"Damn good policy." Said ONI Director Marc Winter to the President of the UEG on a phone call in regards to a proposal to overthrow the Galactic republic.
ONI Head Quarters Earth Sector 10 New Mombasa Kenya
He leaned back in his office chair and wore a smile on his face as he stared at a picture of his wife and kids. "Yeah we can handle it. These things are simple. Just imagine the El Salvadoran coup the CIA pulled back in the 1960s but on a galactic scale." Winter froze and formed a baffled look as the President responded with concern about what he just said, "Well it worked didn't it, a pro US government was implemented successfully," He waited again as the President continued to address issues with Winter's statement. "There was a civil war after ok but they still…..Genocide, really… children soldiers?…Nearly one decade of Dictatorial rule too huh ya know I didn't really rea….The country's development was seriously hurt after the cold war ended? Well I promise we won't do any of that here in the good old O.N.I. and we'll still ensure the government incharge of the largest political body in the galaxy is pro U.E.G and elects good men. Trust me you've got nothing to worry about sir." "Uh Huh, yeah it'll cost around one hundred trillion." he said and looked over at the deputy director who gave him a look that, that might not have been nearly enough, "Actually how about we just start with one hundred trillion and if we need just slightly more I'll give ya another call. Yeah sure we can discuss it more over dinner with the rest of the heads of the UNSC." He waited again, "Alright Bob sounds good. And yeah I hope that meeting with the department of agriculture goes well. Well give Darla and the kids my love. And we'll have this situation taken care of. Alright bye." Winter hung up the phone and turned back to his two associates on this matter the director of section three and his vice director. He shook his head slowly.
"I fucking hate that guy, 'O Winter what about civil rights?'" Winter said mocking the President's voice, " 'Isn't it a bad look for a Democracy to do such things.' Yeah that's just how things are. We didn't survive the fucking covenant cause we're nice people. We survived because we kidnapped a bunch of children and pumped them full of steroids then sent them on suicide missions. No one likes to acknowledge it but that's how it is. Now let's discuss how we're going to create history's biggest military junta O and do it cheaply too so we don't get those pencil pushers down in the capital asking too many more questions about what it is we do here."
Marc Winter looked over at the other two people in the room. First there was the Deputy Director, Ingrid Helms. She had a monotone look on her cold unremarkable square face and a pair of cold blue eyes. Kept her hands folded. Used to work in naval finance before being moved over to ONI and working her way up. And the third man was the Director of ONI section three Octavius Gray, the fun department, Marc Winter called it on numerous occasions.
"We're aware," Ingrid replied, "And now that we've got what we need sir shall we move on to the actual operation."
"Naturally," Winter replied, "Alright Admiral Gray, tell me about your man on Coruscant."
"Major Colton Martel ex Army Ranger master sergeant,former ONI Delta Six division operator, now an intelligence officer leading a taskforce supposably recruiting, training,and leading foriegn fighters on anti CIS para military operations," Octavius Gray said reminding the Director his agent had a name, "Though the man has a nack for doing more then he's asked gets some kind of joy it of it."
"Yeah, but is he capable of handling this?"
"He's been involved in over twenty five regime changes. Each one successful, he has a seemingly natural ability for making friends. But also a bit of an authority issue. I imagine he's already set gears in motion despite not receiving permission because he already suspects our answer."
"A bit of a gambler," Ingrid commented, "That could be problematic." She frowned bitterly.
"Ingrid I like gambling," Marc commented, raising an eyebrow.
"As I said, problematic," Ingrid replied with a deeper frown, "Even if admittedly useful. Someone too cautious may miss an opportunity. But too overzealous and we could end up with a quagmire that causes no end of problems and loose ends."
"You want another Agent on the job?"
"I want oversight." Ingrid scowled.
"That's my job," Octavius growled.
"Admiral, you oversee all special projects. While this one takes clear and obvious priority you still must oversee all of them. Therefore another field agent to keep an eye on Colton should be arranged. Perhaps even a Spartan team for good measure to clean up if a mess unfolds."
"I see," Octavius grumbled but recognizing the woman did have a point, "There's Agent Marcell."
"The ex mafia hit man?"
"He's very detailed. He doesn't like unnecessary risks. Very much a strategic thinker. It's why he's a good killer. And why every dollar spent on his augmentation was worth it."
"Marcell," Winter said with a smile, "The guy who killed the CIS intel clandestine operations director? Ya know the dark Jedi."
"Yes, he strapped a bomb to his speeder. He was also the man who cleaned up Garner's failed op."
"Ya know he did such a good job I almost forgot about the fact a rogue terrorist organization got their hands on a nuclear weapon capable to killing a planet and almost took over Mandalorian space. I fucking love this guy," Winter proclaimed, "Yeah get him on Coruscant I'm sure the added insurance will keep Colton responsible. And toss in Tier One, that ops team of Spartan fours Roman-161 assembled."
