AN: Here it is, finally, and this time with general MB's stamp of approval. Hope you like it.
Jack carefully set the plasma pistol in a big thigh pocket, with the trigger stub not bumping anything. He didn't know if it had a safety, or if it did, what it would look like. He held the plasma rifle in a stable two-hand grip. He was in some kind of janitor's closet, or something like that. When he moved, he banged his shin against something. He couldn't see a thing-pitch black. But someone heard.
"What was that?" A male human voice asked. The voice sounded muffled behind the door.
"What was what?" A woman asked.
"I heard something from over there,"
"You're paranoid," She said.
Please don't check, Jack thought desperately as he was silent and still.
"I'm gonna check it out,"
Shit! Jack readied the plasma rifle-but he wasn't sure what he planned to do.
"We've got work to do. Let's go," The woman said.
"…alright,"
Jack let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He waited until he heard steps leading away from the room, waited another ten seconds, and cracked the door. No one was there. He slowly opened the door and stepped out, rifle up and tracking.
No one. He started running down the hall, looking for something, anything, that was familiar.
An arm shot out and caught him by the throat-holding him a foot in the air.
"Knew I heard something," A massively tall Hispanic man said. Jack choked, kicking out, but the guy seemed to be made of steel.
"You aren't ONI, obviously. You aren't one of Halsey's scientists. You sure as shit are not a Spartan. So what are you?" He didn't seem to be breaking a sweat as he held up Jack with one arm.
Jack choked until his vision turned gray and blackness closed around his peripheral vision. Then pain in his back-the guy threw him. Jack sucked in lungfuls of air.
"I said, what're you doing here!" He kicked Jack in the gut, but Jack held on as he tried to pull away. Jack viciously twisted the foot and the tall, top-heavy asshole fell over sideways.
Jack didn't try to get up-instead he scrambled away. He was clearly not the strongest, but he could be the fastest.
"You are so dead, kid," The tall guy spat as he got up, and Jack realized he wasn't a lot older than himself. Jack got in a fighting stance: bent knees, ready hands, on the balls of his feet.
"What the hell is going on?" He asked.
"I'm asking the questions," Faster than Jack could blink, a fist hit him in the jaw. He hit the wall opposite, blinking away stars.
"'S what you get for messing with a Spartan," He grabbed the front of Jack's shirt and raised him in the air.
"Wait, what? A Spartan?" Jack sputtered.
"Damn straight, kid. Now, how did you get in here?"
"In where?"
"Don't play stupid, kid. Won't do you any favors,"
"I don't know where the hell I am! There were these Elites, and…," Jack said.
"Put him down, Paco," A femine voice said.
"Fifty creds says he's an Innie spy. I ain't putting him down, unless you mean the fun way," Paco growled.
A willowy, dark-haired woman walked in from the left.
"I know how you feel, but this is something for Halsey and the Chief," She said.
"Sheila, dammit, I have this under control," Paco said.
"No you don't. You tore the stitching on your hip," Sheila said.
Jack saw a bloody splatter against Paco's side.
"Put the kid down. He's obviously not Innie,"
"He's trained! He…," Paco trailed off, like he was admitting something embarrassing.
"What?"
"I knocked him down," Jack said.
"You knocked down a fully trained and augmented Spartan to the ground?" Sheila raised an eyebrow.
"I was kicking him, he grabbed my boot…,"
"Put you on your back. Could you please set me down?" Jack asked.
"He's got to be about our age. Could be a replacement," Sheila said.
"I don't know, Sheila…," Paco said.
"Don't make me pull rank," Sheila said teasingly.
Paco scowled and set Jack down.
"I'll take him to Dr. Halsey. Go get yourself stitched up,"
"Whatever," He walked off.
"So, what's your name?" Sheila asked in a friendly voice, as she led him up the hall.
"I'm… Jack," He noticed that Sheila was almost six inches taller than him.
"Oh, yeah, augmentation really hits your bones hard. I'm still getting used to towering over people," She said.
"So you're a Spartan?" Jack asked.
"Yep. I'm Sheila-132, sniper and leader of Gold Team,"
"Well… nice to meet you," Jack was awestruck. She was beautiful, despite her very short hair.
"Er… ok. You too," She said awkwardly.
"So, uh, that guy's a Spartan, too?" Jack said quickly.
"Paco's still got the heart of a petulant six-year-old. And yes. You only got lucky in there, by the way. We're all still adjusting to the augmentation. Don't let it get to your head," Sheila chuckled.
"You're going to make fun of him for the rest of his life, aren't you?" Jack asked.
"Oh, yeah," Sheila chuckled evilly. "Paco's the close-quarters specialist for Green Team. He's got years of training for hand-to-hand combat. I am going to love rubbing this in his face,"
"So where are we?" Jack asked as they walked.
"Medical Station KL-81, in geosynchronous orbit around Reach. We've all been cooped up in here for… I think eight days. Lots of high-protein meals and exercise,"
"Wow. Sounds fun," Jack chuckled. "But what did you mean, when you said I could be a replacement?"
