Spartan Barracks: Camp Currahee

"So. This is a card game?" Spartan Jorge-052 asked as he observed the cards in his hand, looking at the other gathered Spartans who were participating in the game.

Zaeed sat opposite of him, holding his cards. He had learned poker from the crew of the Circumference on the long journey home, and was now trying and failing to teach the Spartans the same game.

All Spartans that remained after the battle of Chi Rho fit into a single tiny Barracks building, which had given it a weird reputation amongst the inhabitants of Camp Currahee. Occasionally laughter or chatter was heard from the interior, but only if no outsiders were present. When someone who was not a Spartan entered, everything would quiet down quickly.

But his reputation as a Spartan 1 had given him some leeway, and the Spartans had come to accept Zaeed as a distant uncle. Or perhaps a close family friend. Zaeed counted 24 Spartans remaining, twenty of them Spartan Twos, and four of them Spartan Threes. The two types had meshed together well, bonded through blood in the battle of Chi Rho.

Half of the Spartans had cybernetics by now, and many of them moved with a bad limp. But of them, Linda was the only one still in a wheelchair, with the rest of the Spartans readying themselves up for what they hoped to be their next deployment. Her fellows took good care of her but had trouble disguising their pity for her state. She was next to Fred, who was caring for his downright obsessive collection of knives. And so far, the only Spartan who had a hobby.

Zaeed glanced at the names on the wall in the corner of the barracks. A plaque that had been put up by Kurt, containing the names of every Spartan killed in action so far. Each the name of a Spartan who had died.

A pair of cleaners were hard at work scrubbing the barracks floor, trying to avoid eye contact with the Spartan.

Daisy-023: Killed on Harvest
Thom-A293: Killed by an Elite in CQC after taking a blow meant for Kat-A320
Kevin-A282: Shot by a Jackal.
Li-008: Killed by Elite Spec Ops
Riz-028: Radiation poisoning from embedded carbine round.

Isaac-039: Torn limb from limb by a Brute Chieftain.
William-043: Killed fighting two hunters in CQC
Anton-044: Throat cut by a Hoplite.

Vinh-030: Killed by a plasma grenade.
Keiichi-047: Killed by a sniper.
Sheila-065: Killed by Elite Spec Ops

August-099: Killed when the Covenant base self-destructed.
Leon-011:Killed when the Covenant base self-destructed.
Robert-025: Killed when the Covenant base self-destructed.

Zaeed envied the Spartans to some extent. The names of his fellow Orion Project Spartans were hidden by a haze of horror, alcoholism, and drugs. He had barely been able to remember Sergeant Johnson when he met him.

Linda's Omni-tool went off. The sound was of a command-level ping, and every Spartan dropped what they were doing to observe what Linda was doing. An image popped up, of a helmetless John inside a dark office. John said something to Linda which Zaeed could not make out. Linda turned up the volume so everyone could hear.

"ONI is compromised by alien infiltration. Seize Camp Currahee. Assume all ONI personnel to be under the effect of hostile memetic subversion. I am inside Zone 67 and require backup. We have to seize its COM so we can warn the UNSC."

Before Zaeed had even finished processing the words, Jai-006, the leader of Grey Team pulled out his pistol and shot each ONI cleaner in the head. Their bodies hit the ground with a loud thunk.

Zaeed dropped the cards he was holding, looking mouth agape at the leader of Grey Team, who just looked back with a hint of confusion.

The Spartan seemed undisturbed by his actions."What? John said they were subverted." Jai said, putting another two bullets in each body. He glanced at each member of Grey Team. "Grey Team, on me. Kill anyone that isn't a Spartan or a trainer." He glanced at the other Spartans who were beginning to grab their gear. "We'll catch up."

"Goddamn, you're cold. Remind me to never piss off any of you."

"Noted," Jorge said, spinning up his chaingun.

Zone 67.

John-117 opened the door to the maintenance closet and immediately threw a dagger into the head of the janitor inside. He took no pleasure from it. But the influence of the Leviathan had to be destroyed completely. None of it could be allowed to survive. He searched for a firefighting kit, and an electrical maintenance toolbox, and emptied both onto the floor.

Examining the contents, John immediately began running scenarios in his head as to what he could make before ONI could respond to him putting his foot through Parangosky's jaw.

