- SECTION ONE: SPARTAN TRAINING -
CHAPTER ONE
2200 HOURS, AUGUST 2ND, 2538 (UNSC MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM, NEAR CAMP CURRAHEE, PLANET ONYX
The thrusters of the D77-TC Pelican pounded on the eardrums of the sixteen children sitting inside; none of them were talking, some were weeping silently in their seats whilst others sat stoic and green-faced - looking quite nauseated. The interior of the Pelican dropship was extremely dark; the only source of illumination radiated from buoyant blood-red auxiliary lamps covered over by titanium plating.
It was extremely cold in the troop bay of the dropship, a crisp icy breeze swept over the faces of the junior occupants of the Pelican - who were shivering and had brought their knees to their chests. It seemed like years were passing as they traversed over open terrain towards Camp Currahee.
At last, the Pelican had slowed to a halt and descended upon a landing pad surrounded by a circular pattern of orange lights. The children piled out and surveyed their surroundings, some looking at the hundreds of other children around them and looking nervous - but some had their eyes fixed on the two men standing in front of them.
"It's a knight!" One of the children said in an awed tone.
"No way..." Another said with his mouth agape, staring in admiration at the seven foot tall man in front of him.
The children were led over to the man standing in the titanium green-coloured MJOLNIR armour, a sense of uncertainty coursed through the minds of the children as the man's face was hidden behind a polarised gold visor. The armour plates were bulky and angular; the shoulder pieces were curved and bulbous, and had the image of a black Greek Spartan helmet on it.
"Welcome to Camp Currahee," the knight in the green armour spoke. "My name is Kurt; I'm here to offer you the chance of a lifetime. I know of the contortions you've been through, that is why you are here; I'm offering you a chance to get revenge on the Covenant, a chance for you to become the best soldiers the UNSC has to offer, I'm giving you the chance to become like me: a Spartan."
A series of excited murmurs broke out amongst the hundreds of children; each one of them had been orphaned when the Covenant had come to their planets and killed their friends and family. They'd been taken by ONI operatives and brought to the planet Onyx to become super soldiers in secret, to make sacrifices that nobody would ever know about, to become unspoken expendable heroes.
"Not all of you will be able to become Spartans, however," Kurt continued once the chatter amongst the children subsided. "The training you'll be receiving will show me which of you have it in yourselves to cope with whatever is thrown at you; my assistant - Senior Chief Petty Officer Mendez - and a team of drill instructors will be putting you through tests over the next few years to assess your strengths and develop your skills. Good luck to you all."
A tall balding man in a grey military fatigues stood beside Kurt and nodded to him; he had an extremely stern look on his face and the four hundred and eighteen candidates immediately got the message: This was not a man to screw around with.
"You kids wanna be Spartans?" He suddenly barked at the children. When none of them replied, he turned to one and pointed at him. "You, I asked you a question! I guess we have ourselves a washo -"
The child clenched his fists and glared at Mendez; he was completely outraged and taken aback for being singled out.
"I wanna be a Spartan, I wanna kill Covenant!" The child growled; his head bowed towards the floor.
"What's your name, son?" Mendez asked, lowering his tone a little.
"J... Jack, sir."
"Then get the hell back in that Pelican; you're going for a night-time drop! All of you!"
The children were lead off in single file back to their Pelicans by the Drill Instructors; each one of the children were looking a little apprehensive as they flew ten feet, twenty feet... fifty feet into the air before coming to a stop several hundred feet above the place they'd just landed.
Each one of them was handed a backpack with dual red cords hanging down the shoulder area; the Drill Instructors had told them - some with smiles on their faces that were not reassuring - that they were going to be jumping out the back of the Pelican and would have to land in one of the areas with the green flare (as they said it, a trail of lime green smoke wafted into the night).
"You're mad," one of the candidates said. "I don't wanna do it!"
"Then you can't be a Spartan," growled one of the Drill Instructors - a twisted look of satisfaction on his face. "If you can't do this, go and sit down; the rest of you will form a line and jump out one by one."
The first child peered over the edge of the Pelican and stumbled backwards, his face screwed up in fear and he looked as if he was on the verge of tears.
"Next!" The Drill Instructor called, pointing the child - now quietly sobbing - to sit next to the other one who'd refused to jump.
"I'll do it," a girl smiled cheerfully. This prompted a look of surprise from the Drill Instructor, but he kept his tone stoic.
"Good girl. When you jump, count to ten and then pull the cords. Some discomfort will be normal."
The girl nodded and took a deep breath; she took a small run up, made a small squeaking noise, jumped and disappeared from sight.
"Next!"
Jack - the boy Mendez had called out earlier - trudged up to the edge of the Pelican and steeled his emotions. If I'm not looking down, I could do it, he thought to himself.
He pivoted so that he was facing the interior of the troop bay, the Drill Instructor looked as if he was about to call the next candidate up but Jack simply fell back and plummeted through the air.
It was an exhilarating feeling; all Jack could hear was the sound of the wind pounding against his eardrums, he could feel the damp air of the night on his face as he dropped face-first towards the ground.
8...9...10!
A voice in his head had been counting down; upon reaching ten he reached for the cords on his backpack and tugged them. He felt an immediate tugging sensation around his waist and he was hoisted about five feet higher as his parachute opened up, he directed it over towards the green fog and tucked his legs in to his chest. The landing was rougher than he'd expected, he hit the ground with a thud and nearly toppled over; an armoured hand reached out and caught him, Jack looked up and saw his face reflected in the golden visor of Kurt.
"That was a great start," he nodded encouragingly. "Only a few six year olds could have done that as well as you, congratulations."
A feeling of pride began to well up inside Jack; it warmed him up inside and - for what felt like the first time in weeks - smiled. The girl who had jumped before him came running up to him, she looked flustered - her dark blonde hair in a mess around her face - and grinned at him too.
"You were brilliant; you beat me by a meter. I'm Miranda by the way."
"I'm Jack," he said, quite taken aback by the amount of praise he'd received in the past two minutes.
"Yeah, I saw that Mendez person call you out. He's not very nice, is he?"
"No," Jack agreed sincerely, "he's not."
"D'you... wanna be friends?" She asked, a look of innocence forming on her face. "I don't have any friends anymore; daddy said that they were taken away by bad people, and he's gone too."
"Sure, the same thing happened to me. We've gotta stick together."
Jack and Miranda shook hands; the start of their long journey together - that would lead them down a road no other Spartan had gone down - had begun.
"Is this going to be a problem?" Mendez asked Kurt. The two men were watching the candidates from a distance as the others touched down from their drop - looking either terrified or beaming with excitement.
"I think not," Kurt replied. "Their friendship might just give them the extra motivation to survive; they'll need to have something they consider worth fighting for."
"Each other?"
"Spartans don't have a lot of choice, Chief. It's why I take the time to talk to others; I keep reminding myself that I'm fighting for good people, it helps. Spartan-IIIs have to learn to rely on each other as much as themselves."
"Want me to keep an eye on them?"
"They've already shown a remarkable amount of bravery and spirit, they'll be great Spartans," Kurt concluded; he folded his arms and felt an emotion inside him rise: Hope. It filled him up with a steely determination to make Beta Company the best they could be.
Mendez gave a laugh that sounded more like a bark: "I'll take that as a yes. What makes you think they're so special?"
Kurt unfolded his arms; he turned his head to his former trainer, considered the question for a second and finally said quietly:
"Just a feeling..."