XXxxXX
NORMANDY SR-2
John sat in his "room" and cleaned his weapons. He had done it so many times that he could easily do it blindfolded. He was unclear of what to think about Shepard and her team. Shepard seems to be a kind hearted woman… with a dead aim. Her team, well that was another story. The Spartan thought that a team accompanying one of the galaxy's heroes would be extremely disciplined and soldiers. But they were mercs and warriors, which was a cause of concern. It meant that they probably didn't follow rules of engagement or do not have that military precision. He certainly did miss the professionalism in the UNSC armed forces. He had the feeling that Shepard still does not trust him fully. He felt truly alone right now, no one knew his past; no one knew who he truly was or what he went through. He hoped that one day he would be able to return home. To where things made sense.
John ran his gloved hand through his neatly cropped brown hair and then rubbed his forehead.
The Spartan checked his armour; so far everything about it was clean. He took the moment to reflect, he had to find a way to get back to the Ark, but he doubt that the Portal was still functional. New Mombasa and Voi were some of the first places bombarded. But he placed those thoughts aside as he stared into the abyss of space, there were more pressing concerns at hand. John needed to further his knowledge in his knew environment; so far, he had acquired information on all recorded species regarding their culture, combat strengths and weaknesses. The species that posed most threat to the Spartan would have to be the Asari, due to their biotic abilities. There were also data Yahg, and it showed that the species were grounded on their own planet for their aggressive tendencies as they had slaughtered Citadel delegates attempting to form political relations with them.
So with his knowledge on recorded species up to date, John flicked on his laptop and decided to read articles on Kinetic Barriers, Weapons, Planets, and general history. In truth the Spartan didn't really know what to do, he was following his training, adapt, engage and survive. He found it odd that he was helping a world in which he held no real stake in. He could now understand why some humans ran instead of fighting alongside the UNSC. That was the sad truth; John had no stake in the H.S.A. or the Citadel for that matter. Yet he still fought with Shepard, it was his purpose. The past few weeks had been hectic and left little time for the Spartan to wind down and consolidate his current predicament. Sure he was to protect humanity but the more he thought about it, the H.S.A. was no longer UNSC humanity. That was where John's true allegiance lay, with the UNSC. But for now, he decided he would help Shepard achieve her goal, and maybe find a way to get back home in the process.
The Spartan leaned back into the chair and grabbed a long cylindrical object that had been clamped onto his thigh. It was a hit with a slightly curved end and had ornamental carvings into its chrome cover. The weapon had been a gift from the Arbiter to John, it is an energy sword which had been modelled after a Chinese Miao Dao Sword, it was created by the finest Sangheili Weapons Smiths. The Spartan had never used the weapon in combat before, as he preferred to take out his targets from a distance, but he knew the psychological toll of these weapons. He had seen Elites apply it in Combat many times during the final days of UNSC's presence on Earth. Whenever an energy sword would crackle to life, enemy Grunts tend to run away in fear, allowing the Coalition time to cut down the Brutes and Yahg. The image of one being cut in half in a swift stroke would terrify many, and in war, if one had the psychological edge over the enemy, then the said person has effectively won.
XXxxXX
After getting something to eat, Jane spent most of her time in her quarters and started to brood. She always found the soft music and the gentle lights relaxing as she lay on her bed in her casual fatigues.
John, possibly the best soldier and the greatest mystery on her ship, it didn't exactly help that he wasn't going to open up to anything. He kept mostly to himself and appeared when asked for. That kind of behaviour normally indicated a soldier that had a traumatic experience yet is still held together by sheer willpower, discipline and determination of seeing something through. Shepard didn't exactly like that, there was a strong possibility that during combat, the Spartan would snap and endanger all the lives around him. If she wanted her team to be fully functional and a partner to trust, she'd have mandate some kind of therapy session for him. With her being the therapist, which in a twisted sense, was a nice way of saying interrogator, but Jane knew that if she was going to talk to the Chief, it would have to be off the Normandy and on a planet. Jane wouldn't be too surprised that the Illusive Man would have the ship bugged. However, Shepard had thoroughly swept the ship for bugs and it came clean. So if all went swimmingly, the Illusive Man will never know about John until it's too late. Jane had already talked to Miranda about not mentioning the Super Soldier to Illusive Man, which Miranda was only too grateful to comply, especially after recent events. Though the Cerberus Operative did mention about her head being on a pike if Illusive Man ever learnt about her – insubordination, yet truth be told, Miranda was never really found of Illusive Man, some of the projects he had her oversee made her stomach churn.
Jane hated the Illusive Man with a passion, half the time she wondered if he actually did have humanity's best interest at heart rather than personal game, on many occasions it seemed like the latter.
Shepard then dropped the matter for the time being and got changed into fatigues; it was time for a work out session.
XXxxXX
"INCOMING!" yelled Fred, right before he and Kelly were engulfed by plasma flames.
"JOHN!" cried Linda, "JUMP!"
The Spartan felt himself being tossed into the air, his skin blistering from the searing heat as his dual shields overloaded. He felt himself crashing into the dirt. But then something happened, something John never expected to see. It was a thick tentacle that looked like it was composed of thousands of dead bodies. He knew that skin texture. And once the ashes had settled did John see the monument of sins, Gravemind.
"Child of my makers," a deep low voice said in iambi pentameter, "your world has fallen, had you chose to join your voice with mine, together, we would have sung everlasting victory."
"He's right John," said a feminine voice, it sounded like Cortana's except older.
Then one of the bodies on the tentacles stirred.
"It is inevitable John."
The Spartan watched in horror as the body detached its torso from the tentacle. John felt immobilised; he couldn't accept what he was seeing. It was too painful to accept what he was seeing. The body was Dr Halsey, half decayed and yet still whole enough to be identified. Her skin was pale and pasty, the life had faded from her eyes, and her arms were grotesquely fused into the Gravemind. She was becoming one with it.
John's eyes burst open… it was another nightmare. Even the Gravemind still haunted him to this very day. He could see the irony in it all. The Thinking Dead still haunts the living, even if they've come to pass.
The Spartan took a moment to collect himself and sat up.
"I need to see someone about this," he muttered.
He pulled himself up and swung his legs off the couch.
His HUD indicated that he was sweating from his forehead and upper body. He had slept in his suit… again. The Spartan didn't bother taking it off as he left his quarters and proceeded to the kitchen and quickly grabbed what appeared to be soup and a bottle of water. He then quickly returned back to his room and set his food down so that he could take off his helmet. After setting down his gear, John tucked into the soup, it tasted like beef broth and potatoes which he found to be quite pleasing. Although when he munched on what appeared to be meat, he couldn't help but chuckle lightly. No matter how advanced humanity had become, dehydrated meat always tasted wrong.
