Chapter 1
AN: My first attempt at something like this. Had this festering for a few days, before I finally decided to stop being lazy and write it out. I thought it turned out okay. Hope you all enjoy.
Disclaimer: I do not own Halo. I only own my OC
Summary: AU It's the year 2517. The spartan program has just begun. This is the story and journey of one of the Candidates from training, to the Human-Covenant war. To beyond and everywhere in between. OC x Linda (Major year skips.)
-1306 hours, September 10, 2517
-Verent, Unknown system-
-No PoV-
Doctor Catherine Elizabeth Halsey wrote notes on her datapad, while her partner watched the children running around the park a little ways from school grounds with a magnificent child-like innocence. An innocence Halsey had long since lost. Even after the kids went back into the school, leaving the playground structure abandoned, the energy and carefree attitude of the children remained. Packing her things in a handbag, Halsey and her companion, Lieutenant Junior Grade Jacob Keyes, began to walk about afront the educational facility. Verent was an interesting planet, Halsey decided, filled with nearly someone from every 'caste' system throughout the outer colony world. And yet, she mused, piracy was not as prominent as it had been on Eridanus. Maybe it was because the insurrection has no presence on or near the planet. From what ONI knew, at least. But the capital city of Jemsey, was rough place, despite the planet's relatively short history as a colony. Only three generations in 78 years as colonized planet and only 43 of those years as a part of the United Earth Government.
Their cover was the same as they used on Eridanus nearly a month ago, but it held strong even under questioning from several faculty from the school. Not hard when you can cement it with falsified documents. Pulling a small device, no bigger than her hand from her bag, she reviewed the two profiles that had them in Jemsey, Verent, in the first place. Number-057 and Number-058. Both shared the same genetic markers the doctor desired and required from all of her subjects. Merging two files onto the small screen, Halsey tapped on both portraits. 057 had pale skin, blue eyes and auburn hair pulled into an obvious ponytail. A barely visible dusting of freckles on her face, and slightly chapped pale lips. 058, on the other hand, had slightly tan skin, jaw length red hair, and calculating green eyes. And unlike 057, 058 had no freckles on her face, and darker colored lips to match her skin. Tilting it to her side, she showed Keyes the pictures of the two candidates.
"We saw them earlier, didn't we." Keyes whispered.
Halsey nodded in reply and the two walked around the facility and back into the park, sitting on a bench closer to the school. The educational facility dismissal buzzer beeps, and in an anything but calm manner, students rushed into their parents arms, while the older ones simply sprinted out and down the street. The lieutenant shifted visibly in his seat, out of his preferred element. Halsey ignored Keyes' shuffling and movement, having grown used to it on most planets they visited, choosing rather, to watch the two candidates as they ran past. During the break, both were serious, but now 057 had lost the serious demeanor she had and was laughing, as was 058, although to a lesser extent. Once the children exited the vision of the adults, the two proceeded back to the landing pad of the diplomatic shuttle Hans. With the final candidates of 76 observed and logged in her list, Halsey oriented the unarmed craft back to Reach. Phase three was near.
-2433 hours, September 22, 2517-
-ONI Base Braxton II, Reach, Epsilon Eridani II-
-No PoV-
"Are all of the candidates as listed and described, Doctor?"
Across UNSC space, many prowlers dropped out of slipspace and proceeded to their first assigned planets.
"Yes. Phase three is proceeding as planned."
Men dressed in black infiltrated two homes on an outer colony, placing flash clones in place of the child in their arms. And, as quickly as they arrived, they left. No sign was left of them ever being there. Each and every team repeated this process three to four times, gathering all the subjects on their lists. No one was the wiser.
"Good. You may begin your 'brain-child project'."
ONI prowlers dropped from slipspace around Reach and descended, and landed one by one at an undisclosed location.
The SPARTAN-II project received the green light.
