Chapter Text
"You are not even comparable to the Spartan Twos." Her XO, one who she didn't care to remember the name of, had said to a ten and eleven-year-old girl and boy only recently conscripted for the Spartan Three program. "For ONI, you are the sword. You are expendable, and you should remember such. Understood?"
"Sir, yes sir!"
Michaela rolled her eyes as she sat herself down beside Kat, shifting in lavender and white Mjolnir armor that had been modified to the specifications of the only field medic of Noble Team. Her armor was lighter than most, a mesh of lavender and white paint that had been meticulously done during the slower deployments as a way to occupy her time. Her favorite addition, however, was the Noble Team insignia on the breast she had only recently repainted.
Right next to the mark of the healer.
A thankless job, and one she had never quite enjoyed but found herself gifted in any way. "Earth to Mickey," Her brother called, waving his hands in front of her face only to be smacked hard in the shoulder. "You are supposed to be paying attention. This briefing is important."
Mark V's armor was a blessing compared to what the other Spartan Three's normally wore. If there were many of them left nowadays.
Most of Noble Team was rotated in and out. If one of them died, someone else was brought on. The thought of their lives just being so carelessly cast aside by the UNSC and their higher command made Michaela sick just thinking about it. It was why she fought like hell to ensure every single one of their men came back from war.
Except for Thom. That one is on you.
"Why should a medic be a part of a debriefing? This is stupid."
Emile snorted from his perch behind her. "I agree," He rose his fist and lightly pumped the air. "Mickey's got better things to do than listen to you drone on about our newest recruit sent straight from the hands of Holland himself."
She knew she was in for it when Carter leaned back against the wall and cocked a brow. Oh, here we go. I'm about to get chastised. "That's supposed to be classified information, Emile."
"Yeah, well... you win some, you lose some. Are they our new Number 6?"
Most people didn't know what happened to the original Noble 6. They hadn't been there. Jorge hadn't even been around for long at that point. Thom's loss was a sensitive topic that no one dared to broach because Carter had spent the days afterward believing it was his fault he'd lost his right-hand man. Michaela had spent far too many a night with him in the armories around the base on Reach in hopes she could give him a modicum of comfort.
It worked. Usually.
Michaela quietly padded through the Spartan 3 female bunks until she stumbled upon the main door, immediately banking to the left in the familiar direction of the armory. It was always abandoned at this time of night. After Thom had died, her brother had begun making a habit of fleeing there when sleep evaded him and nightmares occupied every moment he tried and failed to obtain much-needed rest.
He’d been helping her his entire life. Carter was the ideal older brother. It was her turn to help him.
“Carter,” She called out softly, blue eyes searching the front of the armory until she saw his feet poking out from behind a nearby stack of crates. “It’s Mickey. Can I come in?”
Michaela always asked his permission before interrupting rare moments of vulnerability. These were the moments when he was allowed to let his guard down. Allowed to look inside of himself and see the barely beating remains of his heart, only fueled by his purpose of being the Commander of Noble Team. Carter had decided long ago the only purpose he had in life was to fight well and die well.
That’s not what he wanted for Mickey.
“Y-Yeah.” Carter cringed as his voice broke, fingers digging into his fatigues as his little sister appeared for the third time since Thom died and took a seat beside him. Part of him still wondered how she managed to keep herself so well composed when she’d only just admitted to herself she loved him mere weeks before. “D’know why you’re here. ‘M fine.”
His breathing hitched when she gently pressed her cheek into his shoulder and whispered, “You’re with me. It’s okay to not be fine.”
Neither of the siblings told anyone about those moments, much less whenever Jorge found them in the aftermath. The Spartan Two addition to their team had been a welcomed one, especially because Carter was so often trying to discretely protect his little sister in the heat of battle. He knew well enough as the Commander of Noble Team that was not an option. It didn't mean he wouldn't try anyway.
Jorge had fit the bill to do so just fine. Their Chief Warrant Officer and Heavy Weapon Specialist had taken one look at Michaela - and don't call her that because she will make you regret it - and decided she was his húg. His little sister.
Carter was supposed to meet him an hour ago for a briefing. Kat had claimed he was attending to more important matters, but Jorge knew better. Being someone who grew up in the Spartan Two program had made him incredibly perceptive.
That perception and intuition were what led him to the armory.
“Commander? We’ve got a briefing. Well.. had a briefing.” Jorge called out as he opened the armory door and stepped inside. His expression softened at the sight of what sat in front of him: Mickey and Carter, sound asleep, Carter’s body poised toward the door and his cheek tucked against the top of her head. “I guess you won’t mind if I did this…”
At the soft click of a camera, Carter opened one eye.
He hadn’t felt this well rested in months.
“Jorge?”
“Yes, Commander?”
“Don’t push it.”
Kat emerged through the door of their temporary bunker and held up a file. ONI's signature logo was printed across the front, but the bolded CLASSIFIED INTELLIGENCE was enough to deter nearly everyone except Carter. Michaela knew just by the expression Kat wore that she'd read it on the way back from where she'd come from. ONI files were usually hard to read anyway, but one covered in black ink like that meant that their newest addition to Noble was someone of value.
Carter cleared his throat as the rest of the team gathered around the hub before him, and he activated a map of their newest destination: the Visegrád Relay, one of three of Reach's most important communications hubs that had only just recently gone offline.
"We're being sent to investigate the reasoning as to why this outpost went offline," Carter explained. "All of us. Our newest recruit should be joining us shortly."
With Carter occupied giving the briefing, Jorge sidled up next to Mickey and lightly nudged her shoulder to grab her attention. Blue eyes flickered over to meet his own as he whispered, "Szerinted felkelőkről van szó?"
One of the many things she'd come to learn from Jorge in the passing months was Hungarian. She was more fluent in it than anyone else on the team, which meant Mickey and Jorge tended to have conversations solely in Hungarian just to piss her brothers and sister off. It was great entertainment. "Nem. Ez más érzés. Valami újat."
Something about this was unsettling.
Extremely unsettling.
Carter paused and reached for his helmet as the sounds of approaching vehicles echoed outside. Warthogs, by the sound of it. "Alright, Noble." He said calmly, fastening the seals of the MJOLNIR to the top of his armor and meeting his team's eyes head-on. "Let's go meet our Number Six."
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Hungarian Translations:
1. Do you think it's insurrectionists?
2. No, this feels different. Something... new.