The Spartan finished the rest of the contents in the bowl and placed his gloves back on. He then proceeded out of his room with his helmet tucked under one arm and his finished meal in the other and the bottle of water in his pouch. Many of the crew were surprised to see face of the armoured enigma and kept staring as he entered the kitchen. The blue hue of the lighting was a comforting effect to the Spartan; it also reminded him of Cortana.
As he headed for the doors, it opened and revealed Shepard with her brown hair tied in a ponytail and wearing a t-shirt, shorts and sport shoes.
"Shepard," John nodded courteously.
"Chief, I'm heading to the gym, care to join me?" she asked.
Well I have nothing better to do, John thought. "Sure, lead the way."
The two navigated through the hallways of the ship, and as John looked around and at the reflective surfaces, a small smile spread across his lips.
"Penny for your thoughts?" asked Jane as the two walked.
"The military ships I've been on, luxury themes were far from the engineers' minds."
"Care to explain that one?"
"Well UNSC ships don't have designer themes; it's just grey metal corridors with the generic rectangular shape, white lights and signs. That's it."
"Sounds bland."
"Our ships were just built for war; they weren't made to look pretty. The newer models are less of an eyesore."
"So what you're saying is, H.S.A. ships are prettier than UNSC ships?" chuckled Shepard.
"Effectively, yes."
"Well we need to sit down and have a talk about you sometime, obviously groundside."
"I take it, that's a dinner and a movie followed by a walk on the beach?" John joked.
Shepard rolled her eyes at him, "you do have a sense of humour, looks like Miranda owes me a drink. But I'd like a full story from you, rather than a half-heartedly told one."
John smiled at the fact that this brief conversation had made him a bit closer with Shepard; this in turn had put some of his doubts to ease. Jane was clearly a delightful woman, very kind, gentle, and had strong morals, yet against all logic, she goes running around ripping mercs and pirates with her biotics and slots them between their eyes with her rifle.
…
Jane found John to be a likeable person; it was probably due to him not wearing his helmet which gave him a more human outlook. But when that helmet was on, he looked like a killing machine, precise and horrifyingly efficient. She couldn't help but wonder what his earlier life was. So far, all she had known about him was that he was part of the UNSC that existed on Earth well over millennia ago, and they were in possession of technology that would rival Protheans. But then they were engaged in a long war that pushed humanity to the edge of extinction which caused drastic measures to have been taken. If all of it was true, than the H.S.A. are remanent of the UNSC. It seemed farfetched, but evidence seemed to point on the contrary.
"Well, here we are, the gym," said Shepard as the two walked in.
…
"Armour off," said Shepard, "I don't know how much you weigh in that thing, but it looks heavy and I don't want the machines to be broken."
"Okay," replied John.
The gym seemed more welcoming than any UNSC gym John had ever been in, the blue hue and the curvature of the walls drew away from the fact he was on a warship. He eyed a free corner and moved over there. The Spartan's armour popped with a hiss of air as the seal was broken. The armour plates then began to unlock allowing John to take them off and set them down with relative ease. Finally he had to remove the black bodysuit, the Hydrostatic Crystal/Positronic Brain layer peeled off him, and he folded them up neatly. John completed the feat in less than three minutes as he had done it on numerous occasions.
The Spartan now stood in UNSC fatigues which consisted of a t-shirt, pants and combat boots.
John headed over to the treadmill, and set it to maximum, evidently these weren't made to cater Spartans but it would just have to do.
…
Shepard began to start by lifting weights, her entire torso tensed as she lifted the weights, it was a testament to how hard she could punch, and in this case, hard enough to knock out a Turian with one hit. Once done, she moved onto other workout stations, but after half an hour Jane began to notice how long the droning sound had gone on for. It was the sound of the treadmill's engines and surface whirring. She stopped her routine to look up and still found John running at the same pace, and hadn't broken a sweat. The brunette could instantly tell that he was a Super Soldier of a totally different league.
Thirty minutes and he's still running faster than any of us can, not a single drop of sweat. That's got to be something, thought Shepard.
"Commander Shepard," it was EDI, "there is an urgent message from Admiral Hackett," the monotonous voice said.
"Got it," replied Shepard, "I'll take it in my quarters."
Jane got up and grabbed a towel, and wiped the perspiration from her face. She then exited the gym and headed back to her room.
Once in her quarters, Shepard walked briskly over to her console and switched it on. Hackett then appeared on screen.
"Shepard good to see you," the Admiral greeted.
"Likewise."
"How's our guest doing?"
"Fine, and very impressive."
"Very good," the Admiral nodded, "listen, our Intel boys have gotten wind of undercover Eclipse mercs on Eden Prime. We don't sanction merc presence on that colony, so whatever they're up to, can't be good. A flyby done by a drone over the docks where the mercs have rented out, shows that they're moving a plane of unknown origin. Several analysts I trust believe that, that plane is UNSC made."
Of course, there were analysts that went with Shepard down into the UNSC bunker; no doubt they were people loyal to Hackett.
"So what do you need me to do?"
"You and One-one-seven are to infiltrate the port area under control of Eclipse and retrieve that craft. Intel says that the bird has direct energy weapons and other technology that we don't want falling into the wrong hands. If Cerberus or anyone else gets that plane, we could be in over our heads. Right now, I'm busy covering up a few things so that the Council won't be giving Anderson a hard time. Deployment of Alliance Units will make the populace get jumpy and our merc friends might leave before we get the chance to act. But you won't be on your own, I have a couple of agents at the docks, who will cut surveillance for you, I'd have them take the Dropship but I'm afraid that'll destroy the trust between us and One-one-seven."
"Got it. Anything else you got on the bird?"
"Yes, I'm sending you the pictures and Intel on this op now."
"Okay, I'll get onto this asap."
"You'll be operating in an urban environment that won't be used to fully geared soldiers; I suggest you wear something less conspicuous."
"Such as?" Shepard asked.
"Your ceremonial uniform should do the trick; it'll help you get around without question. I'll send you warrants and papers to help you get past things, but I want this op kept on a down low, so kill as little people as you can. Good luck Shepard, out." The link was then disconnected.
"Looks like the Chief's story is becoming more believable," Shepard muttered to herself as she took off her clothes and took a quick shower.
She let the warm water cascade down her body as she detached herself from the moment before having to jump right back in. After two minutes of bliss, Jane shut the water off and stepped out of the shower. She quickly reached for a towel and wrapped it around her body before heading out. Jane sat herself down on her bed and held her holopad and looked at the photos of the plane. It was long, sleek and beautiful, and had four engines on it, two large thrusters at the end of the main wings, and two smaller engines at the tail.