-0930 hours, October 24, 2517-
-Classified Location, Reach, Epsilon Eridani II-
-S-057 PoV-
Home. That's what this place is now. That lone fact became the dominating factor in the minds of myself and the other 75 kids. "Candidates" CPO Mendez called us at first, then "trainees". The first month was protocol and acting in a proper manner befitting of who we were to become and who we represented. At least being near Linda helped me. It offered me a sense of security in this place that was so alien, so wrong. I shook my head, struggling over a log. I greedily gulped in air. CPO Mendez dropped all 76 of us at the bottom of the Highland Mountain. Our standing orders were to climb it, trudge through Military Reserve 01478-B to Camp Hathcock while avoiding marines. I forced my gaze forward, sluggishly darting around the thick trees ahead. I doubted I was even halfway up the hill, and still had yet to encounter any other of the trainees.
I had lost track of the time, but it couldn't have been more than two hours since the training exercise had begun. The air was cleaner than it was at the facility. A chain link fence with barbed wire blocked me from my path. Beyond that lay MR 01478-B, and Camp Hathcock. I shook, breathless and tired, my limbs shaking from the agonizing two hour climb. I drifted slowly across the fence, searching for any flaw. It's something I enjoyed doing, finding things that I shouldn't. It was the part of the reason Linda and I got along well. With a quiet yelp of happiness, I wiggled myself under a small gap in the fence.
CPO Mendez Rule One: Adapt or Die.
That was one rule of many Mendez had taught us the very first day, and continued to remind us of. The bottom of the fence scrapped my arms, back and legs, and I bit my lip to keep quiet. The space in front of me was open, too open. A little ways away, the tree line loomed. At least those lessons from Déjà are paying off, I hummed to myself. The space was bare, except for the patches of tall grass, a big stick or two, and small, colored spheres. With a body wracking shiver, I moved from patch to patch of tall grass. Marines were added to the exercise, forcing us to use our heads. I heard something on the marine a few feet away from me crackle to life. He mumbled something back, before his pace quickened and he exited my field of vision. I waited for a minute. Then two, and three, before I risked moving. I moved as fast as I could into the tree line, before bobbing and weaving through the trees themselves with a tired sway. Catching a root, I yelped as I fell nearly face first into a tree not three feet away. I slammed a hand over my mouth, glancing around worriedly. I spotted another trainee. She was a blonde, and looking right at me.
I eased myself to my feet, supported by the tree. The girl approached, her number clearly visible against the standard grey trainee uniform we all received. Her shirt was matted with sweat and dirt, as was her deep blonde hair. 130 was paraded just below her collar, just as mine, 057, was. She offered me a hand, which I accepted a bit of hesitation.
"Thanks." I mumbled quietly, straightening my twisted and wrinkled shirt. Trainee-130 nodded, and we both kept up with our climb.
We talked quietly, despite my own instincts telling me to shut up. I heard ruffling behind us, and we whipped around in an attuned sync. Another trainee popped into the little alcove amidst several, giant trees. 052 accompanied the small giant's own collar. We conversed quietly, sharing what little intel we had between us before we split up. We planned to meet at the edge of 01478-B and continue on from there. It wasn't easy, and I enjoyed playing tricks on the Marines. A whistle here, a thrown rock there, and they were severely agitated with me very quickly. Good thing I can hide better than they search. Being six came with a few advantages, like being able to hide in a tiny alcove under a tree. Four hours in now, and the sun began to disappear behind the clouds. I shimmied under the fence for the second time today, fresh scratches on my body. I yanked myself to my feet, exhaustion slowly taking its toll. 130 and 052 caught up to me a few minutes later, and we sat, catching our breaths. I looked at the other two trainees with me.
"Uhhh…" I was never good with people, but I hoped that didn't matter here, "…we never… introduced ourselves." I murmured quietly. The others laughed silently at the realization.
"Well." The boy spoke, his accent thick and bold, "I'm Jorge."
"Alice." Alice-130 had her own slight accent, which I had only noticed when she introduced herself.
"Jenna." Was my reply. We rested for a few moments longer, before we decided, unanimously and silently, to begin moving again. None of us wanted to know what the punishment would be if the CPO found out we slacked off. Although I, myself, am sure others had done the exact same thing as us. We were all only six. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't help but think of Linda. Normal never suited us. I mean, she ran an Intelligence network that got blackmail on teachers. And I may have been the prime collector of said blackmail, but it didn't make it any less fun to do. We helped each other over a thick tree. The ground around the collapsed tree was like a sludge. But it was slippery, like mud. After several failed attempts, and splashes of mud onto our already dirty clothing, we finally managed to get to a branch that had remained attached to the tree when it decided to block our path. Well, Jorge did, him being a head and a half taller than Alice and I's 3' 7" frames. It was odd, I'd decided a few days ago, that our families hadn't come looking. Maybe there was some kind of secret held against them, or a deal that had been made. Maybe we were already being mourned by our family and loved ones.
