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1. A FISTFUL OF STARS
.
John had promised to wear something nice.
And there he was, standing before the open locker just fresh out of the shower, looking at the unspoiled white uniform. It had never been used, never had the occasion. John had worn a lot of black and for most of his life, the olive green of his armor, but very little outside of PTs and BDUs. Never even tried jeans, which was a curious reminder of how little he’d experienced of civilian life. It wasn’t a regret, just a fact.
Maybe now, he’d have the chance to try all that.
He didn’t have to wear the armor anymore; the Spartans had finished the fight for good.
Treaties had been signed left and right, a universal armistice had been enforced. Key word being ‘enforced’, but any peace Humanity could get was worth grabbing at that point. Earth and Her Colonies, and her allies, had a bright future ahead now.
The Master Chief let out a long sigh, then proceeded to get dressed.
.x.x.x.x.
There were many cameras. It was to be expected.
This would be their final commendation ceremony, the last UNSC official event they would be required to assist. They were the honorees, the last eight remaining SPARTAN-II now to be immortalized forever in bronze plaques and become legends. History classes would talk about them, every human being across the galaxy would know them and their names and those of their fallen siblings. The few and brave, selfless souls that stood against all odds and won.
John shifted his weight from one foot to the other. A jingle of metal accompanied him.
His eyes met Linda’s, they nodded slightly to each other. Kelly was receiving her accolades now, shaking Lord Hood’s hand after the old man placed the golden ribbon around her neck. A photo and a plaque for her too. Fred had a smile on his lips, he was next. John would be the last to go. Naomi, Alice, Jerome and Douglas awaited on the other side of the stage, wearing white and standing proud, with their golden ribbons and their chests heavy with praise.
Their leader was proud of all of them, too. It was, indeed, a time for celebration.
After the ceremony came the formal dinner with a fancy ball included. John ate at the same table with his siblings, glancing occasionally at the empty seat that Doctor Halsey should’ve occupied. But he didn’t dance or gave any kind of interviews, and there were several attempts to trick him into saying a couple of words that he avoided stoically. He nodded with gratitude when Lord Hood walked behind him and squeezed his shoulder, rushing the press away.
The gesture gave him a sense of peace. It said: ‘I’m tired of this show too, son.’
The intense lights were making him sweat, it was a lot of noise and the music was too loud. He was aware of the looks. Too aware. Standing close to seven feet tall and looking sharp as the youngest cadet, John noticed the attention and tried to ignore it. It bothered him.
He didn’t like to be stared at. Especially, not that way.
Instead, he glanced at the bottom of his half empty champagne glass.
Bitter thing, didn’t taste very good.
Straight into the earpiece, John heard her voice instead of that of the event’s director:
“I thought you’d be the soul of the party.”
Cortana. He knew this conversation was private, none of his siblings seemed to react; they were scattered about other tables talking or giving awkward interviews. The Master Chief shifted on his seat and left the glass back on the table, beside the white cap.
“You know me.”
“Yeah, and I agree. This isn’t a ton of fun; the music is boring. Roland has a terrible taste in classical, although he knows his way around twentieth-century rock.”
John looked around, discreetly. He saw Roland on his pylon, overseeing the gathering.
“Where are you?”
“A little busy. Why?”
“… just curious. Haven’t seen you all day.”
Her soft, husky chuckle made his skin ripple with approval. Unconsciously, John loosened the collar button of his white jacket.
“So, you do miss me sometimes.” Cortana quipped, a crafty smile hid in her voice.
“Don’t get any funny ideas.” he was quick to reply.
“Trust me, it’s hard enough.” she sighed then, frustrated. “There’s a gateway to your six that leads to the observation deck. A big meteor shower is expected to hit Earth in about half an hour, and that’s about the best spot to watch it.”
“That sounds very interesting, all of a sudden.”
“You might want to refill your glass and bring it along.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s classy. This is a classy party.”
John scoffed and stood up from the chair, grabbing his cap and fishing a new full glass from the plate of one of the service drones that flew by. After sharing another look and a quick nod both with Fred and Kelly, he put the cap back on his head and made his way to the observation deck, in silence. The more he walked away from the crowd and the noises, the better he felt.
