Location: UNSC Never Forget, Troop Bay
Space System: En route to Reach, Epsilon Eridanus System
Date: March 10, 2531
Time: 1400 Hours
It had been a week since Arcadia, and things had finally slowed down. The frantic pace of combat, the constant adrenaline—gone. Now, we were just soldiers on a ship, cruising through slipspace on a long haul back to Reach. The Never Forget was assigned to escort Governor Vargus and his family, ensuring their safe return to the inner colonies. A far cry from what we'd faced in the ruins of Pirth City.
For the first time in what felt like forever, we had time to breathe. Time to think. Time to settle into a routine.
The troop bay was quieter than usual, the hum of the ship's engines a steady background noise as we prepped for another round of drills. There was no combat pressure this time—just training. Standard stuff to keep us sharp while we made the month-long journey through slipspace.
Ramirez was in the corner, running through some stretches, his muscles rippling as he flexed and loosened up for the session ahead. Doc was sitting on one of the benches, polishing the barrel of her M6 sidearm, her focus intent despite the casual air of the room. Slink was leaning against the wall, arms crossed, her eyes lazily following Ramirez as he finished his warm-up. I could tell she was waiting for a reason to crack a joke.
Allen was pacing in front of us, his arms folded across his chest. He was always like that before drills—focused, serious. Even when we weren't in combat, he kept us on our toes.
"All right," Allen said, his voice cutting through the silence. "Let's run through the basics again. I know we're in transit, but that's no excuse to get sloppy. First scenario—hostage rescue. Ramirez, you're breaching. Slink, you cover. Casper, you're on extraction. Doc, make sure our 'hostages' make it out in one piece."
Ramirez cracked his knuckles, grinning. "Hostage rescue, huh? Sounds like fun. I promise I won't blow the doors off this time."
"Please don't," Slink muttered, rolling her eyes. "Last time you tried that, I had to dig shrapnel out of my armor for an hour."
Doc snickered from the bench, wiping down her pistol. "Good thing I always keep the medkit handy."
I couldn't help but smile as I watched the squad banter back and forth. It was strange, but in a way, this downtime was almost as important as the combat. It gave us a chance to relax, to connect with each other in a way that wasn't life or death. And for me, it was a reminder that I was part of this team now.
We set up in the middle of the troop bay, using crates and storage containers to simulate the walls and doors of a building. It wasn't the most realistic setup, but it worked for our purposes. The objective was simple: breach, secure the hostages (which, in this case, were just red-marked targets on a wall), and get them out safely.
Allen gave the signal, and Ramirez moved first. He planted the breaching charge on the makeshift "door," stepping back with a grin. "Ready to make some noise?"
Doc chuckled, her voice low. "Just don't blow the whole bay, Fumble."
The nickname still stuck, and I could see Ramirez wince slightly, though he shrugged it off with a grin. "No promises."
The charge blew with a dull thump, a controlled explosion that sent the crate "door" flying open. Slink was already moving, her MA5C raised, scanning the room as she covered the breach.
"Clear," she muttered, motioning for me to move in.
I followed close behind, moving quickly to the targets. My job was to secure the "hostages," and I did it by grabbing the mock targets and dragging them to cover.
"Extraction complete," I said, stepping back behind the crates with the targets in tow.
Allen nodded, looking pleased. "Good. Clean. Now let's run it again."
We went through the drill a few more times, each time a little faster, a little smoother. There was no real pressure here, just repetition. It was about building muscle memory, keeping us sharp even during the long stretches of downtime.
Location: UNSC Never Forget, Troop Bay
Date: March 10, 2531
Time: 1500 Hours
After the drills, we took a break, sitting around the bay and chatting idly. The conversation drifted naturally, moving from combat tactics to the mundane details of life on a ship.
"You know what I miss?" Ramirez said, leaning back against a crate. "Real food. None of this freeze-dried, tasteless crap we get in the mess. I'm talking about a good steak, maybe some actual vegetables that don't taste like cardboard."
Doc snorted. "Steak? You sure your heart could handle that after living on MREs for so long?"
Ramirez grinned, tapping his chest. "This body was made for steak, Doc. I'll be fine."
Slink smirked from across the room, shaking her head. "You'd probably keel over from shock after one bite of real food. Can't say I'd miss the snoring, though."
"Hey, you're one to talk!" Ramirez shot back, pointing at her. "I heard you muttering in your sleep last night. Something about 'blowing the damn door.' You dreaming about me, Slink?"
Her smirk turned into a grin. "Maybe I was dreaming about you blowing something up again, and me getting caught in the crossfire."
I laughed, the sound surprising even myself. The banter was light, easy, and I realized just how far I'd come since joining Beta Four. This was my team now. These were my people.
Even Allen seemed to relax a little, though he still kept his distance from the more casual conversations. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching us with an almost fatherly expression. I could see the pride in his eyes as he listened to the squad joke around, but there was something else there too—something quieter, more reflective.
I decided to ask about it.
After the team drifted off to their bunks or their next tasks, I found myself lingering in the troop bay, watching Allen as he inspected some of the equipment we'd been using.
"Staff Sergeant?" I asked, stepping up next to him. "You ever miss it?"
He looked at me, one eyebrow raised. "Miss what?"
"The action," I clarified. "I mean, I know we're always preparing for the next mission, but… do you ever miss being in the middle of it? The chaos, the intensity?"
Allen was quiet for a moment, considering the question. "It's not something I think about too much," he said finally. "When you've been in the game as long as I have, you learn to appreciate the quiet moments. But yeah, sometimes I do miss it. Not the violence, but the clarity. In the middle of a firefight, everything's simple. You know what you have to do. You focus on the mission, and nothing else matters."
He glanced at me, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But it's not the combat I miss. It's this." He motioned to the troop bay, where the rest of the team had been only moments ago. "The team. The camaraderie. That's what keeps you going."
I nodded, thinking about how much I'd come to care about these people in such a short time. "Yeah, I get that."
Allen gave me a pat on the shoulder. "You're doing good, Casper. Keep learning, keep pushing yourself. It's a long war, but we've got each other."
Location: UNSC Never Forget, Crew Quarters
Date: March 10, 2531
Time: 2000 Hours
Later that evening, after the drills and the downtime, I found myself lying in my bunk, staring at the ceiling. The soft hum of the ship's systems was a constant presence, and the occasional flicker of lights outside the porthole reminded me that we were still deep in slipspace, transitioning back to Reach.
I thought about what Allen had said. About the team, the bond we shared. About how far I'd come since joining Beta Four.
This was my family now.
And no matter how long this war dragged on, I knew we'd be ready for whatever came next.