Chapter 4: Earth

1430 Hours, December 23st, 2558

California, Planet Earth

UNSC Base 37B

"Just a warning sir, it might get a little loud." The pilot spoke through the intercom.

"Understood."

The pelican decelerated until it slowed to a crawl, and then hovered above the large concrete airfield. John rose from his seat and stood rigidly in front of the rear hatch. His posture and voice gave no emotions away, but deep inside him a storm raged. It was a furious bubbling mix of numerous weird feelings. Nervousness. Worry. Relieve. Fear.

The landing gears moved into position with a hydraulic hiss and the craft descended steadily. There was a slight jolt as the craft made contact with the greyish-white concrete and the pilot's voice blasted out of the speakers.

"We have landed, sir."

There was a soft whine as the hatch door opened. John stood on the metal floor, his muscles tense. A thousand questions raced through his mind. Would there be a welcoming party? Who would be standing outside? Was Doctor Halsey still alive? How about the remaining Spartan 2s? Where are they? Would I be staying at this base? Or would I be transferred to somewhere else?

The hatch opened and blinding white light flooded into the cabin. Then the white light grew even brighter as cameras flashed repeatedly. Reporters shot out question after question and held out microphones, eager to get their scoop on the arrival of the Master Chief, otherwise known as Sierra-117. But the Chief ignored them and walked straight ahead. The reporters quickly made way for him and eventually grew silent. Clearly none of them fancied getting crushed to death by the half-ton armor.

Then he recognized five familiar figures standing in the distance. He smiled slightly as he studied the five silhouettes. He quickened his pace.

"Oly oly oxen free," he whispered into his COM channel. The four words sounded strange to him. Seven syllabuses he spelt out, each one telling their own stories in his mind.

"Oly oly oxen free, all out in the free, we're all free." Three unified voices responded. Another smile crept up on his face. It was good to hear such a light and hearty response. It was good to hear their voices.

He approached the five-man team and sprang into a salute.

"Lord Hood, sir!" He barked. Then he pivoted slightly. "Doctor Halsey, ma'am!"

"At ease, Spartan-117."

John stepped out of his salute. A figure in front of him moved forward towards him.

There was a soft clank as two armor-clad figures embraced each other. One was slightly feminine with a rabbit emblem on her shoulder; the other was more muscular and with dents on his suit. Arms were wrapped around each other and the metallic surfaces rubbed noisily against each other.

"Kelly."

"John."

Two more figures joined the hug. Doctor Halsey looked on silently with tears in her eyes. She was tempted to join as well, but Lord Hood's presence called for formality.

"Linda. Fred."

"Good to see you, John. It has been a long time."

"Likewise, likewise. A long, long time indeed. Perhaps a little too long."

And then the six-strong party made their way towards the entrance of the UNSC base.

Minutes later he found himself sitting in Lord Hood's office on a reinforced chair. He looked around and saw nothing particularly impressive. A filing cabinet stood in one corner with a water dispenser beside it. On the opposite wall was a large screen that was currently switched off. Metal and plastic panels covered most of the ceiling and walls, and the floor was bare concrete. A Terrence Lord Hood sat behind a table, looking relaxed yet distinguished.

"Welcome back, Master Chief. We missed you. You have proven yourself extremely useful in the field. Without you we would not have survived the war."

"Thank you, sir. It wasn't a one-man job, sir. The credit goes to the entire UNSC. All of us. And all of those who sacrificed themselves. "

"I understand. Still, you are one unique soldier."

"Thank you, sir. What are my instructions?"

"You will stay here until given further notice. We are still trying to sort out some matters concerning your return. I am aware that it has been three weeks since your rescue, but… Let's just say that some of top brasses aren't very efficient. In the meantime you will be given a few days, maybe a few weeks of rest. Here's your room key." He pointed to a crystal chip on the table.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir"

"You may go now, Chief. It's good to have you back."

The Chief saluted once more, and then exited through the automatic doors.

Three more figures in titanium armor joined him as soon as he turned round the corner. The four giants made their way to the mess hall, obtained their extra-large portion of food and settled down at a table near the corner.

John stared at his deep fried chicken and the thick oily gravy covering his mashed potatoes. He prodded them cautiously with his fork and stared at his plate like a five-year-old.

"I thought we were supposed to eat healthy."

"Simulated food. Designed to be healthy with carefully measured amounts of calories, fats, cholesterol, vitamins, and any other complicated words you can think of. But healthy food hardly had any appeal on the outside, so they had to make it look good." Kelly-087 took a huge bite out of her chicken wing to demonstrate that it was safe to eat and wasn't going to blow anyone up into the size of an airship.

"Hmm."

John stuffed a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth cautiously, half expecting an unpleasant surprise but decided that it was rather edible, and then proceeded with the rest of his food.

"So what happened to you after the events at the Ark? Five years is a long time. Heard that you had fun floating in space."

"MIA. Aboard the other half of Forward Unto Dawn. Definitely not fun. How about you guys? The last time I heard about you, you were trapped on a shield world."

