Prolouge: Recruitment
"Come on, don't tell us you're going to chicken out now."
I took a breath to steady my nerves as I eyed the tip of the injector unit hovering over my arm. A small vial sat in the loading port.
"No, no, I'm not." I replied. "I just can't get over how green this stuff is. I… I need a moment."
"Seriously? You're about to undergo a life-changing process and you're worried about the activation solution being GREEN?" She shot back.
Another voice spoke up. "Give it a rest: of course he's going be a little bit nervous. You're second gen, right? Didn't your parents ever tell you how nervous they were?"
It didn't matter who was talking at this point: I was too focused on that injector, holding a great opportunity, but also a heavy burden. My friend continued speaking. "You could walk away right now. No one would stop you, you're free to choose your own way."
"Oh please, since when did you get so philosophical?" I said, rolling my eyes. "Next thing I know you're going to start asking things like 'Why are we here?' or something like that. Oh, and I just did choose my own way."
A small mark on my arm showed where I had brought the injector down. A cold tingling had started spreading from the injection site. It was an oddly comforting sensation, especially given what it was supposed to turn into.
"Oh great. Finally. Well, better get the doc back in here, you're going to need some serious painkillers pretty soon."
"How do you feel right now, anyway?" With the tension of the moment gone, I could tell it was my buddy Greg talking.
"Oh, I'm alright for now. Though I can imagine the worst part must be…" A Molotov crashing through the window? "Son of bitch, wasn't this supposed to be a green zone?!" I shouted.
Wasting no time, Greg had already cleared a path through the resulting blaze with the fire extinguisher that had been tucked in the corner. "Jessica! Get the doc, we've gotta get out of here!"
"No shit, muscle head!" She shot back: "I've got the painkillers; goodness knows we all might need them now." The characteristic three-round bursts of BR-55's had started cracking through the air. Damn, I'd only been in the clinic for about thirty minutes, and the small protest outside had managed to explode into a full-blown riot. In the back of my head I half-prayed to whatever deity out there what those BR-55's were in the hands of security forces and loaded with lockdown paint.
"Well, I'll take a couple of those, then. Where's the doc so that I can call him in the morning?" I remarked as I took the pills from Jessica's hand.
"Right here, and carrying an entirely different kind of prescription. Let's just say that the immune system in the area has been compromised." I opened my mouth in shock as the doctor in question walked back from a storage closet carrying four riot shields and a box with the Na'Haru Armory logo stamped across it, along with the designation M6-P.
"Where the hell did you even get all that? And what do you mean by 'The immune system has been compromised?', huh?" I asked.
"I mean that looking out the window tells me that about half the Enforcers in the area are on Supremacist payroll. You've got about fifteen minutes before they'll see you as a target: get to a subway station or something, and get out of here. You and your friends should take these as well:" He handed out the M6-P handguns, a hybrid weapon that used ferromagnetic bullets to hold a coating of plasma in place, hence the P designation added to M6. "No one out there is going to hesitate when shooting at them. If the time comes to defend yourselves, don't think. Just act." He sighed, and continued: "I had a bad feeling this would happen someday. Guess it's always good to be prepared."
"And so that's how it happened. My parent's weren't too pleased about the change, but after hearing about the extent of the Supremacist's burn operation that day, they were happier that I was alive and well."
"I see… And you say that this is part of the motivation behind joining the Freelancing wing?"
"Not directly, but yes."
"Very well then, we'll consider your application in detail, and inform you of the results in a few weeks." The administrator across the table from me nodded, then stood up as he offered his hand for a parting handshake. Grasping his hand firmly in my paw as I stood up, I offered a small smile as I made my last remarks: "Alright then. Thank you for this opportunity, and I sure hope I didn't disappoint."
Meanwhile, some thirteen thousand light-years away, a physicist by the name of Jonathan Graves was on the borderline of having his mind blown over the phone.
"The Scoutship Initiative? Wasn't that shut down decades before the contact at Harvest in favor of automated probes?"
He frowned as the person on the other end of the line elaborated.
"Yes, but I was just one guy on the whole team working on the new drives. Why me?"
Another pause as the HIGHCOM official explained who was asking me to take the position, along with everything from the responsibilities to the paycheck. And the extra guest who would be coming along for the ride.
"Very well then. 2:00 on Monday. I'll have the calendar marked, sir. And I have to say, after the initial shock of the call, I really am quite honored that you think I'm up for the task."
And with that, Jonathan hung up, slumping back in his seat as he speculated on the journey to come. It was one thing to collaborate by with Sangheili engineers on a new slipspace drive, but living with a warrior-turned-diplomat on the same ship? It would probably be quite the experience.
A/N: 13,000 light years may seem excessive, but going on the average covenant slipspace speed (912 /day) further improved on my UNSC ingenuity, it's really not too far.