#prereach

"Why do you do that?" 

Carter's voice made him pause in his work, and blue eyes flicked towards the door to see his commander leaning against it's frame, arms crossed. Face hidden by the shadows of his hood, Emile could take the time to appreciate just how tired their commander looked after their last drop. How sometimes, despite only being a little older than Emile himself, Carter looked at least a decade older. 

//Outgoing Transmission: Destination - Unknown//The problem inherent in your proposal is that there are no small number of planets that are incapable of sustaining their population on the resources they possess, while others are primed for almost nothing but the production of said resources (food, resources to be refined into medical supplies, etc.). You're setting up a flawed system that automatically will put those planets without certain resources at a disadvantage, entirely dependent on "diplomatic" relations with worlds that provide the basic amenities their populations need to survive.

John bit his lower lip for a moment, somewhat surprised that the confrontational nature of the conversation had turned from mockery to political debate. If it was an Insurrectionist on the other end, and with the given name he was almost assured that it was, he'd have expected more posturing and bravado, more decrying of the UNSC and the UEG than open, honest discourse. 

//Moreover, it presents an issue that I'm uncertain you've concerned. Humanity is ever expanding, ever growing - rather, it was before the Human-Covenant War- and even then our population continues to increase at a rate that, under your proposal, would ensure the eventual need for the colonization of new worlds or severe standards enacted regarding reproduction... How would, under your system, worlds be claimed, settled and colonized? Who would pay for it? Who would have sovreignity, and if the proposal is that it would be a communal effort between planetary governments, why? And what reason does any one government have to uphold it's end of the bargain, in the end, particularly if it's one of these resource-rich and thus dominant powers I mentioned before? 

The Chief frowned, tapping his fingers against the edges of the TacPad in thought, before he set it aside, reactivated the music player of his data pad, and for several minutes sat quietly in thought. Inspirational words weren’t his forte, off the battlefield. In combat, urging a soldier on involved only a few words backed by precise shots, or a comforting hand against the shoulder of a shaking young man. Off the battlefield on the other hand…Politics had never been his particular forte, really - if anything, he often found himself at odds with a number of policies and positions that he occasionally overheard soldiers discuss between deployments. What do I believe in, realistically speaking?The realization itself was dismaying to say the least, as he took his TacPad in hand, stared at it’s blinking cursor in the response box as most men would stare down the barrel of a weapon leveled at their faces. 

//Outgoing Transmission - ID Unknown//The name Firebrand is familiar, but I’m not entirely certain from where. There are so many Insurrectionist cells out there looking to make a name for themselves that it’s hard to keep track of them all. As for inspirational words - 

John sighed, running his fingertips through his hair uncomfortably as he tried to find anything to say that didn’t ring painfully hollow in his own mind. 

It was his own fault, really. 

ONI psych had begun recommending brief stints of leave for them all, much to the dismay of the powers that be. He'd managed to dodge it for longer than he really should have - between himself and command always able to find some mission, op, or battlefield that required his presence or attentions, some function or reason to keep moving and active - until at last Personnel had finally put their foot down and that was that. 

Cycled off active duty status, regulated to off-duty leave. 

It wasn't even shore leave, not that he was interested in that sort of thing. The idea of spending his afternoons on some bright sandy beach or his evenings in a crowded casino or bar of some kind were the closest thing to horror that he'd ever really felt - too many people, too much noise, and above all nothing to occupy his mind or keep his thoughts from wandering the dark roads of memory to the things he'd seen, the things he'd done over the years. If anyone knew his age, they'd scoff and say he was too young to feel so old, but if they knew the truth they'd sing a far different tune. 

He listened to the officer drone on and on, about what was expected of him during his stay aboard the UNSC Trafalgar, listening only for key words instead of the entire lecture delivered as if he were some sort of inexperienced rube straight out of boot. Maintain his PT standards, rise for morning colors, but aside from that, rest and relax, and above all else, stay out of his MJOLNIR per orders from-

It all bled together, and while the rest didn't phase him, the prospect of being stuck without that second skin stung more than he'd like to admit. Alone without his fellows, on a ship full of Marines and ODSTs, the last thing he wanted was to be stuck without his armor, vulnerable and unarmed. 

"Chief?" 

"Hm?" 

"I said you're dismissed." 

"Yes, sir." John-117 straightened immediately, rendering a proper salute before he took a single step back, a precise about-face, and took his leave of the ONI attache's office, catching up the bag he'd set down at his side in a single graceful motion on his way. Once in the halls, he resisted the urge to heave a sigh, painfully aware that such a break in decorum would both not go over well, and be visible without the protective gold polarization of his visor hiding his face from the world. If it weren't for his scarred features and hands, his black uniform with its distinctly different cut and style compared to the rest, he'd have looked like any other young soldier who'd just gotten a tongue lashing, not a man who was supposed to be relaxing.