Halo_ Evolutions - Essential Tales of the Halo Universe - Eric Nylund [15]
They could have found something for him, something that fit him, but instead they strapped him with a desk job within the compound, an ordinary run-of-the-mill job that just about anybody could have handled. They said it was temporary, but as time went on, it felt more and more permanent. Barely sixteen and already retired from active duty, already a paper pusher. It was as if they hadn’t even tried to think of the right job for him. It was hard not to feel resentful.
Which was why, almost six months later, when one of the technicians—a fellow named Partch—began talking to him about revolution, instead of reporting the man he began to listen.
Partch started slow, just bits and pieces, hints. Sure, he said, the UNSC was much needed and important—we couldn’t live without them. But didn’t they sometimes come down too hard? Didn’t they sometimes do things that were carried out with the best of intentions but, when you looked at them closely, were just simply wrong?
“Like with you, for instance,” said Partch, once Soren had confessed what had happened to him. “Why aren’t they making proper use of you? Strong as a bear, quick, smart too: It’s a damned waste, if you ask me. Yet they’re still putting wet-behind-the-ears Marines right in the line of fire.”
At the time Soren didn’t respond, but later he couldn’t help but thinking that yes, it was a waste, Partch was right. Soon, it wasn’t just that he wasn’t reporting Partch: He’d started to search him out. He listened, very rarely revealing what he was feeling about what Partch was saying, but listening, listening. Finally one day he said, “So what can we do about it?”
Partch shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s hard to know what to do to fix the system when it breaks. People are afraid of change; they’d rather limp on with a broken system than do the hard work of making a change. If you’re not careful, before you know it you’re labeled a terrorist.”
“But there must be something I can do,” said Soren.
“A guy like you,” said Partch giving him a sidelong look, “sure, there’s a lot you can do. But will you?”
“I think I would,” said Soren.
“Even if you knew that others might see you as a terrorist? Do you care more about what people think, or about doing what’s right?”
“I’ve never cared what people thought,” said Soren, lying.
Partch gave him an appraising look. “No,” he said. “I daresay you haven’t.”
IT WENT on like that for a long time, Partch talking and hinting, and Soren becoming more and more eager to take part. It was exciting, like he was part of something, like something was happening. As he heard news of the other Spartans, he needed that, needed to feel like he was involved. His allegiances changed almost imperceptibly until, almost before he knew it, he found himself on the side of the rebels. Yes, he began to think, the USNC was too powerful for its own good; it had become a big bully. Yes, the colony worlds had the right to function in whatever way they wanted, had a right to be independent from the United Earth government if they so wanted. It was crazy to think otherwise. Yes, he was eager to help, yes, and since that was the case, what was he doing here?
“Be patient,” said Partch. “We . . . they need people like you. But we have to wait for just the right moment. And let’s take someone along with us—something as a souvenir.”
EIGHT
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Partch had a card that opened the lock—whether he had stolen it or had been given it as part of his job, Soren did not know. Inside was some sort of geological