"A highly skilled and precise operative overseeing affairs along with a team of Spartan operatives hand selected by a Spartan 2 to be what, and I quote from Roman is 'Delta Force on steroids' to add back up if things go haywire. Does that please the vice director?" Octavius said and folded his arms as he eyed the vice director quite annoyed with her. The man saw things differently, everything involved risk, over caution squandered an opportunity. And quite frankly he'd been looking for an excuse to order the para military operatives in Republic space to begin operations targeted at elements in the Galactic republic to turn the entity pro UEG for months now. But all his ideas were shot down by ever careful vice Director Ingrid Helms.
"No," Ingrid replied as she folded her arms, "But I'll accept it." She hated uncertainty. And with coups that's all there ever was. She understood governments to be like well functioning machines. Loose a few screws and the whole thing comes crumbling apart. Put in parts that aren't supposed to be there and it could become unstable and beyond control. A coup, the art of illegally seizing power was just that. Breaking the machine intentionally to cause change. And there was zero guarantee you would get the change you wanted. She'd also read about the CIA, the KGB, and various other historical agencies and their schemes involving coups. She regarded them as meat heads. Real intelligence work involved carefully thought out moves that were most of all subtle and barely noticed. Not a bloody military coup. But she knew the Director loved these kinds of ideas, forcing her to find ways to make them work.
"Ingrid, no one's capable of pleasing you." Octavius said with a deep resentment full frown on his face. He'd grown tired of her resistance to the idea.
"We're launching a high risk operation to overthrow a government that presides over a few thousand planets! Are you aware of what could happen if anything goes wrong? Not to mention there's a war going on with a faction we know with out a shadow of a doubt is hostile to us. Of course I'm not fucking pleased. Pleased would be if everything was in its natural place."
"Helms we hear you," Replied Winter who stopped smiling, "But if the intelligence is correct that means a Galaxy of a few hundred thousand planets will come under the rule of a totalitarian Dictatorship by the war's end. If that happens then what?"
"Colton could have been exaggerating."
"Maybe and maybe not. That's the thing despite the fact we're Intelligence we never have enough intelligence to say for sure what'll happen. But would you prefer we take the risk now and at worst have to clean up. Or do nothing while a psychopath takes over the Galaxy. It's up to you."
"Sir?" Ingrid said.
"Look, I'm not moving forward unless the three of us are all in agreement. If you, my vice Director whom I choose because of her intellect, experience, and proven skill have serious doubts then maybe I really shouldn't take the risk. So what's it going to be Ingrid? Take the risk and possibly put a pro UNSC government in place. Or don't take the risk and close the possibility of a galactic quagmire but risk a hostile regime with the power to start one hell of a war."
Ingrid was silent as she thought about it. Octavius shot Winter a look. But Marc Winter knew that if Ingrid genuinely feared this whole thing wasn't a good idea odds were he should listen to her.
"Take the risk," She begrudgingly concluded, "Last thing we need is even the remote possibility of a second covenant war level."
"So we're all in agreement. Good, because I'll be completely honest the things we do keep me up at night. I have no doubt what we're about to do will involve things that'll eat at me for years. And if I find out either one of you lied to me or with held absolutely any good alternatives in favor of overthrowing a democratically elected galactic scale regime, I'll fucking kill you with my bare hands to have worse nightmares to replace em."
Marcell remained silent as he lurked in the shadows under a tropical tree with a pistol. His eyes narrowed on the vacation house of General Mola put in charge of the CIS nuclear weapons program. A program ONI didn't acknowledge even had the right to exist. Marcell watched the man for several days. Mola liked floating in the pool in the evenings. The man wasn't stupid he knew he was a high value target and had battle droids patrolling the place. And not the B1s with probably literal bolts for brains. No, he had commando droids.
Now a Spartan would probably storm the place and blast his way through. And that would probably work. However despite his augmentations Marcell did not consider himself Spartan. It wasn't his preferred choice if a simpler solution presented itself. Big fire fights tended to attract attention which could make exfil difficult. Though his partner Paige-090 or P90 as he nicknamed her tended to disagree. Of course, unlike him she was a real Spartan. And stood positioned behind with a DMR and armor operator variant.
"I got a clear shot," she said.
Marcell however waited, he saw two commando droids on the roof. And four more spread around the pool. He frowned, "The droids will notice."
"Then we'll take them out as well."
"The CIS battalion one mile north would notice."
"We'll take them out too."
"The planet would notice."
"Why can't we ever just do things. Why do we always have to take time to sit around? Look there's no way to avoid a battle. Let's just rip the fucking band aid off already."
