Caboose the SPARTAN

Part 1: Baby Boomer

Part Description: AKA, the real reason Caboose doesn't like babies. Also, AI should be very careful about how they word things.

Description: Caboose the SPARTAN AU, from part to part, leading to the lovable Blue Team rookie we all know and love. But where did it all begin? This is his story.

A/N: You all thought I was kidding about the "Caboose the SPARTAN AU"? Come cry with me.

...

"Just leave it, Michael." It's Judy-41 who says something, who notices Michael's eyes on the small, wiggling creature under a dead woman. "The ODSTs will find it later. Come on, the Dinos went this way!" She uses her Battle Rifle to point down a long, mostly destroyed highway, stomped on and broken by a Type-47 Ultra Heavy Assault Platform.

"But it's hurt!" Michael informs his 'sister', concerned for the squirming little gremlin as he drops his Assault Rifle on the concrete street, scooping up the creature to hold delicately against his chest, his scar-ridden face smiling as he watches the infant human child grip his chest-piece, already attached to the young SPARTAN.

It's raining, but isn't it always raining on planets affect by the war? Michael-57 is seventeen years old, and the tallest boy in his unit. He is also the only boy in his unit. Eighteen female SPARTANS are with him, tall and strong and wanting some serious action while their adrenaline is up and the wind still carries ash. They've got a long walk, Commander Minnie-51 has reminded them a few times of this fact, trying to get them all moving, but it seems their youngest has found himself in quite the predicament.

The baby is male, and smiles with all the innocence in the world, as if his mother not hours ago sacrificed herself to die at the hands of an Energy Sword, just at the chance that he might make it. Well, he made it, but it seems no one else has, except of course the SPARTANS. Michael-57 grins as he holds the wiggling baby, cooing quietly at it. It's moments like these that remind the SPARTANS of what they're fighting for, but that doesn't make them feel any better about seeing dead civilians and orphaned babies.

"Just put him down, Mike." Gina suggests, off to the side, wiping off her Gravity Hammer almost lovingly. "That thing ain't gonna do any better dead. Can't take him with us. Just leave 'em be."

"But he's all alone!" Michael points out, always insisting on these kinda things. Last time, it was a cat. The girls let him keep that one, but a baby is a MUCH bigger deal than a fiery orange tabby cat named Leonardo. "I can't leave him here to die! What if the Covvies find him first?"

"They've moved on, Michael." Minnie reminds her younger 'brother', coming to join him to see what all the fuss is about. "What are you even going on ab- OH NO! No! Fuck that noise! Michael, we talked about this. No more pets! It's hard enough hiding Leonardo from the boss, we sure as Hell don't need a baby to worry about!"

"But he's gonna die! Please, Minnie! I don't want him to die just 'cus I didn't take him to safety!" Michael's shooting Minnie those puppy-dog eyes, and goddammit, whose bright idea in Heaven was it to give a SPARTAN like Michael such terrifyingly powerful puppy-dog eyes?

Minnie sighs, followed by all the other girls joining in. That sigh only means one thing to them: Michael gets his way. Again. Damn him and his puppy eyes. Damn them both to Hell. "Fine." Minnie agrees, and the girls sigh again, since it's now official that he's won. "You can bring it with you. But the first chance we get at dumping it at a hospital or with some civilians, you fucking leave it! I ain't letting you pull the same shit you did with Leonardo!"

Michael-57 grins at that, content with the results of his begging, leaving his 'sisters' to only sigh, shaking their heads at their youngest's infatuation with innocence and happiness. One of these days, a day they fear will come all too soon, all of that is going to turn around and bite him in the ass. But for now, while using a small backpack to wrap around his shoulder and hold the baby in, it's okay that he's like this. It's okay, because they'll always be here to save him if shit gets bad, and he'll do the same for them.

They cover ground more easily than was first estimated, but that might be because Michael-57 is too preoccupied with the baby to be distracted by anything else and ultimately drag his team behind. The girls are grateful for this, but that gratefulness is long forgotten as they enter yet another burned and broken part of the city, this one with far more plasma burn marks and shrapnel from grenades. The civilians put up a fight, Minnie promises, ignoring the way her teammates seem to linger in the area, looking over the corpses with despair on their faces underneath their helmets.

