Chapter 11
March 10th, 2553 11:43:01
HIGHCOM Facility Bravo-6, Sydney, Australia
[Name Redacted]
A man walked into the one of the remaining UNSC Headquarters. He drew no attention from the tens of people milling about in the lobby of the building. The few who took notice saw that the man was of average stature, five feet eight inches, had dirty blonde hair that cut to a solid yet professional length all around. He sported a moustache and goatee of similar color. Many would find it curious that he carried an ornate officer's sword around but gave no additional thoughts.
He was wearing his dress white uniform, like everyone else in the building. He sported a few medals from his years in the war, but not as many as he earned. He even sported a massive scar from the war: a bandage covering his eyes. Several noticed his seeing eye dog, fewer noticed his rank: Commander.
It was a miracle the building remained untouched from the battle of Earth, which was roughly five months ago. The building, HIGHCOM B-6, was the home to some of the major departments of the UNSC military arm, namely, the Naval Special Weapons department and, most importantly, the UNSC Security Committee. Additionally, there was a major administrative branch of the Office of Naval Intelligence located here, and that was the destination of the man.
He walked to the front desk and asked the lady where the ONI office was. He spoke like that of a gentleman. Calm, collected, and very cordial. His voice thick yet gentle. His elocution perfect. It carried a slight Slavic accent that wasn't overwhelming.
The clerk was startled at the sight of the man. She was not expecting a man covered in bandages to be there. Immediately, she indicated the direction of the ONI department, not wanting to work with the sight that beheld her.
Thanking her, the man continued his way, letting the dog guide him.
Entering the ONI department wing of the building, the man approached the desk clerk.
"What do you want sweetie?" the clerk asked, sporting a stereotypical Jersey accent.
"I'm here for a meeting with a Robert." The man replied.
"Robert who?" She responded, starting to file her fingernails.
"Just Robert. That's what the invitation said."
The woman stared at the man, slowly moving here finger to the intercom on here desk.
"Robert…" she said, hesitating on the name "you have a visitor. A Commander…"
"No need to tell me." A man said from the back of the room. "Damn. They weren't joking when they said you arrived on time. 11:45 on the dot."
"I try." The first man said giving a warm smile and extending his hand. "I'm presuming you're Robert."
"Yes." Robert responded returning the handshake, giving a similar smile except callous and eerie in nature.
"Please, step into my office," Robert said, gesture the man into the office, "we have a lot to discuss about."
The man made his way into Robert's office, being guided more than followed.
Inside, the office was rather bare. It contained all the necessary equipment needed: a desk with a lamp and desktop, a lone filing cabinet, and a lone shelf on the wall with a malnourished plant. A very hollow room, reflecting the man who worked in it.
Unfortunately, the officer couldn't see these features, or lack thereof, at the time, however, his guide dog sensed the dread, and began to whimper. He comforted the dog as Robert closed the door behind them.
"I would like to introduce you to Admiral Margaret Parangosky, director of the Office of Naval Intelligence," said Robert, again gesturing towards the Admiral without realizing the man was still blind.
"But I'm guessing you already know who she is." Robert said, trying to humor the man, giving his cold smile.
The man saluted Parangosky, and immediately shook her hand, again giving a warm smile with it. He could tell by her rather tight grip and fierce shake that she was a woman of determination. He recognized the attempt to gain power in the conversation.
Looks like ONI's trying to throw the entire book at me, the officer thought to himself. Whatever it is they want, they want it bad, and if they want it bad, they want to use it for something controversial. He immediately began speculating what the conversation was going to be about. How they were going to push him to achieve their agenda, and how he could rebuttal it and save himself from partaking in something that was destined to get him in jail for crimes against humanity.
He kept on shaking Parangosky's hand, making the situation more awkward than necessary. After a few seconds, she withdrew her hand, increasing the power the officer had in the conversation.
He kept his smile, knowing that he sent a solid message that this wasn't going to be easy for them.
"You may take a seat Commander." Robert said, pulling a chair out for the man to sit in.
He hesitated, then took a seat. Parangosky followed on the other side of the desk. Robert just stood behind the man.
Silenced ensued.
"If I may ask, Admiral, why was I called here today?" The officer asked, looking at Parangosky.
"We have an offer for you, Commander." Robert said as he began to pace behind the man. "In August 2552, a mistake happened to the UNSC Marathon Class Cruiser Feeling Lucky when it traveled to a distress call from a civilian source. In the incident report, the Feeling Lucky and her detachment of ships traveled to quote another galaxy, and potentially with it its own politics, military conflicts, and resources, unquote."
"Yeah, I know the incident report all too well Robert. It's a slipspace error. It happens all the time. Nothing of import." The officer said, trying to dismiss something he knew probably too much about.
Robert put a hand on his shoulder, "Tomorrow, the UEG parliament is going to have a closed-door debate and vote about sending an expedition force. The day after that, the UNSC Security Committee is going to convene to determine what resources HIGHCOM can allocate to this force. A month from then, the fleet will be sent to a waypoint station that will help facilitate the travel to this new galaxy."