“By the way… you look nice. White suits you.”
“Thanks.”
She didn’t speak again for a long while, until he was far away from the lights and the music. The atrium of the Infinity’s observation deck, with its glass-paneled roof, was almost in complete darkness. Only the shine of the starfield above gave away any hint of radiance, but he could see his way just fine. The Master Chief found a nice, cozy spot in a secluded corner and stood beside one of the massive viewports, just looking outside. The music was a muffled background noise, it was playing some old-time slow swing-style song now.
The champagne glass was a burden in his hand, he didn’t know where to put it.
“So, what have you been up to?” John asked.
It was so unusual of him to start a casual conversation.
“Actually, I was trying a little experiment.”
He smirked. “An experiment.”
“Yes. There’s a theory I want to test.”
“About what?”
“Whether if you are as bad a dancer as I hypothesize.”
John frowned this time, caught off guard. What?
He was about to ask what that had to do with anything, but the words never made it out of his mouth. His senses came to high alert when he felt a tingle of static to his right side and a dim blue hue irradiated the atrium, bathing him in a soft light. His hand drifted south to his thigh in search of a knife that he knew it wasn’t there.
But his eyes met the source of the light at last, and he was frozen in place.
He had to blink once or twice, just to make sure. This was an image straight out of a dream, slender and tall, solid in appearance, pure and perfect. She walked towards him on her own two feet, her delicate fingers clutching the vaporous skirt of a dark dress with layers and layers of stars. It was a shimmery, low-cut and elegant mess of simulated fabrics and zircon, standing on glass heels and with her hair done in a bun, long dark silk gloves past her elbows and a beautiful, disarming smile.
He knew this was a holographic projection of some sort -there was a certain transparency to her pale human skin that gave away the illusion- but it might as well have been real.
At least, his brain was dazed enough to believe it was real.
The Master Chief’s only response, at first, was to swallow hard.
When she finally came to a stop at arm’s length, she chuckled again and released the long multilayered skirt. The stars in it glistened and shifted. It was inhumanly beautiful, deep blue like a mass of nebula.
“Oh, I’m the strangest thing you’ve seen all day?” Cortana arched an eyebrow, ironic. “After you were paraded in your dress whites like an art piece?”
Although he wanted, John couldn’t respond. There were just no words at all.
She looked at herself, a few strands of black hair fell from behind her ear.
“What? Is something wrong with my proportions?”
“Your proportions are fine.” he said, automatically, before he could control it.
More than fine, they were perfect.
The perfect height, the perfect size. The perfect smile.
She did a great work imitating the look of human skin, although he could still see blinks of data running up or down her pale features, like drops of glittery rain. Those were the linchpins to her original form. He wondered if she could imitate the feel of human skin that well, too…
But the most remarkable were her eyes.
Sapphire blue, vibrant with life. Full of wonder and emotion. Real.
“Thank you! I was wondering what height would suit me better, actually.”
Barely reaching his shoulder, John observed. Perfect.
“How did you…?” he started, still trying to understand.
“I’m borrowing the Infinity’s hardlight projectors.” her smile grew arrogant. “You thought I would miss the most important day of your life? I’ve been watching the feeds and getting ready. It was a beautiful ceremony, I liked Lasky’s speech.”
The Spartan continued to watch her, clutching the champagne glass. She frowned a little.
“You know, when a girl dresses nice for you, you compliment her.”
“Your… dress is pretty.”
God, that was awful. He slapped himself mentally on the back of the head.
But Cortana smiled wide, happily, despite his bland response.
“What? This old thing?” she said, not without sarcasm, and did a slow turn to show him how the simulated fabric swirled and twisted, the pattern of stars in it shifting like the tide. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to wear it, I’m glad you…”
She stopped when warm human fingers latched to her arm.
Cortana looked up, immediately, to find that he was grabbing her. There was pressure on the surface of her pretend-body, she detected the weight of his hand and the warmth of his skin, the hesitant shiver that overran him.
Her Spartan could touch her. Her code vibrated with joy.
“It works.” she muttered, her eyes reflected that joy with sparks of blue.