XXxxXX
Shepard stood at Normandy's bridge in her H.S.A. Dress Uniform. After taking a quick glance of things and checking up with Kelly, Jane headed over to Joker.
"Hey Commander, what's up?" he always asked as his chair swivelled around.
"Just checking up on things, how are you?"
"So far so good, though I feel like EDI is trying to horn in on my work though."
"I am simply offering my services to aid you with tasks that you do not need to worry about," interjected EDI.
"You two, be nice," said Shepard, showing her maternal side.
"You know, you'd make a great mother," smirked Joker, "dibs being the awesome uncle."
Shepard rolled her eyes.
"But in all seriousness, I do like the Chief, nice guy. Very polite. You know, I thought he would be like Grunt or some other loose cannons around here, but he's quite. He's like my polar opposite."
"Good to know you're not hostile to him," smiled Shepard, "anyway, I need you to plot a course to Eden Prime; Hackett has got a mission for me and the Chief."
"Copy that Commander, is that why you're all dressed up?" Joker asked suggestively.
Shepard just sighed and walked back to the control room. And next to the holomap, stood the Chief in his armour and his helmet tucked under his arm.
"You called?" he asked in his deep voice.
"Hackett has a mission for us; he says that you can help out. It seems that Eclipse mercs are carrying out an op on Eden Prime, as you know merc presences on Eden Prime is strictly prohibited unless they have warrant. But in this case, they don't. From the Intel that has been gathered, the mercs are undercover and trying to smuggle out a plane." Shepard said as she handed John the holopad that contained images of the plane.
John instantly recognised the craft. It is the UNSC Osprey Dropship, which had replaced the UNSC Pelican Dropship after the discovery of the Forerunner Archives. A combination of UNSC innovation and Forerunner technology had produced excellent outcomes, some were upgrades to vehicles, and others were replacements. The Osprey had three bay doors, allowing faster dismount during combat situations and its passengers to rappel down, thus reducing the aircraft's exposure to AA fire. The Dropship also possessed active shields, anti-missile system, and enough armaments to level a building. The AGMs, plasma missile pods, and DEW Gatling guns made the Osprey versatile enough to participate in assaults and support roles without the need for escorts.
"It's a UNSC Osprey Dropship, the workhorse of the UNSC Armed Forces. It has energy shields, anti-missile capabilities and DEWs."
"Impressive. Anyway, Hackett wants us to retrieve that bird and keep the operation on a down low. He doesn't want the technology of the Osprey in the wrong hands."
John agreed with the statement, though he couldn't help but wonder what happens when he gets the Dropship back. It was possible that H.S.A. would want to horde the technology in the Osprey for themselves. To the Spartan, they weren't UNSC, so if they wanted to get their hands on the Osprey, protocol dictated that the Chief would be forced to destroy it.
"We'll be operating in a civvie environment so you need to wear something less conspicuous than your armour. A tall man in a ton of armour is conspicuous enough."
"Well what should I wear?"
"Hackett suggested military dress uniform, as it would help us move in quickly without question. Only problem is, all of mine are tailored for… me."
"That would be problematic."
"Not to worry, the Normandy has a suit making machine, it's on the second level. If you have the plans for your desired clothes, the machine should be able to make it for you."
"Sounds good, I'll order the dress uniform I normally wear."
"I don't see why not."
If the Spartan chose to wear his own Dress Uniform, that would be his own choice, wearing a Systems Alliance uniform when not enlisted is punishable as death for it could be seen as espionage. No doubt some disgruntled top brass would try to pull something like that. Having John wear his own clothing would avert any unwanted attention away from the Alliance.
And with that, John headed off.
"He seems to be more open now," said Kelly who was observing nearby.
"It would be nice to see him relax," quipped Shepard, "whatever he went through to make him the way he is, must've been bad."
"He may never fully recover, but I'm sure you'll bring him as close to normal can be," said Kelly.
Jane watched as John walked out of the bridge, she noticed how he gave way to Miranda who was walking, a gentlemen like gesture.
"Shepard," Miranda said politely, "can I talk to you for a moment?"
"Sure."
The two women moved to the back of the bridge well out of earshot from the other crew members.
"Once again Shepard, I'd like to thank you for helping me save my sister," Miranda whispered.
"Glad I could help."
"I also would like to ask you about the Chief," Miranda cleared her throat, "I was wondering if we could rely on him? If we could trust him?"
"What are you saying Miranda? The Chief's a good soldier and I'll take all the help I can get."
"You dug him out of the ground. In a bunker that doesn't match anything in our databases."
"Similar case with Grunt."
"I know, but Grunt just fights for the hell of it, he follows you because he respects you," said Miranda, hitting the nail dead in the head, "the Chief, is a Commander, his last name is a serial code or he doesn't want us to know, what does that say? He's bigger than the average male and his skin is unnaturally pale which means he spends a great deal in that armour. We know next to nothing about his past our how he was made, and he's smarter than Grunt by far."
"Cut to the chase Miranda."
"How do we know what he fights for? How do we know if he's loyal to us? He's a Commander, and if he's lying then it's a damn smart lie. How do we know he's not going to backstab us? I know he was with us when we went to save my sister…"
"He also killed the most men, more than us combined," interjected Shepard.
"Exactly, but what stake does he have in us? He's a soldier without purpose, he's a black ops soldier, and those two aren't the greatest mix."
"I understand you concern Miranda, but we dug him up on Earth, evidence shows that he was there for a helluva long time, which means he's from the same place we come from. He's shown little emotion because he probably has forgotten how to, whatever war he was in, it was bad. I intend to ask him about it someday when we have a moment to rest. When we first pulled him out, I could tell that he was bewildered, that's something you can't fake."
"I'm not questioning his legitimacy; I'm questioning his history and motives."
"His motives? He wants to go home Miranda. His history? His life is a rough one."
"Which leads me to my next concern Shepard. What happened to humanity a thousand years ago? Who are the UNSC?"
"I don't know, but their technology is something that far surpasses ours. We'll need their help against the Reapers."
"Shepard, I trust your judgement, but be careful with the Chief."
"Miranda, we have a psychopathic convict with biotics living in engineering, and a Drell Assassin close in life support, what's the worst that could happen with the Chief?"
"I could image a lot of bad things."
"Miranda," Shepard spoke once more to calm down the Cerberus Operative, "he is a disciplined soldier who fights by military doctrine, he's not a loose cannon."
"I'd feel better if we knew if his first name," Lawson frowned.
"I'd rather not press him."