"A lot of Spartans died or got completely disfigured by the augmentation. There's a replacement program in effect-they've got five or six highly trained Special Forces folks who fit the genetic requirements about to go in augmentation. Help even our losses,"
"But won't a lot of those guys die in augmentation too?"
"Of course. But thirty-five Spartans would be better than thirty-three," Sheila shrugged, looking a little depressed.
"One of your team was lost, huh?" Jack asked.
"…Yeah. Theodore. We called him Ted. Best hacker in the Spartan program. Gone, now. Gold Team isn't full strength-we'll need to bring in a new guy," Sheila shrugged again. "Gold's been together since we were kids. Won't be the same,"
"Maybe you'll get a replacement,"
"Way worse than getting another Spartan. Sure, they'll be augmented, but they won't be one of us. They'll just be a guy in our armor, with our augmentations," They stopped at outside Halsey's lab. Jack took a deep breath.
"You'll be fine. I'll vouch for you," Sheila said as she opened the door.
"Nabbed our intruder," She said to Halsey, who was behind a desk, typing faster than Jack had ever seen anyone type.
"Alright. Give him a sedative and strap him to a gurney. ONI will want to interrogate him, see how he bypassed so much security,"
"He's not the typical intruder. He's, what-" Sheila looked at Jack.
"Fourteen," He said.
"Fourteen. Obviously not an Innie,"
"They recruit younger all the time," Halsey sighed. "I'll handle him, Sheila,"
"Yes, ma'am. Go easy on him," Sheila motioned to a bed. Jack lay down. Sheila grabbed a needle from a counter. He offered an arm-what, she was cute-and she injected him. The world got kinda blurry, dizzy, fuzzy-and he was gone.
LBLBLB
Dr. Halsey finished her report. Then she decided to handle their intruder. First, she swabbed the inside of his cheek for DNA, for identification. His pockets had a wallet, an cell phone, and… a book. The wallet had a Montana state ID, with the year 2010 on it. Dr. Halsey frowned.
The book. It had a picture of three armored individuals-one with a UNSC assault rifle, two more in the background. The title was Halo: Fall of Reach. Halsey read the small summary on the back.
Impossible. It was like someone had written a creative but terrible, bloody book based on the near future with actual facts about the present. Halsey looked in the front of the book, flipped to a chapter about her Spartans' augmentations. Insane. But correct. But how did such a disturbed author get to know so many little facts about her Spartans? Things that were classified at the highest level?
And the ID. It was impossible. Ridiculous.
Jack started to wake up. His size made him look older than fourteen, but if her theory was correct, then that was what he was. A kid thrown into a bad situation.
ONI wouldn't see it this way. They would interrogate him and torture their intruder for days before cutting his throat and disposing of the body. Halsey decided right then that she wouldn't let that happen.
"This….this ain't a dream, huh?" Jack mumbled.
"No. I'm sorry," Halsey said.
"How do I get home?" He wondered.
"You might not be able to," Halsey tried to sound comforting.
"How did I get here?"
"I have a theory. It involves quantum mechanics, and it's very long, but I'll just say that I think you're from a parallel universe," Halsey said.
"But… what?"
"At the smallest subatomic level, at the quantum foam, the theory goes that parallel universes interact with each other. In theory micro-portals could have aligned for long enough to fit a human in," Halsey shrugged.
"How likely is that?" Jack frowned.
"Very, very unlikely. A lot of things are theoretically plausible in quantum physics. But it's the only theory I have. I need more data," Halsey raised an eyebrow at a computer monitor.
"What happens now?"
"That's an even harder question. I might be able to sneak you out. As Project Head, I might be able to get you away safely. Where you would go after that, I don't know,"
"You said 'might'," Jack frowned.
"Yes. I give it a fifty percent chance. But if I failed, you would be captured by the Office of Naval Intelligence. They don't take any intruders well-intruders in their most secret projects, even less. It would be assumed that you were an Insurrectionist, despite the evidence to the contrary. You would be tortured mercilessly until you were dead. You would be disposed of, and all evidence of your existence would be gone,"
"I'm hoping for a Plan B," Jack said.
"Well… it says here that you fit many of the genetic markers for augmentation. Hmm. I think I have a Plan B," Halsey shrugged.
"What is it?"
"We've learned a lot from the first batch of augmentations. You don't fit all of the requirements… but I could sneak you into the replacement program,"
"You're shitting me," Jack said.
"No. There would be a chance that you may have complications-"
"Like death?"
"Yes, but I think those can be minimized. You might make it," Halsey said.
"Lemme hear your Plan C,"
"I don't have one," Halsey said. "This is it,"
"So I have to choose between probably dying by slow torture or probably dying in my sleep in the attempt to become a Spartan?"
"Basically, yes,"
"I'm gonna go with plan B," Jack said weakly.
"I'll start right away," Halsey said.