John’s hand moved slowly down her arm, forearm and wrist, to catch her small hand in his much larger one, her gloved fingers curled up around his. He rubbed the solid shapes with his thumb, still speechless.
And he had thought he’d seen it all, in over forty-five years in and out of conflict.
“I can feel you, John.” she said, drawing a small, trembling smile. “This is amazing.”
“Yes.” he managed to say.
Her fingers squeezed his. “So, shall we dance? My theory remains untested.”
Admitting defeat wasn’t something the Master Chief did, but the first thing that came to his mind was a sharp ‘no way’. The only dances he knew were performed with knives or fighting in close quarters. She must’ve noticed -or maybe, she always knew- and instead of keep pushing, Cortana just took his hand and pulled it up, nesting her palm against his. Then she grabbed and guided his other hand -with the champagne glass still held tight- to her waist, easy-peasy since John was too stunned to stop her.
The lady stood one step closer. She tilted her head up.
She rested her now free hand on his shoulder, carefully. Their eyes were connected.
He would go to the end of the world with her, that much was clear.
“Chief.” Cortana started, serious. “Do you trust me?”
The response was quick and true: “Always.”
She smiled again.
“Then follow me. It’s not difficult, you just have to count.”
Somewhere in the conference room, the music changed and became slow but spirited, like a waltz. Soft sounds of strings and sweet wind instruments, a gentle, vivid melody that invited to sway around in circles. Not too fast, not too lazy either.
Cortana took the first step to the side and he, obediently, followed.
Then she swayed back, with him lagging behind a little.
She repeated the steps a few more times, faster, until they fell together into the rhythm and her star-laced smile became everything. Not long after, they were drawing circles under the gaze of the dark space above and covering ample distances far and wide across the atrium, lost in their own little bubble. The music accompanied them in the background with the swift rush of fabrics, both real and replicated, and quiet steps.
It didn’t surprise Cortana how fast a learner he was or the grace of his movements.
It was only natural, she mused, proud of her Spartan. John always exceeded expectations.
A silly little thought crossed her processes; in her fancy gown, she was the princess. Yes, a princess, maybe, but never the damsel in distress. Her white knight over there needed her more than she needed him, after all.
“See? Isn’t this fun?”
To her disbelief, John chuckled and shook his head.
Yes, there was a spark of enjoyment there, in that little smirk; he was having a good time. It made her feel a surge of satisfaction. At some point in their whirling, she took a step back and, holding his hand above her head, spun a few times before falling again into his embrace, maybe even closer than she’d been before.
John didn’t reject her proximity. Another win.
And this time, the hands he was holding together and up had their fingers intertwined.
The music finally came to its end with a closing fanfare, the dancers swirled around slower and slower every time until they halted by the viewport where it all had started. Not surprisingly at all, not a drop of champagne had been spilled from the glass.
Cortana laughed, happy, enjoying the small smile that her Spartan drew for her.
The curious thing was that he didn’t step away, and neither did she.
But she did let go of his hand to rub her immaterial fingers on the clinking brass hanging from his chest. She touched the medals, humming low to herself under his eagle-like stare, and finally traced the length of that golden ribbon and the heavier signet that hung from it, the most important of his accolades.
Cortana was aware that she didn’t have all the time in the world; the complex simulation was consuming tons of energy and processing power. It would start suffocating Roland if she let it run for too long.
“I want you to know…” she started, and part of the human origin of her code reacted with a hard gulp down her throat. “… that I’m very proud of you, John. Of your bravery and your faith. I never seen you falter, you never let me down. Not once. Not even when…” Cortana paused again and blinked fast a few times; there was a fleeting gleam on her eyelashes, like something wet. “Not even when I wasn’t completely myself. You always believed. And even after all I did, all the pain I caused…”
“Cortana.”
That tone. She closed her eyes again.
“I’m sorry. You can’t blame a girl for being emotional.”
Cortana gasped when the feel of his warm fingers grazed her chin, nudging her head up so she would look at him. It wasn’t forceful or demanding, she complied anyway. That imperious steel-blue shaded by the black rim of the white cap, ever so handsome and fierce. Her processes hiccupped.
The Master Chief nodded. “Thank you, for taking care of me.”
