"Text" = Speech

"Text" = Nonverbal Communication

Chapter 2: Old Faces, Same Planet

Log #1:

O.N.I was crafty when they conscripted us Spartan-IIIs; instead of kidnapping children and replacing them with flash clones, they simply adopted us. We were orphans, most of us due to the war. I was a different case however. My parents abandoned me at the orphanage about a month after I was born. I never knew my parents. When I did find out who they were, I was relieved. My parents were drug addicts, into some pretty heavy shit too. I suppose giving me up was their one and only kindness to me. They died when our homeworld was invaded in 2552. I was just about to graduate from Camp Currahee back then. It's crazy to think that for twenty years after that I'd devote my life to the service. "For Earth and all her colonies." Imagine that, making a bunch of kids devote their lives to a world most would never see.

Training was grueling. When we got to camp, they made us parachute down to the camp perimeter and hoof it to the fence. Then we scaled the fence. I was pretty strong for my age. Used to get in fights with kids at the orphanage. Scaling the fence was easy, but jumping out of the pelican was terrifying. Most of us didn't want to jump, me included. From 2544 to 2552 Gamma Company trained day-in-day-out. I was five when we were conscripted and thirteen when I graduated. That really puts things into perspective doesn't it, age thirteen and waiting for my first deployment? A walking, talking tank; trained to fight and augmented to be better than anything or anyone on the field.

The augments were hell. I'm not going to downplay it. Some of us died in the process. Our bodies were made to mature another five years in just a few weeks. Our bodies stretched and filled out. Our bones were coated to be harder than steel. Our muscle density increased beyond that of anyone in their prime. Our nervous system was made faster, giving us sharper reflexes. Even our eyes and ears were altered. It was excruciatingly painful. All of my combat injuries, losing my leg, nothing compares to the augs. Ambrose gave Gamma Company some illegal augmentations too. In stressful situations we go into a state of bipolar rage. Essentially our 'animal brain' takes the steering wheel and just keeps pushing. I've literally beaten a Sangheili to death with a gut full of buckshot. The hits don't register with your brain in that state. It's both a blessing and a curse. Even with the meds we take to neutralize that specific augment, we still have severe anger issues. Sometimes we can't tell friend from foe. We can become a liability in the blink of an eye, all because Ambrose wanted more of us to come back home. He didn't want us to be one-and-dones like Alpha and Beta companies.

What O.N.I did to us was heinous. If you're reading this, it only gets worse from here. If you can't make it through these records, I don't blame you. It's hard to read through this myself.

June 13th, 2581

12:00 Local Time

Minerva, Lambda Rho System

"You know Andrew, I was kind of expecting you to look the part of Captain." Commander Athena McKnight stood outside her office with her arms crossed. Her sly smirk betrayed the serious stone of her voice. Her red hair had begun to fade and small stress lines had formed around her eyes. For being just shy of forty-eight she hardly looked the part.

"And I expected the stress of command to make you look like you're in your sixties. It's good to see you again Commander." Andrew half-heartedly laughed through his joke. He wore a light gray tee shirt under a windbreaker, khaki cargo pants and boots. Much to his surprise Athena pulled him into a brief hug as opposed to a hand shake. He was quick to return the gesture.

"When the Office told me you were on your way, I didn't expect that I'd see most of Phoenix back together." Athena opened the door and motioned for Andrew to follow her in. Once the door was closed, she continued with the conversation. "I guess I should've, considering Thermer passed through not too long ago. He was really dodgy about what he was doing though. You mind filling me in or are you going to pull the same O.N.I bullshit?"

"I'll be honest with you, because I respect you and partially because O.N.I tried dodging that question with me. Whoever was behind the Red Hand activity here in Lambda Rho thirteen years ago is back at it. There was a series of seemingly unrelated bombings across UNSC territory the last couple of months. The only relation was that the Governor of each colony would receive the same message two days later on a data-pad. 'Phoenix will fall.' Twelve colonies, twelve identical messages on identical data-pads. Thermer caught on before O.N.I did. The Office contacted him and he immediately took the job. The next day he got a Chatter from whoever the bastard is saying to head here." Andrew kept his body language fairly open, he needed McKnight to believe him. He needed to move about the city with impunity while he was here. From the look on her face, she believed every word.