He nodded with approval when he saw a spray can of self-healing biodegradable thermal-shielding. It was used to cover electronics and other components with a layer of insulation and heat protection. It wouldn't last long, but it would work until he got out of the Zone. There was also a collapsible welding helmet rated for gas and oxygen-low environments, an air tank, and several rolls of vacuum-rated self-healing duct-tape. There was also paint. "Prowler Black"

John's mind began to work as he prepared the next step of his escape. He had to get off any thermal-imaging systems the ONI guards had. And he had a plan to do just that.

John slipped on the gloves and the helmet then grabbed the tape and began to tie it firmly around both his wrists, then his ankles. He made sure his whole body was covered, with no flesh sticking out anywhere. He reached down his collar and tore off his shirt, quickly fashioning a covering that would fit under the welding helmet, and cover every part of his neck.

Before he put it on, he grabbed a fire hose, and stuck it down his shirt, before turning it to the max, filing the suit with a thin layer of cold water. His suit swelled up a bit, and there were a few leaks, which John immediately patched with duct tape.

When he was satisfied the seals were tight, and the mask's filter was working, he grabbed the can of emergency insulation and began to spray it across his body, making sure that no part of his body was missed.

John put on the improvised helmet, applied the final layer of insulation, and then applied more duct-tape. Finally, he grabbed the black paint and began to cover himself from head to toe. By the end, he couldn't even see his own hands in the darkness.

There were footsteps outside.

"I can't see shit." The ONI operative muttered, scanning the interior of the hallway with his rifle. He was gritting his teeth and frantically moving his flashlight back and forth, trying to catch a glimpse of the intruder. The Spartan. His armour's night vision and enhanced sensors were not detecting anything on this floor. And that was starting to unnerve him.

The Enemy. The enemy must be defeated. Long live humanity. The second voice in his head said, comforting him, easing his mind and calming his muscles.

The rest of the maintenance team followed, trying to make their way to the broken power transformer. The technician was in the middle of the formation, holding a pistol in one hand, and a toolkit in the other. The man's eyes were frantic as he looked back and forth for any sign of danger. The Operative cursed his weakness.

His weakness had been removed long ago. Purified through intensive training, and the newest cybernetics ONI had developed. There was no weakness left in him. Only hate for those who opposed the new order.

Hate is good. Hold onto it. The second voice said, softly feeding his anger and dislike for the way the world worked. The politicians, the corporate executives, the leaders of the UNSC who hadn't earned their position. The slightest negative emotion he felt, would immediately flare-up. And it felt good.

They approached the transformer, forming a protective formation around the Technician, who opened the box and examined the contents. He cursed, pointing a flashlight at the contents.

"Bastard knew what he was doing." He said, before taking off his glove, revealing the glowing blue cybernetics of his new arm. Long plastic fingers extended from a stump of fleshy blue-black matter, reaching for the individual wires and slowly re-ordering the wiring.

A muffled crack.

The ONI Enforcers turned to face the noise, aiming at the rear of their formation and the Enforcer whose head had been twisted around. The body dropped to the floor with a thud.

"He's here!" Someone yelled, opening fire down the hallway. His bullets passed through thin air. The operative activated his thermal imaging, but there was nothing to be found. Just room temperature.

I didn't even hear him move. The Operative thought.

There was a gurgle, followed by the sound of blood splashing on the floor, as the technician had a knife embed itself in his throat.

Another soldier screamed, as his arm was torn off, splattering blood on a figure as dark as the hallway itself, illuminated only partly by lights. The figure picked up the wounded soldier, and threw it at the operative, bowling him over.

There were a series of gunshots. Bam Bam. A pause. Bam. The operative tried to get up, only to have two bullets rip through his chest. All he saw was a figure covered in black, wearing some improvised stealth-suit.

There was the sound of a knife cutting through flesh, the cracking of spines, and the popping of necks as the intruder moved far too fast to even follow. The last thing the operative saw was a rubber sole come down to crush his skull.

John picked up a rag from the electrician's toolbox and wiped the blood off of his suit. It was starting to get hot. But his improvised plan was working for now.

He grabbed the datapad the Technician had around his waist. John popped out one of the man's eyes and used it to unlock the datapad. He searched through it and found a map of the path leading to the next floor. John changed the password to give him easier access.

A radio buzzed from the remnants of the helmet that John had crushed. He picked it up and tore it out."Report. Where "

John brought the radio to his lips. He immediately traced back every movement he had made that had brought him here and determined what way each of the cardinal directions was, based upon the night sky of Camp Currahee. He gave the opposite direction he was heading to the ONI operative on the other side. "Enemy heading in a north-north-east direction. Contact!" He put some emphasis on the latter, taking out his pistol and firing a few shots.