This time the gleam became simulated tears, wetting her eyes.
“We took good care of each other, didn’t we?” she wisecracked, smiling.
He didn’t have to reply, it was implicit that he agreed.
For the longest of moments, they stood quiet and peaceful, studying each other’s features in that semi-darkness littered with titillating stars. The tiny lights in her navy-blue dress continued to shift, rotating slowly. At some point, she ran her gloved hands down his arms again until their fingers intertwined, and she stepped a little closer, rising on the tips of her heels…
Inspired by an unknown force, John tilted his head down too, knowing that their faces were going to meet. It all came to a stop when their foreheads touched, a contact so pure, so raw. He let out a long sigh, relaxing at last.
Her code vibrated with the feel of his breath on her face.
She never thought that such a close proximity would be so exhilarating. That he would allow it, nonetheless; there was an intimacy so unusual, so implicit. They had been closer than that in the past -she’d lived in his brain for years- but this moment belonged to them, entirely. John used that silent language of calm breaths and soft rubs of his thumbs on the back of her gloved hands to tell her everything he couldn’t put in proper words.
It was more than teamwork, company and support. More than gratitude or respect.
Cortana understood everything about it, every gesture.
“I’ve waited so long to do this.” she whispered, leaning into his warmth.
Again, his silence only confirmed the likeness of thought.
Maybe it was the right time.
It was her who made the first move, but John’s mind was already made up as well.
She only had to stretch her neck. She only had to twist her head up.
The limits of her simulated body were drawn at the senses of smell and taste, but she could see, hear and touch, and her lips were touching his. Her code fluttered, fearing that John would back away and leave. He didn’t. Not like he reacted much, either, but at least he didn’t reject her. Cortana felt encouraged to take a step further, and so she pressed her ethereal form onto his, fully bringing their mouths closer. A muscle twitched on his face, there was a reaction at last. His lips broke apart. She pushed forward. He inhaled sharp, she clutched to his hands and the glass they held together.
Please, please don’t reject me…
Until he pushed forward, capturing her digital lips with sloppy tenderness.
Her code hiccupped and hitched again, a surge of something alike to adrenaline affected her processes. Cortana didn’t register when was it that he let go one of her hands to hold her cheek and deepen the kiss; chaste and disorganized, barely even a brush of lips and breath. She felt it all and documented it all, she analyzed the elevated heartrate and shifting body temperature, the hormonal response. Cortisol on the fall and dopamine on the rise.
His body said he liked it. He liked it!
Immensely relieved, she felt confident enough to teach him how to do it better, and just like with the dance, she guided him into a more interesting experience. As much as they could muster in such circumstances, at last. Again, John proved to be a fast learner, for the cadence of the kiss quickly shifted from chaste and timid to eager and curious. He went deeper, a little bit rougher.
It was Cortana who pulled back, their lips separated with a soft sound.
She lowered her head, preventing him from reaching again.
Her time was running out.
“John, I…”
His calloused fingers grazed her lips, forbidding the speech.
She didn’t have to say it, he already knew.
When she gathered enough resolve to look back up to his eyes, she found them grateful.
“The war is over, but this is not goodbye.” he promised. “I’ll pick you up come Monday. We have cadets to shape up.”
Cortana took a deep breath and smiled a little. Her shape was beginning to falter.
There would be no other words, they weren’t needed.
“Don’t be late, then.”
“I won’t.”
Her smiled widened, she began to walk backwards with her hands innocently clasped before her belly. The starry fabric of her dress froze and began to flicker in and out of sight along with her feet and legs, the silhouette of her body becoming fuzzy and transparent. She backed up until her shape vanished completely in a flash of blue stirring code, and Cortana disappeared. Her eyes were the last thing to go, full of hope and appreciation.
She would return to his ear, later. He knew this, so he wasn’t worried.
John looked at the champagne glass in his hand and took a sip from it.
It didn’t taste much better than the first time he tried it, but he continued to drink however, quietly watching outside through the colossal viewports of the Infinity to the soft, blue curve of Earth. A thousand small lights were shimmering on the surface of the clouds, in atmosphere, like camera flashes. It was a beautiful show to witness.
The meteor shower had just started.
END