"So, he was trying to do his work without implicating me if anything in town went bad. Got it. He visited your old barracks before heading off. Left with a data-pad I don't remember seeing beforehand. That mean anything to you?"

"It means he found his clue and promptly dipped. It also means that whoever we're after has no issue getting into military installations undetected. The day Thermer activated the contingency his wife found a data-pad in her kitchen addressed to me. They live on-base. Something doesn't add up."

"The contingency," McKnight asked confusedly.

"That's right, you never RSVP'd for his wedding. During the reception we made a pact as a family, if any of us were in some deep shit we would send an encrypted message to the others. If it was one of those four, the others were to arrive at my home unannounced. Those of us that remained would sort things out from there."

"What if you went missing?"

"King, Jaq and Sam are all headhunters; they have no home base. They would head to Thermer's. Now that we've talked shop, you want to just catch up, Commander? I've got an hour before I'm expected to be in Spartan medical."

"Why not, I don't have anything that needs to be done right now. So, tell me, what have you been up to in the last decade? And please, call me Athena."

"Well, after HIGHComm had me booted I went back to Tribute. I spent a month trying this whole retirement thing out. Even after losing a leg, I couldn't just idly sit there and do nothing. I ended up opening a private investigation service. We mostly take on cold missing persons cases. A lot of them are from when the war hit Tribute. We've managed to track down a lot of people. Most of them just ended up on another colony, others we don't find much more than personal possessions amongst the rubble. It never gets any easier breaking the bad news to someone. About five years ago I started a recovery organization for addicts. We approach those who are facing prison time. If they accept our help, they start rehabilitation the next day. After that we move them into our apartment complex and help them rebuild their lives. They attend counseling, we get them a job, and help them with money management. Overall, we have a ninety percent recovery rate. We're pushing to get that higher."

"You seem to care a lot about your work. It's almost like you couldn't stop helping people."

"Honestly, I wanted to help rebuild my homeworld. Part of that is giving the people the help they need. The Phoenix Network is nonprofit and state funded. My investigation firm works closely with the LEO's to ensure that we get the most accurate results we can. I may not remember what it was like before I was conscripted, but I'm not going to let the planet suffer the fate of so many other half-glassed worlds."

"It's good to see you so passionate about something. I remember how you were back then, motivated only by the orders you were given, or by revenge."

"Ten years of uninterrupted weekly therapy does that for you. Arinn followed me across the 'verse again and then said, and I quote, 'I don't trust some other quack to finish my damned job.' She's kinda scary sometimes to be honest."

"If she wasn't your doctor, I'd say you two are a perfect match."

"I get that from a lot of people. She won't be my doc much longer though."

"Oh?" Athena cocked an eyebrow.

"After I get back home, we have one last session and then she's discharging me. It's been a wild ride and I'm certainly not one hundred percent neurotypical, but I'm a lot better than I was back in the day."

"To think that all it took was a missing leg and a dog with attachment issues. How is Sylas anyways? We couldn't really predict if the augs would keep him alive this long."

"He's still my guter hund. He's slowing down though, getting real gray in the face, I'm not sure how many years he's got left in him. I'll cross that bridge when I get to it though." Andrew looked around the office for the first time since he walked in. It was much homier than it was ten years ago. "Heh, your office is ironically less Spartan than I remember. More chachkies around."

"Yeah, that happens as you get older. I'm sure you have already started collecting trinkets."

"You can drop the old lady act, Athena. You're only six years older than me, but yes, I have. Model mech kits; goblins, cyclops, scarabs, mantises. It's a nice distraction, building the tiny things."

"I tend to forget that you were only a kid when you joined. Anyway, I'm sure you're tired of talking about yourself. They're thinking of pulling the Spartan Company from Lambda Rho and making us a mobile force."

