All My Sins Remembered (12 page)

Time seemed lost to Dareem as he sat there on the ground in the middle of the marketplace
, rocking to and fro, with his dead family in his arms.  It didn’t matter.  He wanted to stay here forever.  He wanted to die with them.  With a heart wrenching moan fresh tears escaped him, though the morning sun had crept up to mid-day.  Dareem began to sweat, and slowly sanity seeped into his consciousness, along with a budding anger.  What had caused this?  Who was responsible?  He would find them, and he would kill them.  It was no less their just due.  He would make those responsible bury the dead, and then he would kill them.  He would make their blood feed the soil of the graves they had dug.  No…no, he couldn’t do that. He could not let those murderers bury so many precious people.  He would do that, but their blood would still soil the ground of their graves.  No…no.  Isir would weep to know what he had become, should he do such a thing.  Aasif would not know him.  He would no longer be the Father Aasif knew.  What would he do?

A
nger grew inside Dareem until he felt as if he were about to explode.  His rocking and weeping had ceased.  He now sat stiff and erect, his arms now squeezing Isir and Aasif tight as he sought answers within his own mind.  Then he saw it.  His holocorder was on the ground, not far from where he sat.  It must have slipped from his grasp as he ran towards his family.  He wanted to document the life of his family, but now a new idea sprang into being as he gently laid his family aside and climbed to his feet.  He would record the village as they lay.  He would move nothing, touch nothing, and record it all.  Let the universe see the atrocity committed here this day.  Then the Gadari Republic will act.  They will send help.  They will find those guilty of this atrocity, and when they do, Dareem hoped they would burn in any hell that may exist.  Before he began recording, he knelt once more beside his beloved, and whispered into her ear.

“
Hayati
, turn your eyes away for a little while.  I am not proud of what I am about to do.”

The ship’s armory was bustling with sound and movement as Marines walked their armor into the alcoves lining the room, waited for their armor to unseal and the back of it to open, and then stepped out of their armor, most with grim expressions on their faces.  They were drenched with sweat, and many had some sort of injury from the hazards of combat, ranging from bruises and scrapes to lacerations and minor burns.  Stepping out of his own armor, Hawke recognized that look.  It was the look of angry Marines still wanting some payback for their losses, and he couldn’t blame them.  He felt the same way, but they had a job to do, and didn’t have time for something as petty as revenge.  Technicians swarmed in to assess damage to the power armor and begin repairs.  The dead had been taken away, though Bardaccio’s body could not be recovered because there were just too many pieces and not enough time.  No one talked while in the confines of the small room, though one Marine growled at a technician when the latter failed to move out of his way fast enough as the Marine sought to make his exit and shower real quick before debriefing.

After recovering
fire team Charlie and planting the charges on the
Choyo
’s main power plant and drive system, the team had made their quick escape to the waiting gator down below.  While speeding towards the Black Wave, Hawke could see crew members on board the Choyo running out of the ship as if their butts were on fire, moments before the ship bucked violently upwards, its entire aft section blowing out so forcefully that the docking slings snapped, and the support beams were forcefully bent out away from the ship it was cradling.  The
Choyo
collapsed lifelessly to the dock floor with a thunderous crash, her spine broken.  Fire crews scurried to control the fire as giant air scrubbers kicked on to suck in the smoke, and then they were in the cargo elevator being lifted into the belly of the ship as it fired up its engines.  As soon as the cargo elevator had sealed, the ship lifted agilely off its docking slings and leapt for the airlocks, exiting the station.  In minutes it was racing away from Gitmo as fast as its sub-light drives could take it, heading for the far side of Amazon.

“Debrief in ten.” Hawke said gruffly before any Marines managed to escape the armory.  No one acted as if they heard him, but he knew they had.  He worried that their morale might be low.  Fire teams Beta and Charlie had both lost a member, as had Fire team Alpha.  Though they had taken out about three times their number, even one Marine casualty was difficult, because of how tight knit their teams were.  Hawke felt it too, from a commander’s perspective.  He knew each one of those that had been killed, and knew he had to live with the fact that he had given the orders that lead to their deaths.  Three more lives sacrificed on the altar of service to the Empire.  Another piece of his soul stripped away, never to be returned.  The worst part of it was, the mission wasn’t over yet.  They still had to find the production plant for this bio-weapon, and then there was still the matter of the ship, the
Guan Yu
.  Hawke pushed those thoughts roughly out of his mind as he finally stepped out of his power armor, being the last one out of the armory.  It was just his style.  When he led a mission, which seemed to happen more infrequently of late, he always made it a point to be the first on the field of battle, and the last off.  That included getting unhitched from his power armor.  He believed in leading by example.