This is going to be a rough one, they know. This planet is just an innocent, colony farming planet, hardly involved in UNSC business. Somehow, it's harder to see more civilian planets get attacked and ultimately glassed. It's harder, because in the military you sign up for that shit. You sign up expecting that to be your endgame. Civilians… they don't. Some might, one day, but most aren't here for that lifestyle. Some of these people even ran from the war. Looks like the war found them.

"Keep moving forward." Is all Minnie offers, not looking at her teammates, broken up just as much by all of the death and destruction. "Come on, let's not leave them Dinos waiting."

"They'll pay for this." Everyone stops to stare at Michael, who has the baby against his chest, held in an iron grip. "Every last one of them… I'll make them pay for this." He places the baby back into the backpack, using his now free hands to reload his Assault Rifle. He's angry, they can tell, and it's terrifying when he gets angry.

"Just stay calm, 57." Amelia-52, Minnie's twin sister, orders, giving the youngest a sharp yet concerned look. "You'll get your revenge, one way or another. Just remember, you're the one with the baby on your shoulder. You're the one with someone worth losing."

Michael looks to the baby, then Amelia, simply giving the older SPARTAN a curt nod of understanding. "Alright." He mumbles, voice thick, as if he's still trying to inhale and choke on that Earth shattering rage. "I-I'll try to keep a lid on it. For the baby… and the mission."

Minnie smiles, hopeful that Michael might actually be listening to them for once. "That's good to think about. Anytime you get angry, just repeat that in your head, okay? Just repeat it so you don't forget."

Michael accepts that, and nods to Minnie this time, turning around to now lead the way towards their destination. The girls all exchange a look, as if afraid of whether or not they should stop here, but in the end they nod. This got personal for Michael. And now that it's personal, there ain't nothing holding the rookie back from those Dinos. They all have personal reasons for being here- Minnie and Amelia lost their dad to this war, Judy got left to fend for herself at a street corner, and Gina lost her planet to a glassing- but Michael… he doesn't have a history that he can remember.

They don't even know his story- they may've all been scooped up out of their beds at five to six years old, but that doesn't change the fact that they were scared, confused, and alone- but the UNSC is always telling them to just… watch him. That's it. It's like they're being told to watch a dog for them, or babysit their kid. But they don't question it, because SPARTANS follow orders, and the orders are to watch him. So they'll watch him, watch him until they're told not to anymore. Maybe then they'll question everything that's wrong.

It's two more hours before they find the Covenant, and it's worse than they were told it would be. The Covvies have been getting smarter, have already heard of the SPARTANS, and are ready for them now. Now they go all out. There are three to five Type-47 Ultra Heavy Assault Platforms stomping around, making a mess of everything as they shoot down tall skyscrapers and helpless little shops. The flames are various shades of purple and green hues, and if it weren't for the war and eyes watching it, the view would've been absolutely spectacular and astonishing.

"You know the drill." Minnie assures her team, turning into the leader she needs to be in an instant. "Shoot the Dinos, rescue the civvies, and look kickass while you do it. Sync."

"Microwave." Michael-57 adds jokingly, earning a hard elbow from Stacy-43, who chuckles loudly under her breath as Minnie rolls her eyes at them.

"Real cute, Mike." Gina comments, but even she's a little amused. Can always count on Michael to make things a bit better in the face of death and destruction. "Too bad the Dinos ain't ones for appreciating your looks, kid."

"Shut up." Amelia orders, smiling all the while, before that smile disappears at the sound of a loud, shrill scream, coming from the burning city below. "You heard your leader. Get in there! Sync. And, 57-" She grabs Michael's arm as he makes to follow, nodding towards the backpack on his shoulder. "-You watch out for that, 'kay?"

Michael nods back, before following his team into the fray. It's hot everywhere he goes, as he watches still alive human beings burn and melt to death in plasma flames. It's scenes like these that play like photographed dreams at night, framed in sepia coloring, with little to no narration. Just burning, just burning and death and sadness and let-downs, too many to recall in just one cryo-sleep. But nonetheless, Michael is strong as he goes forward, bursting through the flames without a second thought.

Nothing else is relevant other than revenge as he dashes through the destroyed city, shooting at the Jackals on the rooftops, punching the Grunts in his path, wrestling to the ground and choking to death the Elites that dare try to stop him. Everything is a blur of greens, reds, and purples. Later on, for no particular reason other than these images, when a SPARTAN-dressed space marine shows Michael a picture of another man- this one in purple and green power-armor- he will be disgusted and resent the photograph in silence.