"Makes sense, there hasn't been much need for you to be here over the last decade." Andrew caught the look that Athena gave him. She was confused as to how he would know what kind of forces the planet needed. "I do keep up with the news here. You haven't had a major insurrection or remnant force turn up in the last six years. It makes sense to put y'all on a ship and send you wherever you're needed."

"That's something I never understood about you, Andrew. You have such a mind for strategy; your tactics were unorthodox and completely unpredictable, yet you never wanted to be the one calling the shots. Had HIGHComm not retired you, I'd have advocated for you to take a commission under me." Athena stood up and grabbed a glass from a table, she filled it with an amber liquid. Andrew immediately recognized the scent, Irish whiskey. She offered him the glass.

"No thank you, I've been sober for eight years now. I didn't want a command position because of the times that I'd been in that position. Every time I was in command my forces suffered high mortality rates. I didn't want that on my conscience anymore."

"Hmmm. I think I understand now. Congratulations on eight years, by the way."

"Thank you, you wouldn't happen to have tea?"

13:00 Local Time

"You're sure about that? This is going to hurt like a bitch." The prosthetist was quick to question Andrew's choice to go without anesthesia. "I understand you're a Spartan, but even Spartans come close to passing out from this."

"Spartan threes and anesthetics don't mix well. Just make sure someone's on standby with the smoothers." Andrew remembered the first time they installed his prosthetic. The blinding pain was something he didn't look forward to. The prosthetist went about disconnecting Andrew's leg from the socket and cleaning it.

"The socket and nerve connections are remarkably well maintained. How often do you see a prosthetist?"

"Semi-annually. I perform weekly maintenance myself. I've tried to keep things in working order."

"You've done well. Here, bite this and try not to break the chair." Andrew took the heavy Kevlar strap from the man and bit down. They tested the nerve connections first, pulsing low amperage current through. Applying a conductive gel to the connections and a lubricant to the socket, the man nodded to Andrew. Suddenly his every neuron flared in pain. His jaw clenched tight. His vision narrowed down to a tight tunnel. His hands clamped around the arms of the chair in a vice-like grip, crushing the metal. Slowly the pain faded as his nervous system acclimated to the new limb. His vision cleared first, then his jaw slackened. "Well, you only crushed the arm rests, so I'll take that as a win."

"That was almost as bad as getting augmented. So, why the new leg anyways?" Andrew released his death grip on the chair and placed the Kevlar strap on the prosthetist's cart. "Last I checked that one was top of the line."

"Yeah, keyword 'was.' That leg is ten years old and rated for civilian use. If you're going back in the field, you're going to need the closest we can get to the real thing. This tech is reserved for Spartans only. Most of it would tear the limb off non-augmented personnel. The brains are still figuring out how to tone it down for us normals. There are thousands of heat and impact sensors throughout the limb. It'll give you the most accurate representation of the world we can create." A nurse stuck Andrew in the neck with a large syringe. He recognized the calming effect of the smoothers immediately.

"What's the input delay? The last model had a millisecond delay. That was way too much. I'd bump into something before I felt the leg hit it." The prosthetist merely picked up a plexor and tapped Andrew right under his new knee cap. The reaction was instantaneous. His brain registered the impact immediately and the leg kicked out. Furthermore, it kicked out at his natural speed.

"The silicone skin isn't the only fancy bit on this. The movement is generated by servos pulling elastic Kevlar weaves shaped like the original muscle groups. That's the part that's taking the eggheads so long to adjust. Overtop of the muscle groups is a layer of liquid crystal metal, much like you'd find in MJOLNIR techsuits. This gives it the speed of an augmented body. The skeleton itself is Titanium-A. You've got bones made of starship grade battle-plate in there, they won't be easy to break, so try not to do that. That's all from me. Someone will be by soon to upgrade your neural interface. From what I understand, MJOLNIR Gen Five is a whole 'nother animal. Go ahead and pace a bit while you wait. Get acclimated to that new leg." Andrew stood up and stretched his legs. The new piece felt eerily natural in the way it moved. Testing its sensors, he brushed the leg against a metal chair; it wasn't as cold as it should've felt, but it was cool enough. Not only did he feel the temperature of the chair, but the way the leg brushed across the metal. It had been ten years since he felt more than a phantom pain in his left leg. Now it almost felt like the real deal. The prosthesis had an incredible range of motion as well.