"Yes, trapped along with Doctor Halsey, a few Spartan 3s, and some ONI agents on a Micro-Dyson Sphere. Kilo Five rescued us." Frederic-104 spoke. He had an embarrassing gravy stain on his left cheek but made no effort to wipe it away. Probably the years spent in war had made all of them indifferent to dirt. He proceeded to indulge in another piece of chicken.

"What happened to your forehead?" John pointed at Kelly's face. There was a nasty brown scar running all the way from her forehead to her right cheek, ending behind her ear. It looked new as compared to all the other faded ones.

"Insurrectionists. A bunch of sadistic and idiotic bastards. I was sent on a mission to take out their main manufacturing plant for weapons. I got shot by two gauss rounds one after another in the head. Those things travel so fast it's hard to dodge. I wasn't in a good condition back then."

"Hmm. Alright now?"

"Nothing major."

"They're back? The insurrectionists?"

"Back after so many years, yes. With the covenant gone and the UNSC weakened they finally had a chance to strike back. Salvaged everything they could from planet after planet. They even got some of the remaining covenant forces to join them. Elite and brute rebels are now in their new alliance." This time Linda answered.

The four Spartans chatted for the next minutes. The insurrectionists had been a problem before the war. Now they were back. Not exactly good news for the UNSC.

After his meal he made a trip to the advanced armory to get his armor fixed. The guys aboard Soaring Grace apparently were slacking half of the time, or did not have enough parts to fix his suit.

As he walked past the firing range he saw a peculiar sight. There was someone in the firing range although the screen on the doors clearly said "No Entry to All Personnel" with bolded and underlined letters. John stopped, turned around and peered in through the window.

The person was definitely not a soldier. He didn't have that battle-hardened face; neither did he have the muscles and physique that was typical of a man trained in combat. He wore a white lab coat that exaggerated his small frame, and had a datapad in his hands. In front of him was a trolley filled with boxes and electrical apparatuses. Wires dangled from the trolley onto the floor looking like a massive mess of spaghetti. On top of the trolley was a robotic arm, painted black, and holding a weird weapon that John had never seen before.

It had a thick barrel with a small horizontal slot down its length. An angular composite-and-metal frame surrounded the barrel. Part of the plastic panel covering the bottom of the gun had been removed and a circuit board dangled from the weapon with a single wire suspending it like a pendulum. The rear of the gun was covered in a metal mesh. A small container, angular just like the rest of the gun, was attached to the bottom rear of the weapon, just in front of trigger. Presumably the magazine.

The scientist checked the wiring, keyed something into his datapad, cranked up a small red lever on the topmost level of the trolley and walked towards the blast shelter with a remote in his hands. The shelter was a make-shift one, constructed out of a few panels of titanium and a few energy shield projectors. The scientist disappeared behind the panels and the projectors kicked in, forming a yellow hemisphere around the entire contraption.

There was click as the remote was pressed. There was a brief high-pitched whine. Then the weapon fired with enough recoil to bend back the robotic arms. A glowing blue projectile shot across the room with a deafening sonic boom, and hit the concrete block a hundred meters down the range almost instantaneously, leaving a cloud of dust at the impact site and a hole in the concrete. Moments later part of the concrete block collapsed.

The man came out, cranked the lever up to its maximum, adjusted the gun, and then disappeared again behind the shelter. There was another click. But this time the gun didn't fire.

It blew up. A small explosion ripped the composite paneling apart and arcs of electrical discharge threatened to fry anything in its path. A small fire started in the barrel of the gun but disappeared soon after. The scientist came out cursing and attempted to remove the gun from the robotic arms, only to end up with burnt fingers. He shot out another round of brutal curses as he tried to retrieve the first-aid kit from the trolley.

John sighed, and then left. He slotted the crystal key into the reader and the hydraulic doors hissed open.

Then he sighed once more at the sight of his room. It was pathetically small for a person his size. A bed occupied almost half of the space available, with a small closet occupying another quarter. At least the washroom wasn't too far away.

Suddenly the small holographic screen on the wall switched on. A blue lady's face appeared on the screen for a second, then the image distorted and began to flicker.

"Jo.. John… I… I… I… can't… I can't… last… Jo… John…" A weak voice stuttered with increasing amounts of electrical interference in the background.

The image stopped flickering abruptly. The lady fell to the ground, her body looking withered and lifeless. The symbols scrolling around her figure froze and the purplish-blue glow surrounding her started to fade. She tried to crawl back up to her feet, struggled for a moment, and then fell back down to the floor. Then the screen went black.

Immediately after that a voice blasted through the speakers.

"Master Chief please report to Advanced Science Wing, Lab 16A immediately."

John froze. An alarm rang in his mind. His muscles tensed. And then he sprinted out of the room, accelerating until everything became a blur. His standard-issue boots could not take the strain and begun to tear at its seams. But he continued running. Just like what he did when he attempted to rescue Cortana from Gravemind.