He continued making his way through the darkness of the facility, making sure to rip out the power cables of each underground transformer he came across. This time, he rigged up crude boobytraps with the many grenades he'd taken. Anyone trying to open the boxes to attempt repairs would have a grenade go off in his face.

All the while, the voice on the other side of the radio was growing increasingly irate. "He is without his armour. Track him down and kill him!" The voice said, and the angrier it got, the more mechanical the voice became.

He moved from alcove to alcove, room to room. Any patrol that didn't pass by him, did not live to tell the tale.

Another patrol passed by, not seeing John hiding in the shadows. These were more heavily armoured, and each carried a shotgun. They looked to be scanning the room with thermal imaging equipment. John avoided their flashlights and then snuck past them to a better vantage point.
It took him half an hour just to quietly sneak past all the guards that were flooding into the area, but he made it without further interruptions. He found a set of stairs that led upwards, and took it one floor up, to where the scientist from before had told him he could find an evacuation ladder. At least ONI still cared about properly marking evacuation routes.

Before he reached the ladder, he saw a pair of guards standing outside a door, a new type of shotgun in their hands. John eyed the weapons. The weapons could be useful going forwards. He took a thermal clip from his belt, and threw it across the hallway, bouncing it across the ground opposite his hiding place.

The guards immediately jumped to attention, taking aim in the other direction, and turning their backs on John for 1.4 seconds.

Within half a second, John broke the neck of the first guards. Half a second later, he beheaded the next guard by grabbing the top of his head and cutting through the neck with his knife. John picked up the shotgun and examined it. It looked like a Citadel design on the surface. A closer examination confirmed it to be Batarian from the looks of it. The text on the side read 'AT-12'.

"Get away from the door." Someone whispered from inside the room the two had been guarding. He brought up the datapad he'd taken and used it to unlock the door without needing to tear it open.

The door slid open, revealing it to still have power. From the layout of the base, John surmised that each room had its independent power supply or at least a backup.

The scientists inside the room panicked, rushing behind crude barricades. One had a gun. John rushed into the room, firing the shotgun as fast as he could press the trigger, each shot tearing apart one of the room's inhabitants.

When the last body hit the floor, John examined the room in more detail. It appeared to be a cloning laboratory. There was a single large cloning vat, with all the instrumentation. A clone, roughly teenage in physiological age, was connected to the tank via a mask that covered its face, and a mechanical umbilical.

Its torso had received horrific surgeries and was implanted with a myriad of blue-black cybernetics, and upon further inspection, it appeared that the clone's entire face was replaced with cybernetic, which was connected via a wire to a power cable.

John activated the control panel, trying to get a good look at just what this latest atrocity was. The panel showed a description of the experiment, as well as a series of controls to administer chemicals to the contents of the tank. There was also a button marked 'Emergency Euthanization.'

Subject: 16
Neural Interface: Successful bond.
Internal organs replaced with Reaper-derived augments.
Face replaced with cybernetics for improved targeting, accuracy, and control.
Frontal lobe removed and replaced with a cybernetic control module.
Nutrient port placed in the centre of the torso.
All organs replaced with reaper-based cybernetics.
Flash-Clone Failure regulated through implants.
Glands replaced with hormonal release implants.
Full Spartan-2 Augmentation.
Full Spartan-3 Augmentation.

John repressed an urge to gag when reading the description of what had been done to the clone. This was without a doubt in his mind, the template for some future soldier. A shock-trooper for the hellish world the Leviathan and ONI wished to force upon humanity.

Then John reached the description.

"Subject 16 is the first successful step on the path of creating a replacement Spartan. Created utilizing Ovum extracted from Spartan [REDACTED], and genetic material sourced from Spartan [REDACTED]. Subject 16 represents the first successful supersoldier created using Spartan Genetic stock.

Using this superior template. We have been able to produce new Spartans at a faster rate than before, reducing the mortality rate of the augmentations to 50%. The successful addition of reaper implants has increased the lifespan of the clone by counteracting the effects of flash cloning related Metabolic Cascade Failure, to six months.

Mass production of this template is advised."

John pressed a red button marked 'Emergency Euthanization' immediately. And watched the clone twist and spasm, before going still. A hatch at the bottom of the tank opened, and the fluid drained into what looked like a raging plasma fire. The clone dropped down into the flames, and the hatch closed.

The screen now read: "Ready for embryo insertion."