A group of nurses led by a neurosurgeon entered the room and caught the Spartan jumping as he tested its weight. The neurosurgeon asked in a confused tone, "Sir, are you alright?"

Andrew turned around casually and shrugged his shoulders. "Sorry, I wanted to break in the new leg. First time in a decade it felt right. So, you're going to be installing my new interface? What can I expect from it ma'am."

"That's fine, it's not often I see my patients jumping about. It's rather refreshing to see one capable of moving. As for the interface, you can expect your armor to process impulses faster than ever before. AI linkage will be smoother, and the implant itself is far more durable. Now, if you'll please lay down on the table, we can get this started."

17:00 Local Time

Andrew exited the recovery ward rubbing the base of his skull. The new hardware was a touch smaller than his old interface, however after a few tests to ensure proper installation he noticed the slight increase in speed. The rest of the team were waiting outside for him. King was the first to look up from his COM pad. "You all set, big guy? How's the new hardware?"

"The leg is incredible, as for the interface I won't be able to tell until I get into some armor. You and Sam don't happen to have any casual clothing with you, do you?" Sam and King both looked at each other and then at Andrew. "I'll take that as a no. I need you two to go out and buy some street clothes. Something that doesn't scream military. We don't know where this investigation is going to take us, so you'll need to be able to blend in. Jaq you're with me, I've got a lead on where our clue is."

"Well, I guess it's a good thing everything has been loaded onto the ship already. We'll meet you there when we're done." Sam stood up and headed for the exit and King followed suit. Andrew was kind of surprised Jaq had worn her street clothes all day.

"Where are we headed?"

"Club небеса, an old haunt of ours."

"The syndicate's club? Are you sure that's a wise idea?"

"Relax, after Operation Street Sweeper that whole district went down the drain. Without syndicate leadership most activity in the area, criminal or otherwise, just stopped. It's just filled with scumbags and squatters now."

17:34 Local Time

Andrew and Jaq stood outside Club небеса. Its rundown exterior told a story of thirteen years of abandonment. Andrew could still remember that day vividly. The chain fence around the building made it clear that no visitors were welcome, not that either of them cared. "Well, I guess we'd better start climbing. Don't want to be here too long."

"I've got a better idea." Andrew walked up to the heavy padlock that held the gate shut. He pulled what appeared to be the handle for a knife from his pocket and clicked a small button set in the groove closest to the hand guard. With a hiss and crackle, iridescent plasma took the form of an M11 combat knife. Andrew sliced through the padlock and pushed the gate open.

"Where'd you get that fancy toy?"

"The Sangheili representative here on Minerva gave it to me. We were tasked with protecting him the day of the New Sydney attacks. He eventually found out about Henshaw and what we did. It wasn't too long after I got back to Tribute that the split jaw showed up at my door. We had a long chat about everything before he pulled this out wrapped in a silk cloth. Says that when he heard about my injury that he commissioned one of the finest artisans he knew to craft it for me. 'A warrior such as yourself deserves a tool fitting of your stature. You once protected me in battle, may this gift someday return your kindness.' Crazy how the dinos think, but it's served me well. Great for cutting through rebar in rubble." Andrew cut the lock holding the entrance to the club shut. The two entered the empty nightclub cautiously, their handguns drawn and ready to fire. With the open layout they didn't need to sweep the building. Nobody else was here. Andrew stood and looked about. He didn't see a desolate club though, memories flooded in and the ghosts of hundreds of people filled the room. There were only three areas he spotted himself at though; the bar, lounges and the VIP lounge where he killed the woman who sold him out.

