"They say that after losing someone, it will get easier, that eventually the pain will go away, but that's not true. The truth is, life will never be the same, there will always be a hole where that person was, but eventually, you have to learn to accept that and let yourself suffer. Once you accept that you'll never be whole again, you can remember them in all their joy and all their pain. You don't want to remember the pain, but you have to take it, because when you do you can also take all the joy, happiness, and love that those people gave you." – Psychiatrist Dr. Martin Hernandez in a grief seminar for UNSC troops
The darkness of the void slowly faded and gave way to light, his eyes opening but the light, blinding in its brilliance, caused the spartan to squint until his eyes became adjusted to the brightness. When his eyes no longer burned under the light, he was able to see a white ceiling above him, pure and unblemished, unlike the skies of Reach, dirtied and sullied by the Covenant glassing. Wait, Reach…how…how was he alive. He stayed behind on the MAC gun so the Pillar of Autumn could leave, his body should be on Reach with the rest of Noble Team, how and why was he still alive. Taking stock of the room around him, it seemed to be a standard medical facility, but it gave him no clues as to wear he was. Attempting to prop himself on his elbows, Six hissed as he felt a searing pain in his abdomen. Looking down, he saw his body was almost entirely covered in bandages, he laid back down and felt a flow of relief as the pain started to diminish. It was a miracle he was alive, just from what he could remember, he'd taken a barrage of plasma bolts and even an energy sword or two, though his memory was fuzzy in his seemingly final moments.
He was taken out of his musings when the door to his room swooshed open, he turned to see a trio of what seemed to be doctors enter the room. The head of the trio spoke first, he seemed to be an older man, his black hair streaked with strands of grey and a light beard covering his face.
"Ah, I was starting to wonder if you'd ever wake up, welcome back to the land of the living Lieutenant. I'm Doctor Kavish, I've been monitoring your health for the past week since you were brought in."
"Where am I sir? And…how did I get here?"
"You're aboard the UNSC Return to Sender, commanded by Admiral Montinaro. AS for how you're here, well I'm not too sure. A pelican arrived at some point with you aboard it, pilot couldn't say anything other than they got orders from somewhere way above my clearance, don't know anything more than that, just that you've got some powerful people looking over you."
. I'm sure you have many questions, but first I'd like to run a couple quicks tests just to monitor you overall health."
Six nodded and the two people behind Doctor Kavish began to move around, checking various monitors around the room, jotting down notes, and comparing data. Doctor Kavish pulled up a chair next to Six's bedside and flip to a new page on his clip board.
"I'd like to ask you a couple questions about any pains you're feeling and what you remember…"
The time passed with the doctor asking questions and Six answering. Though the entire time his mind was preoccupied with his situation, he felt… hollow. He'd always been alone, hence the nickname Lone Wolf, and it suited him fine, but his time under Noble had reminded him of his training, the comradery he'd felt his brothers and sisters. Fate was cruel though, and just when he'd felt he'd earned his place in Noble, it had been ripped away, everyone of their deaths burned into his memory, and just when he thought he join them in the dirt of Reach he was saved. What made him special? Soldiers were expendable, he had no delusions about that, so why had they come for him? But wait; not everyone had died on Reach, there was still one.
The doctor was still talking, "-so it shouldn't be long before-"
"What happened to Jun?" Six interrupted, realizing his unusual outburst as the doctors in the room stared, he explained, "I apologize sir, but what happened to the last member of Nobel team. Jun A-226, Noble Three?"
If Doctor Kavish was bothered by the outburst he didn't show it, "I figured you ask eventually, from what I know, Noble Three and Doctor Halsey successfully escaped Reach. What happened afterwards is out of my pay grade. You can get the rest of the details later from Admiral Montinaro, but for now I think we've got all the data we needed." The doctor continued talking but began to gather his materials to leave, "Its quite miraculous that you survived. Your body suffered heavy plasma burns and had a few punctures from an energy sword, the stab to your abdomen missed any vital organs, but you received several artificial organ transplants. There's another stab wound that occurred on your left shoulder, but that was the least serious of your injuries. We managed to repair any motor damage your body suffered but the plasma burns will leave permanent scaring and nervous system damage. You'll function the same as you ever did, but you'll occasionally notice light spasms or momentary numbing; you'll most likely feel occasional pain in your left shoulder where the energy blade pierced you as well."
