So here is Chapter 2. Hope you guys enjoy it. Not too action packed, but we're getting there.
~SS
23rd April 2545
System: Unknown. Planet: Unknown.
UNSC Frigate H. Gurnsback in orbit of Covenant occupied planet.
"Captain Taylor, Sir." Dex stood to attention at the mouth of the door, to the back of the Commanding officer. Since acquiring his new armour, he hadn't taken it off. He felt that if people knew his actual age, they wouldn't take him seriously and would treat him as a child. Being a Spartan meant he got the best equipment, but being a Spartan that worked alone meant that a lot more was invested in him. Section 3 in ONI was a big deal. A lot of prototype equipment was designed and made from within this branch (not just the Spartan III program). Being a sniper specialist gave him access to Project: GUNGIR, more specifically the MJOLNIR armour variants. The GUNGIR helmet provides total protection of the wearers face, using a small sensory output to project the wide angle view to a wide screen on the inside of the helmet. On his right shoulder a supplementary bandoleer, semi-rigid, with anti-material rounds. On his left the base security shoulder pauldron, originally manufactured in 2528 (you gotta respect the classics). His chest was an array of explosives, on an Assault/Sapper vest. Back on Onyx he was trained in sabotage as a secondary specialisation. A handy skill for a lone wolf, who would need to cover their tracks. While not so subtle, it was effective. Attached to the left strap was a large blade, concealed in a sheath. A blade he was very proficient with. On his right wrist, a state of the art Tactical/UGPS. Especially useful for tracking. Located on the thigh of his right leg, nestled a tactical soft case. To round it off the armour was a total black. Even his visor, although small, was darkened.
Realising the Captain hadn't replied to him yet, the Spartan cleared his throat and spoke again. "Sir..." Taylor straightened from his leant position at the tactical map, lifting his head. "I heard you the first time Spartan." By the tone of his voice, the Captain didn't sound happy. "You wanted to see me, Sir?" The older man turned to face the Spartan. "Yes, I did." He eyed the sensory output. Dex felt as though the Veteran as staring into his soul, despite the fact he was hidden by the helmet. "I know you Spartan types, as soon as you turn up, everything becomes classified. Now we're deep in Covvie territory, with no back up. Hell, I don't even know what system we're in, let alone what planet we're orbiting." His voice was raised toward the end. Dex reeled a little at the sharpness, but tried not to show it. "Sir, I.." Again, the Captain interrupted him. "And now we're going to just drop you via one of our Drop Pods? You people have no respect for us grunts." The Captain seethed out the last word. Dex kept silent, not wishing to test Taylors patience. The man scoffed, turning back to the map. "I suppose we need to get you up to date with the plan." he gestured to the map. Dex made his way over to the map, leaning over the visual interface. If Taylor was still mad or not, he didn't let it show. "We'll you drop in one hour." He tapped a button on the side of the table, and the picture zoomed in. "This is temple, or whatever, that ONI wants you to target. They think that there is something valuable that the Covenant is hiding in there. You're job is to get in, get the data, and get out." Taylor stood up. "Is that clear, Spartan?" The young man nodded to the Captain. "Okay, go gear up. You drop in 50." He snapped to a salute. "Yes Sir!" Dex turned and made his way out the tac room. Before he reached the door, the Captain called him. "Spartan!" Dex faced him. "Give 'em hell." He smiled behind his visor, and left the room. Taylor turned to face the screen again. "I hope that kid knows what he's doing, Sheila." The AI appeared on the stand to his left. The mechanised voice of the woman filled the room. "He has been trained by some of the best, Sir. He can do it." He huffed and let out a sigh. "We all hope he can."