The battle does, eventually, end, and as usual, everyone on the team returns mostly alright- Stacy's got a bullet in her chest, and Ruby's got one in her foot- but otherwise, everyone seems okay. The girls start to laugh as they regroup- maybe to distract themselves from the millions of casualties around them- but stop as they see Michael, paralyzed where they stand. There's Michael grinning at them, covered head to toe in plasma burns, Dino blood, and a bit of his own. He's missing a tooth, too.

"Hello!" Michael-57 greets, waving enthusiastically at his teammates as he jogs over, slightly off-footed, as a bullet is lodged into his right hip bone. "Did I miss the party or what?" He laughs, not at all realizing the seriousness of his condition.

"… Mike?" Gina sounds terrified, looking at Michael's left shoulder, fear evident in her eyes. "D-Did you take the kid out… BEFORE you went into the fight?" She's unsure, as they all are.

And just like that, Michael freezes. He doesn't need to look at the bag to know what state it's in- burned all over, filled with bullet holes, with plasma still leaking out of it- and he can already feel tears running down his face as it hits him. He killed it. He ran into battle without thinking about the baby, and now it's dead. It's mother's sacrifice was for nothing, and instead it got to burn to death in a backpack, without it's mother and father there to hold it as the flames lit them into the void of afterlife.

Did it suffer? Was it instant? Michael has no way of knowing. He's supposed to not feel anything in these sorts of situations- leave that to the ODSTs, Judy usually suggests- but he can't help it. Michael feels, and when he feels it's big, loud, and powerful. He can't function without it. He falls to the ground, weakened not only by the tragic loss, but by the blood leaking like water from the holes in his power-armor. As he closes his eyes, he briefly wonders if this, this darkness around him, was the baby's last sight before death.

The Pelican pilot says nothing as she flies the SPARTANS out of the still burning city, going slower than usual due to the added weight of so many SPARTANS on her ship. Michael-57 keeps his head down as they fly out, the mostly melted remains of the backpack in his big, strong SPARTAN hands. The girls say nothing to him, out of anger or compassion for his situation, no one can be certain. Nonetheless, the Pelican ride ends all too soon and Michael-57 and the girls are flown into the Train of Confidence.

Confidence's head captain, a Carmelita Jones, walks down the line of SPARTANS standing at attention. She pauses in front of Minnie, looking the oldest girl up and down. "SPARTAN, I understand your mission went accordingly. The Covenant were stopped from glassing all of Greenery and several hundred civilians were rescued by ODST forces. Good job. However, I also understand that there was a… civilian casualty. These things aren't easy to deal with, SPARTAN."

"They definitely are not, ma'am." Minnie agrees, not looking her captain in the eyes. They're all without their helmets, save Michael, who remains as the only SPARTAN not standing attention, slumped over and depressed. "I'm afraid our rookie feels responsible for the civilian's loss."

Jones turns, as if finally noticing Michael. "I see… understand, 57, this happens very often, and I'm afraid this will not be the last time you see a civilian die in your custody. Just know that you are not alone in this war, SPARTAN."

Michael sighs, not believing her. "… He was just a baby." He whispers, voice low and husky. "I didn't think… he died because I was angry and ran into the fire without protecting him."

Jones swallows, her eyes growing glassy. No one told her that it was a baby, much less that Michael really WAS responsible for it. "… Get some rest, rookie. I'll have the ship's AI talk to you in a little while." Jones has never been good at comforting, much less with comforting very emotional people like Michael. "The rest of you are dismissed. 51, I expect a full mission draft in my office by six-hundred tomorrow morning." With that, she walks away.

They all disperse quietly, Stacy-43 patting Michael on the back as she passes by him to the barracks. "Just keep moving forward, Mike. Keep moving forward."

Amelia stops in front of Michael, giving him a curt nod along with Minnie. "Take care of yourself, okay? Come get us if you need to talk."

Michael leaves as soon as all the girls leave, walking with an awkwardness to his step. He should head to the med-bay, but the last thing he wants to deal with right now is a doctor nagging at him to stop getting shot at. The walk to his room is mind numbing- his barracks are secluded from the girl's barracks, seeing as he's a boy- as his footsteps echo, while off the walls he can almost hear the baby boy crying, crying for him to come and save him from the fire and from the bullets and from the war. He walks faster.

