Chapter One: You Can't Be Serious
Unbelievable.
No way.
Can't be happening.
Several other people said things along similar lines, but loaded with various obscenities. Mira, to my right, was silent, but clenching her fist and moving her hand in jerking movements toward her Automag pistol and caseless submachine gun.
To my left, Corporal Reyes was cursing under his breath and gripping the balisong knife from the Philippines he had. I was sort of surprised to find that his curse words were in a many varied lingoes, such as French, Tagalog, and even Sangheilli.
And me? Private First Class, "Smart" Aleck Tanner? My curses were much more sophisticated. Even though sophistication sort of defeats the purpose.
There were five of us in our platoon, ODSTs all, and we were facing the new replacement for one of the men we had recently lost. And the jerk hadn't even turned up in ODST Ballistics Armor. No, the idiot had to keep his Spartan III SPI armor, helmet and all. Asshole. Was he trying to get himself killed? Or, more realistically, was he trying to provoke us into getting ourselves killed by him?
Our leader, Lieutenant Barker, finally broke the series of muttered curses by speaking to the official who brought the Spartan to us in the first place.
"Commander, just what the hell is this?" he said, indignantly, with his irritation complex in overdrive.
"Isn't it obvious? I'm assigning Spartan-137 to your platoon."
Barker grimaced and spoke through his teeth. "Commander, you aren't that naïve. Just what do you think you are doing? In case you hadn't noticed, the ODSTs and the Spartans don't get along very well."
This was answered by a low grunt uttered by the whole platoon.
"If you'll listen," the commander said, "instead of ignoring what I have to say, then I'll tell you."
The lieutenant just kept glaring in a way that encompassed both the Commander and the Spartan. Then he looked at the Commander in a way our entire platoon had gotten used to. It directly translated as "SPIT. IT. OUT."
But before the commander could say anything, the lieutenant said: "Before you speak, I want to say there are two reasons why I don't like this. The first is I don't like Spartans."
The Spartan huffed as if to say big surprise there. Cocky jerk.
"The second is if you're sending a Spartan III out with us means you're sending us on suicide mission."
The Spartan huffed again. Then the commander spoke: "Your duty is to your mission. 137 is willing to die for his duty. Are you?"
"If he wants to die, he can go ahead. I plan to live for my duty." Here the commander half-smiled. "Well put, lieutenant. But I know whatever job I give you, you'll do it well."
"Damn straight!"
"Which is why I can demote you to a janitor if you can't work beside 137 in this job!"
Barker spoke again through his teeth. "Okay, what is this mission of yours that's so important you're sending with us a Spartan?"
"Simple. We're putting you on ship drop duty."
"It is suicide!" I burst out, with my teammates nodding and Barker glaring at me.
It was! Ship drop duty involves being fired into a Covenant ship bristling with soldiers, and doing as much damage before you die! It was a death notice!
If only it wasn't so damn effective and vital that they sent their best teams to do in. Plus, I also the team's techie, and good at it, so they'll probably send us on an important ship. Like a destroyer.
"Now, lieutenant, will you do it?"
Barker looked at the platoon. We all nodded. Even me.
"Yeah."