"A New Batch"
MSgt. Mike Chekov
9th marine expeditionary force, 21st division, 1st battalion
0400 hours, 18.23.2562
Cryo Bay, Sigma Class Cruiser Two For Flinching
Mike Chekov felt the familiar tug back to consciousness as the internal computer inside his cryo tub started its de-thaw process.
As usual his brain now fully active and shrugging off its forceful hibernation by cryo brought forth memories and images running its own self diagnostic process.
He was on the rings again fighting the god awful creatures known as the flood, then he was at basic with a drill instructor screaming at him, then he saw his family on harvest for just a few seconds before the covenant glassed the planet.
The computer upped the dosage of stimulants to wake him as he wasn't responding to conventional thaw.
A few seconds later the top popped in an emergency thaw as technicians pulled him out onto the cold bulkhead floor.
An adrenal shot there and a few seconds later Mike Chekov awoke, the computer registered the error and then the pod was churned back down the line for another sleeper.
"You okay buddy" The cryo technician slapped him on the cheek.
"Yeah I'm fine" Mike gasped before gagging and clearing his throat of the nutrient filled slime they made you swallow before cryo.
"Whew we almost lost you there" The Technician helped him to a sitting position.
Mike smiled "Yeah I'm a heavy sleeper" then shakily rose to his feet
"Showers and lockers to the right see ya buddy" The technician scrambled to another cryo station.
Mike walked slowly testing his steps on his unsteady legs, he followed the tech's directions and walked into a shower station.
Since you cryo'd about seventy percent of the time on a ship if you were a marine you got used to the process.
No clothes allowed when you cryo'd to prevent freezer burn, a nasty temporary affliction caused by a part of the skin not being subject to the internal temp and chemicals of the pod basically leaving a red blistered area that looked like a burn.
Men and women cryo'd so naturally UNSC style they saved money by making co-ed showers and lockers.
You did your best to give the other gender their privacy, but with a few thousand marines going into and out of cryo frequently on a cruiser you didn't go completely unnoticed.
Mike turned on the water as hot as it could go and felt the freezer shock go away and strength and warmth flood his limbs.
He smiled at a few women that stared at him and talked as he walked into the lockers.
It was fine he had come to terms with looks that associated the nasty scars that were etched all over his body.
At thirty six he was an old timer and age in the marines during a war time meant you got a few bangs and scrapes.
Pulling on the standard olive drab fatigues of the Marines and tucking his duty cap into his back pocket.
He pocketed his personal items he stored prior to cryo sleep.
A wallet, Com Pad, dog-tags, watch, and a pocketknife. He pulled out his duty bag filled with his uniforms and slung it over his shoulder.
Walking down the hallway he turned left at a sign that read "Armory"
"Whatcha need there master sergeant" A young ruddy faced marine stood on the other side of a Plexiglas window.
Mike fished around in his pocket and produced a holding slip for his personal sidearm.
"Ahh the M6S right away" The marine came back with and pushed through the slot a pistol in a dark leather holster, and two clips of ammunition.
"Thank you corporal" Mike replied and clipped the holster onto his belt and stored the ammo clips in the baggy side pockets of his pants.
Following the color coded walkway Mike headed toward the barracks when he felt his com pad vibrate.
Stopping and moving off to the side to let some Navy personnel through he touched the screen and a tapped the message icon.
^\\UNSC OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLEGENCE
^\\CLASSIFIED MESSAGE [.PRTCL-1A]
^\\SENT [WHITE.D.500432(S3)]
^\\RECEIVED [CHEKOV.M.(M-EDF 9-21-1)]
^\\ REPORT TO DOCKING BAY C-12-A FOR TRANSPORTATION TO TRANSFERRED DUTY AREA, AND BREIFING.
^\\ [.PRTCL-A1]
Mike looked around and changed his course, following another path to the docking area.
"Transfer, why?" Mike thought as he followed the course, he loved his unit and his squad that he commanded.
But in his years he learned that if an ONI spook or representative gave you an order, you followed it.
'Excuse me sir can you point me to Bay C-12-A" Mike said to a navy man directing recruits.
"Bay C-12 is on the far left, but that's for VIP's only you need certification to get through to there" The man told him.
"That's where I was told to go" He replied
"Must be a mistake…but you can go ahead and try" The man walked off.
Mike turned and walked down to the end of the left hand bay, dodging bustling personnel and mechanics fixing ships, just everyday work for those tasked with keeping the cruiser running.
He was stopped two marines guarding a door to the final bay.
"Name and identification?" One asked.
"Chekov, Mike serial 48789-22114-MC" Mike said to the guards
"Go right through sir" They parted allowing him to walk through the sliding steel doors and into a small bay that barely housed the Longsword fighter docked in there.
"You must be Master Sergeant Mike Chekov" A tall pale man in a light grey coveralls of a male ONI officer
"Yes Sir" Mike dropped his bag and snapped to attention ignoring the formalities from the spook.
"At ease there Mr. Chekov, there wont be any need of that right now" He gestured towards the ramp leading into the Longsword.
Mike walked up the ramp into the fighter and was greeted by the traditional bleak boring inside of any ONI ship or room.
None of the pilots or crew turned as Mike boarded but quickly started the ship and started running pre flight checks.
"Follow me please" The ONI man said as he walked into a tucked away section of the fighter.
Closing the door behind them the man took a seat at a desk and pulled out a fold up chair for Mike.
Sitting Mike glanced around, posters and pictures of scenic places around the galaxy an even a flower stood in a vase on the mans desk.
The man caught Mike looking around the room "Yes I know not very traditional of an ONI spook, but you will find I'm not very traditional in ONI's sense"
He held out a hand "Dan White ONI first lieutenant"
Mike shook it " A pleasure sir"
"Now I now that you are curious to your so called transfer, and why you're here" The craft lurched and the vase tipped but White caught it before it hit the floor.
Mike raised his eyebrows, the man was fast.
White smiled "My wife's, she would kill me if I broke it, anyway you are needed for a very important task by the Office of Naval Intelligence"
He paused but Mike sat there waiting for him to finish
"You have been on Reach, and all three of the Halo rings…very impressive, also you have no extended family or lovers, your essentially perfect"
Mike took the bait "for what sir"
White leaned back in his chair "Have you heard of Spartans, or the Spartan program?"
"Of course, the program is designed to transform children into a super-soldier fighting force, fought with a few Spartans across the war, even with Sierra-117"
"Yeah that's good…great even, because you have been specially requested by Dr. Halsey along with a few other key personnel to train a new batch of Spartans" White said
"Another Spartan project…I thought the UNSC was done creating Spartans especially now the wars are over" Mike replied
White pulled out a bottle of liquor and poured two glasses "Yeah well officially we are, but unofficially there are still rings out there, and there are still covenant forces trying to get at them…so do you accept"
Mike took a swig from the glass, the fiery liquor burning down his throat "a chance to create more men and women like Sierra-117 and to work with Dr. Halsey herself…hell yeah sir"
"Good then enjoy our brief flight as we make our way to some unknown installation to meet up with Dr. Halsey and her subordinates, your bunking with me sergeant, down the hall to the right"
"Thank you sir" Mike said and got up
For what seemed like the billionth time today mike followed directions and made it to his bunk.
He piled his stuff on the rack and stripped down to his boxers, and pulled the thin layer of blanket over himself .
The steady thrum of the Shaw Fukijawa engine and a semi soft bed, coupled with the tiredness of coming out of cryo he fell into a deep sleep.
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