It's a full five to six minutes of insanity before Michael reaches the tiny room they've given him. It's petty compared to the huge, hanger worthy space his 'sisters' own, but it's doable and he's not one to complain much. He starts pulling off his armor bit by bit, having to bang the caved in hinges on the sink in the conjoined bathroom to get some pieces off. It's when he's down to his helmet and leg armor that the ship's AI- a tiny, dark green thing named Sheila- springs to life as a slightly heavier set woman hologram in old military clothing.

"Hello, Michael-57." Sheila greets, soft and sweet as she smiles at the young SPARTAN in her form. "How was your mission?"

"Why not ask the captain?" Michael usually isn't one for rude remarks, but he's also not one for losing people in his care. "You're the AI on this ship. I'm sure you've already heard of how the worst SPARTAN in the history of the UNSC fucked up our whole mission."

"By my calculations and observations, you and your squad performed effectively and completed the mission with only one casualty." Sheila replies, crossing her arms with concern on her face. "I believe you did exceptionally well, Michael-57."

"That casualty could've been avoided if I wasn't so freaking STUPID!" Michael insists, banging his fist with anger on his leg armor, busting it off his leg completely. "I messed up, and now, a baby is dead. All because I more or less threw it into a fire and didn't stop to think it was a bad idea."

"That is not true, Michael." Sheila insists right back, unconvinced of her favorite SPARTAN's guilt. "You did everything in your current power to protect the infant, and it died. You are not to blame."

"I was RECKLESS!" Michael points out, enraged by the ship AI's compassion towards him, as if he deserves her thoughtfulness after what he did. "If it had been Minnie or even Stacy, he'd still be alive!" He makes a good, no matter how sad it is.

"Stop." Sheila orders, silent until Michael has successfully stopped and has begun to breathe normally again. "After multiple calculations, I have confirmed that in your state of mind during the mission, it was impossible for you to make any other decision other than the one that was made."

"I… that can't be right." Michael whispers, voice sounding distant, trying to figure out what Sheila means by that. "You mean… you mean I was too STUPID to even think about it? I'm so dumb that I can't even protect a simple baby!?"

"I never said that." It's rare that anyone can make Sheila sound so terrified, like she's made a big, big mistake. "SPARTAN Michael-57, please understand, that is not at all what I meant by that comment. I now understand that my word choice was incorrect and unthoughtful, and I apologize for that, but-"

Michael stands from his bed, struggling to throw his helmet off. He limps into his bathroom, looking into the dirty mirror he's been provided. He has dark, jet black hair, shaggy and unkempt. It's a miracle no one has made him cut it yet. His eyes are crystal blue, glassy due to his need to cry. Finally, dark bags hang gloomy beneath his eyes, mocking his need for sleep and how he'll probably never get it, even when this war is over and everything is over. He'll never find peace.

"I'm… I'm an idiot, aren't I?" Sheila says absolutely nothing as Michael watches his reflection, the AI watching as well in the background, arms behind her back, as if waiting to see what will now occur due to her words. "I'm so dumb… I'm sorry, Sheila. Just… just go away for awhile, okay? I gotta think…. God, am I even smart enough to think!?"

"Michael-" Sheila is so damn scared for her favorite, scared that she's damaged him, damaged him in a way that can't be cured or fixed or changed.

"SHEILA!" Michael's voice is loud and explosive, the word echoing in the tiny bathroom. "GET OUT!" As soon as Sheila dissipates, Michael begins to shake. He was too stupid, too caught up in anger to see and protect a child he was WARNED was dangerous to keep. But he did it anyways.

He leaves the bathroom, after smashing the mirror with his left fist. There are glass shards imbedded into his bloody knuckles as he walks out, as if in a trance, but he doesn't seem effected by the cherry red blood dripping to the floor as he lies down on his side on the cot, staring at the wall with his eyes wide open in shock. He's so stupid, he thinks, feeling empty and unsatisfied. He should probably talk to Minnie, before he really goes off the deep-end, but he's too tired to get up, too tired of a lot of events and stresses, He falls asleep quickly, too exhausted to continue thinking.

Part 1 Complete

A/N: Please review if ya got any questions. I'm planing on making this a sometimes updated fic, which means I'm unsure of when my updates will be. In the meantime, please enjoy what's here for the time being!

NEXT PART DESCRIPTION: Part 2: Like in the Movies. The UNSC makes few mistakes, and finding Michael certainly isn't one of them.

~CabooseHeart.