…
An hour or so later, John returned. His new attire caused some of the crew to turn their heads. And as Shepard looked away from her messages, she could see why. The Spartan's Dress Uniform was… beautiful. Jane also noticed the two M7SCs and a long cylindrical object attached to the side of his thighs.
The uniform John wore, was exclusively for SPARTAN-IIs. It was a black suit, with a standing collar and a tie. Chrome buttons, black gloves and a black belt that lay on the middle and two parallel silver strips that ran down the left side of the blazer. In his left hand, he cradled a UNSC Officer's hat, which had a white top, and the UNSC emblem in the front centre.
"You dress up nicely Chief," commented Shepard.
"Thanks. But I feel naked."
True, many UNSC personnel who wore armour felt exposed without it. Hell, the Chief had seen Spartans and Tier One operatives who would rather sleep in their armour rather than their bunks. Armour made people feel safe, and that is where John would feel safe, in his armour. But he remembered what Mendez said so long ago. "Technology and armour are expendable, don't rely on them to much or you won't get far without them." Every ounce of that statement was true. Tier One operatives were normally deployed in civilian garbs before putting their armour on. John remembered his first deployment was like that, but back then, he didn't have the MJOLNIR armour. Just a BDU.
Shepard too understood the feeling, though she didn't fully comprehend it. Tali's dependency on her suit gave Jane a rough idea.
"Okay, follow me to the armoury so we can get geared up."
…
"Even the armoury looks more luxurious then my quarters on a UNSC ship," John commented as he entered.
"Your designers must turn a blind eye on comfort," chuckled Shepard.
The two walked up to Jacob, who then turned to face them.
"Hello Commander, how can I help you?"
"Well, the Chief and I are going to be deployed in an urban environment on Eden Prime; we could use a couple of inconspicuous gear to help us."
"I got just the things," said Jacob as he opened a few cabinets and retrieved two COM sets, Kinetic Barrier generators and an Omni-tool.
Shepard and John promptly attached their gears and tested them.
"Systems are green," John said.
"Same here," added Shepard.
"And before I forget," John said, "you need to take this, it's a stealth op." The Spartan had un-holstered an M7SC plus a couple of mags to Shepard.
"Thanks."
"Chief, do you have an Omni-tool?" asked Jacob.
"Don't need one," replied the Spartan as he pulled up his left sleeve to reveal a tacpad.
"Looks like you two will be fine," said Jacob, "anything else I can help you with?"
"Yes," answered John as he pulled out a round for the M7SC, "see if you can make some more of these rounds."
The Spartan handed Jacob the bullet, who in turn examined it.
"Shouldn't be a problem."
"Alright, that'll be all Mr Taylor," said Shepard.
"Ma'am, sir," the man saluted before returning back to his work.
XXxxXX
Eden Prime, High Orbit
"Alright Chief, the Normandy will stay at the spaceport while we go groundside. ETA to our objective 3 hours," said Shepard.
Standard protocol applied to all ships that arrived at an Alliance held planet. Vessels that are incapable of atmospheric entry are to dock at an orbiting spaceport. Evidently Colonial Administration and Alliance High Command didn't want a ship orbiting a planet unchecked.
Looking at the window of the shuttle, John instantly recognised the planet, but not by its new name, rather than its previous name, Reach. The Spartan smiled, he was looking down upon his home again, it looked pristine and undamaged by war. But he was also aware of previous events surrounding it, specifically Shepard's earlier mission and the events leading up to her induction in becoming a Spectre.
The shuttle shook lightly as it descended through the atmosphere, the whirring sound of the engine resounded through the cabin as the craft slowed its descent. Eventually it touched down on a landing pad, and the doors hissed open. As John and Shepard stepped out of the vehicle, the two were greeted by the sight of a noon skyline dominated by skyscrapers, with bustling life and civilians going on their daily business. The climate however was a little warm
"Welcome to Eden Prime, Chief."
"Nice place," the Spartan commented.
The walk was fairly peaceful, of course there were passer-by who threw glances at John, but most of them had work that they needed to be getting on with and didn't tarry for longer than necessary. To the Spartan's left was a beautiful beach, where there were a number of people swimming, spending time with family, or just there for a tan. They looked like they were at peace and having fun, which sadly, was something John never experienced. Most of the time, the Spartan would be fighting for days on end, or in cyrostasis, and when he was sleeping, it would be plagued with nightmares.
…
Shepard noticed how John walked, he didn't have this buff style of walk with his shoulders out and a slight sway. His walk would be more defined like a march with purpose; his arms swayed slightly, his shoulders relaxed and still, and perfect posture. It was the walk of a soldier who'd just seen and lost far too much for one lifetime, yet still held together by a purpose. Jane wasn't too sure what purpose or what reason had kept the Spartan fully functional for so long, maybe it was training that had drilled him to be like the way he is, or a sense of compassion to fight on since there was no one else to do it.
His walk gave an eerie sense, it seemed almost robotic. Hell, she would've believed that he was a robot if she never saw his face.
Jane decided to leave those thoughts for later and looked over the beach. Life continued on peacefully and there were now little signs left of the Geth attack a few years back.
"Would be nice to raise a family here," Shepard commented as she saw a mother cradle her three year old child in her arms. The image always reminded her of what she fought for, she didn't fight for the backstabbing politicians, she fought for families going about their lives, she fought for normality.
"I grew up here," said the Spartan.
"What do you fight for?" Jane suddenly asked, "oh sorry, Chief."
"Well why do you ask?"
"See that mother over there?" Shepard said as she pointed towards the beach.
John nodded.
"Well, I fight for them, so that the mother and her child can sleep easy at night. I was wondering why you fight."
"To be honest, I fight for the men and women next to me. I fight because that was what I've been trained to do, what I've been ordered to do," the Spartan answered.
It was that short answer that gave Shepard a greater insight into John's mentality and his past. But it raised more questions than it answered. After a few more minutes of walking, the two arrived at the western entrance of the docks. The entire area was surrounded by a concrete wall, with surveillance installed. The Spartan also guessed that the small domes placed at every interval were AA emplacements. There was a building next to the checkpoint, and a tall control tower a two hundred metres behind the entrance. Surrounding the tower were cranes, a maze of shipping containers and workers moving back and forth.
A couple of security guards stood at the gates, milling about and drinking coffee, the Spartan deducted that they weren't Eclipse, and that the mercs would be further in the docklands.
"Lots of civilian workers at the docks, watch your fire," whispered John.
"I guessed as much, we'll talk our way through," said Shepard, "if that doesn't work, we'll shoot our way through. But we don't want to cause a panic, the Geth attack still have these people afraid."
