All is Fair Ch. 03

"How, though?" Donavan whispered. "Fuck, we must have killed hundreds of them last night."

"I know; it was the same for us. I don't know what to tell you, private, just that their CO wants to speak to me after all this, and Matthews up there was being careful about what he said until I had."

Donavan nodded. "How many others were taken prisoner?"

"I don't know. There were eight others in the room I was being held in, but I have no idea if there are other rooms."

Donavan seemed to choke back a sob. "The Three-Eight-One is gone, isn't it? I saw so many Marines being killed. I think I'm the only one left out of my unit."

Telling someone who had seen that much death among people he had been so close with to 'hold it together' was the last thing either of them wanted to hear because Stevo was right on the edge of that precipice himself. "I wish I could lie to you, Son," he finally said. "We lost a lot of people, most of them. The only reason I gave up as I did, the only reason I agreed to help the rebels with you, was so I could honor their memories and get some payback on the fuckers who got them killed."

Donavan nodded but didn't say anything more, his expression one of a man lost deep in thought, painful thoughts at that. Stevo patted him on the shoulder and walked in relative silence with the rest of the captives back across the beach and toward the base.

The journey back to the entrance - now that they hadn't needed to take the circuitous, covered route - took barely fifteen minutes, but it quickly became clear that a moderately sized group of rebel soldiers were congregating around the open portal, seemingly around a single, armored figure. The figure was talking, although they were much too far away for Stevo to be able to make out what was being said, but small groups of soldiers were breaking away from the group and heading off to some assigned task. By the time Stevo and the other captives were led there by Matthews, there was only one group left.

"... and make sure you check for wounded. I mean every body you find. You cannot even fathom the world of hurt you will be in if you leave a wounded man on this beach to die slowly. Do you understand?" The distinctly female voice ordered.

"Yes, Captain," one of the lower-ranked members of the group answered. "Understood."

Everyone waited for the last group to leave before the now-lone officer turned to face them. "Captain West," Matthews saluted.

West offered a salute back before turning to the Marines. "Thank you," she said to all of them. "I know it was not an easy decision to make, I want you to know that no harm will come to any of you. I would like to address you and all of the other survivors in a few hours, but in the meantime, the Corporal here will show you to your bunks."

The men and women around Stevo, still muted from their ordeal, all nodded, but said nothing as the Captain turned to Stevo himself. "You must be Sergeant Taylor."

"Yes, Ma'am," Stevo answered, almost automatically snapping to attention and saluting the higher-ranked officer.

If the voice hadn't given her gender away, the clearly feminine curves of her armor - very reminiscent of the armor the Marines were wearing - certainly did, but her face plate was as opaque as the men who had captured him the night before. "Walk with me, Sergeant. Your men will be in your barracks by the time you get back."

Stevo turned and glanced back at the others. All of them looked nervous, but Donavan - who seemed to have taken on something of a leadership role despite not being the highest-ranked Marine in the group - gave him a small nod. "Yes, Ma'am," Stevo said, falling into step beside the captain as she turned on her heel and headed into the bunker.

Only a few meters into the bunker, where Stevo knew the path straight ahead took them back toward their cell, the Captain turned left onto another corridor and away from the others. The captain, he quickly realized, was giving him an appraising look, so, for reasons he couldn't quite understand, he reached up and unclasped his helmet before lifting it off his head. If there was trust to be earned here, then perhaps this was a good way to start.

The captain, apparently satisfied, seemed to return her focus to where she was going and, after a few more turns, stopped at a door, opened it, and gestured Stevo inside. It was an office like the hundreds of other military offices he had seen over the decades of his career. A simple yet functional wooden desk, nothing too ostentatious, a few placards and pictures on the wall, and a plant in the corner that may or may not have been made out of plastic.

Stevo didn't sit, not yet, at least. He knew better than to sit before a superior officer. There was a large part of him that, despite everything he had seen and everything he now knew, still wondered if he should be considering this woman an enemy, but respect from higher-ranking officers had been beaten into him - literally in some cases - for most of his life, and little gestures of deference like this were second nature now.

Captain West moved to the other side of the desk and paused, the slight tilt of her head showing that her gaze had fallen on the helmet tucked under Stevo's arm. After only a few moments, her shoulders relaxed, and she reached up to unsnap the clasps of her own, before lifting it off.

Stevo considered himself a good Marine, not just in terms of his combat ability but in the very nature of what separated a man from a Marine. There was a certain something about his beloved corps, the way a Marine handled themselves in all situations, an air of confidence and purpose, but also that little something else. That little something that was hard to pin down and put into words, but - essentially - it was the willingness to show respect to others, no matter their age, sex, race, creed, or any other factor, that made them different. All were equal and equally deserving of the simplest displays of common respect unless they outrightly showed him that they weren't.

So openly gawking at possibly the most beautiful member of the opposite sex that he had ever seen was, frankly, beneath him.

And yet, despite years upon long and arduous years of this mentality being drummed into him in every facet of his life, it took a considerable amount of conscious willpower not to let his jaw hit his armored boots.

Captain West was, in a word, astonishing!