Six simply nodded, none of this really affected him, he was a Spartan and as long as he could still take orders and fight at optimal capacity, then he was fine with anything.
"When will I be combat ready?"
"Normally I'd say in over a month, but I've been told you already have your next assignments, and nothing stops a Spartan. You'll be discharged in a couple days after we run a few more tests, although I'd advise against pushing yourself for at least a week or two. Your body still needs time to heal and adjust." With that the trio of doctors took their leave, leaving Six alone the sterile room, stuck with his thoughts.
In the bridge of the UNSC Return to Sender, Admiral Jared Montinaro stared across the inky expanse of space, his mind lost to his thoughts. It'd been difficult losing Reach, it was valued almost as much as Earth and now it was glassed and lost to the covenant. It seemed only matter of time before the Covenant found Earth, and that revelation had only damped the already gloomy mood of the crew aboard his ship. Sighing, he rubbed his temples until a voice crackled in through his earpiece, "Sir, the spartan has regained consciousness." He acknowledged the alert and went back to his musings, but now with a slightly less cynical outlook, at least not everything was falling apart around them. He wouldn't deny the strangeness of it all, first he gets notified that they'll be receiving an unconscious spartan, then ONI alerts him to a classified shipment, presumably for the spartan. While Admiral Montinaro wouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, all of this would make his current assignment infinitely easier, he couldn't deny his curiosity into the matter.
"Alexander," He called for the ship's on-board A.I, "What do we know about the spartan and this mysterious package we received?" A teal holographic projection appeared, showing a middle-aged man adorned in ancient Macedonian armor.
"Lieutenant Oliver Cassian, formerly known as Noble 6, born on Jericho VII of the Lambda Serpentis system in June 3, 2523, age 29. He was recently assigned to Noble Team on Reach, his first assignment with Noble Team leading to the discovery of the Covenant on Reach, how unfortunate. Previous to Noble Team, his record is largely classified, however some things slip through the cracks and I can make a fairly confident guess that he did wet work for ONI, though anything more would simply be guessing on my part. As for the unknown object, I can't say for sure, I can't find any records pertaining to it, but with how little we were told I'm not surprised."
Admiral Montinaro simply nodded, "It's a hell of a thing this war. This spartan was unlucky enough to get stationed on Reach right as the battle starts, loses his entire team save one though they'll most likely never meet again. Almost dies but then gets saved, and immediately after is put back into action. It seems hard to believe to humanity could lose any more, but with the covenant it seems anything is possible."
Alexander waited a bit before speaking, "That's what they're made for Admiral, same as I'm made to serve this ship."
Montinaro looked at her before turning his head away, staring once again in the vast expanse that once held so much wonder for mankind, now it only holds fear. It reminds him of when he was a child, looking up at the stars through his telescope, wondering if they'd ever meet other life. How things have changed, he spoke up once more, "I suppose so, but they're still human."
The time that Six, or rather Lieutenant Cassian now, had been resting for, was a rather short amount of time given the circumstances, but for him it had been agonizing. He was no stranger to waiting and patience, but that had all been in the field, he'd still been alert and focused, spending hours completely still just waiting for the split-second opening on a Sangheili field marshal or officer. Now though; in this room with absolutely nothing to occupy his mind or body, everything seemed to crawl at a snail's pace. So, when one of Doctor Kavish's assistant came to let him know that he was free to move around, he hadn't wasted a second in leaving that room and heading towards the armory to gather his gear. It felt strange being out of armor, ever since his deployment on Reach he'd been in almost non-stop conflict, he'd taken his helmet off a grand total of one time, and that was after the Battle of Viery when storms in the area had blown grains of sand into his filter. Even before Reach he could count on two hands the amount of time he had been completely out of armor; if he ever had extended periods break, rare as they were, he'd at the least keep on armored bodysuit, he'd had to be able to get into his armor at a moments notice.
Finding his way around the ship wasn't difficult, most UNSC ships shared largely similar designs, so getting to the armory on a Stalwart-class frigate was no challenge. Even outside of his armor he could be seen a mile out, standing at around seven feet in armor, he wasn't much shorter out of it. Passing by members of the ship crew and other soldiers, he could hear their whispers and questions, he'd learn to ignore their stares and sickly fascinations.