Marcell looked at his partner. He sighed "Maybe you're right." He admitted, "However I also noticed General Mola has a taste for hookers."
"No," Paige said immediately, "I know exactly what you're thinking and if you don't put that absolutely disgusting idea out of your mind right fucking now…"
"I never said human or even female hookers Paige. And besides I'd never have you do something like that."
"Really."
"Yeah, you would be the galaxy's worst hooker. Just don't have the attitude for it. No if ever we need to use seduction I'll do it myself."
"O go to hell."
Marcell allowed himself to laugh as he kept watch. In truth Paige was a very good soldier, she was a Spartan 3 after all. That taken into consideration when it came to gunfights she was better than him. But anything relying on social interactions was different. She would be out of her element. Marcell handled that part of the job for them.
"What are you thinking then?"Paige finally asked.
"We're going to move sites all together. There's a club about five miles east over in the capital. It's run by the Hutts. I called in a few favors people who owe me back from my mafia days. And through their connections was able to offer Mola a free complimentary evening for being an outerim war hero."
"Wait then why the fuck do you have us out here?"
"Because I'm simply waiting for him to leave."
"Why didn't you send me to the club then. I could have set it up already."
Marcell looked at Paige, "How long have we worked together."
"Five years."
"And you still ask too many questions."
"I'm bored Marcell, I have to do something to occupy myself."
"Take up a hobby or something then."
"O what a wonderful idea I'll just start knitting while we're stalking people in the future."
Mola got up out of the pool, a shiny silver protocol droid walked over with a towel. As Mola entered the house four commando droids followed him. Minutes later towards the front of the house a speeder's engine reved up. Then a bright cherry red speeder surged out of the garage and down the road.
"Guy's insurance must be a real bitch."
"He's rich," Paige countered.
"Still," Marcell replied, "Alright back to the speeder. I'll drive. You might want to change into something not so blatantly obvious UNSC."
"Like what?"
"Well we're going to a Hutt owned club. Do your best bounty Hunter look."
"So all if I just wear the chest plate and look at people like Clint Eastwood on dollars…"
"Maybe don't start Mexican standoffs with random people at an establishment for criminals, mercenaries, and corrupt politicians. You might actually start something."
"Marcell."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you tell me the plan earlier? You know how long it's going t take for me to get out of full Mjlonir except for the chest plate?"
"If I had stayed exactly one more hour. I would have restored to an assault."
"Damn, so close."
They showed up to the club about thirty minutes later. The whole place was illuminated by a dark blue light. Electric punk rock pumped loudly as they did. Men stared loyally at the dancers on the main stage. Paige looked absolutely disgusted at them. She however stripped down to just the armored chest plate and a knife. Marcell wore a black leather jacket and kept his magnum holstered to his right. They both sat at the bar. The tender turned to them.
"Marcell," he said, "long time no see."
"Davis," Marcell replied, "How are things?"
"Well I scored a new job. Arms dealing got too dangerous."
"So you manage a club by dangerous people for dangerous people."
"Yeah, who's the gal?" He asked with a friendly smile.
Paige didn't say anything. Just stared at the man lacking any real facial expression. Davis smile disappeared and he looked away from the spartan three back at Marcel.
"Business associate," Marcell replied, "And speaking of business….."
"Top floor first door to your right. He's got two commando droids posted outside the door and if I had to guess two more in the room. I didn't send one of the girls up there cause I know exactly what you intend to do."
"Thanks Davis," Marcell said and slapped down a hundred credits as a tip.
Davis slid them into his pocket. Marcell then got up and looked up the stairs. He grabbed Paige by the shoulder and pulled her close. "Deal with the commando droids quietly." He whispered into her ear. Paige rolled her eyes before moving up the staircase.
"Davis crank the music." He told him before walking outside.
Marcell stood in front of the club and saw a balcony entrance to the first room on the right. He walked over into an alleyway where he saw a separate staircase that led directly to the first floor. Put there in case of a fire for quick escape. He drew his pistol and flipped the safety off as he moved up the staircase. Then lunged up onto the roof grabbing the edge with two hands yanking himself up.
He moved over the top and looked down slowly, screwing a silencer on to the end of the barrel of his magnum. He slowly lowered himself down from the roof by grabbing the edge and carefully planting his feet on the floor of the balcony. Mola was distracted by something on the holo screen waiting for tonight's exotic alien dancer. The two commando droids in the room were also focused towards the hallway door. Maybe they heard something, Marcell figured Paige probably didn't listen to him.
Regardless he slid open the door entrance from the balcony. Davis had left it unlocked for him. Connections make the Galaxy go round. He thought to himself as he stuck the barrel of the fifty caliber handgun with the high tech silencer through.