"You make this sound certain." The officer said.
"I don't know if you've paid attention to this war, but humanity can use whatever allies and resources it can. It is certain the UEG will explore this option to its fullest." Parangosky said, demeaning the comment made by the man.
"Well, if everyone and their mother knows this plan is going to go through, why does ONI care about it?" The officer replied.
"We may know everything about the plan, who's voting in favor or not, the major leadership that will be instated for the expedition," Robert paused, laid a hand on the man's shoulder and squeezed, "the man who wrote the proposal."
The man shrugged off Robert's attempt. "Again, what does ONI care about the expedition?"
"We do not know anything about this galaxy we're sending an entire expedition fleet to, you fool." Parangosky said with an irk.
"And I'm guessing you want me to gather intelligence about this galaxy and everything involved?" The officer retorted, a smile coming back onto his face.
"That's our job as ONI, to have intelligence." Parangosky said.
"If that's the mission of ONI, then you've done a really bad job sticking to it. You know… with all your secret projects… and… all… Now that I think about it, I don't think I want to be involved, for fear of a leak. I don't want to be involved in the ensuing fire" The officer said.
"You've got to be kidding me." Parangosky said, resting her head onto her hand.
"Trust me," Robert said, "this job comes with a promotion. A raise. Something to justify the risk. How does… Captain sound to you?"
"How does 'leaks reveal military cover ups of human experimentation with disease that can cause extinction of all races'?" The officer said, dropping the smile.
During one of his field missions, he stumbled across a bank of classified ONI information. None of it was guarded from access. It was here he learned about the Spartan-II project, the Spartan-III project and its subsequent suicidal missions, the midnight facility, and ONI's involvement in experimenting with the flood. It was there he began his distrust in the organization.
Robert called out from the side of the room, where he was staring at the wall, "Commander, you never fail to surprise me. You see, I have been studying you for the past few months. You are a brilliant subject to study. How you use all your training and knowledge in the field. Your creativity. It's fascinating."
He looked at the officer. "I just have a few questions to ask."
Immediately, Robert grabbed the man and swung him around till he faced him. If the man had functional eyes, he would've saw that their faces were only a few inches apart.
"Have you thought about what you're going to do for food, shelter, drink? Are you just going to live with your grandmother until the end of your days? Or… are you going to do the only thing you know how to do: fight."
Robert released the man and continued to pace. "Get off your ass and do what this government spent money for you to be: a pawn." Robert concluded.
The man was enraged at the insult that was thrown at him, but only a stern frown was displayed on his face. As much as he hated it, Robert did have a point. Unless another war broke out in the next few months, he was left without a job, nothing to do, and nowhere to go. He had no practical skills to transfer over to a civilian life. He was a superior leader that could pull any group of people together, but he couldn't show proof of these in an interview since his examples are under strict lock and key by the very organization that is trying to rehire him now.
He had no more options but to cave in to Robert's demands.
"Fine," the officer said with a hint of disgust, "I'll agree to the offer."
"Perfect…" Robert said, his cold voice stinging as he said that one word.
Parangosky laid a piece of paper in front of the man. At the top were the words 'Offer of Employment' with the Office of Naval Intelligence seal and the UNSC seal.
I once again sell my soul to ONI, the man thought to himself, using his text-to-speech machine to find the lines on the piece of paper where he must sign his name.
Robert began the description of the job, "You will be assigned to Battlegroup Maginot, the proposed name of the group that will travel to this new galaxy. You are going to be assigned as the director of Spartan operations in this new theater. In other words, you get to dictate what the Spartans do. Your second in command is another man of ours you may recognize: Aleksander Nevsky."
The man stopped his writing on the paper and began thinking. Strange. ONI wants to strengthen their position on this mission. Not only putting two people in the Commanding and Executive Officer positions, but making them…
Robert continued, "In addition, you will be tasked to learn as much as you can about this new galaxy. Planets, governments, militaries, logistics, et cetera, and send your findings back to us."
The man replied, "Don't you think that's too much for one man to handle?"
Robert countered, "Knowing you, that should be too easy, given your… enhancements. Oh, and one more thing: to keep this as low as possible, and to prevent any contradictions, we are going to give you a new name."
The man sighed in defeat as he finished signing the paper, slide it back to Parangosky, and rose from his chair, preparing to leave.
Before the man left, Robert made one last retort, "Congratulations on the promotion, Captain Evan Selviksky. I expect great things from you. By the way, get your eyes fixed. The UNSC has finally created a means to replace eyes."
Evan finished shutting the door behind him. Asshole, he thought to him himself. He just wanted to leave and prepare for this mission he was assigned to.