"Whatcha thinking?" Jaq's interruption broke Andrew's trance.

"Just remembering my usual spots. You wanna check around that lounge table? I'm going to check the bar real quick." He pointed to the table in question and headed towards the spot he used to occupy at the bar. The two searched their spots for a few minutes before something caught Andrew's ear. He rapped a short signal on the bar top and smiled when Jaq tapped the old countersign on the table in front of her. The two went back to their search, now aware of the new presence entering the bar. The foot falls were quiet, they'd be imperceptible to regular human ears; the individual's breathing was measured.

"Identify yourselves," A woman's voice commanded. She certainly had an air of authority to her, not that Andrew cared.

"How about you leave so we can get our investigation over with. I really don't have time for you." The woman approached Andrew; her pistol aimed at his head. A few more steps and she'd be in melee range. He was already growing tired of this distraction. "Look, I'm only going to warn you once. You really don't want to step any closer.

"I said-" She took another step forward and that was it. She hadn't anticipated the man to move that quickly. Even as she started to catch on, she was too late. Her handgun hit the bar top, there was a crackle of energy, a flash of light, the pistol discharged without her pulling the trigger and then she was pushed away. When she got her bearings, the woman was looking at a man holding a blade of iridescent energy. Her M6 laid on the counter, a garish hole melted through the action. It was destroyed. It happened so fast, but through it all she came out completely unscathed. Was it just luck or was he in complete control? "Who are you people?"

"Ah ah ah, I'm going to ask the questions. Copy that?" She nodded her head. "Good, who are you and why are you here?"

"Spartan Sophia Kovacs. I'm on liberty." Her piercing blue eyes studied Andrew carefully. From his undercut hair to his short Van Dyke facial hair. What caught her most was the cheek tattoo and shining green eyes.

"Look Kovacs, this place has been closed for a long time and even if it was still running, you're about four hours early. Aside from that, no one comes to this side of town anyway."

"I wasn't in the neighborhood for a drink. I take holo-stills of historic areas as a hobby. I was going to do just that when I saw you from down the street." Andrew tossed her ruined handgun to her. The scars across her face and short steel hair told him everything he needed to know.

"You're still relatively new to being a Spartan, aren't you?" She gave him a puzzled look. "Slow reaction time, army regulation cut, old scars that haven't quite faded. You were a trooper here and showed exceptional promise in your short army service. Athena took notice and recommended you become a Spartan. Took up the offer and just got back from Mars about a month and a half ago."

"You seem to have things figured out. So why don't you tell me something about you? Preferably why there are two Spartans rifling through an old nightclub."

"Look kid, our mission came down from O.N.I top brass. You don't need to know anything. Andrew, I'm not finding shit over here." Jaq interrupted, Andrew shrugged his shoulders and threw up a hand sign. She took the chance to sit down and relax for a moment.

"Same with the bar. One last place to look. Kovacs, get out. Go take your pictures and leave. Jaq and I have work to do and I really don't want to have you following us around like a lost puppy." Slowly the pieces clicked in place for Sophie after hearing the names.

"Wait a second. You aren't Andrew-G199 and Jaq Briggs, are you?"

"How the fuck do you know who we are?"

"You guys are like local legends. I was sixteen back in '68. I was there during the parade attack. Fireteam Phoenix was the reason I signed on. I wanted to make a difference like you guys. You all disappeared about a year after I finished basic." Andrew and Jaq suddenly burst into laughter leaving Sophie confused as to what was so funny. Jaq was the first to recover.

"Sweety, you chose the wrong people to be your role models. We were a prime example of insubordination and general chaos."

"The way you guys commanded the field during the attack, the sheer power you exuded; I wanted that. I wanted to be the one who protected the people." Andrew's laughter finally died down enough to speak.

"Look, that's grand and all, but you really shouldn't have looked up to us. We aren't even sure how many war crimes we've committed. Protecting the people is fine and dandy, but don't look up to us older Spartans like that. Now go, we have work to do." Andrew turned away and headed for the VIP lounge. Kovacs was stunned.