Oh how close I really was to the truth. I still I didn't want to believe what Hasley told us a month ago on our first day.
I grabbed onto Alice and Jorge's offered hands, allowing them to pull me over the log. A trail came into our sights a few moments later, yet a quick glance down it from a tiny bush, and Alice spotted a pair of Marines sitting on either side of the trail. Next to them were a pair of rifles, similar to what I'd seen some instructors use to calm some of the more, vulgar and rowdy kids of our group. I twisted and turned my head as much as my neck would allow, looking for safe, but quick passages that would get us through the thick foliage ahead. There were safe routes. Clear, but narrow and curving off to the flanks. The quick ones had mud, big puddles of stale water, downed trees and lots of clutter on the pathway. We debated, quietly amongst our odd group. We took a quick path, doing our best to avoid the mud and water. It worked, mostly. We pressed onward towards Camp Hathcock.
By the time the three of us arrived, we joined the third of the trainees already there. Alice and I hunched over to catch our breaths near a wall, while Jorge panted heavily, his finger laced and palms resting against his head. I took a quick look at the group. I easily spotted Linda's red hair, which had become streaked with mud, as had her clothes, hands and legs. She also had a very unclear, muddy face that I would have laughed at if we weren't in military training. I straightened my back, a low but satisfying pop. I grimaced from the unexpected crack. Camp Hathcock was surprisingly barren for being an active military base. Commanding Officer Mendez ushered everyone inside to get cleaned up and presentable. I, like many others, still remember the first day we arrived.
-Flashback: 1800 hours, September 23, 2517-
-S-057 PoV-
I was awake when the black dressed men from ONI arrived. My parents had been arguing loudly, making it a simple task for them to infiltrate my house relatively unnoticed. Like the naive child I used to be, I waved at them. Without a word, they scooped me up, placed an object in my bed, closed the door and left. We went the several hundred meters to their ship, where I fell asleep. The handlers had returned with Linda after. I woke up four hours later next to the redhead, her hand resting on my head. It was a comfort, I'd decided at the time, that would happen very little over the next few years. It wasn't something I wanted to go away.
Our handler, one Archibald S. Walker, a marine instructor, lead Linda and I both, pushing us along by the shoulder. We entered an amphitheatre, and two people standing on a stage. The first I recognized as the woman we indirectly encountered a couple weeks ago. Her dark hair was pushed behind her right ear, and wore a big white jacket with a name tag clipped on. The second was a tall man with black hair and a beard. He wore a black dress uniform, with several shiny, metal objects on the left of his chest. CPO Mendez. All the other children were put to sleep in big cylindrical tubes like back on the ship that brought Linda and I to this planet. A breach in orders, because Linda and I had experienced no such thing. The other children, neither of us had recognized. The dark haired woman stepped forward and took a breath.
"As per naval code 5812, you are hereby conscripted into the UNSC special project, codenamed: SPARTAN-II." A pause. Linda and I shrugged in reply. Neither of us liked our homes. Parents always fighting, arguing, or otherwise absent. Some tried to leave, only to be forced back by their handlers. It was a harsh reality, for someone our age, to be split from their family. There had to be an important reason for this.
"You have been called upon to serve. You will be trained, and you will become the best we can make of you. You will be the protectors of earth and all her colonies." I attempted to lean forward, only for Walker to pull me back gently. Some of the others sat straighter. Being a hero, I had mused, was how some interpreted it. No one but us, as far as we knew, had the luxury of being with a friend you've know from basically birth. The woman looked over to her right, and seemed to spot someone familiar. The boy had his number, 117, under the collar of his shirt, just like everyone else.