April 12th, 2553 07:13:01
UNSC Naval Drydock, Mars
Captain Evan Selviksky
The next few weeks was a blur to him. Most of the time was spent training. He spent many hours of the day just sparing with his sword, getting used to using it. He doubted that he would ever use it, but it was something he could rely on if worse came to worse. The only highlights of the month were when he received surgery for his eyes, and the fleet held a preliminary meeting discussing the logistics of the fleet.
The meeting was led by the primary officer of the Battlegroup: Two-Star Admiral Lord Albert Alger. A British man of nobility with a fair background in naval combat, having lead some flotillas against the insurrectionists, and throughout the war with the Covenant. He was slightly taller than Evan's height. His hair was a steely gray, his face cleanshaven and proper. His age showed his experience.
Before the meeting, Evan handed an envelope to the CO, its contents very secretive. Alger took a minute to look over the paper inside. Curiosity spread across his face.
"Indeed…" Alger said, his older, received pronunciation British accent protruding from his voice, "ONI have their noses in the air on this one. Do not worry Captain, I understand any plight that might burden you."
Evan was appreciative of the warm gesture by the Admiral. Due to his commitments with ONI, he would have to take time away from the campaign in the new galaxy. His second in command, Aleks Nevsky, was also in the same dilemma. In fact, he couldn't make that very meeting.
The contents of the meeting were rather straight forward. The battlegroup was to head to a recently finished station over by Alpha Centauri to facilitate a safer slipspace transit to the new galaxy. Aleks' transit to the new galaxy a few months earlier had very little chance of success both ways.
Well, ain't he lucky. Evan thought to himself, chuckling to himself.
The battlegroup was to be assigned 11 ships. Six of them were a mixture of Charon-class and Paris-class frigates that made it through the Human-Covenant. Two were Hillsborough-class destroyers, also survivors of the Covenant onslaught. A Halcyon-class cruiser and an Autumn-class heavy cruiser that was soon to be constructed. The flagship for the fleet was announced to be a Punic-class carrier that was in the final stages of construction.
In addition to a small fleet, the battlegroup was given an army detachment numbering around 50,000 strong, with a handsome complement of armored vehicles. The detachment was big enough to hold a superior force off long enough to leave the galaxy, but not enough to win a war.
The detachment was commanded by Colonel Adam Tolker. He was around five foot seven, which was shorter than Evan. He sported the stereotypically American beer belly and a tough as leather face. He believed that he could take over the galaxy with this small "army", if he had to. This attitude dictated his personality.
Admiral Alger stressed that if there was any conflict in the new galaxy the battlegroup was in, the battlegroup wouldn't be able to handle a prolonged battle. In addition, the fleet was to enact the Cole Protocol if it ever had to withdraw.
Evan, as the head of all Spartan operations, was assigned three Spartan teams, in addition to his second in command, who was an entire team on his own. One of the teams was a leftover team of Spartan IIIs, team Omicron. Evan ran into this team several times in his military experience during the Human-Covenant war. The other two teams were a batch from the newest program. They were Spartan IV's. His was tasked with training them and making sure they were up to speed with their equipment, all of which was new to him.
He was motivated for this new job and was ready to start.
Remembering that he was at a dockyard, Evan snapped out of his memory and looked at his surroundings.
Around him, the loading deck was like a bee's nest with all sorts of men, equipment, and vehicles moving all around the place with a sense of purpose.
Taking up the foreground was the latest capital ship of the UNSC navy: The UNSC Preston J. Cole, built with the best weapons, slipspace engines, and navigational systems the UNSC could afford at the time.
Evan noticed a few drydocks were taken up by the skeleton of a ship. A UNSC ship the size Evan hasn't ever seen before.
He quickly grabbed one of the dockworker walking about and asked about the ship under construction.
"It's thee newist line er' Supercarriers, I 'ere." The dockworker said through his thick accent.
"Are we going to be assigned that ship?" Evan inquired.
"Like hell I wood know. Maybee?" The dockworker replied brusquely as he walked away, leaving Evan behind.
Evan made his way onto the Preston J. Cole, maneuvered his way through the complex series of hallways and corridors, and took a few minutes to get settled in his room. It was the same size as all the other quarters for officers that weren't the Admiral, enough room to fit two men side by side, had a modest bed to one side, a closet at the foot of the bed, and a desk with a computer on it, underneath an overhead compartment for storage. The room also came with a chair for the desk, which now was pushed hard against the desk due to Evan's luggage lying all over the place. A thick suitcase on the bed, an ornate wooden box on the desk, and a giant titanium crate in the middle.
Evan chuckled to himself. Before a final meeting between the major officers for the expedition, he requested some dockworkers to take his luggage to his room, and to take the crate to the Spartan deck on the ship for storage.
"It appears they thought it was mine." Selviksky chuckled to himself, noting the irony of the situation.
A voice broke the silence, "Attention all crew and passengers. Launch will begin in fifteen minutes."
Evan decided to leave unpacking till later and headed out to the bridge. He always enjoyed a nice launch.