UNSC Frigate H. Gurnsback
Subdeck Three: Armoury
15 minutes to drop
Making his way into the armoury, already geared up with explosives on his Sapper chest piece, he needed the final set of equipment. His sniper rifle. While he would take a battle rifle with him, the sniper would be the favoured weapon. The Sniper Rifle System 99 Anti-Matériel. Better known as the SRS99. While it has been in use since 2460, it is still used by snipers everywhere. The distinctive white water vapour trail has been a terrifying sight for enemies everywhere. Covenant or Insurrection. Strapping the large 14.5mm calibre rifle to his back, he felt another presence enter the room. A hostile presence. "Hey what are you doing with our stuff!" Dex heaved a large sigh. ODST's. He hated ODST's. Probably almost, stressing the almost, as much as they hated him. "On a mission." The ODST who first walked in snorted, as two other ODST's joined him. "What kind of mission?" The soldiers tone was hostile. "The kind that stops the covenant." Dex knew that probably wasn't the best response to give, but he wasn't going to let them intimidate him. He might be 15 years younger than them, but he still towered over the Veteran Drop soldiers. "You trying to be funny, Spartan?" The ODST was moving forward to him, angrier now. The smarter side of Dex's brain told him to stop and ignore them. He chose to ignore it. "Trying to do my job." The ODST snapped, charging the Spartan, roaring in anger. Before he knew it, the older man was face down on the aluminium floor, the cold of a blade pressed into his neck. "I think its best we don't speak of this, no?" Dex released the Drop trooper, who shook his shoulders, muttering to the others, walking out the room. The Spartan smiled under his faceless helmet. 1-0. He moved to the elevator and pressed the button for subdeck four. The Drop Station.
UNSC Frigate
Subdeck Four: Drop Station
2 minutes to drop
Dex decided he didn't like drop pods. The Single Occupant Exoatmospheric Insertion Vehicle or Egg, as ODST's referred it to as, was a death trap. Being strapped into the crash seat facing the hatch, and his certain death, was something Dex was not comfortable with. The integrated communications module displayed his current target, ETA and his pods condition (thankfully reading: Optimal). The computerised voice of Sheila entered countdown. "One minute to drop." A rumble sounded through the hull of the pod brought him to attention. The Titanium-A, Lead-Foil and ceramic skin of the SOEIV should have been comforting to him. It wasn't. Before the drop, he'd read up on the schematics of the pods. A decision he was quickly starting to regret. During re-entry the ceramic skin melts and sheds away, replaced by the Lead-Foil to keep the armour together. "Thirty seconds to drop." Sheila brought him back once more. The pod groaned as it moved toward the drop area. Dex checked his straps once more, paranoid now. Obviously the checking went quicke than he thought, since Sheila's next words nearly made him jump out of his skin. "Five seconds to drop." His breath hitched in his throat. Before he knew it, the exterior went from the black inner hull of the Gurnsback, to the black depths of space. Suddenly all of His worry faded away with the drop. While the drop from space to atmo was relatively short, to Dex it was an eternity. The moment shattered, much like the particle barrier he hit, as the pod entered the atmosphere of the planet. The ceramic outer shell began to disintegrate, as the pod shuddered. Dex read that it was at this point that the air on the inside the pod becomes unbearable. If you weren't in sealed armour, that is. He could feel the heat inside the pod, but it didn't bother him too much. He was much more worried about the later stage. He looked at the height reading, on the pods interface. As it hit 3000 feet the pod decelerated at a high rate, as the upper exterior panels separated, acting as a drag-type chute and slowing the SOEIV's descent. It wasn't this part that worried him either. The part that most worried him, was the final 50 meters. During the Final Fifty, the pod's computer controlled jet breaks slow it down to a speed that allows the survival of the user. On rare occasions, the pod's break systems would fail, leaving the occupant to die on impact. Digging you're own grave referred to by the ODST's. It was the worst possible way for an ODST to go. While Dex was confidant in UNSC equipment, he locked his armour at 500 feet.
Dun dun duhhh! What's gonna happen? Well I'll get to that next week, till then you'll have to wait! Anyway, tell me what you guy think! Again, open to suggestions. Thanks for stopping by!