XXxxXX
DOCKS
Grace Ryan sat at the security checkpoint drinking coffee with her co-workers. She hated working the noon shift, since she had to endure the vulgar comments and the general arrogance of the men who worked there. For the first week the men wouldn't stop hitting on her, but one idiot took it to far and then before the other men could react, Grace had effectively took away the man's ability to have any more kids. After that the men backed off. Grace much preferred working the afternoon shift when the other men and women she worked with were more polite, and it was always nice talking to them. But today, Grace felt like it was going to be a long one, especially when an attractive Alliance Commander and an unbelievable big and tall man in a black military uniform turned up. The Alliance Commander looked familiar to Grace, her high cheekbone face and brunette hair that fell to her shoulders was something unforgettable. The man standing next to her was pale and well over six foot tall; his cobalt eyes seemed like they could look through anyone, to Grace, he was oddly attractive yet fearsome. Everything about him, from the way he moved to the uniform he wore spoke of raw power, precision and authority. It definitely looked like it was going to be a long day.
Many Alliance officers pass through the western dock checkpoint on a weekly basis, so it wasn't a big issue when one turned up, but Grace had never seen the black uniform the man wore. It was most likely a new division of the Alliance.
"Hey check out hottie over there," said Sam.
"I'd tap that," quipped Frank, "love me a girl in uniform."
"Guys," sighed Grace, "I'm standing right here."
"Hey, a chick's a chick," laughed Sam, "wonder how that babe got to be an N-Seven Commander."
"Probably did some errands for the brass," hollered James.
The others laughed and gave each other a round of high-fives. Grace just rolled her eyes and sighed as she walked out of the booth and in front of the gate to meet the two newcomers.
"Hi," the woman said politely.
Grace noticed that the Alliance Commander's walk was much more relaxed yet still had the same confidence as her male counterpart.
"Hello," Grace answered back.
"We're here to check up on a few things," the woman.
"Sure, do you have warrant and ID?" Grace asked, it was standard protocol.
The woman handed Grace a holopad. The warrant checked out as she crossed referenced it with security records. They two were here for a routine check up on supplies and cargo manifest for Alliance soldiers. Whatever the cargo was, it had to be precious. Otherwise the Alliance Command wouldn't be sending an N7 Marine and a man who could rip anyone apart with his bare hands. As Grace checked the woman's ID, her mouth dropped a little.
"Oh my god," she muttered, "you're Commander Shepard."
"In the flesh," Shepard said warmly.
"Well everything checks out," Grace said, still in awe of being in the presence of a living legend, "come on in."
Ryan entered a few keys on her Omni-tool which prompted the gate to open. Immediately Shepard and her counterpart walked through.
Upon returning to the checkpoint building, Grace was bombarded with questions.
"Who's the chick then?" asked Sam as he munched on a donut.
"Commander Shepard," Grace smiled.
Frank immediately choked and spat out his coffee.
"No fucking way!" he said.
"Well who's the big guy?" asked Sam, "looked like one hardass."
"I don't know, but I wouldn't want to test him," Grace answered.
"Whoever he is, no human gets that big, not without drugs."
XXxxXX
"That was easy," said Shepard.
"Now the hard part," added John, "infiltrating the Eclipse held area. We need to head over to the control tower first, find out when the mercs are leaving and see if we can stop them."
"And how are we going to do that? Warrant only says we're here to check up on a few things."
"Use your Spectre status."
The two strode through the port, and being cautious at not moving at a too far of pace and making it look like they were there for observation, lest they wanted to stir up some unwanted attention.
…
Upon arrival of the Eclipse held area, John quickly scanned his surroundings. Shipping containers were stacked to form a medieval style citadel defence formation. The enemy definitely had an advantage of elevation and numbers. There was also the fact of blind spots too, if some mercenary was to stand near the edge where he would be exposed, what's to say that there isn't another behind him out of view?
"Looks like we've hit a snag," John muttered.
"Intel didn't show us this," whispered Shepard, "Eclipse must've moved these crates recently."
John began to cycle through what options he had until he heard the sound of footsteps looking towards them. The Spartan looked up to see a Customs Agent walking towards him and Shepard. The Agent was Shepard's height; he had strong features, blue eyes and black hair, and he didn't look much older than twenty-five. His walk was nearly as disciplined as the Chief.
"I bet this guy works for Hackett," said Jane.
"I was expecting you two," the Agent said, "I'm Lieutenant Shane Dars, Alliance Intelligence."
"Nice to meet you," replied Jane.
"The Eclipse had just rearranged the crates into a citadel formation last night," Dars said, "You've got three tiers of walls to move through. Ten men on each level, and about thirty on the ground, that's about sixty mercs your up against, before reinforcements arrive, which would be twenty fully armed mercs, four of them engineers and one commander."
Judging from the way he spoke and the way he moved, Shepard had no doubt he came from a good school and did well in the Alliance Intelligence.
"Sounds like we've got a tough fight on our hands," said Shepard.
"Not unless we move quickly," said John.
"I climbed the crane one hundred metres away from here to take a snapshot of the area," the young Lieutenant said as he handed Shepard a holopad containing the images.
Jane took a quick look at the photos before handing them to the Spartan, who then began to formulate a strategy.
"We need a distraction," said John, "we're on the wrong end of firepower and there are too many civilians here."
"I've got that covered sir," answered Dars, "there's a fuel dump three-hundred metres north from here. I've rigged them with a small charge. When detonated, our guys in the tower will initiate an evacuation. The civilians will no doubt move out, and the mercs will stay behind because that's what they're paid for."
"Anything else we should now?" Shepard asked.
"Most of the shipping containers here are empty; the Eclipse mercs have been using them as billets. They also claim that the package is just a model for some movie. I don't know if they have gained access into the plane yet but I doubt it, I've been a close eye on things here and not much has happened. The Eclipse's flight has been delayed some of my own men, but they report that the ships on its way here, so you have about two hours left."
"That's more than plenty," John said.
"Good, after I leave, wait five minutes and then detonate the charges, the civilians will be leaving for lunch break."
With that, the Lieutenant promptly left the area.
"Plan of attack, any ideas?" asked Jane
John held up the holopad and pointed out respective points.
"We'll position ourselves at the southern area. One minute before detonation, I will start climbing to gain an advantage in elevation. You stay on ground and flush them out, I'll keep you covered."
"Sounds good."
The two un-holstered the M7SCs and switched off their safeties. Shepard toggled between the hybrid sight settings and took up a firing stance as John moved to the lowest crate to prepare for his climb.
"On my mark," John whispered into his COM.
The Spartan propelled himself off the ground and grasped on the ledge with his left hand whilst wielding his weapon in his right.
Shepard saw him perform the move so quickly and swiftly that it was beyond human.