John put his fist through the screen and moved to the door leading to the evacuation ladder. He took the severed arm he took from the scientist in the biotics lab and slapped it on the scanner. The door slid open. John stepped through, looking up at the quarter of a kilometre climb. He punched the keypad to break it thoroughly, then slipped through the doors before they slammed shut behind him.

He made the climb as quickly as he could, in his mind, focusing purely on his plans to destroy every last part of the base he was in. He had originally planned to make it somewhat clean.

Go out. Get the reinforcements. Rescue Emile and Kelly. Send a message to UNSC. Set off the nuclear reactors.

But that plan had gone out the airlock after he saw just what was being created in this place. He was going to take his Spartans, and kill every last human inside the mountain. Cut off their escape. And then he was going to set the reactors to overload. He wanted there to be no chance for any ONI personnel to escape.

As he climbed, he took a quick breather three quarters to the top, clamping his legs and right arm around the rungs of the ladder. He took the datapad, examining the maps on it for escape routes. There was a three-kilometre tunnel to a hidden shuttle pad. If he sent a squad of Spartans through the maintenance corridors, he could have them block off that escape route. Or even send them to steal a spacecraft with which to evacuate the inhabitants of Camp Currahee.

The radio he'd stolen suddenly chimed up again.

A gargling mechanical voice.

"This is a pre-recorded message." The voice of Parangosky said. "All non-essential personnel are hereby requisitioned to serve in the defence of Zone 67 against enemy attack. Please stand by as your neural implants shut down your motor functions and your body is thrown into the conversion factories. Humanity will honour your sacrifice."

Neural Implants. John thought. If I had not acted quickly enough. She would have had the Spartans fitted with those as well. Her plans must not be complete. That means we can still stop her.

He continued his climb until he reached a hatch. He pushed it open and was met by Jai-006 aiming a rifle at him.

"What the hell are you wearing, John?" The leader of Grey Team asked, before offering John a hand to pull him up.

"Improvisational stealth," John said. "Status Report." He demanded as he climbed out of the darkness and into the early morning gloom.

"Linda and Black Team are at Camp Currahee alongside Mendez and anyone that records showed had never been to Zone 67. Your trainers are coming over in a Warthog, but we outran them by cutting through the trees."

John muttered softly, so nobody but Jai could hear. "What about Kurt? He was noticeably absent for the last few months. Any sign he could have gone to Zone 67?"

Jai's visor met John's face, and he slowly shook his head. "Kat hacked their systems. Kurt never personally visited Zone 67. He only received messengers from there."

John thought it over, then slowly nodded when he decided on the best course of action."If he does anything that makes you think he is subverted. Shoot him"

Jai's body language radiated pure shock. "Just what kind of subversion are we dealing with John? Killing Spooks is one thing. But killing Kurt?"

John counted fifteen Spartans, minus himself, standing around the tunnel entrance of Zone 67. A few warthogs were standing around the entrance, and a large selection of weaponry was laid out around them. The Spartans had not taken any precautions and had piled their warthogs with supplies from the armoury, and driven to the fight.

"We are dealing with a malevolent intelligence which can twist anyone that gets in contact with it for long enough into its puppets. If Kurt is compromised. He needs to die."

He hated saying this. But it was the right thing to do. John had already killed two Spartans that had supposedly been dead for over a decade. What would another be for his conscience?''

Jai nodded somberly. He seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. "I'll gather the Spartans. I'll deal with our prisoners.."

Jorge had by now seen John and laid down a large kit filled with John's Mjolnir armour next to him. They didn't need to talk. There was a Spartan without Armour, and training had taken over for both of them. John began tearing off his new equipment so he could put on the undersuit of his Mjolnir, and the other Spartans could help bolt the armour onto him.

A gunshot caught his attention. John saw that it had come from the direction Jai had travelled. Carter had lined up a group of ONI soldiers and was kicking each in the back of the knee to force them down, whereupon Jun shot them in the back of the head. It was dirty work. But there was no way to know how deep the corruption ran, and no way to make sure. This was the safest option.

Jai-006 flashed a 'task complete' sign, then whistled something over the Spartan's radiofrequency.

The Spartans began to gather around John as Jorge continued putting his armour on.

John didn't waste time waiting for Jorge to finish armouring him. The moment the helmet slipped onto his head, he began speaking over the Spartan Platoon COM. A channel rarely used except in extraordinarily large Spartan deployments.

"This is Blue-one. Confirm."