Two crisp snaps of air burst out. The commando droids' heads shattered and their metal bodies soaked against the ground. Mola rose, reaching for something under his jacket, a blaster pistol. Marcell already had the barrel of the gun pointed at the CIS General who flinched. "Don't." Was all Marcell had to say.
The door behind him swished open. Marcell saw Paige's olive toned round face with her keen blue eyes focusing on the General. Paige walked, droid bodies fizzling behind her as the door then shut. Marcell closed the door behind him and locked it, still holding the pistol at Mola with one hand.
Paige seized the man and forced him down in a chair. The door behind her shut as well. "Sorry I'm a bit more rough then the girls Your usually used to." She mocked the man as she held him their by his shoulders. Marcell batted an eyebrow usually she didn't talk.
"General Mola," Marcell said, "I have a few questions about the CIS nuclear program."
The CIS General spit at the ONI agent. Marcell wiped it from his face. His green eyes narrowed and the smile dropped from his face. He didn't even have to ask Paige to do anything. She knew precisely where this was all leading and dug into the man's pressure points on his back with her spartan fingers.
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!" A horrific scream surged from his lungs. While down stairs the electro punk rock pounded harder completely consuming the screams.
"General, I thought you'd enjoy discussing your work? That's disappointing and I really hate being disappointed. So talk to me otherwise I'll let my associate here engage in more," He thought about and smiled devilishly, "Rough play."
"What do you want?" he pleaded.
"Just a location," Marcell said, "I want to visit your facility."
"Skako minor," He said, "I can give you the precise coordinates."
Marcell took out a pen and paper and had the man right it down. In truth Marcell already knew the facility was on Skako Minor the last guy told him. But he hadn't known the exact location and that was rather vital when it came to actually destroying it.
"I hope you're not considering blowing it up from space."
"And why wouldn't I do that, General?"
"We already gave a working nova bomb. You would annihilate the entire planet.
"That so, well that should won't concern you."
"How's that my life's work is in that facility?"
Paige was swift as she brought her knife up from her belt. And with the flick of a wrist drew it across Mola's neck. Red blood seeped out from the cut as the man dropped to the floor. He gurgled and fidgeted about. Marcell simply watched and the blood seeped around the man as struggled on for a little longer before finally passing.
"Piece of shit," Paige spat at the now dead man, "Gives the CIS schematics on our weapons endangering billions of people and then has the absolute gall to tell us we shouldn't risk blowing up a whole planet."
"Hypocrite the word you're looking for," Marcell replied, "But it's good he said something because we're not going to blow up Skako minor."
"ONI cares about non combatant casualties?"
"Skako minor is the capital of the techno union. Technically neutral in a conflict we're denying any involvement in ourselves. It's too politically sensitive. That would be all over the news and our civilians would yell at the government. The president would then fire people all Willy nilly and still lose the next election. And ONI would probably get a budget cut."
"If it's plausible deniability then does that mean I get to shoot stuff?"
"We're head hunters we preform assassinations, intelligence missions, subterfuge and small acts of sabotage. This is something you hand a full platoon of commandos."
"Damn," Paige remarked, "Sometimes I miss the human covenant war."
Marcell raised an eyebrow. "Twenty three billion people died, Paige."
"But I was useful during the human covenant war. I helped save the billions of us still living. I had a purpose and a mission." She pleaded in an almost innocent way.
"You're still useful now. And we just got information to prevent nova bombs from ending up in the hands of people who would use them to kill trillions of people. Whether that's Terrans or non Terrans."
"Yes but ONI didn't need to send headhunters. They chose us because there was little chance of us messing up. But if they didn't have us they still would have gotten the job done. Whereas in the human covenant war Spartans were needed. I feel like all they're doing is giving me busy work because they don't want to send me out to the public for people to realize what they created in order for us to survive."
Marcell didn't say anything at first because she was correct. If people knew too much about Spartan threes it could damage the image of the UNSC. Admin guys didn't like that. And he never lied to people he actually respected and liked. Marcell sighed as he placed the pistol in his holster.
"They're reassigning me," He said, "I got the orders shortly before we set foot on this planet. They want me to oversee a para military team orchestrating a military coup d'etat in the Galactic Republic. Look you'd only be my security aid but….."
"That sounds interesting enough," Paige admitted, "Better than basically being ONI's personal janitor for every little mess they accidentally create."
"Now let's get out of here it's probably not good to stand at the scene of a murder you just committed."
"You're probably right. I mean when it comes to killing people the ex hit man probably knows what he's talking about."
"Let's just hope so."
The only thing I shall say is I gave a spartan 2 the name Roman 161, basically I couldn't for the life of me remember how many spartan twos there were. However I remembered Marcus Aurelius the fifth greatest emperor of Rome rose to power in the year 161 Ad. But does the numbering function canonically?