John then pulled himself up, and promptly shot three Eclipse troopers. Blood oozed out of their wounds as the fell without letting out a cry, a well place headshot with a high calibre weapon always made the enemy go down without a word. Wearing civilian garbs had greatly reduced their protection, not that it would help that much against a coilgun, but John had to remind himself that he too had that vulnerability.
"Okay, move up, I got you covered."
Shepard shouldered her weapon and moved down the walkway.
"Hold up, got more hostiles up ahead," whispered John.
The Spartan took up a crouching stance and aimed down his sights; he toggled the zoom on his optics and zeroed in on his nearest target. He gave the trigger a squeezed, the trooper convulsed as three high velocity rounds slashed through his body before falling down. He then opened fire on the rest of the soldiers he could, that were on the first wall level, before pulling leaping onto the second wall level. With the area clear, he quickly jumped up onto the third wall level.
Shepard saw how John moved, and was in awe when he cleared the first chasm over her head and landed on a platform higher than the one he was on. It was, graceful in her opinion.
John quickly scanned the third wall level, well the shipping containers. Ten targets, just like Dars said. The Spartan didn't miss a heartbeat as he swept from left to right gunning down the mercenaries. Every single round found their mark, the Eclipse troopers fell silently, their overalls drenched in their own blood. John ejected the spent mag and placed it into his pocket before slapping in a fresh one.
"Chief, talk to me," said Shepard, "where you at?"
"Finished clearing the third wall, the guys on second and first we'll take some time to find the bodies, probably five minutes. More than enough time."
Jane began to advance.
"John, I've got four guys around the corner."
"Copy, I got a bead on the furthest ones away. Take them out on my mark, three, two, one, mark."
Shepard swung around the corner and opened fire. The two mercs closest to her dropped like potato sacks and fell slumped against the crates with their blood splattered everywhere. The two further away dropped in an instant. Jane could see that the Spartan was fast, really fast, she couldn't tell who he had targeted first before blood began to ooze from their heads.
She was amazed at the little recoil the weapon had, and how silent it was, it only made a slight ticking sound.
"Hold up, ten more up ahead. Five are guarding the entrance to the Osprey, five foot mobiles more ten metres away from them. I'll blow the charges and hit the guys at the entrance, you take out the patrol."
"Got it."
John moved silently into position, he looked down at the five unsuspecting guards and unsheathed his combat knife. Shepard who was to his left was quickly moving through the maze of shipping containers and the patrol was heading back for another pass. The Spartan smiled inwardly, these Eclipse mercenaries were good in maintaining their cover. The patrol moved in a ragged formation carrying bags, as for the guards, they just loitered and smoked cigarettes or drank coffee. It left them even more vulnerable. John leapt off the third wall and came crashing down into the merc standing in the middle of the formation, he didn't even cry out, he didn't get the chance. He was dead before he even began to fall to the ground. The Spartan then swiftly slit the throats of the two men on his left. He then raised his when and fired a quick burst into the trooper on his right; the woman danced a deadly macabre before dropping, and lying in a pool of her own blood. The last man raised his arms in anticipation of blocking the Spartans melee attack, but John was much faster, he slammed the blade into the man's skull, the trooper stopped as if someone had pulled the plug out on him. And right at that very moment, John detonated the fuel dumps.
Shepard's body flared, a blue mist surrounded her as she unleashed her biotic attack on the patrol, the men and women there were promptly thrown into the air before Jane slammed them down into the ground. As she turned to face John, she saw the Spartan shove his combat knife into a merc's skull. And a split second later, an explosion of thunderous force roared in the distance. Jane watched as the trooper's arm went limp before the blade was torn out of his head, and his body crashed to the floor.
And just like Dars had said, evacuation procedures were enacted. The alarms began to blare over the PA systems.
The sudden explosion caused the mercs standing around the Osprey to look at the column of smoke billowing upwards into the sky and the fully armed Eclipse Troopers to emerge from shipping containers and reveal themselves.
"I'll knock out the armoured guys, you take out those at the Osprey," said Shepard.
John nodded.
The two quickly sprang into action; John sprinted forward, adrenaline pumped through his veins and the world began to move in slow motion. He opened fire like an ODST who just got out of his Drop-pod, cutting down anyone within his sights. He was careful at selecting his targets so to not alert anymore mercenaries until he could focus on them. Upon arrival of the Osprey, the Spartan cleared the remaining guards. He turned around and saw Shepard finishing off an Eclipse Commander.
Jane used her biotics to lift the Commander into the air and slam the woman into a shipping container. John's enhanced hearing picked up the sound of the Eclipse Commander's bones snapping like twigs and her armour crushed like a tin can. Shepard finished her off by firing a short burst into her.
"Okay Shepard, we've got them distracted, haul it to the Osprey," barked John into the COM.
"On my way," replied Shepard as she sprinted towards the idle dropship.
John moved up to the rear hatch of the Osprey and held his hand up to the console. The screen flickered to life.
-Scanning…
-Authenticating…
-UNSC Personnel: Sierra-117 – Rank: Commander
-Access Granted
The Spartan smiled, even after a thousand years the bird was still functional. Shepard quickly arrived and John opened the hatch, allowing Jane to enter first.
…
The Dropship's interior was quite spacious, Jane looked around, there were crates, and lockers on the sides.
"Looks like this bird was made to ferry cargo," said John, "Shepard, I'm gonna need you to fly shotgun, we're not out of the woods yet."
"Coming Chief," said Shepard as she moved through the hold and into the cockpit.
She found the Spartan sitting in the pilot seat, running through the check-up sequence.
"Hyrdaulics functional, Ion Drives ready. Starting her up." John's fingers danced across the console as he flicked a few more switched and entered more commands. "Shepard, take control of the turrets, cycle through the cameras."
"Got it."
Jane strapper herself in and pressed the button labelled "Weapons Systems".
A holo-screen materialised in front of her, Jane selected the "DEW Turrets" and found herself looking through the port camera.
"Switch to rear camera," said John.
"Got it."
"Alright engines and sensors online and shields are up."
Jane felt a light vibration as the engines started spinning; she looked out of the windows and saw the main engines release a light blue hue, and the heat waves. She guessed that the Osprey's engines were designed to have a low heat-signature.
"Shepard, spin up those guns, we've got hostiles inbound."
The camera showed a couple of Eclipse mercenaries in varying attire taking up firing positions. The sound of the Osprey's engine flaring to life had grabbed their attention.
Jane felt the Osprey ascend. Eclipse troopers opened fire, their rounds bouncing off the Osprey's shields.
"Rake 'em up, Shepard."