Fiery copper hair spilled out of her helmet and down onto her shoulder blades, each of her long, luxurious tresses framing a pair of green eyes that almost seemed luminescent. Her alabaster skin was flawless and smooth, and her little button nose sat above a pair of glossy pouty lips. What made the vision all the more stunning was the fact that Stevo could tell that the Captain was not wearing a single lick of makeup. Stevo was not a ladies' man; like most men his age, he had done his time chasing women around the various bars near his postings when he was younger before he had settled into some decent, albeit doomed, long-term relationships a few times.

He had no idea if women found him attractive. He was one of those rare breeds of men who didn't really care either. He was himself; if a woman found that attractive, that was great, but if they didn't, he would go on about his day without giving them a second thought. Yes, he was able to look at a woman and appreciate her beauty, especially if that beauty came with a mind to match, but he couldn't remember the last time when simply laying eyes on a member of the opposite sex made him feel like he was a hormone addled teenager again.

The Captain noticed the look on his face; how could she not? But instead of being offended, or taking him to task over it, or even just raising an eyebrow, she blushed a little... actually blushed... and then cleared her throat. "Why don't you take a seat, Sergeant."

Stevo coughed, nodded, and pulled the chair out to sit before waiting for Captain West to do the same. "First things first. How are you being treated?"

"Given the circumstances, better than can be expected, Ma'am."

West nodded, turning and tapping on a few icons on her desk to bring up the holo-display built into it. "Is there anything you or your people need that hasn't been provided for you?"

Stevo opened his mouth but paused and looked down at his gauntleted hands. They were still stained with Angel's dried blood. "Corporal Matthews is trying to keep us up to date with the status of our wounded; that's been hugely appreciated," Stevo started, "The only thing I would ask for, in addition to the... kindness your people have shown us, is access to showers."

West frowned and tapped a few more icons, then rolled her eyes as she read something and nodded. "The cell you're being held in was only supposed to be a temporary holding area. The complications on the beach delayed you being moved to more permanent barracks. I'll make sure that's done once we've finished here."

"Thank you, Captain."

"What about food and water?"

"All provided, and my people have no complaints, although, as I'm sure you can imagine, not many of us have an appetite at the moment."

West sighed and leaned back in her chair and nodded again. "I'm sorry for your losses, Sergeant, truly. If there were any other way..."

Stevo nodded. "It has been a lot to take in, Ma'am. But I'm sorry for your losses as well." He didn't see the need to throw the gesture back in her face.

"Actually, our losses were very light," she shrugged. "Only thirty-two men at last count."

Stevo frowned. That couldn't be possible. He had personally killed at least double that number, not to mention the men gunned down by Mac and Angel on their flight from the front lines, nor the hundreds of rebel bodies he'd had to hop over while traversing the trenches. Even Ryan's group of Marines had talked about killing hundreds of them.

"Flash clones," West had mercy on the look of confusion on the sergeant's face. "We found out about the planned assault two weeks ago, plenty of time to grow a hundred thousand or so of them, give them some very basic training and put them to task on the beach. If you're talking about them, you guys almost wiped them out. Eighty-seven percent losses. I won't lie, you had us worried for a while there."

"That... explains a few things," Stevo pondered, thinking back at the woefully inept training displayed by the forces who had chased him and the surviving members of Bravo Squad through the trenches, not to mention their laughably inadequate equipment.

West stayed quiet for a little while, letting Stevo process before finally speaking up again. "I'm going to lay my cards on the table, Sergeant. I hope you will do me the courtesy of doing the same," She waited for Stevo to nod. "I cannot begin to imagine what it must be like to be in your position, you have been betrayed by everything you have ever known, and are now sitting in the office of someone you would have considered a sworn enemy less than a day ago. I don't envy your position. Unfortunately, the Imperium knows we are here. Their little ploy to escalate the war worked, I think we probably have less than a week before they are back with enough firepower to obliterate this whole Island from orbit... which means we can't be here when they do. I will be giving this choice to each of your men when I address them all later, but after everything I have seen from you since you were captured, I wanted to lay out your options for you one-on-one."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," Stevo took advantage of the pause in her speech. "Everything you have seen from me?"

"Every single square inch of that beach was being recorded," she stated matter-of-factly. "I know you had the option of saving your own skin when that fighter crashed, I know you could have left the pilot to her fate both before and after you pulled her from the wreckage. We both know that holding position by those columns practically guaranteed the end of your escape plan. You were willing to sacrifice yourself for a stranger.

"Then, after you were captured, your first thoughts were for your wounded comrades, one of whom, I believe, was wounded after being captured..." Stevo nodded but didn't interrupt. "... I will be dealing with that personally. Then you kept the other Marines calm, while explaining the situation. And then you helped Matthews with our little problem on the beach. Every single decision you have made has been to save lives, even if it is at the cost of your own. I am going to be straight with you. We need people like you."

Stevo blinked. He hadn't been expecting a recruitment speech for a while yet although he guessed it would come eventually.