"This will be hard to understand, but you cannot return to your parents." Some tried to get away from the possessive grip of their handlers. I had frozen in place, finally realizing just how alone I felt with that simple statement. Linda seemed to ignore it, but offered a slim, comforting smile. It didn't have the effect she intended, but I returned it anyway.
"This place will become your home." Dr. Halsey continued, "Your fellow trainees will become your family now. The training will be difficult. There will be a great deal of hardship on the road ahead, but I know you will all make it." A lie, I figured easily. I had heard enough of them to sort each statement to truth or deceit. She knew not all of us would make it.
"Rest now, we begin tomorrow." She turned to the man beside her, "have the childr-… trainees, escorted to their barracks. Feed them and put them to bed."
"Yes ma'am." The CPO's rough voice commanded respect and obedience. "FALL OUT!" He had shouted at us. We all rose, some at the urging of the handlers. I took a quick once over of the other trainees. Some looked like they wanted to cry, but none did. I had a feeling, that whatever project this was going to turn us into, we were going to be some of the best soldiers in history. I felt Linda play with my hair as I fell asleep.
-Flashback end-
Linda was gently shaking my shoulder. My head bobbed back and forth as I looked at my redheaded comrade and friend.
"Dinner." She said simply. I absently noted, that in my memory musing, I'd cleaned up and changed, my short auburn hair neat, looking almost brown. We picked a table, and joined the current group. I noted each number of each trainee that was there, before introductions were passed around. Poking fun at others seemed to be a bit of a game around this group, and as such, continued during our entire allotted eating time. Even Linda got into it for a couple of jokes, before returning to her meal. 117, John, was conversing with three other trainees; 104, 087, and 034. Fred, Kelly and Sam. I pegged them as an immediate unit, but I could be wrong. I had been before. In the second week of training, we had to jump a small crevice. I misjudged and nearly fell in. Someone did, but they never attempted to recover the body. No one realized at first. The body wasn't found either.
Mendez called it a lesson.
-1439 hours, March 2, 2518-
-Military Reserve 01478-B, Reach, Epsilon Eridani II-
-Jenna-057 PoV-
I put my eye in the sight, viewing a target at fifty yards downrange. The rest of the range was set up for the exact same distance. I could hear our CO instructing and berating other trainees for their poor form. From the wrong stance, to the holding of the massive SRS99s that were bolted to the low, reinforced concrete wall in front of us. Learning of where to put my hand compared to where it was comfortable I found out the hard way. Mendez continuously hounded me until I got it correct. The message was clear: Do it right. The first time. Even in class with Déjà, when weapons came up, I was one of few who paid the closest attention, soaking in every detail, every advantage, drawback and how they worked after that incident. Only a handful of us seemed the most comfortable with the cumbersome rifle. Myself, Linda, Cal-141 and Victor-101 along with few others occupied the rifles. Several feet behind us, were other trainees, assembling and disassembling weapons on slabs of concrete and metal tables.
I could feel the CO's presence behind me, scrutinising my stance with a critical eye. He grunted and moved down the line, repeating the process, and sending several trainees to a nearby track to do 100 laps. A few moments and two clips of AM rounds later, Mendez's voice scolded and sent more trainees to the track, observing their cleaning, and reassembly of the MA series assault rifle. We had two, I remembered, the MA5B and MA37. I breathed out, and felt a small kick from the rifle into my shoulder. The shot went wide, like most of mine had so far, striking the second outermost circle of the spray paint cement target. The sniper instructor walked over. He was a burly man, dark skinned, with several noticeable scars from skirmishes on his face and bare arms. On his hand were fingerless gloves, and a missing pinkie from his left hand. His green eyes were calculating. Cold.
"Are you having an issue, trainee?" The man asked gruffly. I hesitated, before he prompted again. "Well…?" He asked, almost snarling.