Shepard trained the targeting reticule on the mercenaries, and squeezed the trigger on the joystick. She heard the electric discharge of the weapon as its spewed lances of blue beams at the troopers. Many of them fell to the weapon, most were burned and cut into smaller pieces, and the shipping containers around them were turned into Swiss cheese, the Ion beams bore holes into everything it touched.
…
The Spartan then gunned the thrusters and felt the Osprey lurch forward. The dropship quickly pulled away from the ground and into the sky.
"We're clear," John said as he checked the radar, "no one is after us, good."
Shepard took in a deep breath before exhaling and releasing the controls.
"Wow, these things pack a punch," she said, "and this is standard issue?"
"Yes. Remember that Gatling gun I bought with me?" John asked.
"Yes."
"It has the same firepower," he deadpanned.
"Damn."
XXxxXX
It was truly going to be a long day for Grace Ryan. One moment she was playing chess and sipping bubble tea with Alice, the next moment a thunderous roar shook through. Someone had blown up the fuel dumps; she could see the massive thick greyish black smoke column curling up into the warm blue sky. Next evacuation procedures were being enacted and people filed out.
Grace scanned through the crowd to see if she could spot Sheppard, but Ryans could not find the legendary Commander, or her huge companion. But she did see a customs officer look skyward, and followed his gaze. She saw a shuttle speed off into the sky.
XXxxXX
"Course set, ETA five hours," said John, "Apparently the Normandy is on the far side of the planet."
"What's in the crates?" asked Shepard as she jerked her thumb behind her.
The Spartan unbuckled his seatbelts and walked back into the hold. He turned to face a crate, and tapped in a few keys. The seals popped open with a twist, allowing the Spartan to lift off the lid.
"It's a weapon crate," said John.
One M2AMGSR, or Model 2 Anti-Material 9.5x40mm Gauss Sniper Rifle, with an extra 500 rounds, lay within the first container. The other containers held an assortment of weapons; weapon attachments, ammunition, and cell pack rechargers for the UNSC DEW arsenal.
M92A 10 gauge Shotgun, Designated Marksman 201 Enhance Battle Rifle (DM201 EBR), M702 LMG, SCAR, SCAR Carbine, M7SC, M2AMGSR, and the W/AV M7 G/GNR, colloquially known as the Spartan Laser, the weapons were all there in the crates. Except the crates were near empty so there wasn't an abundance of each weapon, not that John was complaining.
The W/AV M7 G/GNR is the replacement of the W/AV M6 G/GNR, unlike its predecessor the new Spartan Laser model had a battery cell that could fire up to ten rounds, which lasted longer, and a cobalt blue beam that is twice the power of the crimson red beam. The survival of the Coalition forces during the Coalition-Covenant War was due in no small part to the Spartan Laser. Many Coalition soldiers had logged hundreds and thousands of decisive kills with the weapon, making it one of the most feared by the Covenant.
Taking a quick glance at the cache, Shepard gave a low whistle.
"That's a lot of firepower there," she said in admiration.
John brushed the surface of an M702 LMG, a weapon that had greater firepower than the SCAR but less mobility. The last crate held some food supplies, biofoam and a smaller box. The Spartan picked up the smaller box with care, and opened it gently. It in, lay a wooden smoking pipe, and small packets.
XXxxXX
The Ark, ONI Forbidden City – Facility 001
Lieutenant Colonel Essingdon Keyes Sc.D., the son of Captain Jacob Keyes and Doctor Catherine Halsey, and the younger brother of Commander Miranda Keyes, sat in his office. Not his flashy window office that was for interviews and PR, but his work station office, located deep underground, where he coordinated multiple ONI Section-III Research and Development Projects, a position that fitted his level of genius intellect.
His office had the generic slightly curved reflective white walls, a large glazed glass desk with a powerful computer, and multiple wall mounted TV screens which would keep him updated on just about everything. In the background, his stereo played soft classical music, a trait he picked up from his mother.
He had short, neat jet black hair, blue eyes as a result of his Spartan-IV enhancements, strong features and a strong build. Essingdon would be considered attractive by many standards, but dating was something far from his mind.
Keyes opened his desk drawer and retrieved a wooden smoking pipe and a small packet labelled "pineapple". He poured a small amount into the pipe and then lighted the contents to get it going. The reaction was endothermic, the gas given off, was very cool, but not cold.
It was known as "Puffing", instead of inhaling tobacco – which would be harmful – the Puffer would inhale a substance similar to Bronchial Surfactant. The inhalant would replenish lost nutrients during combat and help keep the user awake and alert, and no harmful effects. It was developed by Essingdon and Fhajad-084 during their free-time, the wooden pipe element, was inspired by Jacob Keyes and his grandfather's pipe. This proved useful to Officers working overtime, and didn't get the chance to eat, puffing would help keep them going a bit longer, but it wouldn't fill them up. So they couldn't always run purely on puffing.
The doors to his office parted open with a hiss, few dared to enter his office without knocking, and there was only one he knew in the vicinity who would just stroll in. The woman wore a lab coat and business attire pants, her jet black hair flowed freely to her shoulders, and her face was young and supple. Technically speaking, she's biologically in her sixties, but Keyes had brought her back from being clinically dead. The reviving process had made her look much younger, it was an unforseen side-effect, but one that horrified Essingdon, yet pleased her greatly. His mother, Doctor Catherine Halsey looked young enough to be Essingdon's older sister.
"Hello sweetie," Halsey said, hugging her son from behind.
"Hi mum." Mum, he didn't say mom like Miranda. Essingdon was sent to a Grammar School that doubled as a Military Academy, it was where his accent-less English originated from.
"You know I met this delightful girl-" but before Halsey could continue, her son interrupted.
"Yes, I know she's a nice girl, and so on, but, well, I'm busy," Essingdon pouted.
"Dear, you've only been out of this facility once, and that was when you went to your best friend's wedding."
"Well its Edmund, I wouldn't leave him hanging for the world. But why do you want me to go out so much?"
"It's not healthy burning yourself out like that, go out and live life a little."
"Knowledge waits for no man, or woman."
"You're worse than I am," Halsey chuckled, "I found love when I was young, so did your father and your sister."
"Okay, okay," exclaimed Essingdon as he held his hands up as a sign of yielding to his mother's request. "I'm going."
The Lieutenant Colonel pulled himself up to his feet and glanced through the window, where he looked over the vast chamber filled with vats that contained Flood Spores in containment, and the walkways patrolled by sentinels. Should the sentinels fail to contain a Flood spore – though unlikely that event was – vents located around the chamber would blast flammable gas into the room and incinerate its contents.
"They'll still be here when you come back," his mother said, as she saw look out the window.