As Hawke left the armory
with a heavy heart as he made his way to his quarters to shower and change his clothes.  Fifteen minutes later found him on his way to LFBR to debrief his Marines.  Unable to smile or relieve the grim expression on his face, he stalked through steel corridors, ignoring crew members who leapt out of his way.  He kept telling himself that the Gadari Republic would one day be called to account for all the atrocities that had been committed in their name, but in his heart he knew this was just wishful thinking.  All four empires were guilty of atrocities committed in their name, and at their requests, but not one would ever be called to account for it.  They valued their ignorance.  They did the planning, the mercs did the dying.  That is just the way it was.  His retirement couldn’t come soon enough.

Entering the LFBR, Hawke moved to stand behind the podium, flanked by Second Lieutenant Raijan on one side, and Nathan on the other.  As he looked out over the theatre styled seating, he silently noted that he faced a grim
-faced group of Marines.  Alpha team looked a bit worse for wear, with cuts and bruises telling the story of their defiance while in the clutches of the Rejai Empire.  In fact all of the Marines looked pretty grim.  Most looked angry.  They wanted more payback than just a blown up transport.  Hawke shook his head as he tried to think of where he could start.  Should he offer condolences?  Tell them things went well, that they had kicked ass?  What kind of comfort would that be?  No.  That would not work.  Hawke just didn’t feel it, and as he stood there taking in the sight of his Marines, he could see that they didn't either.  His eyes drifted over to meet Nathan’s eyes, a glance asking Nathan for advice.  Nathan offered a knowing smile, and then mouthed “Be honest.”  Hawke couldn’t help but return Nathan’s smile with his own ghost of a smile.  After all these years, or perhaps because of them, the man still had an uncanny ability to know what he was thinking.  He knew Hawke’s heart.  Squaring his shoulders, Hawke looked again at his Marines, this time with pride.

“I’m not going to say words that will
ring hollow in your ears.” Hawke informed them.  “You know we brought the pain, like we always do, but that doesn’t matter.  We have members of our family dead, and it weights heavy on our hearts.”  That got their attention.  Those who had been resting their heads on their desktops sat up, and began to pay attention.

“But we – all of us – did well.  All objectives were met, and we gave far more grief than we have been dealt.  Sometimes, that is all you can ask for.”  A few Marines nodded in agreement, and Hawke saw his Marines perk up a bit.  He felt a bit of relief as he saw that vicious spark return to the eyes of some of them.  Grobnak looked as if he was about to leap out of his chair, punch his fist in the air, and roar defiance, but then again it didn't take much to get Grobnak going.  As for everyone else, it seemed their morale wasn’t so far gone as he had feared.

“In the days yet to come we will mourn and remember them, but right now I need to know what each team saw, what each team did, and just what happened so we can put it all together.”  Hawke said.  With that, he began interviewing each member of fire teams Alpha, Beta, Charlie, and Delta, leaving Tasha towards the end.  As they were finished with their debriefing, each Fire team quietly filed out.

Tasha
Altihkova sat slouched in her chair, exhausted.  Though the other Marines had filed out, she was simply too tired to move just yet.  It seemed that her wounds had finally caught up with her.  Though the medical bay was easily able to regenerate her dermal layer, and even the damaged tissue from where her interrogator had sheathed his knife in her body, she was warned that she would require a great deal of rest over the next day or so as her body worked to regain energy expended to heal her.  As it was, she barely made it to the LFBR for the debriefing before Hawke had walked in, looking both grim and tired.  It took those few moments to gather her wits until she realized that she was the only one left in the room, aside from Colonel Bakore and Commander Schultz.  Glancing at Nathan, Hawke lifted his chin towards the Commander’s Door, indicating that he would catch up with him later.  Nodding, Nathan let himself out.  Alone at last, Hawke walked slowly towards where Tasha was sitting, and took a seat beside her with a tired sigh, then turned so he could meet her gaze.

“I wanted to tell you, you did well out there.” Hawke said quietly.  Tasha rested a steady gaze on him as he seemed to search for the right words to say.  “You’ve done enough.  If you want to sit the rest of this mission out, I can have you transferred to
The Fury
when she arrives.  After we take out the production facility that is manufacturing Sarin,
The Fury
will be going back to the station.”