"Yes, sir." I replied. The man grunted and motioned for me to take another shot. I did, and the result was the same. The man pulled me back from the stand. The heavy weapon tilted backwards, the barrel pointed into the endless sky. I finally took a look at the other targets. None were much better than mine. The man heaved a heavy, disappointed sigh. And then he began. Step by step he walked us through the process of improving. Unlike the other instructors, the man was persistently patient, and understanding, but hard and effective in his teaching method. With each magazine, our circle of bloom got smaller and smaller. When we had all breached the third outermost circle he sent us off to do laps. Nearly 2 hours and 88 laps later, Mendez formed everyone, and we began proper exercises. Normal routine: Jumping jacks, sit ups, leg lifts, then break. Followed by planks for 2 minutes and then push ups. We repeated this until dusk, when the training grounds lights began to turn on. After another fifty laps around the track, dinner was relatively quiet, everyone being tired from the rigorous and constantly demanding exercise. This exercise only increased as the weeks progressed, and, by the time 2519 came around, it picked up really quickly.
-2453 hours, July 12, 2519-
-Wilderness Training Preserve-
-Viery Territory, Reach-
-Jenna-057 PoV-
Our shuttle ride was quiet. This was our first exercise since the Camp Hathcock climb nearly two years ago. The training preserve was dark, and covered with a layer of fine, powdered snow. The bodysuits we were issued were not the most comfortable, but they were insulated and durable. It was perfect for our mission in the cold location. Mendez explained the exercise, the small piece of paper in our pockets finally being explained. They were maps. Each peice worked to get us to the extraction point. John went first, and he stepped off. No less than ten minutes after John had stepped out, I was up.
"057" Mendez called. I stood and saluted.
"Sir." My voice was firm, a radical change from how quiet I was when we first arrived. Halsey was right; these people are family. I was confident now, comfortable, with the people around me.
"You're up." The rear door opened to the cold, snowy air. "Good luck, 057."
Just like the others who jumped before me, I didn't reply and leapt down. I heard the ship move away as I reached out and snagged a branch of a tree with a grimace. I released it, and dropped to the ground, snow crunching under the suit's boots. I walked on, checking every edge around a rock, the bend of every tree, looking for any other trainees. I eventually found some footsteps and followed them, catching up with Jerome-092. I gave him a curt greeting and we picked up our pace. Others joined us as we continued on. Around an hour of searching, we got everyone together and placed our rectangular puzzle pieces together in the snow. Identifying extraction, we moved on. A full day from our position to extraction seemed easy, so we pressed on, tirelessly until dark the next day. John stopped everyone and beaconed for Kelly, Sam, Fred and Linda to follow him a short ways from the group. They returned a couple minutes later and relayed what information they found.
"Theres two targets. Standard UNSC equipment, but neither men are wearing uniform. We believe that they are rebels or insurrectionists." John briefed. No one bother to tell him that they were the same thing.
"What's the plan?" I voiced the, more than likely, most obvious question. John grinned.
"Well. We need to divert the two from the equipment. Jenna, that's where you and Kelly come in. As the fastest ones, your our rabbits. Lure them back here. Once you complete that, get to your places. Sam, your the second part of this. Act in distress. Wh-"
"Why am I the bait?" Sam cried, interrupting John.
"Because you act like that?" I jabbed good naturedly. Sam playfully glared at me and I grinned back.
"You know it. So, when the man gets close enough, Linda, strike him with a rock. If the other comes, we improvise." John laid it out, using a stick to draw it in the snow. Everyone agreed and dispersed when John gave them a hiding place.
I looked at the snow at the base of the tree next to me and gathered a handful. I smirked at Kelly, which she returned, and we moved just beyond the trees in view of the two chatting soldiers.
"We need help! Our friend is hurt!" Kelly exclaims.
"Hurry!" I urge, tossing the snowball. It smacks the bearded man in the chest, and he takes the bait, proceeding after us along with an urge from his superior. I run, round a corner and vault up a tree, sitting on a thick branch next to Linda. I stifle a giggle. The man appears, and Sam begins his act.
"Where's the girl?" The man asks. Sam has a knee up, leaning back on his forearms, acting injured. He hisses.
"I think I broke my leg." He moaned.
"Oh I got your broken leg right here, kid." The man began to approach with a batton ready in his right hand. Sam mimicked an owl and the man received a rock to the side of the head, courtesy of Linda. He crumpled like a sack of potatoes. She dropped down to the ground like a cat, and I follow, landing on one knee, rock clutched in hand.