"Holy shit did you see that guy? He must've been a spartan right? Who else is that fuckin' big." One soldier whispered to his group as they passed by.
"Definitely, those scars are a dead giveaway, but when did we get a spartan? I don't remember one leaving with us at our last stop."
"I heard from a friend in the medical sector, a pelican dropped him off a week or two ago, Oni bullshit or whatever. But apparently, the dude got fucked up like no other, last survivor from Reach."
"No fucking way, you're pulling my leg-"
Oliver tuned out their conversation the further away they got, it wasn't long before he reached the armory. Apparently, they'd been expecting him, he was immediately led into a side room where his armor was laid out on a several tables, like an offering. About half of the armor overall was replaced, the helmet had obviously been a lost cause, but they'd tried to keep as much of the original as possible and that worked fine for him. He wasn't particularly sentimental about armor, it served his use and kept him alive, though he did appreciate that the color scheme was the same, the only real difference being the lack of the Nobel Team emblem. He'd almost opened his mouth, almost told the technician to add the symbol, almost…just like he'd almost wished he died back on Reach. Almost. He'd honor their sacrifices by living, by fighting the covenant, he'd make sure their deaths weren't in vain and their trust in him was well place, but it was also time for him to move on. Death was a fact of war, they died just as so many other soldiers did, it served no purpose to dwelling the past, he was apart of Noble Team, but not anymore. He grabbed his helmet and saw his reflection staring back at him, immediately getting flashbacks to his trip to Nobile's mobile base, he wiped his thumb across the visor almost subconsciously before placing it back with the rest of his gear.
While most Spartans generally relied on technicians and the help of machines equip their armor, it wasn't unusual for some to learn to do it themselves. Oliver's knowledge of the technique came more from necessity than anything else. His solo missions would occasionally require him to repair malfunctions or severe damage that comprised his suit, and with most of his assignments never being 'official', he'd had to make do while in the field. He snapped himself out of his musings, he'd had enough of doing nothing, he was ready to get back out into the field.
When the spartan stepped into the bridge, his attention was immediately caught to the windows, the everlasting expanse of space rolling out in front of him. It reminded him of his times as a SABER pilot, sitting in the cockpit flying through the emptiness, he'd actually enjoyed it quite a bit, he'd never say this but he had been glad he'd been able to put his skills to use for Noble Team. He continued through the bridge, unsurprisingly the crew had seen very little of any spartan, he marched up to Admiral Montinaro and saluted, "Sir". The admiral was a middle-aged man, most likely in his late 40s. His hair was a dirty blonde wept back, he face was clean, but the side of his head displayed light signs of shrapnel damage and possible burns.
The Admiral waved his saluted down, "At ease Lieutenant. How are you feeling spartan? It hasn't been long since you were brought here, are you sure you're ready for combat?"
"Yessir, there's not much else I'm good for. Staying cooped up in a single room wasn't for me, I'd rather be back out in the fight." He briefly thought to himself if he'd ever be able to make it as a commercial airline pilot if this war ended, he gave a mirthless chuckle to himself, not that he'd survive till the end of the war anyway.
Admiral Montinaro nodded and walked towards the command console, he followed close beyond but said nothing. The admiral pulled up a holographic projection of a planet, Tridian Vale.
"This was our destination before you came aboard, and still is. Tridian Vale, its largely an industrial colony, lots of raw materials, refineries, ship construction, etcetera. Not a major player in the galactic scale, but at this point in the war we can't afford to lose anything more." A series of red dots appeared on the projection, spread out across the globe but mostly focused near the northern ice cap, and near the equator in what seemed to a large jungle, the admiral continued. "These dots represent what we believe are insurrectionist forces. You'd think they'd stop this late into the war, but their trying to ply any advantage they can. We know that one major player is one Julo Hagasawa; very outspoken against the UNSC, has been tied but never officially to a series of innie operations, and recently moved his operation to Tridian Vale. He's extremely charismatic and fairly intelligent, for now his following is small, but he's bound to pick up a growing number of supporters in a blue-collar planet, especially since they've been lucky enough to avoid the covenant thus far. The plan is straightforward, we need to find him and eliminate him before he manages to disrupt production."
