Chapter 10: Alpha Mike Foxtrot

September 13th, 2586

19:38 Local Time

Fort Keyes, Minerva, Lambda Rho System

Andrew had already given his team the details on what happened in briefing. This being said, Sam was unsurprised when O.N.I arrived at their door. Sam was an asshole, but he wasn't uncivilized; so the sniper chose to wait until Andrew left the bathroom to tell him what's going on. Flush. "Hey Andrew? I need you to get the Boss and the Commander on the horn. Pronto."

"Why," Andrew asked, having not looked up from the report he was proofreading. He kneeled down and gave Sylas a pat on the head.

"We have some unwelcome guests and King is getting really trigger happy over there." Andrew finally looked up from the datapad and looked at the unwelcomed men. He gave a scowl and saved his progress before opening his contacts. Seeing where Jesse was and knowing what he'd be doing made his heart sink at the thought of interrupting. 'Sorry boss, if I had any other options.' He pressed the call button.

"Andrew, I'm kinda busy."

"Boss, if I had any other options I would. King's here with a gun to some spook dickhead standing in the door. I still gotta get McKnight on the horn, just get here as soon as you can," Andrew hung up and scrolled back up to McKnight's info. She was still on base and better yet in her office. Call. Dial tone. Dial tone. Dial tone. Click.

"This better be good Spartan."

"O.N.I is here to take me in and King's got them at gunpoint in the doorway. We need you down here. No, the report isn't ready, I'm proofreading it presently," Andrew could've sworn he heard her curse under her breath before hanging up. "Aight Sam, they're on their way. Cover me for a sec you two."

Andrew slid Sylas out of his way and opened his footlocker. From it he removed his bottle of whiskey, a rocks glass, a rag and a lighter. He sat down at his desk, poured a shot and downed it before stuffing the rag in the bottle and tipping it upside down and right side up. He fiddled with his datapad and finally looked up at the agents. "Alright you scum sucking fucks here's how it's gonna go down. You make one move before my team leader and Commander McKnight get here and I'll leak my findings to the entire Galaxy. Then I take this here bottle of whiskey and light the thing up like fireworks. You die, I die, everyone dies. Any questions? No? Good."

Minutes passed. The silent stalemate dragged out. Andrew fiddled with his lighter in one hand and pet Sylas with the other. Sam played with his knife, the blade dancing between his fingers. King stood firm, the barrel of his SMG pressed into the chest of the nearest agent. Sam spoke up again. "So, big guy, what did you find that riled these guys up?"

Andrew rolled his head in Sam's direction, "Oh the usual spook shit. O.N.I supplied all of the weapons the innies used, the elite that I killed was a deep cover operative who was supposed to get a key phrase for us to extract him. O.N.I decided that he was a loose end. The data we recovered and the port itself were the final pieces of evidence and I'm not letting them destroy the data. Ain't that right, Agent?"

"We have a warrant for the arrest of Spartan Andrew-G199 under charges of insubordination and war crimes." King stomped the agent's foot.

"Bullshit you got a warrant in five hours. I ain't even in your jurisdiction. You don't own me anymore. I'm under the Spartan branch. A move like that would take you a day, minimum." Andrew sparked the lighter and tilted it towards the Molotov cocktail on his desk. He flicked the lighter closed, the flame barely licking the liquor soaked rag. Finally Thermer arrived, grabbing an agent by the neck and tossing him aside. "I'm sorry about interrupting your family time boss. I really wish I didn't have to."

"Don't worry about it Andrew, Phoenix is family too. By the by, I brought a gift." He set down one of Andrew's foam moulds, a can of C7, a blasting cap and remote detonator. Andrew quickly went to work crafting the crude bomb. The Spartan-III took it towards King and pulled him aside. He set the bomb on the floor and stared the lead agent in the eyes, malicious intent sparkling in his like stars in the night sky. "Any of you try to touch this and I'll send us all to hell." The Spartan walked back to his desk. "Boss, you always bring me the best toys."

More silence. More waiting. It was unbearable. Andrew went back to proofreading the report. Sam still sat with his knife. King adjusted the sights on his SMG. Thermer locked eyes with the lead agent. After about five minutes like this Andrew spoke up, "Done. I'm sure the boss lady will be happy to have this early. Speaking of, where the hell is she?" Five more minutes passed. Andrew heard something faint through the wall. Armored footfalls. Heavy footfalls attempting to be silent. The Spartan smirked and tapped on Sam's leg. He pointed at the door and held a hand up, counting down on his fingers. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One. Zero." Andrew pumped his fist at zero and the team watched as Spartan-IV MPs dragged the three O.N.I agents away. Commander McKnight stepped into the doorway. "Fireteam Phoenix, report."

"All members of Phoenix present and operational Ma'am. Please be wary of Andrew's deterrent at your feet," Thermer stated. The commander looked down to see the small explosive device on the floor. She looked between Thermer, Andrew and the bomb in a silent "What the fuck?" Andrew walked over and snatched it up. The Spartan sat back down at his desk and dismantled the detonator circuit. McKnight looked directly at Andrew, "What did they want?"

"Supposedly they have a warrant for my arrest on charges of insubordination and war crimes. Presumably because of the data I retrieved. The report is ready for you Commander, I've encrypted the file and will provide you with two drives; one for the file, one for the cypher."

One of the agents had managed to wrestle his way out of the MP's grasp and ran to the doorway. It was the same agent who had sat in on Andrew's debriefing. "I'll have your heads for this! You can't keep that file from me. Spartan G199 hand it over to me immediately!" Andrew stood up and walked towards him. Without missing a beat the Spartan turned away and handed his report to McKnight. The agent grabbed ahold of Andrew's sleeve as he tried to walk away. The man didn't realize what had happened until he was on his back. Andrew had turned, picked him up by the collar, slammed him into the floor and had his boot knife pressed to his throat in a mere second. "Lay your hands on me again and you'll find out why I was the best interrogator in Gamma Company. You aren't in my chain of command. You'll see that data when you appear before a tribunal."