He then walked over to his coat hanger which was near the glazed door, and took of his lab coat and hung it neatly onto one of the hooks. He then picked up his trenchcoat and held it neatly in his left arm, while he straightened his tie with the other. It was part of his meticulous personality. A trait that definitely did not originate from his mother, who usually left Styrofoam cups lying around in her office.
"Be sure to take Fhajad with you to lunch," said Halsey in her motherly tone.
Essingdon gave a polite nod before walking out of his office and into the clinically white hallways, with glass windows that provided overwatch into testing and storage chambers. He passed a multitude of armed guards and scientists on his way out, some of the scientists were testing the latest scanners, others were simply heading to the cafeteria for lunch.
"Sir," greeted Doctor Amanda Thorkais, warmly. The Doctor stood at 1.7m tall; she had green eyes and crimson red hair which she had tied into a pony tail. Amanda had beautiful skin, a high cheekbone face and a high forehead. By many standards, she would be very attractive.
"Doctor Thorkais, how can I help you?" asked Keyes in a friendly and professional manner.
"Have you seen you're mother around?"
"Yes, she's in my office."
"Also, Lord Admiral Hood wishes to see you at three PM tomorrow, he won't say why though."
"Okay, thank you."
The two parted ways. Keyes strode quickly to the elevator and entered. Debussy played over the elevator's speakers as it ascended to ground level. Essingdon was greeted by the sight of the interior of a large glass atrium, adorned with TV screens updating the staff on events. Many scientists and analysts walked in and out of the snowy weather, milling about their business. Many of the UNSC's greatest minds worked in this very facility. Forbidden City is three times the size of ONI Castle.
Essingdon walked briskly across the white marble floors and exited the atrium via the eastern exit, and into the undercover carpark, where his M14 "Warthog" FAV Civilian Variant lay. The M14 had superseded its predecessor, the M12 and the M13; because Keyes's report stated that the M12 and M13 lacked protection and capacity that would be sorely needed during combat. And that was where the M14 came in, it is bigger and heavier.
The new Warthog could now fit five occupants, and have room to carry supplies, the gunner would stand in the middle of the vehicle, rather than the back, so in case the soldier was killed, he or she would not fall off. Its main armament is the M888 HMG, of course the vehicle could be outfitted to carry different assortments of weapons, such as a mortar, or missile pods. Unlike its predecessors, the M14 is not prone to rolling, for the span between the wheels had been lengthened, providing more stability. However, that is not to say the M14 is without its drawbacks, its enclosed cabins and doors now made it virtually near impossible for passengers to fire heavy weapons, leaving it vulnerable to enemy armour.
Nonetheless, the beautiful machine held up its predecessor's reputation of being tough and reliable.
…
It was early autumn, the leaves had faded into a beautiful orange-yellow colour, but the days were still warm. Off in the distance from the Forbidden City was the commercial district, the towering skyscrapers could be seen. The young Keyes could see the other Halo rings, in the day sky, at night; the view was even far more impressive. Each arm of the Ark, and the Halo rings would become illuminated by settlements on the superstructures.
Essingdon drove down the highway; his sleek black hog cruised through the traffic smoothly.
The scientist then switched on his tacpad and entered in a few keys.
"Calling Fhajad," the device said.
"Lieutenant Commander Fhajad speaking," a man said.
"Hey Fhajad," greeted Keyes warmly, "want to go for lunch?"
"Sure, where should I meet you?" Fhajad replied in equal cheeriness.
"Remember that Italian restaurant we went to last time?"
"The one by Lake Wells in the Samson commercial district?"
"That's the one."
"Sounds good, I'll see you there in about thirty minutes."
"Okay, see you there."
The COM switched off.
…
As Keyes entered the restaurant, his eyes scanned across the room, a trait he picked up during training at ONI. The venue had a tall ceiling, low hanging chandeliers, cream coloured walls and thin curtains. A few bankers and businessmen sat at certain tables, going about their own way. And a large table in the centre of the room sat eleven bureaucrats discussing what task needed to be handled next.
He found Fhajad waving to him at a table in the corner, by the window. Essingdon walked over and sat down at the table.
Fhajad was wearing his Spartan-II exclusive dress uniform, which had garnered many looks from the patrons. Keyes remembered when Fhajad was suffering heavily from Parkinson's disease, the Spartan was shaking uncontrollably in his wheelchair, but his mind was unharmed and brilliant, which gave him a position in ONI. However Halsey and Essingdon saw that Fhajad's real talent was being wasted; the two scientists took the time to revive the wiped-out Spartan, during the brief period of peace, and their efforts were well rewarded, especially when the Covenant returned. Fhajad finally became a Spartan-II, his combat prowess saved countless lives during Earth's final days. He was also the one who prevented Halsey falling into the vacuum of space, when Faith was gutted from stem to stern by a Covenant warship.
"Good to see you, old friend," smiled Fhajad.
"You too,"
A young waitress, who appeared to be in her late-teens to early twenties walked over to the table.
"Hello gentlemen, what would you like today?" she asked in a professional and gentle manner.
"I'll have the pene pasta and a glass of pineapple juice," Essingdon said.
"And I'll have a rare t-bone steak with mushroom sauce, and a glass of water," replied Fhajad.
"Certainly," the waitress said, and then quickly left.
Fhajad then leaned closer to the table. From his body language, Keyes immediately concluded that whatever the Spartan-II wanted to say, it would be important.
"We're going back in a month," the Spartan whispered.
"What, who decided this?" Essingdon asked.
"Top Brass, UEG and High Ranking Elites, it's time to go back and see what is left of Earth."
"We plastered every single major city, we scorched Earth, what makes you think there's anything back at Earth?"
"Not everyone made it out with us." Said Fhajad, "Not everyone would have been killed by the Hammer Down, there will be survivors."
"I don't think they'll be too happy to see us after what we've done."
"What are the odds that they'll remember us? It's been a thousand years. We're going back to see if we can help."
"I take it we're also going to try and establish contact with other species mentioned in the Archives?"
Fhajad nodded. "We can't stay out here forever, sooner or later, we need to go back and find a planet to live on."
Keyes sighed. "So who's going?"
"Vice Admiral Richard Lash will be taking us on the UNSC Watchful Eye, a Stealth Cruiser that just came out of the docks. We'll be joined by Task Force Talon, three Delta teams, you, me and Cortana. The Elites will join us after they've surveyed their target areas."
Delta was a nickname for the Spartan-IVs.
"Alright, so why do I need to go?" asked Keyes, he wondered why they'd want a scientist from ONI Section III.
"You're the one who knows most about the Forerunner Archives, you're a tactical and analytical genius, why wouldn't they want you?"
"Point. So this is what Hood wants to talk about tomorrow?"
"Yes."
XXxxXX