"What the hell, Vince? One little girl too much to handle for you?" The other man exclaims. Sam imitates it again, and this time I got the first strike in. With a wince, my rock catches the guy in the groin, and he doubles over in pain. The others appear and Jorge strikes next, followed by Kelly, Alice, Jerome, Victor and the others. We group up and proceed away towards the shuttle from the unconscious soldiers. We all grin and share enthusiastic high fives as the ship lifts off and departs for base.
Immediately after landing, John reported to Mendez's office. Everyone else, myself included, changed, and got a much needed meal. Kelly and I tell the others about the baiting of the soldiers, and barely managing to keep a straight face after I mentioned hitting the first man with my snowball. Ah, the benefits of training and practise, I muse, grinning and nodding energetically along with the others. When John returns, his face is grim. He gives us the good news: his promotion to squad leader. The bad news… it shakes several to the very fibre of their being, myself included. Our newest and toughest mission so far?
Survive.
-Unknown Time, March 24, 2525-
-Medical Facility Endurance, Epsilon Eridani II-
-Jenna-057 PoV-
John was right.
We survived though, through the six years of non-stop, grueling, physically and mentally draining exercises, practise missions, and surprise alerts. And the difficulty kept going up. 100 became 150 and then 200 across the board of our regular exercises. The training changed our bodies to peak condition, as far as evolution would allow for 13 and 14 year olds. The snipers got untouchable for the moment, the CQB specialists got more unpredictable, and our squad leaders got more tactical, smarter, but continued to learn. We got faster, though Kelly and I still held a significant speed edge over the others. Much to my chagrin, however, she was still faster than I. But not by much. The CQB specialists like Fred and Sam, continuously strived to outdo the other, rarely succeeding and remaining tied. The same, however, could not be said of the sniper category. Linda began to learn Zen, a type meditation. Anyone who was a sniper participated in the mediation sessions. She did it more than I, and I didnt slouch it either, at least twice a day, Linda three. In terms of raw skills with the cumbersome SRS99 rifle, the margin between the best and the worst was not as small as it could have been, but no bigger than it needed to be.
When the instructors started moving target practise, each of us - the snipers - could smack three targets in less than six seconds with less than two months practise. Every competition, every exercise, was split by a point counter. The score was never a larger margin than 30 points. Not once, did Linda or I dip below the top five. Fred gave us a run for our money as well, regularly scoring less than 10 points from us. Once, Mendez, for his own amusement - a critical way of doing his own analysis - pit Linda and I against each other. We had tied that, much to the CO's surprise. These six years were nothing but a cake walk compared to what we were being prepared to go through when the time for augmentations came.
One by one, friends and comrades disappeared behind heavy metal sliding doors. Screaming always came a couple moments after. I watched Linda go. Several minutes later I was next. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous. Medical personnel came in, wrapping pristine white bandages around my nose, the base of my chin and my forehead, wrists and ankles to prevent rubbing skin raw. They gently eased me back, clamping my arms and legs to the table. Taking a deep breath, I waited for the anesthetic for kick in. I was out quickly.
The grafting began first, and the screaming began again, just like the others before me. It felt like my bones were begin shattered to powder, vaporized and then replaced with steel. This was just the beginning. The enhancement injections came next. The pain was unbearable now. The grafted areas had begun to cool, just as the injections began. It was like being dissected peice by peice, and awake for it all. I could feel my body twitching... fighting to get free. Even deep in my mind, I couldn't escape it. The Catalytic implant was next. At the base of my neck, a drill entered, tearing through the skin and flesh, creating the crevice needed for the implantation. The drill connected with my spine, before it slowly withdrew. My nerves felt like I was going through an incinerator, and then the implant was placed. Not only was it like an incinerator ignited, with this it was like infernos covered every square millimetre now as my system painfully adapted around the implant. That doubled with the grafting and the injects that were just completed, and the drills and needles that injected more fluids behind my eyes. My body burned, bled, and ached and rebelled with pain. And then my spine was added to the mix. The neural shock pushed my body up as far as it could go. The neural fabrication was quicker though, but rewrote my entire nervous system. The nerves along my arms, legs, head and torso screamed in protest, burning and cooling over and over in seconds.
And then it was over.
Hopefully.
AN: I hope you all enjoyed Chapter 1. Please point out any and all grammar errors.