Tasha blinked a couple of times
before Hawke’s words sank in.  Oh, how she wanted to go!  New nightmares will soon join her old ones, she suspected.  It would be a veritable plague of dreams bent on never giving her another good night’s rest again, but even as she thought that she knew she could not.  The ghosts of her comrades from the
Pripyat
demanded resolution.  She needed to see that they were able to finally rest in peace, if only in her dreams.  Opening her mouth she tried to speak, but could find no voice.  Clearing her throat and trying again she said, “
Nyet
.  I must stay.”

Hawke’s blue eyes met haunted green eyes as he regarded Tasha for a few long moments.  He could understand what she was going through, and had to admire her strength.  Yet he saw right through her, in some sense.  He knew she was holding on by a thread,
that she must be at just about the last of her strength.  Even the strongest person would be, after all she had gone through.  Sooner or later, she would have to stop and mourn.  She would have to cry, and let her heart bleed out those emotions, or else she will never be able to mentally cope with what she has been through.  Just as he knew that though, he knew that it would be on her terms.  It couldn’t be forced.  Nodding, Hawke stood and turned towards the Commander’s door.

“Dismissed.” Hawke said over his shoulder as he made his exit.  Tasha climbed to her feet, leaving the briefing room and heading towards her quarters, not really paying attention as she did.  She was so exhausted she could barely think.  Finally reaching her quarters, Tasha quietly closed the door behind her, and then leaned up against it.  The room was small, consisting of a stand up shower, a single bunk, and a small table bolted to the wall with a workstation, and of course a chair, bolted to the deck plating.  The room was silent, and finally the events of the past forty-eight hours caught up to her.  Emotion welled up from deep inside of her, and came out as a choking sob.  Blindly staggering towards her rack, she lay down, buried her face in her pillow, and wept.

***

“That was a good speech.” Nathan complimented Hawke.  Hawke gave him an annoyed look as he collapsed in his chair at the head of the table in the Commander’s briefing room.  Raijan was already there, as was Gordy.

“It was honest.” Hawke replied tiredly.  “It was all I could offer them right now.”  Raijan nodded, looking pleased.

“It is good that you honor them with truth.  It shows trust.”  Raijan commented.  Raijan’s unique perspective, a product of the Asian-influenced culture of the Rejai Empire, always gave him pause.  It served as a reminder to him that the Rejai Empire was so different at times that it seemed to be completely alien.

At times
the Rejaians' sense of honor could be quite confusing.  The strangest things can be considered insults on someone’s honor, or a compliment to someone’s honor, and at times the actions reflecting honor or dishonor were so subtle that Hawke didn’t have a prayer of understanding them.  He just tried to do what he thought was best, or right.  Granted, there were times that there were no good choices, and he was forced to choose the lesser of two or more evils.

For the most part Raijan was tolerant of his ignorance regarding his culture and traditions, after all, he served with a crew and company that was predominantly Gadari, which had deep European and American influences, but sometimes he took actions Hawke thought extreme, such as the time Raijan asked Hawke
for permission to commit some sort of ritual suicide so he would not suffer dishonor in death.  After getting over the shock of his request, Hawke had found out it was his way of trying to remove the perceived stain of dishonor he had brought upon himself and his commanding officer after failing to achieve his objectives during a certain mission.  It took him nearly four hours of talking to Raijan to smooth things over.  In the end, the only thing that ultimately kept him from committing ritual suicide was Hawke's refusal to give him permission to do so.  It seemed that, in spite of his dishonor, commanding officers had the right to deny him the chance to commit suicide.  He tried to convince Raijan that he could remove whatever dishonor he had by performing better in the next mission.  He was nearly killed on his next mission, but he did indeed complete all of his objectives.  Since then, Raijan had never mentioned committing suicide again, much to Hawke’s relief.

“Well, be that as it may, we need to start planning our next move.” Hawke responded. Turning his attention to Gordy he said, “Gordy, were you able to get any more information on the data we recovered from the
Choyo
?”  Gordy nodded, and brought up the holographic display of his report.

“Much of the logs were encrypted.  About ninety percent of it was recovered.  Of course, there’s the information we discovered about the production of Sarin.”  Gordy said as he began his report.  Nathan held up his hand, interrupting Gordy.

“Wait, what? Sarin?” Nathan asked, looking both confused and shocked. “Did I miss something?”

“Sorry, Nate.  I forgot you were entertaining the Rejaians at the time.” Hawke answered dryly.  “We believe that all of this – the
Guan Yu
raiding ships, and then offloading its goods to the Choyo – is just one part of an effort by the Rejai empire to produce Sarin.  I can send you the details for you to read, if you want.”  Nathan sat back in his chair, a look of surprise on his face.