Fifteen green lights flashed on his hud. With a mental command, John organized them according to Teams.

There were James, Joshua, Naomi, and Chrace for Gold Team. Jai, Adriana, and Michael for Grey Team. Kurt, Solomon, Arthur, and Cal for Green Team. And finally there were Carter, Jorge, Kat, and Jun, without a team. John immediately assigned them a new designation. "Carter. Jorge. Kat. Jun. You are now Noble Team. I am assuming squad leadership of this team."

The hud reorganized the flashing lights until the four teams of the Spartan platoon were organized properly.

"Our mission is simple," John said. "ONI has been subverted by an alien intelligence. Designation: Leviathan. Assume that all humans inside Zone 67 are under alien influence, and terminate them accordingly. Due to the nature of this threat, any orders from ONI are to be ignored immediately."

Red lights flashed on his HUD as Spartans expressed disbelief. There were hand signals of anger, and even accusations of treason. Grace spoke up. "Turn against all of ONI? That's suicide and treason, John. You have to have some proof."

There were flickering lights of assent.

"I do." John took the hard-drive he had taken from Parangosky and plugged his Mjolnir to it via a cable "I am transmitting you a hard-drive I took from Vice-Admiral Parangosky. It contains proof of a treasonous conspiracy against the UEG, with the intent of subverting it from within. As you can see, all Inner Colonies have been affected. Take note of the Leviathan, and its effects on human subjects."

There was a shocked silence as John gave the Spartans time to read the information he was uploading. "The experiments they have performed here, have broken every law of the Mortal Dictata. Do you understand?"

There was quiet as the Spartans digested the information. "I didn't know ONI had this in them." She sounded horrified. "You're right. We need to stop this."

There were green flashes as Spartans signed their approval.

John Continued. "We will take Zone 67 and locate its Slipspace COM launcher, and provide this proof to Lord Hood, and any un-subverted UNSC military, and UEG government officials. Upon doing this, ONI will most likely seize power in most of the Inner Colonies, resulting in Civil War. But this is the only option we have."

There was a pause, and slowly green lights began turning on, except for one. Joshua spoke over the radio. "I never figured we'd start a civil war. I thought we were made to stop them."

John answered immediately. "Our oaths are clear. We are to defend the UEG from enemies both foreign and domestic. If we fail today, humanity will die."

All Spartans now flashed their green lights.

"Nice speech, Chief." Another voice suddenly cut in. It was Sergeant Johnson. His warthog was cresting the hill down the road and heading towards the entrance of Zone 67. Kirrahe and Zaeed were both awkwardly crammed into the passenger seat together, while Samara was on the chaingun.

John plugged the PDA he'd taken into his Mjolnir, bringing up the map of the facility. "Gold and Grey Team will head through the main city and block off enemy escape. Noble, Green, and Zaeed's squad, will make their way to the Slipspace COM Launcher and use it to send a message to Lord Hood. Gold will remain to guard the exit, while all teams perform an extermination sweep of the entire facility. We will also attempt to rescue Kelly and Emile. After this has been done. Teams will exfiltrate via a captured Prowler or the primary entrance."

All status lights flashed green.

Zaeed spoke up."If you come up against armoured bastards. Switch to cryogenic rounds, then to incendiary. That will crack their armour. Then you punch through with armour-piercing." There was a ripping noise, as Zaeed tore the mounted gun off of a Warthog and carried it off with him.

Kat calmly approached John. "Did you know Emile would be sent here?" She asked accusatorially. John glanced at her, trying to decide if her accusation warranted berating. But he declined. The Spartans were all under extraordinary pressure.

"I needed to earn ONI's trust. But I never knew he'd be sent somewhere like this. If I knew, I would have never done that," John said earnestly. "We're gonna get him out."

Kat seemed to be satisfied by the answer, and she continued gearing up as well. She was bringing a Claymore Shotgun, and John declined to ask how she'd gotten her hands on one of them.

John walked up to the nearest ammunition crate the Spartans had brought with them, and took out several blocks of plastic explosive and put them in the equipment pouches of his Mjolnir. John picked up a MA5E with an underslung grenade launcher, but also grabbed three of the new Plasma Blaster attachments. He took two SMG's and clipped one to each hip, before filling out his belt of grenades. He then picked up a bandolier of Thermal slips, and also put it on, making sure he had as many with him as possible.

He gave his equipment one last check, before heading into the tunnel. It was time for the Spartans to save humanity, or die trying.