McKnight tapped Andrew on the shoulder and jerked her head to the side. Andrew took his time standing up and kicked the agent in the ribs as he walked back to his desk. He checked the sutures in his abdomen, pleased to see his actions hadn't popped a stitch. The rest of Phoenix closed in on Andrew and stood at his side, their message clear. "Andrew, I'm pleased that you stuck to your gut on this and chose to expose something that could've come back to bite our branch in the ass. I'm also glad to see that Sylas is integrating well and forming a bond with one of you. Andrew, you are not allowed to die until that dog retires, that's an order. I'll take care of this Charlie Foxtrot from here." She turned away and picked the agent up by the collar. Andrew couldn't help but get the last laugh. "Alpha Mike Foxtrot."


September 18th, 2568

13:30 Local Time

Andrew turned on the display in the barracks and flicked over to the local news. The story on the local Spartan Company was finally running and Phoenix were hoping to see their antics on display. "Hey shitheads, get in here. You're gonna miss it." The other three practically materialized next to him. Twenty minutes of the regular crap went past. An interview with the Commander, a tour of the armor bays, etc. Just when the four though the story had run its course, a statement caught them off guard.

"One Spartan team stood out against the others though. Fireteam Phoenix is an infamous direct action team. Their record as a team goes back to 2563 during the UNSC's final year in the Delta Forti system. Their history isn't what caught my attention though, it was their personalities." The team watched the footage focus in on their emblem, and then zoom out just in time to catch Sylas dig his heels into the dirt and turn back to the large group. "The team are each fairly unique and my correspondence with Lieutenant Commander McKnight gave me some insight into the team dynamic. I think that team Explosives Expert Spartan Andrew-G199 said it best, 'We just don't have the personality of a cardboard cutout drenched in vanilla ice cream.'" Footage of King chugging hot sauce played while she talked about the team's operational history. "What was most shocking to me was the team's combat record. Having been deployed almost a hundred times across human controlled space, one would think the team would be run down and filled with dread. Surprisingly, they've managed to keep their spirits high and can often be found roaming the base, roping unwitting soldiers into ridiculous bets. What the future holds for Phoenix and the rest of Minerva's Spartan Company is a mystery to us all."

"Dude, we're fucking celebrities."

"How the fuck would you know, Sam? This is the first time this has ever aired."

"Yeah, don't ya think you're jumpin' the gun there?"

"You'll see."


September 20th, 2568

14:00 Local Time

"King, catch," Andrew tossed a mic at his battle brother. King caught it with ease. Andrew set up the datapad and sat down across from King. "So Andrew, when did you start to get worried about the duration of the operation?"

"Right after my first outing with them. The convoy ambush. Those troops that I had cut down, I was supposed to be on their side. I didn't know how long I'd be able to run this op. After a while I thought I just got desensitized to it all, but years later it all came flooding back. That wasn't too long after I got deployed to Trost. It's hard for me to admit, but Outcast fucked with my head in ways I didn't think were possible at the time," Andrew answered as honestly as he could. This wasn't just to tell stories, it was to clear the weight off his chest. Telling lies wouldn't help one bit. King's gears were turning the whole time, thinking of his next query. Finally he asked, "So, what did O.N.I think of your performance? What did they say as you fed them more and more intel?"

"Really? After what just went down last week," King shrugged in response. "Fine. First they were just happy to hear I hadn't been killed. My convoy assault made them elated that I was useful in the field and that I was proving to the insurrection that I was one of them. As time passed on they kept taking the intel and telling me to keep it up. That my data retrieval was exemplary. The more high ranking innies I found "guilty" of espionage, the more praise I got. They stroked my ego like it was a two and a half meter hard-on.

"I didn't feel right about it. The innies I had no problem killing. Our people though? I wanted to vomit every damn time. But I just kept it up. Kept killing, kept spying, kept rotting them from the inside out. If it ever got out to the families of our people, I don't want to know what would happen. It wouldn't be pretty." Andrew rubbed the scar on his cheek. It felt as though it were ablaze. King noticed him start to close up. "So, what was life like in the innies' base? Were there social groups? Teams? What was the non-combat day to day like?"

"Well, the compound was a fucking shithole. It was made of small duracrete buildings and tents. No running water anywhere. The brig was just a room with a door that locked from the outside. I could've easily ripped it off its hinges the first night. There weren't any social groups really. They were all farmers from the same general area. They all kinda knew each other before beginning their little rebellion. If you weren't on a raid you were helping with the upkeep. Repairing equipment, fixing buildings, etc. I was typically used to lift heavy shit. Being augmented made me the strongest person on site. Need a truck dragged back to the garage? Get Andrew. Need some ordnance moved? Get Andrew. I also trained them on how to maintain weaponry in the field and how to do it fast."

"So you were like their handyman? Wow, talk about underutilizing their best asset," King wasn't surprised by Andrew's description of the compound. They'd both seen how insurrections on small colonies live. He was genuinely shocked that they used Andrew as a maintenance man more than anything else. The datapad buzzed and paused the recording. Andrew checked the notification. "Looks like the Commander needs us in the armor bay. Something about O.N.I Section Two."

"Why the hell do the propaganda boys need us?"

"Fuck. I owe Sam a hundred credits now. Looks like we're celebrities."

"Shit, I owe him four hundred in that case."


Next chapter will have a bit of action. I wanted to show that despite being augmented, taking a shotgun to the gut is gonna need some time to heal.