[ It's worth the risk for the sense of normalcy, honestly. And the burritos will just be practice for whenever they wind up on ice planet, although at that point he's going to have to force Kyna into pants. So Wash lets himself be bullied, trusting both her and himself to be careful. Kyna doesn't seem to mind the peeks he gets, and she's already seen the impact of the worst events of his life, if not the actual memories.
He huffs at the teasing, because Olympia is a perfect princess of a cat and deserves to be spoiled (she's not and he knows it, but don't tell a parent their baby isn't perfect), but Kyna doesn't respond. Oh. Wash didn't even notice their hands brushed, since he's not getting anything this time, but Kyna sure is gone. Hopefully it's nothing too terrible...
--
In this memory, Wash is younger. He’s not even Wash yet, he’s still David, and no one’s armor bears markings because that’s what their friend or foe indicators are meant for, but he’s an enlisted corporal in the UNSC marines and he’s standing in a metal room with strange harness-type contraptions along either wall. It’s a dropship, the door on the far end meant to lower for soldiers to deploy straight out the back.
Wash is arguing with an older-sounding man, his own voice youthful, his HUD identifying the other as staff sergeant. Superior by two ranks, for those familiar with the military. Superior enough to be giving orders, that’s for sure.
“There is no time for your insubordination, corporal. When I give an order, you are to follow it.”
“...no.”
“What did you just say?”
“I said no. It’s a suicide mission! We don’t have the soldiers to take what’s coming, if you send us to that planet we’re all dead and I won’t do it. No.”
“This is our duty, we are sworn to protect this post--”
“I saw the intelligence report, they’re not sending troops, they’re sending glassers. There’s no point in going down there to get nuked, we should be evacuating these, pack this ship till we have to worry about running out of air and then take a hundred more and call for relief.”
“You are a coward, son, if I ever saw one. We are marines! We--”
“You keep saying we like it’s going to be we! You’re going to drop us like you were ordered and take a slipspace transport and say you barely made it out alive, you’re not going down there to die with us. Because those weren’t your orders. Who’s the real coward here? What are you afraid of?”
“Why you little maggot. Take him into custody, now! I will handle this myself.”
Two more armored soldiers marked as privates approach Wash, albeit very reluctantly, like they don’t like the direction this conversation has taken. He glances over his shoulder at them and moves fast as lightning, grabbing the staff sergeant’s wrist since his arm is outstretched to point a finger at where he wanted Wash taken. And then it’s a fight physically as well as verbally, but not one that lasts long. Wash takes the older soldier out, has him down on the floor of the deployment bay, probably with several broken bones and a concussion.
It was fast, it was mostly efficient, but it was not without anger. He looks up at the other two soldiers, who are just staring down in what can only be supposed to be shock that Wash just did that.
“...they’re going to court martial you, man,” one of them says softly, worriedly.
“Let them. At least I’ll be alive to get kicked out.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Don’t. Just… let’s get him contained and get the hell out of dodge. I’ll tell comms to call the post about what we picked up, we can get someone more superior than this jackass to agree with me about evac.”
“Right.” The other soldier speaks up, far less timid. “I don’t know what the fuck those orders were, but it would’ve killed the platoon and that whole planet. Come on. We don’t have much time before the Covenant gets here.”
The other two soldiers pick up the staff sergeant and Wash hustles out of the bay, the memory fading on the clang of his mag boots through the ship’s metal hallways. ]
no subject
He huffs at the teasing, because Olympia is a perfect princess of a cat and deserves to be spoiled (she's not and he knows it, but don't tell a parent their baby isn't perfect), but Kyna doesn't respond. Oh. Wash didn't even notice their hands brushed, since he's not getting anything this time, but Kyna sure is gone. Hopefully it's nothing too terrible...
--
In this memory, Wash is younger. He’s not even Wash yet, he’s still David, and no one’s armor bears markings because that’s what their friend or foe indicators are meant for, but he’s an enlisted corporal in the UNSC marines and he’s standing in a metal room with strange harness-type contraptions along either wall. It’s a dropship, the door on the far end meant to lower for soldiers to deploy straight out the back.
Wash is arguing with an older-sounding man, his own voice youthful, his HUD identifying the other as staff sergeant. Superior by two ranks, for those familiar with the military. Superior enough to be giving orders, that’s for sure.
“There is no time for your insubordination, corporal. When I give an order, you are to follow it.”
“...no.”
“What did you just say?”
“I said no. It’s a suicide mission! We don’t have the soldiers to take what’s coming, if you send us to that planet we’re all dead and I won’t do it. No.”
“This is our duty, we are sworn to protect this post--”
“I saw the intelligence report, they’re not sending troops, they’re sending glassers. There’s no point in going down there to get nuked, we should be evacuating these, pack this ship till we have to worry about running out of air and then take a hundred more and call for relief.”
“You are a coward, son, if I ever saw one. We are marines! We--”
“You keep saying we like it’s going to be we! You’re going to drop us like you were ordered and take a slipspace transport and say you barely made it out alive, you’re not going down there to die with us. Because those weren’t your orders. Who’s the real coward here? What are you afraid of?”
“Why you little maggot. Take him into custody, now! I will handle this myself.”
Two more armored soldiers marked as privates approach Wash, albeit very reluctantly, like they don’t like the direction this conversation has taken. He glances over his shoulder at them and moves fast as lightning, grabbing the staff sergeant’s wrist since his arm is outstretched to point a finger at where he wanted Wash taken. And then it’s a fight physically as well as verbally, but not one that lasts long. Wash takes the older soldier out, has him down on the floor of the deployment bay, probably with several broken bones and a concussion.
It was fast, it was mostly efficient, but it was not without anger. He looks up at the other two soldiers, who are just staring down in what can only be supposed to be shock that Wash just did that.
“...they’re going to court martial you, man,” one of them says softly, worriedly.
“Let them. At least I’ll be alive to get kicked out.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Don’t. Just… let’s get him contained and get the hell out of dodge. I’ll tell comms to call the post about what we picked up, we can get someone more superior than this jackass to agree with me about evac.”
“Right.” The other soldier speaks up, far less timid. “I don’t know what the fuck those orders were, but it would’ve killed the platoon and that whole planet. Come on. We don’t have much time before the Covenant gets here.”
The other two soldiers pick up the staff sergeant and Wash hustles out of the bay, the memory fading on the clang of his mag boots through the ship’s metal hallways. ]
Kyna? Hey, you okay?