

"Uh-huh. Problem is, that isn't an answer."

Mickey sighed.

"Come on, Mickey." She gave him a shove with her left hand (still holding her glass with her right), and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the gold band on the fourth finger. "Romeo's our resident asshole. I don't need a second one."

Mickey. The word pierced his first ear, and came screaming out the other. Mickey. A term of endearment. Mickey. A term of friendship. Mickey. A name that Alpha-Nine didn't really use for him right now, because when you were out in the field, you needed things to be calm and collected. You needed to call someone by their surname rather than their nickname, because that nickname came from a time before Talitsa. Before he'd betrayed them, and the government they'd served. Before an AI of that very government went full totalitarian.

He looked at Veronica. She was still waiting for an answer. Still in balls-mode. Wanting to postpone the inevitable, he asked, "how's married life treating you?"

"Don't change the subject Crespo."

"Ah." He ate some more nuts. "That good huh?"

He didn't mean it in snark. He wasn't really a betting man (his gamble to join the URF aside), but if someone had told him a year after Cassidy III, that Veronica Dare and Edward Buck would still be married after an AI dressed like a fighter pilot had married them off in a bar not unlike this one, he'd have asked that someone what they were smoking, and could he have some. Still, after that year, they were still together. Gretchen and Dutch were still together. The UNSC had plenty of rules about fraternization, but then, the UNSC didn't really exist anymore. And while Lasky tried to run a tight ship, well, there were some amenities that the Infinity couldn't cover.

In truth, it had occurred to him that he might want to get those regulations removed. The Infinity was one of only a handful of ships still outside Created control, with even fewer worlds. If this was going to be their home for the next few years, if not decades, then they might have to start making babies. How Vee and Buck would do that, he had no idea, since one was an augmented superhuman and one wasn't, but, well, he'd gone through those same augmentations himself. Unlike the S-IIs, it hadn't done a number on his libido.

"Hey." Dare clicked her fingers in front of him. "Still here, Crespo."

He sighed. "I know. I've got eyes." He ate some more nuts. "This like a psych eval?"

"Yes. And you're not leaving till I'm satisfied that you won't be a drag on Alpha-Nine next time we deploy."

He grunted. "Already a drag, haven't you noticed?"

Dare remained silent.

"Think a year changes things? Think Buck, Dutch, and Romeo are all touchy-feely now? Please. You're the spook, you're meant to be the smart one."

Dare didn't say anything. He figured he'd touched a nerve. After all, she was the only non-augmented member of Alpha-Nine, and in more than one firefight, it had showed. Buck liked to joke that his missus was the brains of the outfit, and he the brawn, but in truth, all of Alpha-Nine were brawn except the one ODST who'd never actually stopped being an ODST.

"I mean, to them, I'm still the traitor," he continued. "And to every other Helljumper on this ship."

"Excuse me?"

He smirked, went to eat more nuts, but found he was out of them. Still, he said, "come on, you know it as well as I do. There's Helljumpers on this ship. They hated the S-twos, and they hate the S-fours. And they sure as hell hate former drop troopers who got all augmented and shit." He winked at Bar Girl. "Ain't that right, sweetheart?"

Bar Girl, who'd been cleaning the same glass for the last five minutes, gave him a look that read murder, before finally starting on a second glass.

"So, yeah," Mickey said. "Double traitor. Here's to me."

Dare remained silent for a few moments. It gave him long enough to glance around the bar. Most of the people were out of uniform, but he'd been in the service long enough to recognize who was who. It wasn't just the Spartan-IVs that stood out (when you were that tall, it was hard not to), but everyone. Navalmen had a spring in their step that came from constant a-grav. Troopers had that sullen look that came from eating dirt. Airmen had a perpetual inferiority complex, marines were always good to go, and Helljumpers were always looking for a fight. So in the far corner, he could see them watching them. Current Helljumpers, looking at a former Helljumper, who'd gone Innie. And while going Innie was bad enough, you didn't leave the Helljumpers without good cause, and you sure as hell didn't join some augmented freaks who got all the glory.

"Hey, can I have something?" Mickey asked Bar Girl.

He decided it was better to talk to her than telling those guys in the corner to go fuck themselves.

"What do you want?"

"Gin."

Granted, if they fucked themselves, there might be more babies on this ship.

"So," Dare said, as the gin arrived. "Life is terrible, and you're feeling down. Get over it."

He sipped the gin. "There's the captain I know and love."

"Actually, you don't love me. But you do know me. So as soon as we're done here, we're joining Alpha-Nine, and you're going to at least pretend that you're a fully functional member of society."

He spat the gin out. Partly because it tasted terrible. Mostly, however, because of the complete absurdity that had come out of Veronica Dare's mouth.

"Functioning member of society," he said. "Look around you captain. Any of this look functioning? Or like society?" He sipped the gin, letting the bitterness add to his own. "We've lost, okay? WOLFE was a week ago, and we're still jumping through space. Commander Palmer is still sending people like us to various worlds with the words 'you're the last boots on the ground,' or some other shit that's supposed to make us feel better when we're forced to pull back. And if whatever doo-hickey Blue Team retrieved does the job, what then? We restore the UEG, what happens next?" He sipped more of the gin, whispering, "if we win our revolution, what do you do when the next one comes?"

"You?" Dare murmured. "Not us?"

He sipped the gin again, this time slowly. "Ain't no us, captain. You know it, your husband knows it, I know it. I..." He sighed, rubbing his eyes. "You know what the weirdest part is? I'd do it all again. Talitsa, the URF, being locked up for three years? Don't regret any of it. Oh sure, J.D. didn't have to die, but..." He trailed off. The look in Dare's eyes suggested that this was more of a psych eval than he'd thought.

"Your regrets," she murmured, "do they come before, or after Cortana?"

He remained silent, reflecting that she had a point. If he'd known that in October 2558, the UEG would fall to a mad AI, and UNSC be rendered defunct...would he have done it? What was the point of fighting against Earth if Earth was going to fall on its own regardless? Heck, why even bother becoming a Spartan-IV? Yeah, as a Helljumper, he'd likely be dead by now, but heck, that was looking like a pretty good outcome these days. In this universe, if killer robots didn't kill you, shaved rhinos would.

Dare got to her feet, sipping her whiskey, before putting the half empty glass on the bench. "Finish your shit and join us in Rec Three," she said. "And yes, that's an order."

Mickey looked up at her. He wanted to say something. Give some pithy comeback. Yell. Scream. Start a good ol' fashioned bar fight. Instead, Veronica Ann Edwards nee Dare just stood there. Waiting for a response.

"Yes captain," he murmured.

Didn't have to be a good response, he figured. And she didn't need to give one of her own either. She just headed out of the bar, drawing a glance or two from the clientele, before they went back to killing brain cells, drowning sorrows, and reducing sperm count.

Nuts. He looked back at Bar Girl. "Nuts."

"Excuse me?"

"Nuts," he said.

"What?"

He sighed, and sipped his gin. "You wouldn't understand."

"Maybe not. Bet they would."

Mickey turned around. Five Helljumpers had walked up to him. Three men, two women, all of them with the same tattoo, all of them looking bored, all of them looking for a fight. Spartan-IV or otherwise.

"Nuts," he said to them.

They didn't understand. No-one on this ship ever really would.

Still, the fight was short, fun, and only resulted in a single broken table, so there was that little victory he supposed.