The spartan nodded, this was very similar to his work as a lone wolf, nothing he couldn't do, he brought up his own experience, "It's unlikely he'll be at either of the two major areas we suspect. Insurrectionists have to play by different rules, so its likely he has a trusted subordinate he relays his orders through, meanwhile he plans from a smaller location elsewhere."
Admiral Montinaro nodded in agreement, "Our original plan was to have two simultaneous strike forces hit the major suspected areas, find any relevant information while prevent the bases from alerting the other, but with you here we have some flexibility. What would you suggest?"
Oliver stared at the map; he'd prefer to do this silently. He agreed that the best choice before him would've been a simultaneous attack, it prevents the other base from getting a possible warning, but its loud, and it'd draw a lot of attention. There's also the likely possibility that someone on base would alert Hagasawa and all their work would be for naught. It'd be much better to do a silent operation, either ghost the base and only look for information, or take out every insurrectionist. "I think it'd best if I handle this operation alone, no disrespect to your crew sir. Going in loud, even if it is simultaneous, poses too many risks for losing the target. I feel that our chances are better if I go in silently, turn the base into a ghost-town before they can get an alarm out. If I can't find what we need at the first location, I can then immediately get an exfil to the second base."
"Understood, but before we continue, I have a new piece of equipment from ONI for you." Reaching behind him, the admiral grabbed a sizable silicon-colored container and handed it to Oliver, the spartan giving slight tilt of his head at the offering. "I know about it as much as you do Lieutenant, typical ONI."
Lieutenant Cassian turned the container around in his hands, examining it from every possible angle before he opened it. Inside the container was what appeared to be a small chip black as obsidian, in the middle of a chip was a translucent circle almost as clear as air. Gently he pulled the chip out between his thumb and index finger and laid in flat in the palm of his hand. Soon after, a navy-blue projection shot out, it was a rather beautiful figure wearing old Nordic armor, with avian stylings, a pair of seemingly metallic wings attached to the armor. It looked up at the spartan, seemingly sizing him up before speaking, "My name is Kara, a combat A.I, I'm named after a Valkyrie of old, and you must be Lieutenant Cassian. It seems your actions on Reach gained the attention of many, I've heard quite a bit about you but I'm more interested if you can live up to your reputation." She crossed her arms and continued staring at the spartan with a disinterested look. He had known that the UNSC and ONI had been trying out combat A.I in the field, all spartan-IIs and the few spartan-IIIs that got Mjolnir-class armor had received Spartan Neural Interfaces which allowed them to integrate an A.I if given, though he wasn't aware of this happening. She reminded him of Emile, he laughed briefly to himself, they probably would've gotten along. He nodded to her and the projection disappeared, holding the chip between his fingers he examined it for a moment longer before he slid it into the slot in the back of is helmet.
"Try not to get me killed spartan, there's two of us in here now, and no I can't read your thoughts. We're still separate, so if you need to communicate with me, you'll still need to speak aloud." The feeling of hearing her without actually…hearing her was strange, t was an experience like no other and he had no way to describe it. He focused himself and looked towards the admiral.
"Well spartan, this has certainly been a unique experience for both of us, but its time to begin prepping for the mission. We'll arrive at Tridian Vale at approximately 1400, that gives you three hours to gather your gear and check your weapons. I'll have a pelican on stand-by for you when we get close. Should I give you a small fireteam to provide support in case it becomes necessary?"
Noble Team and been his first time working in a squad, he'd followed Carter's command and left his lone wolf tendencies behind. In the end he felt that he had started to form some bonds with the rest of Noble Team, with Kat and Emile he felt an almost familial connection, but that had been taken by the hand of the covenant, the tides of fate are needlessly cruel. In a way he'd envied Jorge, the man had believed Reach saved and his team alive. No, this work was what he was made for, solo ops, infiltration, wet-work, he worked better alone, connections with others would only hamper his efficiency. He'd been told by ONI, that his hyper-lethal rating was only because of his lone wolf efficiency, a team would only bring him down, and they'd only give him more people to lose. It was dangerous to form connections, especially as a spartan-III, expendable as glorified kamikaze soldiers.
"Negative sir, I work better alone."