Matt-038 (Halo Fanfiction)

Chapter 37: Silva

Author's Note: If you have any tips writing tips, please feel free to comment.

Again, I gratefully accept constructive criticism as a means to help me develop my skills further as a writer.

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Chapter 37: Silva

Location: Alpha Base

D +10:12:32 (SPARTAN-II Blue Team Mission Clock)

The Chief came back to the Spartans' quarters about thirty minutes ago after a talk with Major Silva. His shoulders were tensed and face hard, but you wouldn't notice unless you knew the Chief as well as Matt did. Matt tried to get him to talk, but he said he would tell him about what happened later.

Matt was just about to run routine maintenance check on his armor when a private stuck his head into the Spartan's quarters, a prefab memory-plastic cubicle that had replaced the archaic concept of tents.

"Sorry to bother you, Commander, but Major Silva would like to see you in the Command Post... on the double."

The Spartan wiped his hands with a rag. "I'll be right there."

Matt was just about to take the armor off standby when the Marine reappeared. "One more thing... The Major said to leave your armor here."

Matt frowned. Another private had told John the same thing when he had to go meet Major Silva. Matt didn't like to be separated from his armor, especially in a combat zone. But an order was an order, and until he determined what had happened to Keyes, Silva was in command.

He nodded. "Thank you, Private." He checked to ensure that his gear was squared away, activated the armor's security system, and buckled an M6D around his waist.

The Major's office was located in Alpha Base's CP, the centermost of the alien structures at the top of the butte. He made his way through the halls, and down a bloodstained corridor. A pair of manacled Grunt POWs were hard at work scrubbing the floor under the watchful gaze of a Navy guard.

Two Helljumpers stood guard outside Silva's door. Both looked extremely sharp for troopers who had been in combat the day before. They favored the Spartan with the casually hostile look that members of the ODST reserved for anyone or anything that wasn't part of their elite organization. The larger of the pair eyed the noncom's collar insignia. "Yeah, Commander, what can we do for you?"

"Commander Spartan 038, reporting to Major Silva."

"Spartan 038" was the only official designation he had in the eyes of the military. It occurred to him that, after Reach fell, there was only one person left who knew his name was Matt.

"Spartan 038?" the smaller of the two Marines inquired. "What the hell kind of name is that?"

"Look who's talking," McKay interrupted, as she approached the Commander from behind. "That's a pretty strange question coming from a guy named Yutrzenika."

Both of the Helljumpers laughed, and McKay waved the Spartan through the door. "Never mind those two, Commander. They're jump happy. My name is McKay. Go on in."

Matt said "Thank you, ma'am," took three steps forward, and found himself standing in front of a makeshift desk. Major Silva looked up from what he was doing and met Matt's eyes. Matt snapped to attention. "Sir! Commander Spartan 038, reporting as ordered, sir!"

The chair had been salvaged from a UNSC lifeboat. It made a gentle hissing noise as Silva leaned backward. He held a stylus which he used to tap his lips. That was the moment when most officers would have said, "At ease," and the fact that he didn't was a clear indication that something was wrong. But what?