"What about everything you said in the interviews? What about everything you people stood for?"

"Everyone has a reason for fighting, kid. Jaq worked with O.N.I for her freedom, I fought because that's all I knew, King followed in his parent's footsteps, Thermer for a sense of purpose, Sam for New Mombasa. Find something real to fight for." Andrew didn't bother looking back at her. He just looked at the chair he killed Daryna in. Checking under the chair he found their clue.

"What's that?"

"You're still fucking here? Look, this is my job and your queue to leave."

"Can I ask you one last thing?"

"You're gonna ask me anyway."

"Why are you back after all these years?"

"That's personal."

"That's what you're going with?" Sophie threw her arms out to the side, visibly agitated by the older Spartans' behavior. Andrew wasn't paying attention. He was busy reading the message left for him.

"Good rob, but don't get comfortable trailing Thermer. I have other plans for you. Head to 26 Draconis."

"Fuck me, Twenty-six Draconis? Why the hell?"

"Excu-" Sophie cut herself off as she saw Andrew's battered and beaten M6C SOCOM level itself on her.

"How many times do I have to tell you to leave? You are interfering with an investigation sanctioned by Section Three. Get out of this building, now."

"Andrew, dial it back. We kinda crushed her spirit. Besides, you can't just kill her," Jaq said cautiously. Her hand slowly pushed the muzzle of Andrew's gun towards the floor. "Look Sophie, you're a nice enough person and it's kinda cute that you looked up to us like heroes, but you really need to get out of our hair. This is a family matter and you sure as shit ain't family."

UNSC Duskline, Slipspace

June 15th, 2581

Andrew sat on a stool staring at the new armor he'd been given. Something about the fifth generation MJOLNIR seemed off to him. The second generation was far lighter than these suits. It seemed odd to him that they'd bulk the armor up again. Even without the supplemental armor they added to it, the GEN 5 VIPER class armor had more protection than his old suit. It lacked some personal touches though. He'd be sure to rectify that when he suited up next. A voice derailed his train of thought. It was Hammond, the ship's new smart AI, another gift from O.N.I. "Sir, Captain Sloane is headed this way. I didn't want him to startle you."

As if on cue, Sloane entered the armor bay. "Captain G199"

"Please, call me Andrew. Here for something or just checking the ship for stowaways," Andrew joked.

"Actually, I came to talk with you. Hammond said you've been down here staring at that equipment for a while now. So, what weighs on your mind tonight?" Sloane pulled up a stool and sat beside Andrew.

"Is it that obvious?"

"Your tea is cold and you're scowling like you've been ignoring your problem."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're the reason they did something? That you're their hero?" Andrew's expression softened as he asked the question.

"My daughter, she became a diplomat because of me. She wanted to ensure that her hero could just come home someday and never have to leave again."

"Noble cause, certainly a better path than ours. She wishes to spare lives before we need to take them. I met someone back on Minerva. This young blood Spartan. Said she signed on because she saw us back in the day. Saw how we handled a terrorist attack and protected a child. It was so jarring at first all I could do was laugh. Then it struck me that this kid has no idea the lengths I'd gone to in my career. The members of Phoenix can't count how many war crimes we've committed. Hell, I'm the product of a war crime. This kid though, she just kept holding on to that image Section Two put in her head. That we were noble soldiers who fought evil men. Truth is that neither side is worse than the other."

"Do you think that who you are today is someone worthy of that adoration? I read up on you while we were docked. You do a lot of good nowadays. I've certainly done my fair share of bad things in my day, but I never thought my daughter was wrong for looking up to me like that. She saw a man who fought to end the fighting. She just chose to fight with words instead of guns."

"I don't know. The things I've done can't be taken back and though it feels like a lifetime ago, I can't help but feel undeserving of that sort of adoration. You're right though, I'm a different person now. I just hope I can stack up to how people view me."

"Then focus on who you are today, not who you were a decade ago."

"You sound like my therapist," Andrew laughed.

Translation:

guter hund = good dog