"But I know that will take some time to process. In the short term, the way I see it, you have three options. The first option is that you come with us when we evacuate this planet and agree to join us. The second option is to either come with us or stay on this planet without joining us. Try to blend in with the local population and hide from the Imperium. I won't lie; trying that on this planet would be difficult, but we could make arrangements for you when we are off-world, even if that means heading back into Imperium space and trying to stay hidden under their noses. The last option is to stay here and take your chances with the Imperium. I can't say for certain that they would kill you on sight, they may welcome you back with a hero's welcome, use you for propaganda purposes or something. But we both know what you know. I don't think I need to tell you what happens in the Imperium to people who know things that they shouldn't. Each of your men will have to make that choice for themselves, and - circumstances being what they are - none of you will have long to decide. In your case, though, I think you could be a valuable asset to our movement."

Stevo nodded slowly. He knew she wasn't expecting an answer now, but a single thought kept echoing through his mind. One that had first appeared the night before and had never really gone away since. His calm exterior and his ability to focus on the task at hand were all done in spite of - rather than as distractions from - that one overriding emotion...

The Three-Eight-One, Bravo Squad included, had been betrayed by the very people they had been sworn to serve. Someone was going to die for it. Justice for his fallen friends and comrades demanded nothing less.

"I would have a condition," Stevo finally answered as a blizzard of emotions washed in waves over his face.

"Go on," West prompted him to continue.

"If you look after my people, even the ones who decide not to join you, I would consider it a huge display of character, not just for your.... Movement, but for you personally. But my condition would be that you don't tell any of them what my decision is until they have made their own."

West nodded as he spoke. "As Matthews told you, we are not your enemies and your men will be treated as guests regardless of their decisions. But can I ask why?"

"Bravo Squad, the squad I led onto that beach, are as close to me as family. There were seven of us on that dropship, three were killed, two were wounded..."

"One being the woman shot by the men who captured you." West nodded, before turning back to her holo-display. "Angel Vasquez, right?" Stevo nodded before West looked back at her console. "There still isn't any update. The last one was hours ago, but I will send a runner to get more information for you."

"Thank you. My point, Captain, is that if they are told what my decision is, they will follow me. I don't even need to question that. No matter what they want, no matter what their own feelings on the matter are, they would follow my choice without question. So I don't want them to know what it is until they have made their decision independently of mine."

A small smile of admiration crept onto the Captain's lips. Stevo didn't see it, of course, but it was there. "You're a good man, Sergeant. Your men are fortunate to have you."

"Thank you, Ma'am. Permission to speak freely?"

"Of course."

Stevo let that look of cool, calm composure fade from his face for a moment, the look of righteous fury replacing it in a heartbeat. "Those bastards sent us to be slaughtered. I don't know why, and I don't really care; there is no reason they can give me that can justify the thousands of my brothers and sisters who were lost yesterday. You're right; you are not my enemy, the Imperium is! So if joining you is what I need to do to get some god damned justice, then tell me where I sign up!"

The smile on the Captain's face grew a little more. "I have to confirm it with General Crow, and I'm sure he will want to meet you before things can be made official, but I can't see that being a problem. So, Sergeant..." she stood and offered her hand, waiting for Stevo to match her and take it. "...Welcome to the rebellion."

********

Crow. 2

General Crow sighed heavily as he looked over the mass grave steadily being filled with one body after another. Each of them laid out and given the closest thing to full military honors his people could manage. It was the least that he could do for them, especially considering he was at least partially responsible for their lives being ended so brutally. This wasn't the dumping pit of a vanquished enemy; these men were not being buried to save his remaining forces from disease or a drop in morale, nor was this a case of 'out of sight, out of mind'; it was a genuine mass military grave. Each body was covered in a white sheet and laid out as respectfully as the state of their corpse allowed. There were no words to describe how much he hated the fact that, in many cases, they were burying little more than a collection of body parts.

Cornelius Crow wasn't his real name, of course. It was an alias, one that he had been living under for the past seventeen years, ever since the true nature of the Imperium and the crimes committed under its ever-watchful gaze became apparent. By his estimations, a government was not a huge amount different than the ranks of military command; crimes and actions carried out under their watch may not have had anything to do with them, they may have had no knowledge of it and may even have been in no position to stop it from happening, but it was still their responsibility, and when you got to the top of that chain, the buck stopped with you. How you dealt with those crimes said as much about you and your institution as it did about the crime itself and the society that had allowed it to happen.

Seeing the look on that little girl's face, the pure, uncomprehending terror in her eyes, her father - knowing what was happening, knowing what was coming - dedicating his last moments of life to soothing the fears of someone so innocent... it had haunted him. Then to watch the protests that grew in response to that travesty first be ignored, then condemned, then for those fucking bastards to order him to disperse the crowds with lethal force? No, that was too much; it was too far. It had unquestioningly shown him the character of the empire he had dedicated his life to serving, and that realization had made him sick to his stomach.

He had been given a choice, a profound yet very simple choice: Stay where he was, turn a blind eye to the atrocities being carried out, apparently in his name, and be complicit in them by inaction and association, or leave and join the rapidly growing movement to rid themselves of that despot.

There had not been a single day since then that had given him cause to regret his decision to leave the Imperium, not a single moment where he seriously thought that the cost of what he was engaged in outweighed the benefits of what he could possibly hope to achieve...